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dilfartist · 11 months

Text

A foolish endeavor

Pairing; Yandere Miguel O’hara x reader

Synopsis; You manage to snag Miguel’s gizmo and escape to another universe. How long will it take before he, or the spider society, find you?

Word count; 2.8k

Reader description; Female/GN

TW; kidnapping, probably terrible spanish (i did use sources Spanish-speaking users suggested), non-con touching, yandere themes, dark writing.

Notes; {if i mistranslated any of the spanish please do contact me in my DMs. I wanted this fic to be better but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Did not proofread.}

Midnight coated New York in a dark blue hue. Most nights the city lights illuminate the darkness, providing the ability to see. However, the motel you find yourself ambling to is the more isolated part of the city.

Rain poured down heavily, producing cacophonous echoes of raindrops slamming against the concrete. Clad in a drenched hoodie and damp black yoga pants, you scurry to the other side of the street just in time to avoid being hit by the passing truck.

Cigarette smoke and frigid rain overwhelm your senses, mainly due to the cigarette buds scattered on the motel parking lot.

The motel is okay looking. By no means does it look nice, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Guess this is where I’ll sleep tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You take a brief glance at your surroundings. Night overcame the sky, giving the atmosphere a dark hue but the lights gave you a clear standpoint.

Numerous lights hummed irritatingly, not even a minute passed and you found yourself obtaining a headache. You navigate the main office, which is on the left side of the horseshoe-shaped building, and a blue neon sign points in the direction of the office. You started sauntering over, putting pep in your step when the cold rain declined heavier than it did the last five minutes.

Six months ago, you wouldn’t be having this problem. At least that’s what you believed. You could’ve been at your apartment, catching up on a show you’ve failed to complete thanks to your busy work schedule.

Unfortunately for you, doing a task as simple as watching your television, in your home, was truly impossible. Why? Because the earth you roam isn’t yours, to begin with. Your apartment isn’t yours. The job you work isn’t yours. You aren’t certain you even exist in this universe.

You can’t find the strength to complain. Honestly, you’re delighted to be away from the man who stole you away from society.

Miguel O’Hara.

Otherwise known as Spiderman 2099. You know, the superhero.

It must be confusing to hear that a superhero kidnaped a poor civilian. Superheros don’t normally commit unforgivable acts. Regardless, Miguel didn't care. Miguel is aware he is different from other heroes given his beliefs. Abducting you was just one of the many wrongs Miguel fulfilled.

You just wished you knew his motives at the beginning. If you did, you wouldn't have to search for sanctuary. You wouldn't have to lie low in a different universe.

Before Miguel, you lived a decent life that included a decent job. It was a Tuesday afternoon with sunny weather and clear skies. Your friends invited you to a picnic at the park and, for once having a clear schedule you agreed. You recall the sun beaming down on you, overheating your body to the point shade was a necessity. You moved from the picnic blanket to a nearby bent tree. One moment you're enjoying the shade, the next you're falling. Then something transpired. You jerked in the air, something white clinging to the front of your shirt. You felt your body floating in the air, legs thrashing in fear when your body conceded it was in mid-air.

You must have fainted because you have no recollection of what transpired next. What you do remember was watching through bleary eyes as four strangers hovered over you clearly disputing. Currently, you know them by Jessica Drew, Peter B. Parker, the iron spider, And Miguel O’Hara.

The accountability for your well-being somehow landed in the hands of Miguel. In the beginning, Miguel had such a short patience for you, not that he didn't possess an attitude with anyone else, he just happened to have a really short fuse with you.

His explosive temper with you was undeserving. You hardly gave him any reason to blow up. Your presence alone just pissed him off, at least it appeared so.

You avoided him as much as possible; Departing a room when he entered. Ensuring any errands were accomplished before he arrived home, so you didn't have to leave your room to aggravate him.

Then he began to seek you out; popping up wherever you were in his apartment. Alone watching television on the couch? Not anymore. Miguel joined you on the other side silently watching as well. Sitting silently in the dining room eating lunch? Miguel enters with a bowl of cereal, starting a conversation about the day’s news. Enjoy video games and decide to play by yourself? Miguel grabs a controller and questions the rules and certain controls.

For someone who was as snappy at you as a feral dog, he sure did like to invade your solitude.

By the second month of staying at Miguel’s, he found solace in your presence. He became relaxed. Nice even. And then by the fourth month, you became friends. You never visualized being anything other than friends, but unbeknownst to you, Miguel did.

When you first caught the news of Peter figuring out what universe you belonged to, you were ecstatic. After all, the mystery of your universe's number had been the sole reason for crashing with Miguel and not immediately returning home.

You turned to Miguel, asking when was the appropriate time to drop you off. To your astonishment, Miguel’s brows furrowed, and his lips morphed into a grimace, “you will not be returning.” he affirmed.

Miguel shocked not only you, but everyone witnessing the scene. A gauche silence conquered the atmosphere.

You and Miguel stared at each other for a beat, then you voiced your perplexity. “What do you mean “I will not be returning?” Miguel, I need to go home.” you took a step closer to Miguel.

Miguel gazed at you with an uninterested stare. “What I say goes, (Name). And I say you're staying here.” he spun around, returning to whatever he had been working on before. “We all have a busy schedule and dropping you off will only alter it.”

“It’s not worth it,” he said like he was ending the conversation.

“Okay, then Peter can take me home when he needs to drop off Mayday.” you insisted, looking over at Peter to see if he’d be alright with your plan.

No expression was needed for you to catch on to the attitude Miguel began to gain. “(Name), I won’t tell you twice. The answer is no. Now, Peter take her back to my apartment. We’ll speak about the matter later, at the moment there are more important issues happening.”

You found it laughable. To think the minute you stepped into the man's sight he wanted you gone, but now Miguel was fighting you to stay with him. Ironic, isn’t it?

That night you and Miguel, the very moment he came inside his apartment, quarreled for an hour in a half. Your argument being you did not belong to him and could do whatever you pleased. Miguel’s argument was the insignificance of the matter to him.

You detected Miguel’s temper was starting to get out of hand. The way his fists began to clench, the way his brows creased, and the frown deepened after every sentence he uttered. You’ve seen his strength. His fierceness. And you’d rather leave than have any of his tantrums directed at you. Doing what any rational person would do, you attempted to leave the room. You advised him to de-stress before speaking to you again.

Miguel was having none of it. Not even a second passed before you were yanked back by the forearm.

You’re face-to-face with Miguel. Miguel towered over you, looking down at you with his signature red piercing stare. He bends down, momentarily staring at you until he finally speaks. “I can't allow you to leave.” The way he talks is low and if the room weren't already quiet, you wouldn’t have heard him. “I love you,” he confessed, voice cracking, closing his eyes as if it pained him to say it. He opened his eyes again. “And I won't allow myself to lose any other person I care for.”

Pulling twenty dollars out of the torn-up wallet you found on the side of the road, you slide it forward on the mahogany brown table. The fatigued receptionist glances at the money, then gazes at you with an irked expression.

“This isn’t enough.” She states matter-of-factly. She slides the twenty back to you.

You purse your lips, staring down at the cash. Twenty dollars is all you had. What were you to do now? The next nearest motel could be miles away; it was a miracle you made it to this.

Your eyes flicker back to her. You take two fingers pushing it back to her, giving her your best puppy eyes. “Please! I don't have anywhere else to go tonight. If I can’t stay here I’ll have to sleep on the streets.”

You were lying. You would’ve taken off by dawn, needing to be on the move after getting rested.

Her hardened expression softens. She takes a deep breath, eyes studying the money. Shaking her head, she takes the cash. “One night only, alright?”

You propose to her a smile, nodding with gratitude. She allotted you a key. A small golden-greenish key, with the number five engraved on the head. Tonight you’d sleep on the grounded floor of the motel.

The inside was decently prepared, having a dingy tone that gave off a haunted vibe. You hum in displeasure. Two queen-sized mattresses are positioned on the right side of the wall. They appeared stiff, and the blankets laying upon them looked thinner than a sheet of paper.

Sighing, you softly booted the door shut. Flopping down on the nearest bed, you groan at the sensation of the rough mattress.

When tomorrow comes you’d have to find a fresh location. Miguel could continually find your locale, thanks to not only Lyla but the whole Spider society. Perhaps you postponed his search this time. His watch or gizmo- whatever the hell it was- rests on your wrist.

Shifting your head to the side, pulling your hand out of your pocket, you glance at the gizmo.

Tightly clutched in Miguel’s hold, you stare quietly at the ceiling. You debate acting on your next actions. There were times Miguel slept lightly, aroused by creaks in the floorboard. Other times when the sound of glass shattering did not bother him even a little.

Glancing down at the arm wrapped securely around your midriff, you endeavor to gradually lift his arm up. He unconsciously retaliates, arms consolidating, resulting in a small gasp slipping from your lips. You’re quick to rub his arm, to offer him comfort, and to calm him.

It works. Miguel grumbles, his grasp faulting. You carefully move his arm aside, then unhurriedly get up from the bed.

Before leaving the room you observe Miguel. Miguel sleeps soundly, an angry expression inscribed on his face. But he is asleep, so you take your chance while you are able.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, you immediately spot the gizmo on the marble counter. Compared to the technology you have at home, it was top-notched, a huge improvement. Of course, he lived in the year 2099. Obviously, there would be a difference in technology.

You grabbed the gizmo, examining the complexity. From monitoring the spider people using them, you know it’ll take you wherever universe you request. Great. However, you weren’t a spider person. If you teleported in the middle of the air, you couldn't grapple on the closest object with a web. Or claw your way down a building

Fuck it.

If dying meant escaping him, then so be it.

You didn’t really mean that. Every time you went to teleport to a different universe, you cringed retreating your hand.

“Jesus! Alright, I'm doing this!” you softly berated yourself. Bracing for the impact of the possible fall you might face, you shut your eyes tight and twisted the gizmo. “Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground!” you cried.

How long would it take them to find you? How far could you get?

God, being on the run was stressful.

Your eyes flutter closed, plush pillows luling your tired mind. ‘I should get some sleep’ you thought. Warmth spread throughout your numbing body, as you finally permitted yourself to sleep.

When you awake gasping for air, almost as if you’d been suffocating. Instantly you arise, a hand rushing to your chest confirming it still thumped with a beating heart. Your skin is sticky with cold sweat, making your clothes uncomfortably cling to your body. “What the fuck?” you barely uttered, mouth arid.

Suddenly you had a gut feeling to check the window. You stand, groggily walking toward the large window adjacent to the front door. Pinching the hem of the curtain, you haul it aside.

The night is still pristine, the stars glowing in the dark sky. Nothing seems out of place. And yet you continue to have that gut feeling. Look outside, there’s something outside. Your eyes move to the parking lot.

You see it.

Blue and red. Something blue and red is making its way toward the motel. Squinting, you can make out what it is. Miguel. It's Miguel!

“Oh, shit!” you expressed, dropping the curtain. Wasting no time you locked the bottom and top locks. You veered around, frantically searching for a place to hide. You are no fool. Locking the door was simply a distraction; Miguel would tear the door off its hinges in a second.

Hiding underneath the bed is a childish strategy. That and hiding underneath the covers. Still, you drop to your knees, squeezing underneath the bed, using the blankets to cover any spaces revealing you. Pressing the palm of your hand against both your mouth and nose, you listen closely to everything around you.

At first, all you hear is the air conditioning blowing cool air, and the people next door’s baby weeping. Then you hear it. The doorknob oscillation. Your eyes widen, fear causing your breath to hitch. When the door refuses to open, the person behind the door commences kicking in the door. One kick achieves them access to the room. The door slams against the wall, shaking the ground, sending a vibration under you.

“¿Qué carajo?” you know that voice anywhere. It’s Miguel speaking in his native language. A habit Miguel has when he’s angered or stressed. “¿Dónde está ella?” Miguel snaps, striding into the room with anger-powered steps.

You can see through the tiny slit in the blankets, Miguel turning to the table where you placed the gizmo. Miguel picks up the gizmo, putting it back on his wrist.

He shifts his concentration to finding you. He calls out your name, malice dripping from the way he shouts it. He disappears from sight, presumingly moving on to the bathroom. Many things are heard being tossed around. Miguel probably was looking for evidence of you staying here, apart from the gizmo.

You gather the courage to, oh, so carefully stretch your leg out, then proceed to quietly shuffle from under the bed. You waste no time, rushing out the door, feet bare without socks or shoes. The gravel burns the soles of your feet, scraping and imprinting on the skin.

You practically succeeded in leaving the lot until you caught a glimpse of what stalked behind you. On all fours, Miguel sprinted at you, claws scuffing the concrete, like a predator running after its prey.

“Holy shit! What the actual fuck!” you panic aloud, taking your eye off what was in front of you, your mind solely focusing on the man hunting you. Big mistake on your part. A concrete parking block is in your way, but you don’t see it. You jolt forward, tripping over the block, your other foot catching you before you hit the road.

Just when you thought you still had the chance of running away, you’re sorely mistaken. Miguel pounces on you, and the clash of your bodies colliding results in Miguel tumbling down the road, you secure in his arms.

The tumble ends; you’re struggling not to vomit, head resting on Miguel’s firm chest. The world spins. It’s easy to forget your position when the urge to throw up is fresh.

Miguel holds your head, pressing a myriad of kisses on every part of the skin visible, muttering with his eyes closed. “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.” He sounds so frantic, reciting those same words, his tongue stumbling over the utterances.

His eyelids raise, uncovering his red orbs. He presses his forehead against yours, staring deeply into your eyes. It’s a domestic stunt that makes your stomach churn. “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.” he huffs, then continues, “I’m happy you’re alright. I don’t know what I'd do if I lost you, mi alma.”

Taking your hand, he places a soft kiss on the back. “Had an anomaly harmed you, I would have ripped their fucking throat out!”

————————

Translations

- “¿Qué carajo?”/ what the fuck?

- “¿Dónde está ella?”/ where is she?

- “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.”/ I should be furious with you, but I'm not.

- “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.”/ thank god you’re okay.

- mi alma/ my soul

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pinkcarnatixns · 6 days

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georgia stanway | flowers for vases

synopsis georgia does her first tattoo on you, it leads to a confession after of years of feelings [1.6K] contents best friends to lovers, nervous georgia, tattooing, mentions of needles

You normally took pride in your fearlessness when it came to adding to your growing collection of ink on your skin, but now you were completely petrified.

When Georgia had first approached you to be her canvas for her very first tattoo on real skin, you had immediately agreed- your haste chalked up to a trust built on years of friendship and definitely not the fact you’d do anything she asked.

What your sometimes scatterbrained best friend had forgotten to mention was that this was not a private affair, but a moment that was going to be televised for all the nation to see. Of course, this meant that you’d have to act like you weren’t completely smitten with the woman- in front of a bunch of cameras while you tried to not blush at her hands on you.

Safe to say, you were quite ticked off with Georgia when you first arrived at the small tattoo studio’s address, only to be greeted with people rushing filming equipment inside the building from a van with a big ‘BBC’ plastered on the side. When you entered the studio with a quirked eyebrow and crossed arms, her face clearly dropped as she realized her mistake, rushing over to your side.

“I completely forgot to mention the filming part, didn’t I?” She pouts at you, grabbing a hold of your bicep to plead her case.

You sighed, “You know, I really thought this was a sweet gesture of trust between us, not to get you a big check from the BBC.”

At your jest, she deflated even further and you struggled to stop your lips from quirking up at her dramatics. You could never stay mad at her for very long, especially when she made you laugh just by being in the same room as her. Still, you were a bit mortified at the possible outing of your feelings for the girl being broadcast to the world, so you tried your best to hold your ground.

“It’s not like that at all! You know there’s nobody else I’d rather share this with, I swear!” She held onto your biceps tightly, and you felt your resolve washing away like a sand castle with the wave of her cologne that hit your nose.

Her hands were trembling lightly, and at her gaze and proximity you quickly turned shy, only managing to mumble out, “You don’t mind sharing it with everyone in the nation, clearly.”

However, taking pity on her already clearly fried nerves, you followed the snark up with a playful eye roll and returned her gaze. “Well, since I’m here, let’s see what you’re going to put on my body forever.”

Her already big brown eyes seemed to light up at your compliance, and she gently pulled on your forearms to uncross them with a blinding smile. She effortlessly initiated the intertwining of your hands, nearly dragging your shocked form to the ground with her fervor to show you what she had drawn.

She got shy as you both approached her already prepped little work table, going quiet as you peered down at the paper and leaning into your body for comfort. The warmth that spread through your body at your still entwined hands creeped all the way up to your ears at what she had designed just for you: a little broken flower vase.

When you two had first met as kids, Georgia, persistent to impress you with her football skills- had wrongly decided to do so inside your house. When this naturally ended in the broken heirloom, and your mother’s harsh scolding, you had taken the fall for the overexcitable girl. She had been inconsolable at the mess she had caused, promising to make up for it someday. To this day, she still felt guilty for the incident while you often brought it up, joking that she was only still by your side to repay her debt.

Through all the growing pains and hard times, you had stuck by each other’s sides. Even when you got into fights, one of you would always bring up the vase as an olive branch, knowing that it really meant that you could never get rid of one another.

Your eyes got misty, your heartbeat in your ears drowning out the hustle and bustle around you two, “Georgia, that’s so sweet- you sap.”

“You really like it? Don’t lie.” Her hand nervously fiddled with the rings that adorned yours, both of you refusing to meet each other’s eyes. In a moment of bravery, you pecked her on the cheek and rested your head on her slightly taller shoulder.

“I love it. Can’t wait to have it on me forever.” You punctuated the genuine words with a squeeze to your intertwined hands, hoping to calm her nerves with the action.

She stumbled a bit over her sentence, before forcing it out nearly too fast for you to catch it, “There’s three flowers on one side and then one on the other. Y’know like 31, like my number at Bayern.”

Your head jumped off your shoulder, gaping at her as she was locked in a staring contest with the table- cheeks red like she had just played a full 90. With your heartbeat nearly breaking at the confines of your ribcage, you decided to lean into the moment, tripping over your words a bit but whispering. “That’s perfect. I like it even more now.”

At your reassurance, she shyly met your sincere gaze, struggling to keep a goofy smile subdued as you nodded at each other.

Your little bubble was broken when a crew member called for her presence, apologizing for interrupting as he dragged her over for an interview. You watched on with hearts in your eyes as she spoke to the camera, her sincere appreciation for the art shining through with every word and the sparkle in her eye. Caught up in watching her, you barely realized when they had wrapped up, rushing over to her side after missing your name being called a couple times.

They perched you up on a stool for her to place the stencil on your calf, sighing in relief as it peeled off exactly as she wanted it. She gently held your hand to help you down, using it to guide you over to the table while instructing you to lay down comfortably.

When she actually starts dancing the needle over your skin and attempting to answer questions at the same time, she clearly struggles. Nearly every time she punctures your flesh, she can’t help but look to you for your reaction- scared to hurt you. You try not to laugh as her sentences trail off again and again as she continually locks eyes with you, knowing she’s going to make the editor’s job a nightmare. As she nears finishing, you try to shoot her encouraging smiles, wishing you could tell her how good she was doing if not for the mics that would pick it up.

The tattoo takes quite long for how simple the design is, partly due to her insistence on doing everything right, stopping for the littlest things. It’s sweet that she’s so adamant to not hurt you or have the ink blow out, but it’s pretty comical and clear that the camera crew is getting antsy. You are happy to sit for as long as she needs, content with the heat of her palm through her gloves soothing the ache of the needle, but try to silently encourage her in order to get everyone out on time.

As she takes the final swipe of a paper towel over your skin and declares that she’s finished with a shaky breath, the first thing she does is to once again look at you. She visibly relaxes as you send her a beaming smile, taking your hands to move you to sit upright. You admire her work as she turns to give you her water bottle, watching you like a hawk as you take a sip.

You get shy at her attention, “I’m not going to pass out you know, I’m literally covered in tattoos already.”

“You’re really feeling alright? We can take pictures after you have a second, yeah?”

“Georgia really, you look much more lightheaded than me. You did great, I promise.” As you try to scoot off the bench, her hands stop you- pinning your thighs to the table. The position forces her to lean closer to you, putting you at eye level with one another. She has a certain determination in her eyes, but is clearly quite mortified at the proximity her actions have caused.

Still, with her big brown eyes boring into yours, slightly rough palms on your naked thighs, and the slight dizziness that you do feel- you look around the room to see everyone busy packing up before you do something drastic. As you turn back to her soft gaze, a slight tilt to her head and a quick glance at your lips is all the encouragement you need.

Your hands cover hers, desperate for something to ground you as you lean in to peck her lips. At your slight movement, she excitedly surges forward and you clash much harder than you had expected.

Pulling away, you’re both reduced to hysterics at the release of the tension that the day caused, and for finally giving in to a moment to had both waited for all your lives. Who knew it would take her marking you forever for you both to make a move.

a/n: wow so sorry I have not uploaded in forever! midterms absolutely kicked my butt and then I was celebrating my birthday! anyways I'm not super happy with this but I hope yall enjoyed <3

my requests are still open and i will really try to be much quicker in getting to them lol

#georgia stanway #georgia stanway x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #georgia stanway fluff #woso

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mariahcarreyyy · 2 months

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hello and congrats on 2k ! it’s a huge milestone <3

could you do “it’s my thigh or nothing. i’m not lifting a finger to help you get off.” with max or lando ?

thank you !

# prompt no.14, "it's my thigh or nothing. i'm not lifting a finger to help you get off."

mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post

It was completely innocent—honestly, it was.

In the short time Max had spent at home after work, you found yourselves wrapped in each other's arms on the couch, your heads tilted on Max's chest to gaze at the television.

The show illuminating the otherwise dark room with its bleak colors is not what captured your attention, though. It was when Max shifted—when he shifted, and his thigh conveniently found itself squished against the folds of your covered pussy.

You suck in a sharp gasp.

"Something wrong?"

And—fuck, Max sounded so normal. You would've thought he was oblivious to the pleasure stirring in your stomach had you not known any better. But you do know better, and the cocky grin you meet when you twist your head up only sticks the badge of confirmation on the thought.

"Max," you whine out shamelessly and loudly.

Tears almost gather on your waterline when you tug at the hem of Max's shorts, and he slides a massive palm to interlace your wrists behind your back. You try and fail to squirm into positioning your wetness above his noticeable bulge, the hand around your arms pressing deeper into your lower back and leaving you motionless.

"It's my thigh or nothing," Max tuts disapprovingly at your desperate movements, lifting his knee slightly and grinning wider when he hears your pathetic little moan. "I'm not lifting a finger to help you get off, wanna continue watching m'show, okay?"

But Max doesn't—his eyes stay glued to the sight below him, your needy frame writhing on his thigh, languid thrusts giving you so much and not enough. He bounces his legs after a few minutes of watching you in pity, biting his cheek to swallow the groan from feeling the slick through your flimsy shorts paint his shorts with your wetness.

"M-Max, ah, fuckk, oh, m'god, I can't," you cry out, hips faltering against his thigh and legs shaking as pleasure overtakes your touch, sight, and—

"Good girl," Max hums, releasing your wrists and tilting your jaw to meet his lips. "Y'looked so pretty riding my thigh, shatje."

He was insane.

Completely, utterly, and truly insane.

authors note. had to do this with max because im sorry have u seen his thighs???

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dollfacefantasy · 9 months

Text

Sleepy

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

CW: nsfw (18+), p in v, somnophilia (? idk if this counts, but I'm putting it just in case)

Word Count: 1.7k

a/n: hii this is my first time posting anything like this, so i hope someone finds enjoyment in it. i'm still learning, but i tried to include everything necessary in the warnings. feedback, likes, and reblogs are appreciated :)

It’s early in the morning. The sky is starting to glow with the soft light of sunrise. You can see this outside the windows of your apartment as you come out of your peaceful slumber. Your eyes blink in the darkness, vaguely noticing the bright blue 5:21 on the alarm clock while your hands fumble around the bed searching for the television remote. The shine of the screensaver was the disturbance that caused you to wake as it normally did when you fell asleep watching some old show. As your hands glide around the plush blankets on your bed, you hear a groggy hum from the man sleeping nearly on top of you.

You look down with a sleepy smile, seeing Leon’s head resting in the valley between your breasts. You run your fingers through his smooth hair and mumble a reassurance for him to go back to sleep. You wanted to be doing that too, but you also really wanted the TV off. You can’t find the remote for the life of you though. Leon essentially has you caged onto the mattress with his muscular frame. You shift around trying to find that damn remote while also trying to be still enough that you don’t disturb him. He grumbles as your search continues and lifts his head to look up at you. His drowsy eyes look into yours.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice still quiet and raspy from disuse.

“I can’t find the remote. Just wanna turn the TV off,” you reply, also keeping quiet to not rouse him further.

His head falls back to his previous position as he hums. He shifts his hips a little and reaches down near where his pelvis was resting on your thigh. “Think I’m laying on it,” he murmurs, grabbing the remote and handing it to you. “You gotta remember to put that thing on a timer.”

You take the remote and turn the TV off, feeling a sense of peace come over you as the room darkens. You close your eyes as one of your hands lazily plays with Leon’s hair. He hums and nuzzles one of your breasts as he gets comfortable again. You were still sleepy, but your search for the remote had woken you enough to give you some difficulty in drifting off. His warmth and weight on top of you help lull you into that state halfway between consciousness and sleep. That drowsy haze where everything was warm and soft, distant yet engulfing.

“You smell good,” Leon mutters as he buries his face further into your chest. You hum in response as you feel his arms close around your body. Your fingers continue idly fidgeting with the silky strands of his hair. The movement prevents you from completely falling asleep. You just wanted a little more of this. You didn’t always get to have sweet mornings like this with him away for work so often. You knew he felt the same way as he begins pressing lazy kisses to your chest over the shirt of his you had worn to sleep.

Your hand in his hair slides through the locks to massage his scalp. Your other hand languidly rubs up and down his back, feeling the scars that litter his skin. It isn’t long before he's sliding the fabric of your shirt up and over the swell of your chest. He nuzzles his head into the bare flesh and starts kissing again.

“So soft, Baby,” he murmurs, his hands squeezing around your waist.

You feel the flutter of desire in your belly as he continues lavishing your chest with kisses, his tongue tracing small patterns over the skin. His saliva coats the areas his mouth has been, and the morning air feels cool against the wet patches. He then takes one of your peaked nipples into his mouth and gently laves his tongue against it. You let out a low, pleased hum in response and move your hand in his hair more attentively.

The tender ministrations of his mouth felt heavenly in your sleepy haze, the mild pleasure amplified by your lack of attention to anything else. Your head relaxes against your pillows as you occasionally whimper in delight. Soon, you notice how hard Leon’s become against your thigh and how he’s grunting while subtly rocking his hips against your leg.

The realization has slick pooling between your thighs. You start weakly pulling on Leon’s shoulder, signaling your ache for more. He notices your movements and looks up at you, his tired eyes a bit smug but also full of a need for you. He pulls off your shirt completely and rolls over on the bed, his arms bringing you with him to lay on his chest. You melt into his hold as you feel his warm skin against your own.

“Need more, pretty girl?” he asks before kissing the top of your head, “Need me to put you back to sleep?”

You nod as your head rests in the crook of his neck. It’s now your turn to give him some lazy kisses. He shimmies his pajama pants down his thighs. He strokes your hair with one hand and pulls your damp panties to the side with the other as he adjusts his hips and slides into you, letting out a moan of his own as your velvety walls cling to his cock. His arm comes back up to hold you tight to his chest, one of his hands still stroking your hair and neck. The stretch of him inside you pulls a sweet whine from your lips.

“There you go, Sweetheart. Feels good, yeah? Nice and full,” he whispers as he pushes all the way in.

You bite your lip and nod again. He filled you so perfectly that it was comforting. You were basically limp on his chest, your mind still feeling heavy with drowsiness. He stays still for a minute, letting you adjust to his size and cherishing the warmth of your tight cunt wrapped around him. His eyes flutter shut and you both melt against the other. The only sound you here is Leon’s relaxed breathing. That is until he starts thrusting up into you.

His pace is slow and lazy, just like everything else this morning. He groans when your walls clamp down as he slides in and out. “Mmmm, even when you’re half-asleep, she knows to hold on to me,” he teases and kisses your forehead, “Knows to crave me no matter what.”

You nod again and press your face against Leon’s neck, your arms snaking around him tighter as you feel him nudging your sweet spots deep inside. “Can’t help it,” you whimper.

“I know you can’t Baby. I love it. I love you,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice becoming strained with pleasure as he continues rocking his hips up into you.

You faintly moan into his neck as the heat in your lower abdomen grows more intense. You had done this so many times, but he felt deeper than ever before. You sloppily kiss his neck before moaning “I love you too.”

His abs flex beneath you and he quietly whimpers himself when you say those words. He holds on tight to you, picking up speed as he chases his high. The vulgar, wet noises coming from where the two of you connect grow louder and only drive the both of you further towards the edge. His head tilts back giving you more space to kiss and nip at his neck. You keep up the messy movement of your lips for as long as you can before your mind becomes too overwhelmed by the pleasure to focus on kissing.

“Fuck, Leon,” you whimper as you bury your face further into his neck as you squeeze your arms around him and hold tighter. At the same time, your walls convulse around him. He lets out a moan that sounds almost primal and digs his fingers a little deeper into your flesh.

“I know, Sweetheart, I know. I’m almost there too,” he mumbles and plants a few gentle kisses on your temple. He holds you even tighter to his chest as his hips snap against you fervently. Each shove of his hips pushes you closer to falling off the edge into bliss. You’re both moaning and whimpering as you hold the other. He’s panting, his hot breath fanning across your hair as his peak becomes imminent.

Your head felt a little fuzzy from the sensual swirl of sleepiness and pleasure. Your body starts trembling slightly as you balance on the edge. Leon’s jaw clenches as he continues coaxing needy mewls and whimpers from you with his deep strokes. His hips sputter as you tighten around him even more. He knows you’re right there. “Let go for me, Honey,” he grunts, “I’m right there with you, sweet girl. Cum for me. No reason to hold back.”

The sensual words from Leon’s deep, raspy voice give you that final push into euphoria. Your walls flutter around his cock and your hips roll into his as you release. His head tips back again and his muscular arms keep you pinned to his chest. You let out sweet moans and nuzzle your face into his neck. He can’t hold it back either, breathy groans tumbling from his mouth and his hips breaking their rhythm as he cums deep inside of you. You both ride the high together until your flushed bodies settle against each other.

The two of you are both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You’re almost too hot to be comfortable, but at the same time, you don’t think you could bare not being pressed against him while you come down. Leon stays inside of you, keeping you relaxed and content in the afterglow. His fingers run slowly up and down your spine as he whispers soft praises to you.

“That’s my girl. Always so perfect f’me,” he mumbles and kisses your temple.

You weakly kiss his neck to silently return the sentiment. The bedroom was brighter now as the sun rose above the horizon, but that didn’t stop you from falling back asleep on his chest. He smiles at you, watching your features relax and brushing some stray hairs from your face.

“Y’know, forget what I said earlier. If this is what happens when you get woken up, I don’t want you ever turning the TV off before we sleep,” he teasingly whispers.

You softly smile as you register his words and nod. You adjust your position on him and hum in agreement. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” you mumble before you give into the drowsiness, and drift off again.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines

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colourstreakgryffin · 3 months

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Hello! Could you do a SFW one with Alastor, Vox, Velvett, or others (separately) with a blind fem reader?

Ooh! Okay! I def can! Idk if you want it romantic or not but even so, let’s just see where this actually really cool idea takes us, shall we!

Alastor

Alastor doesn’t really react much to when he discovers you’re blind. Well… that happens to people doesn’t it, though, he isn’t sure how you’re still blind, even coming into Hell. He was short-sighted as a human and now, it’s completely cured. Why are you so different?

Alastor won’t treat you like you’re helpless and unable to fend for yourself. He’ll only jump in when he thinks you genuinely need some support. He is a good boyfriend like that and he is happy to make radio effect noises to draw you back to him when you need the subtle push

Alastor is the type to accompany you everywhere, no questions asked. He’ll bring you place to place and let you feel around so you get familiar with the Hotel’s layout but most of the time, he’ll escort you where you need to go so you don’t get lost. He just wants to protect you… all the time, everytime

Alastor respects you. You have a genuine disability but yet, you never let it bother you nor does it hinder you so much, that you need a constant caretaker. You’re a lady of skill and diligence, you’ve accomplished so much. He’s proud and he likes to brag about his blind girlfriend being better than anybody else’s own normal girlfriend, even over his broadcasts

You bet your supple ass Alastor wants and tries to cure your disability. As much as he believes you’re beautiful the way you are, he’d prefer you be able to see so you don’t have to suffer all the time and he brings this up with you as much as he possibly can

Vox

Vox is kinda meh about the whole fact you’re blind. He doesn’t like it but that also doesn’t mean he’d bully you for it. He’s kinda more disguising I am worried under annoyance. He pretends to be annoyed by the fact you can’t see but in his mind, he’s worried you’ll get lost

Vox always has people escort you around, when he himself cannot, he needs you safe and he even hires security to ensure no random stranger can put their hands on you when you least suspect it. As his beloved but sadly disabled girlfriend, you’re safety is his top priority, alongside comfort when you are safe

Vox is kinda… very babying, to be honest, he babies you a lot because of your blindness. He is caring and he is doting, behind closed doors and he wants to ensure you’ll be taken care of so he babies you in all ways because of your disability. He’ll feed you, he’ll bring you to the bathroom, he’ll sleep with you

Vox always wants to hold your hand. It’s for both of you; for you to get familiar with his feeling and for him to know you’re right there and not going anywhere. Vox also doesn’t mind letting you feel his TV head, whatever helps you always recognise him, he’s happy with it

Vox, like Alastor and Velvette, brags about you but he brags about you on his television show, so live on the worldwide web. He’ll brag about everything you’re gone through and even announce you, proclaim you’re the better than any girl in Hell and that you’re hotter than any other girl in Hell

Velvette

Velvette, for a critical and judgy woman, cannot bring herself to judge you for your disability. Yeah, she is the one who dislikes it the most since it means you’re stupid(Velvette mindset) but she doesn’t want to throw any garbage at the woman she really likes

Velvette likes to dress you. That way, you don’t have to worry about feeling on your clothing and she can make sure you always match her, stay up trends and be stylish. You’ll be the most beautiful lady in the Pride Ring and she’ll enjoy posting pictures of you online

Velvette actually feels really sorry for you so she offers her help regularly. She’ll offer her help for the smallest things, your echolocation isn’t working and you’re more than a bit stuck, she’ll be right there with her phone playing so you can always find her incase you two seperate but she’ll have your hand in hers

Velvette as the, backbone of the Overlord Vs, is more than willingly to get into a fight to protect you. Protect you from the minor disablist down the street to actual exterminators. She’ll never let anything put their hands on you and she’ll even fend off Vox and Valentino to leave you alone. She wants to be the only one touching you

Velvette will make sure you associate social media to herself so when you hear memes or music or a uploaded video, that means Velvette is nearby and she is very proud when she watches you approach her and cuddle onto her

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radialarch · 4 months

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so I can't actually look at your taskmaster posts straight on bc it's like looking at some sort of like higher being and I'm simply not strong enough. But I still want to ask you about it bc I really like TM!

Do you have a favorite season? A favorite contestant? Do you have thoughts on Liza Tarbuck's final task?

asdfa;j;kl anon i'm so sorry for the unhinged tweets but this is so funny to me. how do you watch the show. liza literally said alex had "a greedy bottom" on air & i HAVE to assume alex enjoyed this because it aired! on the television show which alex executively produces! god fucking bless.

also THE TASK was to "tell the taskmaster you love him in the most meaningful way" and at no point did anyone feel the need to pause & explain why having alex sit on a cake would be meaningful to greg, presumably because every single episode prior to this one had already made it perfectly clear.

there are such delightful moments in basically every series and if i talked about them all we would genuinely be here all day but here's some quick standouts:

series 5

the songs about rosalind were SUCH bangers? mark & nish's in particular was a triumph, loved when they revealed their musical talents. overall greg's dynamic with nish was SO funny. i really enjoy when they have secret contestant-specific tasks & want every single cheeky text revealed. sally is also... so hot, my god. nail that watercooler.

series 7

everyone had such a good dynamic, greg had a fantastic time, rhod tried to strip alex every episode, just chaotic as hell. james absolutely breaking in studio, phil leaning into the dick, everyone was game for anything & it really gelled wonderfully. sidebar the nearly-nude picture of greg is GREAT, i won't let anyone say anything otherwise.

series 15

"this is a show about pedantry" frankie is so correct and his delivery is impeccable, he made me cry-laugh so many times. ivo is a hopeful puppy and i loved it every time anyone suggested he needed a refund from eton. mae is obviously the hottest of them all but kiell subbing in for coc was also a delight. a lovely cast.

series 16

how are the sues so adorable???? i love that they became bffs immediately. also susan is the CUTEST, her outfits were incredible, and rada was obviously worth all thirty grand from the way she mimed every idiom to perfection. julian's dynamic with alex, also unmatched. genuinely the unhinged energy in this one was off the charts.

#some kind of human interaction #i started the back catalog at s4 so going back to see the early dynamics has been SO fascinating #just a dude about to embark on a journey of self-discovery; and also alex #he claims he's only there to be eye-candy and admin in series TWO #like congratulations on training your perfect top #did you have to drag the whole nation along though #a completely normal television show

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aseaofyoongi · 1 year

Text

just desserts | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: one night stand; neighbors; set in the summer cause i miss it dearly.

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: jungkook is your next door neighbor who you have only crossed a few words with. however one hot summer day theres a city wide blackout and strangely enough, he shows up at your door w brownies. . and other delights.

warnings: crush culture; mentions of lack of confidence; masturbation (f.); foul language; naughty thoughts; penetrative sex; unprotected sex (wrap it up); dry humping; oral (m. receiving); praise; sub-ish jk!; jk has a huge dick;?brief mention of seokjin and joon; oc is very hørny for jk basically; those fucking gifs of jk w his long hair and glasses inspired this so thank you jeon jungkook; edited but excuse any mistakes please.

word count: 6,3 thousand words

posted: monday - january 30, 2023

A sixth floor walk up in the middle of the scorching month of July was certainly not fitting on your basis of an ideal home. But after your extensive apartment search always ended with high-priced, rodent infested corners New Yorkers often mistook for apartments, you were happy to shake on the deal for this studio apartment with Seokjin without having to break your piggy bank or burn a staggering hole in your pocket.

“When is the elevator going to be fixed, Seokjin,” you fanned yourself as beads of sweat adorned your white tank top.

“That’ll have to be when I finally win the lotto,” he guffawed from behind the plexiglass square standing between you and his office.

“Very funny,” you mumbled, beginning your journey up the stairs. He didn’t hear you though, instead his focus remained on whichever drama he played on the television.

Kim Seokjin, was the name of a superstar—or so he says. He claims to have attended the Juilliard School for about two years, with dreams of becoming the newest face of Hollywood and all of their high-priced productions. When Seokjin’s dad fell ill, he couldn’t keep up with the demands of keeping so many residence buildings open, he had to close more than half his buildings and just like that, financial strains created a hurdle the size of Mt. Everest in the life of Seokjin. He was left without his dreams, without his father and taking care of a building where the rent was too cheap to gain a profit, making just enough to cover the mortgage.

Normally, you weren’t so exposed to details of your landlord’s lives, but Seokjin was different. He was also your friend.

“I put water bottles around the halfway mark. The last thing I need is a lawsuit over a dead body,” he yelled up as you barely made it to floor two.

“How considerate. I’ll try not to die while you’re on the clock,” it was too hot to continue your journey up. . too hot to form coherent sentences. You just wanted to make it to your apartment and sit in front of the fan for the rest of the day.

“That’s all I’m saying,” you heard.

Once your foot met the landing on the third floor, your eyes desperately scanned for the promise of beverages Seokjin had informed you of, but the small table set-up on the other end of the hallway was completely empty. Leaving behind only the particles of dust and pure oxygen to inhale. Fuck—you actually felt like you were going to pass out. Just three more floors.

You wanted to yell down a snarky remark towards Seokjin but you figured that required too much energy you simply did not have.

Moving to New York was a decision you had made impulsively after feeling like you had overstayed your time in your parents house post-high school. You averted college at all costs because it just wasn’t for you. Lectures seemed like a bore and professors were individuals being paid to legally torture their students so you joyfully averted that nightmare all together. Your immediate option was to get a job, but after many places began getting closed down back home, you found yourself job hopping as a means for survival.

It was not convenient, so you boarded a train to the city that never sleeps in hopes of never looking back. . And you haven’t since setting foot here eleven months ago.

“Just one more floor,” you uttered to no one in particular but the patchy silver handrail and the chipped white walls.

Your apartment was now in your line of vision and the only thing standing between you and the black steel door were just ten sets of stairs. Walking into the building your body was glistening with a thin layer of sweat but now you were drenched, your top was sticking to your skin and the thick beads of dampness rolled down your body like the condensation on soft drinks from fast food places.

Heaving with exhaustion you took a seat on the very last step of the sixth floor, finally you made it but you just needed a minute, just a single minute to catch your breath. The fucking heat was unbearable; intolerable; irregular, you could have sworn the sun inched closer and closer to planet earth as the day progressed.

Initially, you hadn’t heard as much as the squeaky hinges on the door frame, you were too divulged in your suffering from the days heat. Not to mention, your eyes were closed and you were too focused in a state of cooling down before hiding behind the thin walls of your apartment.

“Are you ok?” His voice became trapped in the muggy air surrounding the two of you. The bass in his tone never ceased to make your knees turn to jello, to make your toes curl and to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight.

Was the heat not enough suffering for one day?

“Oh,” you cleared your throat, “I’m fine. It’s just the heat.”

“Yeah, it definitely feels like we were shipped straight to hell today.”

“I don’t know, I think hell might be cooler than this,” he chuckled lightly—you’re foolish stammer and poor excuse of words enlightened him. The sun was still beaming brightly but you swore you saw stars after he had serenaded you so sweetly with the sound of his infectious laugh.

“I think you might be right,” he locked his door and walked past you on the stairs, “have a good day neighbor.”

“You too, Jungkook,” you called after him as he began his way down the unfortunate set of stairs.

Sometimes, you felt as if you’d been blessed as the main lead in the plot of a cheesy rom com, but after today the idea was really cemented in your head. Ok, look. . Jungkook was your hot neighbor, like very hot, unearthly hot, like he was handcrafted by God himself, kind of hot. Furthermore, only you and him resided on the sixth floor, living in a pair of tiny apartments right beside one another. Although that was all you had gathered so far, besides his name, it was enough to fill your head with delusions and daydreams of the man your eyes loved to gawk at every chance you got.

You read him very well, like the everlasting pages of your favorite novel. His silky hair was long and inched over the nape of his neck, he wore specs that sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose accentuating his big doe eyes. Though his features seemed soft his aura was borderline the complete opposite—a silver hooped piercing sat in the right side of his rosette lips while tattoos peeked right out of the sleeves of the white button up he usually wore.

You closed the door to your apartment, removed your shoes and hung your keys on the flathead thumbtack pierced into the wall by the front door.

The apartment felt even more scorching than the bustling sidewalks. After opening all three of the windows you were bestowed to have between your room and the living room, you turned on your fan and walked into the bathroom to draw a much needed cool bath. Stripping off your sweaty clothes, you stepped into the tub. For a minute, you were immersed in the utter silence floating around you—all your ears detected was the distanced whirring fan all the way from your room.

Behind the back of your eyelids, the world was dark and your thoughts brought you back to your encounters with Jungkook on the stairs just moments ago. Your interactions with the boy were usually extended to a whispered, ‘hi’ or ‘hello,’ never as prolonged as it played out today.

In your thoughts, Jungkook strolled by day and night, as you embraced every look, every utterance, every single time he brushed his hair back using his slender fingers. He was the cultivation of your desires and the reason why your heart strummed against your chest a bit harder the days you saw him leaving around 12PM every afternoon.

It baffled you how he always managed to look fucking good every single day—even during the hottest days of the summer, while you looked like vile beast he managed to look so perfect.

. . So fucking perfect.

The faint tingles traveling through your body, caused your skin to form goosebumps. The pulsation of your clit is what really began driving you to clouded thoughts to imagine his hands against you. You imagined the pads of his fingers to be soft mimicking a delicate velvet fabric and while you crumbled under his touch, he would murmur the filthiest of words against your ear.

Those ministrations could be enough to have you coming hard—he wouldn’t even have to fuck you. Shit, even looking at him was enough.

Being away from all of the toys you safely stored in your nightstand, you grabbed the detachable shower head and adjusted the water pressure, prepped your feet up on the rim of the tub aiming it in between your legs in an inevitable attack against your clit.

Your head lulled back in sure bliss as you fed your carnal desires, the only thing missing was him.

“Fuck—” How you longed for him to have you in this position, so sensitive to his sinful doings; so aroused for him. It was like a hunger your fingers, toys and this stupid shower head could not satisfy.

The vibration of his name dripped from your lips like a chant and you felt that bubbling fervor form in the pit of your stomach. Spurts of pleasure rushed out of you so intensely you were overwhelmed by the explosions of fireworks as soon as your orgasm erupted.

When your breath had settled and you finally felt like you could stand, you opted for a quick shower, rushing to get into your pajamas and plopped down on your bed right in-front of the fan for a nap, having your dreams quickly invaded by him.

Work sucked on Monday afternoons.

All you ever did was stare out of the ticket booth at the movie theater as the few customers who despised the weekend rush came in. Besides, there was rarely anything to occupy your mind with on slow nights like this. You had already sweeped and your co-worker, Namjoon was surveying the screening rooms for any shenanigans the younger crowds could possibly be rattling up.

You always left that up to him—he was the more intimidating one between the two of you anyway.

“Room 5 is a wreck,” Namjoon announced his entrance into the lobby, “I’m gonna go clean up.”

“Walkie me if you need help,” you tapped the walkie clipped onto your belt buckle and he nodded, grabbing the broom and a few rags.

Your stomach grew irritated as you continued golfing down copious amounts of candies but the truth was you were starving and had no time to eat breakfast this morning; let alone make something to bring to work to eat for lunch.

Namjoon was a film major. He was the spitting image of a cliche by the way—his parents wanted him to become a doctor but that wasn’t his passion so he ran away to the city and began trotting up the golden stairs to his dream. You wished you had even an ounce of his determination, he knew exactly where he wanted to go and how to get there while you still stood at the base of the mountain of your life. . unbeknownst on how to tackle it or which way it was to begin your way up to the summit.

There was nothing you had a passion for and quite frankly sometimes you were utterly clueless as to what your purpose was in life.

Had no dreams and no goals to strive towards; nothing extraordinary you expected to blossom in your future. There was nothing, nothing and more nothingness occupying the hours of your days.

“My child,” Seokjin walked in through the glass door, he looked like he'd been chilling in an oven.

“Seokjin,” you narrowed your eyes in his direction, “what are you doing here? I thought you never left the air conditioner in your office plus don’t you hate the movie theater?”

“You’re absolutely correct. The dimmed lighting here is horrid and I deserve better than that. .”

“Of course, you do.”

“But,” he leaned over the counter, “I saw your little neighbor boyfriend leaving the building today and I was fucking gagged.”

“Trust me, Seokjin. I know how good he fucking looks in that white button up. I’ve lived it.”

“No,” he squealed, “He had a black short sleeve shirt today and—”

“Spit it out, bitch.”

“He has a full fucking sleeve,” he squealed.

“No. Fucking. Way.” The pauses in between your words were not placed for dramatic effect—you were in fact attempting to paint a detailed mental image of that sinful man.

How unfair is it that he gets to walk around us mortals with our average looks while he exudes such grand flawlessness.

“Looks like someone owes me fifty bucks.”

The bet. . you had completely forgotten about that.

“I'll pass it over on Friday once I get paid.”

“I told you,” he began, “once a man gets one tattoo they’re usually covered in them.”

“Yea, but he has this soft look to him, you know?” you shrugged, “I thought he might have had a few. But a whole sleeve?”

“Jungkook is a walking juxtaposition.”

“I suppose he is.”

Seokjin sat on the counter emptying a handful of sweets into his palm, “what are you doing eating all of this candy anyway?”

“Uh,” your thoughts were still filtered towards Jungkook. You wanted to see him so bad, “I’m starving and just waiting on Namjoon to finish cleaning room five so I can go on my lunch break.”

“Namjoon as in the buff hottie with the deep voice?”

“I guess.”

“Room five?” You nodded.

“I’ll take one ticket for whatever the fuck you guys are showing right now.”

“Didn’t you say you hated it here?” You printed a ticket to. . you looked down, to the latest minion movie and ripped off the top half, “you complained about the lights or something.”

“Can you just give me a ticket? I need it to execute my master plan,” he rushed your actions in cutting the ticket you had printed, “besides you owe me for coming all the way down here with vital intel about your secret crush.”

“I owe you nothing. I’ll be paying half a hundred for that by the end of the week, remember?”

“Consider this,” he snatched the ticket from your grasp, holding it beside his toothy grin, “your down payment.”

Before you could form a further argument, Seokjin vanished from in front of you and sprinted down the main hallway to screening room five.

The best thing about your job were the designated days off you had throughout the week. Tuesdays and Fridays were yours to enjoy and while today was Tuesday your schedule was still jam packed with an abundance of errands to complete come the early morning.

You had paid your utility bills, finished your laundry, cleaned your apartment and even set out poultry to defrost by the time you made it back home. It had been a very productive day.

Your last stop was the grocery store.

Oftentimes, you’d wander aimlessly, losing yourself in each aisle wondering about how the better half lives, how much better life would be if you didn’t have to keep incessant reminders of your weekly budgets stamped to the back of your head.

How much easier life would be if money wasn’t such a big determinant in the choices we were forced to make in our day to day lives.

Oh, how much easier life would be.

You only grabbed the essentials for the next couple of weeks including—rice, greens, fruits, water, milk, meat, and a variation of breakfast options.

Temptation roamed in the air as you headed out of the cereal aisle you were face to face with a bakery section where an unhealthy amount of baked goods were sprawled out—practically blaring out your name. All of the delicious delights made your mouth water and you couldn’t help but gravitate deeper and deeper, guided by the aroma of the sweet desserts.

“Neighbor?” It was his earthy voice, the same one you’d only heard vibrate among the walls of the tiny hallway of the sixth floor the two of you shared.

“Jungkook?” You looked up from the brownies and your eyes met his figure, in the same clothes you usually saw him leave his apartment. It was his work uniform, “You work here?”

“Is that judgment in your tone I hear?”

“N-no,” You stammered. Was he fucking with you? He had to be fucking with you. “Of course not. I would never judge—”

“I was just playing, neighbor.” Phew.

“I always come here. How come I haven’t seen you before?”

“I’m usually baking in the back. I was just coming out to set these down,” he held up the dozen cupcakes sitting inside the boxed packaging.

“You bake?” Hopefully, you sounded more stunned than judgemental because you were i. fact stunned.

“I’m an aspiring pastry chef. I go to culinary school,” Jungkook, your beautiful, doe eyed, tattooed, pierced neighbor was also a baker. Ok.

For some reason that made him so much more attractive.

“I would not have been able to guess that even if I tried,” You mentally kicked yourself at the lack of filter in your words. You weren’t trying to offend him and hopefully he does not take it as such.

He chuckled—that’s a good sign, “People tend to simulate that very reaction but you can certainly knock on my door if you’re ever craving something sweet. I promise they are amazing.”

Craving something sweet?

Your thoughts traveled back to the enticing thoughts you possessed a few days ago while you took a bath, the vivid image of the water pressure against your cunt and the pure desire to have him near made you dizzy. And now he was near, just a couple of feet away.

A wave of warmth traveled through your extremities, the pulse on your clit turned to an overbearing throb, you wanted to rub your thighs and alleviate the feeling. But you remembered where you were, in the middle of the grocery store and Jungkook still stood right before you. Nevertheless, you tried to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs; dampening your panties.

“I practically poured out all of the basic details of my boring life. I think you owe me at least something about you.”

“There’s not much to tell,” you shrugged, “but I work at the movie theater down the street if that piques your interest at all.”

“It does. I love movies.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there before.”

“Well, if I’m honest I haven’t gone in a long time but that’s only because work and school keep me pretty busy.”

The lust streaming through your body doubled to make your heart beat with fondness and you grew endeared in the way Jungkook’s eyes lit up when he talked about his aspirations to become a baker.

“You’ll have a free ticket waiting for you whenever your schedule clears up.”

“Promise you’ll join me when I decide to go.” His words carved themselves into your brain like a permanent tattoo, just as those decorating his arm. The fluttering feeling in your abdomen heightened as a result of the dithers, without being aware of it, that is the effect Jungkook had on you.

“As long as it’s on a Tuesday or Friday.”

“Deal.”

“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

“See you, neighbor.”

Thursday was the worst day of the week so far.

Technically you were supposed to be at work, it was already 4:00PM, but instead you were still home. Even just sitting down in the muggy atmosphere of your in the miniscule space, you were doused, staining your clothes with sweat.

You were not willingly suffering at the lack of mercy the scorching weather subjected the city and everyone in it to, unfortunately the power had gone out. And while usually you had the luxury of a fan to cool down, today you had nothing.

Your windows and front door were left wide open in an attempt to cool down the place and still you felt as if you were sitting inside a fucking oven set to hightest temperature. There was no use.

“Neighbor.” Jungkook called out lightly knocking on the opened door.

Jungkook? Not Jungkook again when you looked like an absolute wreck.

“Hey Jungkook,” he stood at the door frame, a wide grin painted on his lips—he held a to-go box in his hands, “you can come in.”

“Do you want me to shut the door?”

“Sure,” you gave in, it’s not like it was actually doing anything. Besides, the last thing you needed was one of the crazy residents from the lower floors coming to bug you.

Jungkook took a seat next to you on the couch, he wore a sleeveless top exposing all of the ink embellishing his skin, every line, every curve, every word was so intricate and seemed so unique to him.

“I didn’t know you had these many tattoos,” a small fib was a price to pay to not seem like a weirdo, “did any of them hurt?”

“Some did,” he pointed at his tricep, “mainly these and a few others but I have a high pain tolerance.”

“Well, they’re beautiful,” you scanned his arm some more. It was truly like a mural embodying the beauty of art, “were you a singer?” you signaled at the microphone sitting on his forearm.

“I guess you could say that,” he adjusted himself on the couch, his nylon shorts rode up his thighs and you just hoped he wouldn’t notice the way your eyes glanced down constantly. Jungkook didn’t notice though, he was too busy averting eye contact and scratching the back of his head, “My highschool friends and I used to make music. We recorded a mixtape.”

“I need a link to this mixtape. . like now,” You laughed hysterically.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

“Ok, ok,” Again, another surprise from the man you thought you had all figured out—every single day he surprised you more and more, “were you like a vocalist or a rapper?”

“Vocals mostly. I did try rapping once though but I sucked so badly they scratched it off the track.”

“At least they were honest and didn't let you crash and burn in public.”

“You should’ve seen me though. I thought I was the shit.”

Jungkooks giggles were everlasting as he recounted the many times their parents grew exhausted of kicking them out of their garages for their disturbances in the making of their great musical legacy.. He filled the room with vibrance. The longer you sat in the presence of Jungkook the more you were exposed to the colors that made Jungkook, Jungkook. Of course, you were intrigued by the phosphorescent hues allowing them to inch you closer in his direction. Wanting him to spare no details in the adventure of his life.

“What’s that?” you pointed at the packaging box beside him on the arm rest.

“Brownies,” he handed you the box, “I saw you eyeing them when you were at the bakery but you didn’t buy any. So, I figured I would bring you some.”

In your mind, this was his way of saying he was thinking about you—that’s what you chose to believe anyway.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I wanna see what you think of my baking.” Jungkook’s eyes were bigger than usual behind his specs, he fidgeted with the hem of his shorts.

If only he knew, the actual taste of the brownies would hold no significance in your criticism. You would love them anyway simply because they came from him.

“How about we have one together?”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, “let’s go to my room. There’s two windows in there and I’m literally about to pass out from heat stroke out here.”

The two of you sat by each one of the windows, the box of his remaining six hand crafted sweet delicacies sat between the two of you on the nightstand.

“You ready?”

“Yes.”

“1, 2,” the two of you held the chocolaty dessert up to your mouth, “3.”

Even after just one bite your taste buds were enamored.

“What do you think?”

“They’re amazing, Jungkook. You’re an amazing baker.”

“You can call me Kookie, you know.”

You nearly choked after taking another bite, hurdling into a coughing spiral, “that’s so fitting. Kookie the pastry chef.”

“Forget I said it,” he shook his head, laughing.

“Wait, no,” you loved the soft tint of pink dusting his cheeks, “that could be the name of your future shop.”

“Kookie’s Cookies.”

“Kookie’s Cookies,” you confirmed, “and I wanna be credited for the idea too.”

“Better yet, you’ll be my business partner.”

“That’s not a good idea. I’ll eat everything and you’ll just end up bankrupt,” your eyes were set on the congested sidewalks outside your window—everyone was out likely catching a break from their scorching apartments but here you were melting away all at the expense of being in Jungkook’s company just for a bit longer.

“I wouldn’t mind as long as you’re with me.”

Those eight words sent your mind into a spiral, head first into the rabbit hole of your fantasies. You couldn’t really make out if he truly meant what you thought he meant.

“Jungkook. .”

“I mean it.”

“Please don’t make me believe there could actually be something here,” Your voice was low and your thoughts were a scribbled mess. There was not a single coherency in your being at that point in time.

“I’m not lying,” your name tasted saccharine on his tinted lips—much like the brownie he had baked for you, “I like you.”

“Jungkook. .” was all you could muster.

“I’ve liked you from the moment you moved into the building.”

A single strike of thunder traveled down your spinal cord, you felt paralyzed in that moment and his sweet sweet words just continued looping inside the walls of your skull.

You were malfunctioning; shocked.

It’s astonishing how oblivious and just plain stupid human nature can make a person. For the past months, you had concealed the schoolgirl crush you developed on Jungkook and convinced yourself that there was absolutely no way in hell he could like you back.

Your insecurities had deceived you and now you sit here after so long with a thumping beat in your heart, giddy with excitement and lowkey wanting to slap yourself for not having noticed earlier.

“You like me?”

Obviously, he just fucking said that. He nodded.

“I like you, too.” You finally said out loud.

The temperature continued to rise in the small bedroom and between the two of you the heat became unbearable. With each passing second, you could feel the streamline trickles of your sweat cascading down your temples; your entire body matter of fact.

If eyes were the windows to the soul then Jungkook’s chocolate gaze was compelling.

And they were calling out for you so loudly.

“What happens now?” He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

“Can I kiss you, Jungkook?”

You caught on to Jungkook’s mannerisms and body language rather quickly within the past hour. For example, he was pretty straight forward with his words yet whenever he spoke his fingers fidgeted with a random object as a distraction, this time it was the black beaded bracelet sitting on his wrist.

He nodded yet again.

Your heaven resided in the comfort of Jungkook’s thighs. You realized it the moment you straddled him. The rich smell of sandalwood was a scent unique to him, so earthy and rich. It was the only thing you ever wanted to smell for the remainder of your time on earth.

After raking your hands through his soft hair you tugged at it a bit, guiding his face up towards you.

“If you want anything from me. You’re gonna have to use your words, Jungkook.”

“You know what I want,” his eyes traced the corners of your lips down to the intricate details, “just kiss me, please.”

There are an abundance of perfect scenarios in life. For one there was the idyllic scene of snowfall on Christmas day; the legendary creamy combination of cookies and cream; then, there was the way your lips danced against Jungkooks, composing a choreography so intricate and beautiful only the two of you could execute it.

You were in a haze, entirely stupefied and addicted to his soft and warm lips. Then, his hands snaked around your waist as he guided you back and forth on his lap. His covered erection rubbed against your clothed slit in a pace so slow, it was agonizing yet delectable. Jungkook pulled away, continuing to lead your movements against him. Your mouth remained agape and you couldn’t help the sounds escaping your lips.

You wanted to pinch yourself, you’d only ever dreamt of this. Was this all a fabrication of your dreams? You hope it wasn’t, it felt so good.

“God, I’ve always wanted to have you like this.” His voice was husk and he spoke in between grunts.

If today was dictated as your last day on earth, you’d die being the happiest woman.

His warm breath fanned your sweaty neck. A tickle ran down your back but you focused on the knot forming at your abdomen.

“I’m so close.”

“Let go for me.”

His commands were sweet like candy and the utters of his guidance to have you crumble on his lap were all you needed to send you over the edge.

“You were so good for me, darling.”

“Call me that forever.” Your knees were sore, your voice was hoarse and you were sweltered from head to toe but you craved more, you grew wetter just imagining what else could arise from this encounter.

“Darling?” You nodded. “Jungkook?” He hummed lightly, opening his eyes and lifting his head from where it rested on the wall.

“Are you tired?”

“I just had a long day yesterday.”

“Can I help you unwind?” your lower lip now tucked under your teeth, “can I touch you?”

“Please.”

Your hands tucked under the hemline of his shorts and underwear. The way you illustrated Jungkook in your dreams was close to what you would imagine a modern Greek God to look like and you quickly realized that was the case when his shirt lifted revealing that he should be the one on display in museums instead of those silly little statues.

Your chin rested on his shoulder, while your hand moved up and down the length of his cock. You couldn’t see it, not yet. But he felt so big in your palm.

The hushed moans and curses leaving him fueled you to maintain at the same pace. Your lips found themselves leaving wet kisses on his already dampened neck.

“Please—please don’t stop,” He was a stuttering mess, his hand was gripping the window still so tightly his knuckles turned white. Hypnotized by arousal Jungkook began meeting your movements, enraptured by his desire for release.

“You’re not being a very good boy, Jungkook,” you whispered in his ear, “besides I thought you were tired.”

“I’ll—I’ll be so good I promise,” he continued fucking himself into your hand.

Jungkook whined as soon as you released his cock from your grip. Instead you tucked off the pesky fabrics covering his lower half, with his help of course, your theories were proven to be correct. Jungkook, your hot neighbor with piercings and tattoos also had a pussy destroyer in between his legs because of course he did.

“There’s only two rules baby.”

“What are the rules?”

“You have to keep your hands to yourself and no coming until I say so. You got it?”

“Yes, darling.”

Opening the last drawer on your night stand you pulled out one of your vibrators and held it up for him to see, “is it ok if we use this?”

“Mhm.”

You shoved it in your pocket for later.

Taking him into your mouth, you began swirling your tongue in circular motions around the head of his cock. His labored pants were hushed and almost inaudible, you would’ve missed them if the two of you weren’t in complete silence.

Licking up and down his shaft you focused on pressing your tongue on the tip, as your hands began working, pumping him where your mouth couldn’t reach. You bobbed your head up and down occasionally, allowing the head of his cock pop in and out of your mouth. Slurp noises began invading the atmosphere around the two of you along with his whimpers. Your pace was fast and there were traces of your saliva coating his length entirely.

“Fuck darling,” his hands were reaching to grasp anything in his path but instead he ended up knocking everything off your night stand. “Y-Your lips were made to be around my cock. You know that?”

Jungkook’s praises were treats for your ego and you made sure to devour them in their entirety. He was a pleasant mess; his hair stuck out in all directions while his lips were swollen and vibrant with a scarlet hue as he kept biting down on them harshly. His glasses were slightly fogged and there were traces of saliva sitting on the corner of his mouth. All you wanted was to continue seeing him lose himself at your mercy.

You reached into your pocket and turned on the palm sized stimulator—you placed it against his balls before hitting the on button, setting off its vibrations. His head fell back and his hips buckled forward, causing you to gag around the majority of cock.

“I’m gonna come,” he cried out.

If anyone would’ve told you having Jungkook’s dick in your mouth would be this heavenly, you would live on your knees in front of him forever. Pleasuring him at every hour of every day but today you had different plans and once again he let out frustrated whimpers as you removed your mouth from around him.

“No—no, darling you’re fucking killing me. I need to come now,” he sounded desperate, “It hurts so bad. I need to come.”

“Don’t worry baby. We’re getting right to that,” you placed a kiss on his forehead.

“Did you bring any condoms?”

He shook his head, “I wasn’t exactly expecting things to go down this route.”

“Are you. .?”

“I’m clean. Are you?”

“I am.”

There was a timid breeze coming in through the opened window, it was enough to cool you down just a bit, well as cool as you could be without a fan.

Bouncing on Jungkook’s dick was even better than having him in your mouth. Sure, you loved the way he became a stuttering mess with the teasing of your tongue but having him deep inside of you, you felt like you were in your own heaven. On a deserted island somewhere with nothing but the swift breeze coming from the palm trees and his touch on your skin.

“You take me so well,” he whispered in your ear but you were too busy consumed by your own pleasure. Hyper focused on the way his hands dug into your waist; the way he swiftly pushed his cock in and out of you.

The sounds of your skin slapping against his blared through the room, as well as your profanities and his words of praise just as before.

Your nails dug into his shoulder as you felt a build up of tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, causing you to arch your back. Seemingly, the way you clenched around Jungkook he seemed to have noticed you were extremely close.

“Come for me darling,” with each word he buried his dick deeper into you.

It was a blissful paradise painted on the back of your eyelids as Jungkook continued to mold your insides with his dick, he was careful but rammed into you with such force, your voice was strained and you couldn’t hold it any longer. You finally came as sights of the beeming sun behind your closed eyes blinded you entirely.

“Come inside of me,” you managed; even more sweaty than how you began, absolutely tired and completely out of breath.

He chanted strings of your name as finally filled you up.

“Please come over more often and bring all of your brownies with you,” you were pressed up against him as he hugged your waist, placing a soft kiss on your head.

“How about we begin by going to that movie tomorrow?” It was so funny to you how Jungkook had practically just split you in two and now he was back to being soft spoken.

“It’s a date.”

It was now Friday, the power was finally back on around the city and Jungkook followed through on his plans to take you to the movies. The only problem was when you approached the theater you spotted your nosey landlord standing in line right beside Namjoon. “Before you say anything, Seokjin. Please just shut the fuck up.”

“You always think the worse of me,” he placed his hand on his chest, “all I was going to say is my Cupid’s bow is to thank for the two of you finally getting together.”

“In that case, thank you Seokjin,” Jungkook said.

“Don’t thank him.”

“Actually, please do. But the next time yall fuck in my building please keep it down. Just like the walls, the floors are also thin and the fifth floor did not appreciate your day of passion.”

“Seokjin, please go back to your own date,” you hissed, hoping no one else in line heard his little rant, “pretend we’re not here.”

Jungkook’s shame sat in his now red tinted cheeks, you peppered kisses on them to ease him.

“See, they can’t even keep their hands to themselves in public,” you heard Seokjin whisper.

This is going to be an interesting date.

a/n: this was pretty fun to write but supposed to be out on my birthday a couple days ago but i couldn’t meet the deadline sadly but please enjoy and disregard the smut scene if it’s bad. I tried lol my brain just wasn’t working 100%.

thanks for reading. comments, likes, reblogs and messages are always appreciated. let me know what you think ;)

#bts #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook drabble #very brief mention of seokjin x namjoon #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook x you #bts jungkook smut

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wndaswife · 2 years

Text

be my baby

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

tags: smut, d/s, infidelity, dumbification, strap-on, masturbation, manipulation, possessive & jealous behaviour, fingering, overstimulation, somnophilia, degradation, praise, mommy kink, dom!stepmom!wanda maximoff, sub!stepdaughter!reader. MINORS DNI.

word count: 12 505

summary: despite her controlling nature and possessive behaviour, your stepmother has always cared for you, and she'd do anything to show you just how much she does.

a/n: this gif makes me feel things

gif credit to creator.

Your stepmother had always been a bit controlling. Your father had never had an issue with it because he saw his wife’s ceaseless coddling of you to be a sign of the two of you getting along.

You had no real problem with her. She was touchy and, at times, overbearing, but she was more concerned with you than your own father, or anyone else, had ever been. Several times during the day when you were doing work in your room, Wanda would come upstairs with a plate of cut and peeled fruit, dinner you hadn’t come down for, cups of freshly brewed tea and coffee. She truly did care for you.

Although completely capable of paying for yourself, Wanda would buy your food and all your things when you went shopping with her. She picked out clothes she imagined you’d look nice in. Once, she held up a skimpy two-piece bikini for you to try on. You flushed bright red and tried turning your focus away from the woman who responded by repositioning the swimwear in front of your face.

She ended up buying it for you anyways when you were looking around the other side of the store.

What was initially seen by you as entirely too questionable and intrusive was eventually meshed into sweet, considerate gestures that made your heart swell and turned your limbs into jelly. It was normal to feel this way, Wanda had told you when you shied away from her wandering hands. This was a typical relationship for close stepmothers and daughters, and you knew nothing else but what Wanda told you when she whispered it softly in your ear as if it was an intimate promise between the two of you.

Wanda would place her hand on your leg under the dinner table, squeezing your thigh occasionally to remind you that she was holding you. The warmth of her curious hands grew to be a comfort, massaging your shoulders while you studied, pulling you backwards against the curve of her body by your hips while you washed dishes.

Despite her evident fondness for you, you tiptoed around your stepmother as stepdaughters often did.

On the night of your friend’s birthday party, you crept downstairs to the living room where you could hear your father and stepmother watching television together. You eyed the front door and all but slithered towards it, your steps muted and your breathing at a halt.

Then, a reprimand from behind you that caused you to restrain a groan, “Is this what you’re wearing?”

You turned slowly, trying to hold on to the little hope you had left that your presence would slip from Wanda and your father’s minds within the next several seconds. When you faced your stepmother from across the living room, her expression was cold and wildly judgemental, the corner of her mouth twitching as she held back further criticism that was no doubt sitting on her tongue, ready to be spat out.

Humming cautiously while you looked down at yourself, you answered, almost too quiet to hear, “Yes…?” But Wanda heard it. Of course she did. You looked back up, every movement slow and careful as to not rile her up. When your eyes found her, she had looked away from you. She was watching television again, your father’s arm wrapped around her shoulders as he called something over to you about being safe when you went out for the party.

But your eyes were on Wanda. Her expression and body language seemed all but docile, but the clenching of her jaw and the tapping of her fingers on the side of her thigh indicated that a significant portion of her previous disagreement towards your outfit remained.

Deciding that you didn’t want to deal with her anger, even if you could push it back for when you came home, you headed back upstairs, trying not to make your contempt evident in the way you dropped your bag right onto the floor before you went to change.

Wanda watched as you went back up to your room, eyes narrowed at your clenched fists. “I’ll talk to her,” she muttered to your father before standing up and following after you. She picked your bag up from the ground, eyes pinned on the stream of light coming from your ajar bedroom door. Once arriving at the top of the stairs, Wanda eyes landed on your undressed body beyond your slightly agape door. Her eyes flashed with mirth before she backed out of sight.

You were in a pretty lace set that Wanda got for you. When she gifted it to you for your birthday, she ensured that she had only wanted to make you happy, and despite your stubborn timidity, you couldn’t hide the way you loved how she took care of you. Wanda took her phone from her pocket and took a few photos of your cute little body, zooming in especially on your ass and the perfect swells of your breasts. Her pretty girl.

Once you had slipped on a black long-sleeved dress that reached your knees, Wanda stepped into your room with your bag in hand. You were standing in front of your vanity, bent over slightly to put new earrings on in the mirror to match your dress.

“Thank you for changing, lyubov,” Wanda said, placing your bag down on your bed. You watched as Wanda approached you from behind through your mirror. Her hips were pressed against your ass and you flinched forward, but your stepmother was quick to place your hands on her waist and pull you upwards so your back was flush against her front. The swift movement made you gasp and Wanda ran her hands up and down your sides soothingly in response.

With her arms still around your body, she slipped a few of her rings from her fingers. Rings held into one hand and her other holding your wrist up, Wanda began sliding her rings onto your fingers, slow and tantalising. Arousal grew within you, you causing you to buck your ass back into her hips. She switched to your other hand, your newly ring-clad fingers holding onto her wrist loosely. When she was finished, she lifted your hands up to kiss your knuckles. “Home by eleven, sweetheart,” Wanda reminded you, her hands returning to your sides as she looked at you through the mirror.

Wanda had set a curfew for you when she married your father. She laid down a lot of rules once she became part of your small family, and your father cared little to pose any arguments to her sudden possessiveness over his daughter. You had initially protested when she enforced things like curfews as you were a college student, and not even your father had set one for you since you were thirteen. But she always found a way to convince you.

Your shoulders relaxed entirely when she cupped your face with her warm hands while you had your foot down in adamant disagreement. She stared down at you tenderly before pulling you into a tight, protective hug. ‘I’m only worried for you, angel,’ she had told you. ‘You’re such a delicate, pretty thing. I’d never be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you.’ You closed your eyes once she finally convinced you, letting Wanda hold you while you finally conceded.

You nodded and turned your head to look at her. Wanda smiled down at you, pride growing within her at your submission evident in the way her eyes ran down your face.

“Come home early, baby. Let’s watch a movie together when you get back. It’s your pick tonight,” Wanda told you. When you nodded again, she let go of you and headed back to your bed to pick up your bag and hand it to you. You missed the warmth of her body, but her arm was soon wrapped around your waist as the two of you left your bedroom to walk downstairs.

You exchanged quick goodbyes with your father before Wanda led you out onto the front porch. She tucked your hair behind your ear and you tensed. Wanda giggled at your timidity. You were so cute.

“Do you need me to give you a ride?” she asked you, running her fingers through your hair. Your eyes avoided Wanda’s as her undivided attention was retained on you.

“Um,” you hesitated, “I’m okay. I’m going to walk to the store and Monica is going to pick me up from there.” Wanda never liked when you brought your friends up around her. You weren’t sure why she detested every friend you’d brought up around her, although you never asked, but she bristled visibly whenever you mentioned them and often snuck in snarky remarks about them at any given opportunity.

“She’s not just going to pick you up from here? She’s making you walk?” Wanda asked, eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed. Her blatant bewilderment at the idea of someone having you walk instead of offering you a ride spread warmth throughout your body. You almost hoped Wanda would pull you into her chest again and comfort you about the smallest things, including having to walk to the convenience store.

‘Oh, baby, it’s going to be okay. You’re a big girl, aren’t you? You can do it, sweetheart,’ she would say, petting your head and muttering sweet things into your ear.

It was normal to fantasise about those things about your stepmother, wasn’t it? Wanda always assured you that it was.

You tried to explain, mentioning your friends as little as possible, “I think I just want to bring a few drinks since I’m coming in a bit late, and Monica won't be able to pick me up for another ten minutes.”

“Let me drive you instead. You don’t have to wait for Monica,” Wanda insisted. There was something possessive about her offer, but you disregarded it.

“No, it’s alright, really,” you replied. “I need the walk.”

She raised her hands in surrender. “Okay. Fine,” she gave in. “Text me the address of the party, please. Now. So you don't forget to do it later.”

You tried to restrain your fingers’ trembling as you acted quickly in response to Wanda’s demand, taking your phone out of your pocket and opening your conversation up with her. You typed in the address and you could feel Wanda watching you as you did. Once it was sent, your stepmother pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“That’s a good girl,” she praised. You blushed and hid your reddened face from her. Wanda cupped your cheek. “Be safe. Text me if you need anything.”

Monica picked you up at the store after you bought a case of beer. The party was as good as parties typically were when you met up with your closest friends. You had a fun, easy time with them, dodging needy men and drinking enough that the hours slipped into minutes. Wanda��s curfew sped past you, forgotten in the myriad of flashing lights and perpetual movement that meshed together in the pocket of time that was a party.

Pulling you back down to the ground where time suddenly returned to existence, Wanda forced her way through the party you were at. The moment she stepped through the crowd and laid her eyes on you, you were circled by familiar and unfamiliar faces and a man feeling you up. His hand was placed on your knee, slowly pushing his way up your thigh and under your dress.

Scattered wolf whistles went unnoticed by you as Wanda pushed through several more people and wasted no more time in storming forward and taking your wrist in her hand. She forced you up and dragged you out of the house. You were being forced away from the man and your friends before you could even protest. Several drinks spilled from the sudden aggressive action until you were finally out of the house and in front of Wanda’s car down the crowded street.

“Wanda? What are you doing here?” you asked, finally coming to your senses and now able to question what was happening.

She opened the car door and shoved you in before getting into the driver’s side. Once slamming the door shut, she took hold of your jaw and forced you to look at her. “I’ve told you that you aren’t permitted to stay out past eleven, and you’ve blatantly disobeyed me. It’s one in the morning and you smell like booze. I come to pick you up, worried for you, and there’s a man sitting next to you with his hand up your dress. First, you won’t let me drive you, and now, this? How am I supposed to react, Y/N?” She lets go of your jaw and she cups your cheek softly.

“Is this what my little girl’s become?” Her very stare is condescending as she looks down at you, eyes narrowed as if she was scolding a child. “I expected to see my sweet angel when I came to see you tonight, hoping that you had just lost track of time like the little bimbo you are, and what I saw was you whoring yourself out like some needy bitch. Is that what you are? Hm?”

“No, mommy, please,” you begged, leaning up to hug her, begging her for her forgiveness. She loved when you called her that, and that was often her weak spot, but Wanda was persistent tonight.

“That’s not what I saw, sweetheart.” Her thumb stroked your cheekbone. “Have any of those men fucked you?”

You shook your head so hard you became lightheaded.

A small gratified smile formed on Wanda’s lips and you felt the weight in your stomach lift. “That’s what I like to hear, baby.” Her hand left your face and she started the car.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper.

Both of Wanda’s hands found the wheel and she drove down the street, heading home. “Yes. But I know you’re just an idiotic, brainless girl. I’ll find a way to expect less of you next time.”

You sunk down in your seat dejectedly, the heavy feeling of having disappointed your mother outweighing any concern of the scene that happened at the party. You hardly thought about it at all as you stole a few glances of Wanda throughout the ride, her expression stone-cold and still. “Do we still get to watch a movie?”

Wanda shook her head and you watched intently as her eyes were focused on the road home. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. Not only do you not deserve time with me anymore, but you need to get your sleep,” she told you.

Even while angry with you, and disappointed, even, your stepmother was still thinking of you. A small smile pulled at your lips as you turned to look out the window, now comfortable with the feeling in Wanda’s car. Things were always better around her. Sometimes, you wondered why you ever chose to do anything but be by her side, to allow yourself to be shaped in her preference- in her hands. Everything was warmer there.

Perhaps, if they heard about it, your friends would ridicule your relationship with Wanda, but you couldn’t find yourself caring about what other people might think of the way she cared for you like you were her little pet. If Wanda asked for it, you’d make her your entire world without a second thought to it, doing nothing without her permission, your head filled with only the warm thoughts she put there.

When the two of you got home, the lights in the house were completely dimmed, making you think about how Wanda must’ve been waiting for you to come home at the curfew time you’d agreed to. You ducked behind her guiltily as she took her jacket off and locked the front door. As if you were a lost puppy, you trailed behind her as she headed upstairs, and eventually, to your bedroom.

“Where’s dad?” you questioned quietly, simply watching as your stepmother dug through your dresser for your pyjamas.

“Sleeping. Where else?” Wanda answered dismissively, tossing your clothes on your bed. She put her hands on her hips and glared at you. You shied away under her stare. If he was asleep, it meant that she had truly been waiting for you, for two entire hours. She really did like spending time with her precious girl. “You need to change,” she told you before leaving your bedroom. “Then come to the washroom.”

You did what she asked of you as quickly as you could, not wanting to keep her any longer than you already had tonight. By the time you joined Wanda in the washroom, you were in the pretty nightgown she chose for you, bought by her a few weeks ago, your hair brushed through. You stepped forward cautiously, but Wanda was quick to put an arm around your shoulders and pull you into her.

“Open,” she commanded simply, looking down at you as your head laid against her chest. You parted your lips immediately and a toothbrush was pushed into your mouth. Wanda began brushing your teeth for you, ridding you of the scent of booze that your stepmother hated when you’d been drinking around anyone other than her. “Since you can’t do anything on your own, mommy has to brush your teeth for you.” Wanda’s words were reprimanding, but the tone she took was soft. Her eyes, looking over your sleepy face as you were hugged against her body, were warm in admiration.

What sounded like an apology was muffled out of you, but Wanda clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, silencing you.

Wanda continued to coo soft praises as she brushed your teeth gently, her arm wrapped around your shoulders securely as your body was hugged against her. “Doesn’t it feel better to be here with mommy, baby?”

You nodded.

She pouted in feigned sympathy, her eyebrows furrowing together as she nodded in response. “See, you’re not so dumb. My pretty princess can be smart, too.”

Wanda pulled the toothbrush from your mouth and rinsed it under the running sink. She leaned you forward, instructing into your ear, “Spit.” You did while Wanda took a makeup wipe from its package and pulled you upwards with an arm around your waist. The cold wipe was pressed to your face, and you realised that Wanda was taking your makeup off for you. You smiled at the realisation and an overwhelming urge to fall forward and lay your head on her shoulder came over you. But you wanted to be good for your stepmother, so you stayed still and closed your eyes while she removed your mascara, her other hand angling your head up with her finger hooked under your chin.

When she was done taking your makeup off, she threw the wipe out and entrusted that you could wash your face on your own. You promised her that you could. She slipped off her rings that you had borrowed from your fingers as slowly and tantalisingly as she had put them on, then left to head into her bedroom.

Everything was excruciatingly silent after that. You turned off the washroom light and stood in the dark hallway, your eyes darting between your bedroom and the other as you wrung your nightgown between your fingers. Taking your bottom lip between your teeth painfully, you took shaky steps forward into Wanda’s and your dad’s bedroom. Your father was sleeping soundly in his bed, shrouded by dark shadows as you crept into the room’s washroom.

Wanda was brushing her hair when you stepped into the washroom. She turned her head to look at you, her eyes running down your body now that she had her first glimpse at you wearing the dress she had bought for you. “What is it, darling?” she asked before looking back over to the mirror. She was wearing a wine red silk slip. You had seen her wear this one before. It wasn’t tight-fitting, but the way the garment fell over the curve of her perfect ass was hard to pull your eyes away from.

You approached her and wrapped your hands around her forearm gently, tugging lightly. “Can you sleep with me tonight, mama?” you requested before resting your cheek on her shoulder and watching her brush through her long hair. She smelled so good. Wanda had slipped into your bed before, the first time being when you had been stressing over an exam. She was holding you against her as you cried, and before you knew it, you had fallen asleep in her arms. After that, it had become a habit for you to ball up in her arms on some overwhelming days, laying your head against her chest as the two of you cuddled together in your bed.

Uttering out a soft ‘mama’ was all that Wanda often needed to be convinced to fall asleep with you, but tonight, she was stubborn. You must have sincerely offended her when you didn’t come home.

“No, baby. Not tonight,” she told you, putting her brush down and twisting open a translucent royal blue case of white cream that she rubbed into her face with her fingertips, then repeating the same motions down her neck. You watched her slender fingers run across her taut skin, the smell of her facial cream making you all the more sleepy. It was always Wanda’s mildly sweet scent that helped you fall asleep when her arms were wrapped around you during thunderstorms. It was also the pressure of her hold, possessive and ever tight. Her soft breathing as she exhaled against your shoulder as she slept. You never realised how dependent you were on her, how vulnerable you were when you were with her.

You tugged on her arm. “Please? I’m sorry for being bad. I just want to spend time with you. Please?” you pleaded, on the tips of your toes as you whined into her ear, watching her expression as she continued with her nighttime routine. You twirled a soft lock of Wanda’s long hair around your finger. “Please?”

Wanda exhaled through her nose and you lifted your head from your shoulder to look at her face. She uttered out a resentful, “Fine.” You wrapped your arms around her shoulders and bounced against her excitedly. Wanda shushed you quickly and you shrunk against her, eyes on her accusational expression and sharp gaze. She was still angry at you, after all, and you were behaving carelessly with your father still sleeping in the other room.

With both your arms dependently wrapped around Wanda’s right upper arm, she led the both of you out of the washroom, turning off the light and stepping out. You ducked your head beyond her shoulder as you crept across the bedroom with her. Both you and your stepmother padded across the room, although she seemed much more nonchalant about it. How many times had she had to do this, you wondered- leave her husband’s side to join you in your bedroom?

Still trailing behind her with your arms wrapped around one of your stepmother’s, she led you into your bedroom and closed your door. You removed your hold from around her gingerly as she shut your bedroom light off, one pretty dim light on your nightstand illuminating your bedroom with warm brilliance. Shuffling against your bedroom floor quickened as you sped-walked to your stepmother and wrapped your arms around her from behind.

“Are you drunk, malysh?” Wanda asked you as she leaned over to pull the blanket of your bed back.

You buried your face in her hair. “No,” you lied.

Your stepmother only hummed sceptically in response. She straightened and allowed you to slip into your bed first. You took Wanda’s hand and tugged her in bed with you. She let you pull her in, her sweet scent gusting against you as she moved in beside you. You wrapped your arms around her immediately while Wanda pulled your blankets over both of you.

“Mommy,” you uttered out happily against her chest. After Wanda reached up to turn off the lamp by your nightstand and got herself settled with her arms around you, you looked up, your head laying between the valley of her breasts. “I’m sorry for making you mad. I just got caught up in the party, mama. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

A hand raised to the back of your head, scratching at your scalp soothingly. “I like to hear you apologise, sweetheart. You’re so cute with those pretty words coming out of your mouth,” she told you, a soft, proud smile beaming down at you. “I don’t want to see you disobeying me again.”

You shook your head. “I won’t,” you promised confidently. When Wanda told you she forgives you, you reached up to rest your head on her shoulder, your hair tickling her neck as you hugged yourself close to her.

Within half an hour, Wanda was holding you from behind, your back hugged flushed against the front of her body as you slept soundly in her hold. After some amount of time, you groaned softly as you began to wake up, eyes fluttering open at the rapid movement behind you.

“Yes!” Wanda hissed out, her breath ragged and her movement tremulous as you felt her jerk behind you, the mattress dipping uncomfortably. Your heartbeat quickened without reason as you listened to your stepmother’s exclamations.

You tried to shut your eyes, to sleep through whatever it was that was happening behind you and never bring it up again, but it was impossible to ignore, much less fall asleep during it.

“That feels so good, puppy. Ah! My pussy is so wet for you,” she mumbled as you listened to the filthy squelching of her pussy. Your chest tightened as the realisation set in that your stepmother was masturbating right behind you, her fingers fucking in and out of her tight cunt as her arm was pressed up against your back. “Y/N, I love how you fuck me,” Wanda groaned, her slip hiked up to her hips and her legs parted.

Your name, as you have heard her say hundreds of times before, was being moaned from beyond her lips as her fingers were buried deep inside of her pussy. You felt pressure build between your thighs the longer you listened to your stepmother masturbate. You debated whether or not it would be better to shift slightly, signalling to Wanda that you had woken up. Would she stop touching herself if you did? Would she continue without a second thought?

Not ready to find the answer, you laid still, silencing your shaky breaths. You wondered how many other times Wanda had masturbated behind you while you were sleeping soundly.

Unbeknownst to you, Wanda’s head was lolled to the side, watching your body tremble as you willed everything in you not to squeeze your thighs together and out at the very feeling that listening to your stepmother fuck her pussy planted within you. She was sure to curl her fingers, parting her digits inside of her so you could hear how wet she was for you.

When she finally reached her hilt, her back arched from the bed, an unstrained cry leaving her as her orgasm washed over her in heavy ripples. You screwed your eyes together tightly at her uninhibited moans and desperate squeals. Her body fell back onto the bed as she panted. It didn’t take long for her to wrap her arm around your waist again, pulling you against her like you had been before. Wanda kissed your shoulder and then your neck, taking your earlobe between her lips and sucking softly. Her hand reached up to grope your breast, kneading her warm palm against you. Her glistening fingers, coated with her juices, tugged at your erect nipple before she pulled your ass against her hips.

Your thighs squeezed together inadvertently and Wanda smirked against your neck before burying her nose in your soft hair and closing her eyes again. As you took in the indistinct scent of Wanda’s pussy, you felt as if though you were embraced by your stepmother in a way you hadn’t ever been before, and you fell asleep once more. Even if she had stuck her own fingers in your cunt, fucking you while you slept, you’d still be able to fall asleep in her arms. You loved your stepmother, and you’d need her no matter what she did.

You woke up without her the next morning, which you realised when you expected to lean back into her warm body and ended up laying back onto an otherwise empty bed. The smell of fresh breakfast filled your room, the soft sizzle of the kitchen stove from downstairs reaching your ears. With an urge to wear your pretty nightgown Wanda had bought you in front of her only, you changed into different clothes before you made your way to the kitchen downstairs.

Wanda was standing in front of the stove, spatula in hand, the smell of bacon and eggs growing stronger as you stepped further into the kitchen. Your father noticed you first with an overjoyous, “Y/N! Good morning!” Your stepmother turned at the mention of your name, a smile forming on her pink lips at the sight of you.

“Good morning, Y/N,” she greeted, her voice smooth as nectar and just as sweet. Her dark brown hair was tied up, stray strands falling down the back of her neck and around her face. She was also wearing different clothes- a loose shirt with black yoga pants. Her attention was turned back to the breakfast on the pan in front of her before recollections of last night came flooding back to you, prompting you to redirect your focus onto something else.

After mumbling out a ‘Good morning,’ in response, your father returned to Wanda’s side, wrapping a hand around her hips and lifting up an empty plate for her to place the freshly cooked eggs on. They looked okay for each other. They always have. A demure couple, ordinary and traditional. Maybe you could rid yourself of the memories from last night, to forget it had ever happened and continue your relationship with Wanda as it had always been.

But the way your name had left her that night. It was your name, not his. Your name in its entirety, every rise and fall of her tongue as she pronounced it without equivocation, without hesitation. Even in trying your hardest to forget what had happened, to chalk it all up to some hallucination, the feeling that bloomed in your chest as you recalled the way Wanda had uttered it out in the way that she did was indelible. The feeling that your name had only ever been composed to exist for Wanda Maximoff to call it out in the dead of the night, her fingers deep inside herself as she allowed her mind to be encapsulated by the thought of you.

You took a seat at the dining table and your dad began placing down the glasses and utensils while Wanda set the plates up. She made your eggs how you liked them, scrambled with peppers and herbs. She came with your plate first, reaching over your shoulder and placing your breakfast on the placemat in front of you. A soft kiss was pressed to your temple before she pulled away to get the other plates, leaving you with shivers running up your body at her gesture.

You poured yourself a glass of water to keep yourself occupied as Wanda prepared the table. She squeezed her husband’s shoulder gently before taking a seat beside you.

“Wanda tells me you had quite the nightmare last night,” your dad noted aloud as he sprinkled salt onto his eggs.

Your teeth bit down on the inside of your cheek to restrain the satisfied moan that you nearly let out as you chewed a forkful of scrambled eggs. Wanda was a great cook. You only had to tell her how you preferred your food once for her to remember it for every home-cooked meal afterwards. “I did, a little,” you answered briefly.

A hand was placed on your knee under the table. When Wanda looked over at you, eyes crinkling slightly with a sweet smile, you knew it was hers.

“I miss when your stepmother hadn’t yet taken my place as your favourite parent,” your father teased. But neither you or your stepmother were listening to him.

Your eyes were focused on the dish in front of you, forking scrambled eggs and bacon into your mouth as modestly as you could with your stepmother’s hand still on your knee, slowly inching up your thigh. She squeezed your upper thigh and laughed richly.

“Y/N’s just a mommy’s girl. So sweet to me,” Wanda giggled, running her hand up and down your clothed thigh. She squeezed harshly suddenly, forcing your eyes to dart up to her. You were greeted with one of her saccharine smiles, eyebrows furrowed with condescending sympathy. “Isn’t that right?”

You nodded silently and went back to eating your breakfast. Pleased with your submission to her, Wanda ceased teasing you for the rest of breakfast apart from her hand being placed on your upper thigh throughout the entirety of the meal.

Wanda was upstairs with your father when breakfast was over, helping him get ready for his late-night shift. For the first time, you wondered what they might be doing, why Wanda had to stay up there with him for so long while he was doing something as trivial as getting ready for work. He was a grown man, wasn’t he? He didn’t need her help.

During your sudden spark of debilitating spite, the knife you were washing slipped from your fingers, nearly slicing the heel of your hand before you recoiled suddenly. Your elbows came into contact with something firm and with one swift movement, Wanda’s arms were wrapped around your waist. She pulled you into her, humming satisfiedly into your ear. You tensed, your shoulders raising to your ears before Wanda pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“Did you enjoy breakfast?” she asked you, her voice a low seductive purr despite simply asking about a meal you shared.

You nodded and Wanda laughed, seemingly quite pleased with your answer. Wanda was a talented cook. She baked on the weekends, catered for special events, and cooked for every meal whenever she was home. She remembered your every preference for every dish, your favourite colours for icing she would decorate your desserts with. Everything Wanda touched in the kitchen would turn into something as delicious as it was beautiful.

You had cooked with your stepmother a handful of times, and it was no less than enchanting; the closest the real world would ever have to real sorcery. You made many of your favourite dishes, as Wanda had insisted you do together, along with several others she believed you would love, which you did. There was something so intimate about spending time with your stepmother, who asked things to have your answers, who listened to what you said to remember each word, who took the time to be with you.

“Wanda…” you whimpered, inhaling sharply as you settled your nerves.

Wanda loosened her hold around your waist to tip her head to the side and meet your eyes with hers as she continued to hug you from behind. “What is it, zaya?” she asked.

Zaya. It meant ‘little rabbit’ in Russian. Wanda told you what it meant when she used the term while picking you up from campus one afternoon. You shrunk in her arms, melting in her hold at the pet name.

You twisted your lips around, directing your focus on the pressurised stream of the hot tap water as you washed the dishes. You had a few glasses left to wash, and you knew you wouldn’t have anything else to distract yourself with once you finished. You tried to get your words out, but you were never the confrontational kind. “Last night-”

Wanda’s eyebrows arched upwards. “Yes?”

“Last night, um… I thought you were… But it could’ve been my mistake,” you hesitated, scrubbing at the rim of one glass with the soapy sponge for far longer than necessary.

“Use your words like a big girl, Y/N,” your stepmother reprimanded. Her hold on your waist tightened as she ran her hands down your sides supportively until her hands were on your hips. She sometimes spoke to you like this, as if you were simply a child in need of discipline. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. Even a little.

After rinsing the last glass, you placed it on the rack by the sink and dried your hands. “I sort of- I woke up in the middle of the night last night and I thought you were…”

Wanda laid her head on your shoulder, looking up at you. “You thought I was what, sweetheart?” she asked you.

You laid your hands on the counter, playing with your fingers. You avoided eye contact with her, knowing that if you had met her eyes, you wouldn’t be able to find words within you to say anything at all. “Thought you were doing something weird,” you replied.

“Weird?” Wanda repeated with a chuckle. With her hands still on your hips, she spun you around so you were facing her, your lower back pressing into the sink. “What do you mean, moya lyubov?” She stared at you for a few moments, her thumb rubbing against your hip. Her eyebrows furrowed together and her head tipped to the side curiously. “You thought I was doing something… dirty?”

Your face flushed and you looked away from her, the pressure of her hands on your hips suddenly overbearing as you squirmed between her and the counter. Wanda pushed herself against you, confining you in your spot.

“Oh, is that it?” your stepmother purred, eyebrows quirked upwards.

On the tips of your toes, you tried looking over Wanda’s shoulder at the staircase in the hallway, the idea of your father coming down to see his wife pressed up against his daughter looming over you dangerously. What you were doing with her wasn’t wrong, was it? But you felt so worried about being caught.

Wanda cupped your cheek with her hand, bringing your attention back to her. “I would never take advantage of you like that, baby,” she cooed. She pulled your head against her chest. Her reaction was overly comforting perhaps, but you closed your eyes anyways, letting your stepmother pet your hair and kiss the top of your head. “It was just a bad dream, sweetheart,” Wanda murmured, “just a dream.”

Your stepmother spent the rest of the day doing errands after she dropped off your father at work. The house was barren and deafeningly silent while you were home alone all day without Wanda; a stark and lonely transition from the night and breakfast you had spent together.

Before she had left, Wanda reminded you that you weren’t allowed to have friends over or leave the house as punishment for your behaviour last night. When your stepmother took your chin in her fingers and pressed a kiss to your forehead before she left, you accepted that you had to atone for what you had done. You wanted to make it up to her.

You could only hope that Wanda came home as soon as she could.

At around five in the evening, you sped down the stairs after you heard the doorbell ring. You opened the front door to see Wanda holding several grocery bags, and you took a few into each of your hands.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Wanda said behind you as she locked the front door and followed behind you to the kitchen. You placed the bags beside hers on the kitchen counters.

“Have you been good?” she asked you, taking your chin in her hand and rubbing her thumb against the corner of your mouth. You nodded with a proud smile. “You didn’t have anyone over, darling? And you didn’t leave the house?” You shook your head. Wanda smiled and pulled you in for a hug. “That’s my good girl.” She kissed the top of your head and spoke again, “I bought condensed milk so we can make kartoshkas this weekend.”

Along with making your favourite dishes, Wanda had introduced you to some meals and desserts she had as a child in Russia. You found that your stepmother was more eager to share things she held dear with you rather than with her own husband, especially when it came to her life in her home country before she immigrated to America.

One afternoon while you were making blinis with her, she told you stories of her life with her late parents and twin brother for hours. She hadn’t visited Russia in years, and she promised when she got the chance to, she would bring you to see her hometown, all the places she’d been missing, the best restaurants and places to sightsee. Your father wasn’t brought up once during the conversation.

Once you put away the groceries, Wanda was pouring herself a glass of merlot while you were warming milk up for your hot chocolate. What you had planned that night was a long evening of studying and catching up on assignments until your stepmother suggested something otherwise.

“Do you want to have that movie night we were planning for last night, detka?” she asked you, lifting her wine glass up to her lips to take a sip.

Nearly burning yourself on the hot mug as your eyes found your stepmother’s, you choked out, “We should.”

Wanda hummed in agreement as her eyes narrowed slightly, watching you closely while you stirred in a few spoonfuls of hot chocolate powder into your hot milk. You headed into the living room first, Wanda trailing behind you, her eyes falling to your ass as you walked ahead of her. She sat by you when you took a seat on the couch and she turned on the television with the remote. “What are you interested in watching tonight, moya lyubov?”

My love. You searched up that definition on your own. You leaned against Wanda and a sudden warmth blossomed in your chest. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you close against her so you were tucked against her chest, your mug of hot chocolate balancing in your lap.

“Practical Magic?” you suggested, looking up at her with your cheek squished against her shoulder.

Wanda laughed and you heard her flick through the movies on the television while you continued to look up at her, her eyes crinkling as she laughed. “Good choice, zaya,” she complimented, making you blush and look down to take a drink of your hot chocolate.

When the movie was put on, Wanda set the remote down and wrapped both of her arms around your shoulders. She squeezed you and kissed your forehead. A giggle escaped you and Wanda looked down to grin at your scrunched up nose. She pressed another kiss onto your forehead and her hold on you relaxed before taking her wine glass from off the coffee table to take a sip of it. She rested it on her knee, her fingers wrapped around the glass delicately.

“I’m so glad we could spend this time together, sweetheart,” she told you. You conceded immediately, squirming in your spot as you moved in closer to your stepmother.

An hour into the movie, Wanda placed her second half-empty wine glass on the coffee table along with your mug. She pressed a kiss to the side of your head and placed her hands on your hips. “Come sit on mommy's lap, baby,” Wanda told you, pulling you up before you could comply.

When you were settled on her lap, Wanda’s hands squeezed your hips, then ran down your legs gently. Your hips shifted atop of her when pressure grew uncomfortably between your thighs. “Comfortable, malyshka?” she asked you. Your shoulders raised to your ears at the proximity of her lips to your ear and Wanda kissed your neck in attempts to soothe you, which only tensed you further. Her hands ran up your sides.

“Relax, baby. It’s just me, right?” she cooed into your ear. “Just mommy.”

You nodded, taking in a breath as you leaned back. Your head laid against her shoulder and Wanda smiled.

“That’s right,” she purred. Her hands came dangerously close to your breasts before she wrapped her arms around your waist.

After several minutes of listening to Wanda’s steady, quiet breaths while you watched the movie, her hands suddenly groped your breasts, causing you to gasp and attempt to sit up. Rather roughly, she pulled you back down against her, hushing you softly.

“Just be good and let me play with your pretty tits, baby,” Wanda said, making your entire body freeze as you tried to process the wild throbbing of your cunt while your hips struggled to restrain their bucking, your clit craving friction. “Watch your movie.”

Your nipples were pinched abruptly, a moan leaving you as Wanda tugged at them teasingly. She leaned down, her lips finding your neck as she began peppering sloppy kisses up your skin. Your hips became unrestrained as you started humping your stepmother’s lap, desperate for the icky feeling in your pussy to go away. A hard bulge pressed into your ass when Wanda’s hips bucked upwards, making you whimper.

“Mama, this feels weird,” you mewled as you continued to hump against her leg, her strap pressing into your clit and drawing out moans from you.

Wanda started trailing her kisses up your jaw before she started nipping at your skin, her tongue darting out to run flush up your cheek. “Oh, I know, baby,” she whispered. “But all mommies do this. It’s normal.”

She always knew how to convince you. You shut your eyes, moaning out helplessly as your stepmother continued to grope your breasts and pinch your erect nipples. Her hands slipped under your shirt, her fingers running up your bare stomach before taking your breasts with her hands again. You gasped at the feeling of her hands against you, your nipples pressed up against her palms as she massaged you harshly. Your head lolled to the side, moaning out into Wanda’s chest as you tried to hide the blush of your cheeks.

You’ve been wiggling uncomfortably on top of her strap for the last few minutes of the movie, but mommy kept convincing you to just relax. You weren’t sure what it was that you were humping down on, but you didn’t think much about it while you were rubbing your icky parts over it.

She ran her hands down your arms and you assumed, with a pout, that she was just going to stop touching you all at once, but without warning, Wanda pulled your sweatpants down and pulled your panties to the side, then her yoga pants down to her thighs. The action was so swift that your dumb little bimbo brain could barely register that it was happening until Wanda pushed her cock into your hole.

You cried out, throwing your head back to lay on Wanda’s shoulder as your back arched, simultaneously pulling away from the contact and grinding down into her lap. Her hands were placed on your hips, the heels of her hands pressing into your lower back as she lifted you up and down her strap, each impact grinding the strap’s base into her clit.

Through soft grunts, Wanda husked out into your ear, “Don't fight me, baby. Just be good and let mommy use your tight little pussy.”

You willed everything in you to be mommy’s good girl and take her cock, but you were hanging off the precipice of pain and pleasure, gratification seemingly only reaching you quicker the more you moaned out. Your walls parted as Wanda’s cock slid in and out of you, each buck of her hips into your ass meeting no resistance despite the painful stretching within you as you slowly became accustomed to your stepmother’s size.

The curious thought of where she might’ve kept something like this while sharing the same room with your father was short-lived when Wanda’s hands came up to pull your shirt over your head. Her bucking hips and your arched back maintained the rhythm of the thrusts as your nipples hardened in the living room’s air.

Wanda watched your breasts bounce with each of her thrusts, the impact of fucking her stepdaughter observable in your rhythmic squeals and moans as her cock penetrated your tight cunt. Her hands squeezed your breasts, the harshness of her grip making you whimper.

You couldn’t have ever guessed Wanda would be this rough, even in your deepest of fantasies where your stepmother was fucking you from behind with languid thrusts of her hips. Even in the way her fingernails scratched at the sides of your breasts while she pumped her thick cock into your wet hole, your heart swelled at being Wanda’s only girl. Her pretty, good girl sitting in her lap getting fucked stupid. She loved you with her arms wrapped around you while you slept, while she cooked with you, while her cock was eight inches in your pussy while her teeth sunk into your neck deep enough to bruise.

Mommy loved you.

“My baby is so pretty,” Wanda grunted against your cheek, her breath warm and smelling of merlot. You were completely naked in her lap, your panties hanging loosely around your ankle. Your sweatpants pooled at the foot of the couch, your shirt thrown somewhere across the living room. Wanda couldn’t get enough of the idea of her agreeable little girl bouncing on her cock as her hands fumbled while holding herself up. You were trying to steady yourself with your arms reached back and your hands on your hips.

You whimpered out, “Thank you, mommy.” You felt all warm being complimented by your stepmother. It felt so good to be framed through her eyes, being her pretty agreeable slut just because she wanted you to be. You supposed that if Wanda had bent you over the kitchen table earlier, groceries tumbling to the floor as she pulled your pants down while she spread your pussy lips apart before forcing her cock into your tight pink cunt, you would’ve let her. You would’ve let her bury her fingers in your hole at breakfast under the table, sit her wet pussy on your face while you slept- anything to see her gratified grin as she was able to make you hers in a way no one else could.

Wanda let go of one of your breasts, her hand running down your stomach until her fingers made contact with your clit. Your back arched, a cry leaving you the moment she pressed the pads of her fingers into your swollen nub. With your head having fallen back onto her shoulder, Wanda leaned down to capture your lips with hers. Although she had pecked your lips a handful of times in your sleep, the allure and fascination of kissing you was alike to yours, as for you, this was your first kiss with her. You straightened, trying to bring yourself as close to her as possible.

Her tongue pushed past your lips, exploring your mouth as muffled moans left you. She groaned into your mouth as your hips began jerking forward helplessly once her fingers found a circular rhythm against your clit, causing the base of her strap to grind against her own bundle of nerves harshly.

She pulled away from the kiss and looked down at your face with a proud smile as she watched screwed-shut eyes, your nose scrunched up as your mouth hung open, melodious moans spilling from beyond your soft lips.

“Zaya…” Wanda purred. You hummed shakily in response, opening your eyes slightly to meet a deep moldavite stare as Wanda looked down at you. “I’ve dreamt of fucking this tight little cunt for years, even before I married your father,” she confessed, her hips bucking up into your sore ass with increasing vigour the more she delved into her lewd divulgence, which made it increasingly difficult to keep your eyes open.

Her hand switched breasts and took your nipple between her thumb and forefinger before pinching down and tugging at it. You squirmed and groaned, your teeth clenched as your hips ground down side to side, whimpering at the way Wanda’s cock spread your walls apart even further. “With these tits, you must’ve known that it was only a matter of time until mommy slid her cock in your little pussy, right?” she cooed, her words condescending and sickly sweet as she pounded into you.

You hadn’t known that your stepmother was going to fuck you, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been anticipating it somewhere within you. You’d wake up sometimes with your inner thighs slick with your sticky juices, having dreamt of being bent over and fucked by your stepmother while you slept. But ever since last night, you’d been curious about whether or not Wanda had ever had a part in how icky you woke up feeling sometimes.

Wanda pushed your hips up suddenly to slip her cock out of you. You groaned uncomfortably as you felt empty without her strap in you. Her fingers slipped down from your clit, running through your sopping folds to push before pushing them into your hole. Wanda laughed when your walls clenched around her fingers, your hips immediately grinding down on her hand as you desperately craved more friction from her.

She was quick to appease; the heel of her hand was pressed against your clit to allow her fingers more leverage to fuck into you. You pulled away instinctively at the sudden rough contact against your clit, but Wanda pinched your nipple again, making you fall back down into her lap.

“Does this feel familiar, puppy?” she asked you, a grin pulling at her lips.

You shook your head immediately. “No, mommy,” you insisted. She was asking if you had ever been fucked like this by anyone else, wasn’t she?

Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed together in feigned curiosity. “No? Mommy’s fingers fucking your pretty hole doesn’t feel familiar to you?”

Your eyes fluttered open and you tried your hardest to maintain eye contact with her while you tried to decipher her expression. Her knowing gaze, the small smile on her soft lips. Your eyebrows stitched together as you nearly attained clear realisation before Wanda curled her fingers inside of you, making your eyes shut again as you moaned out.

Wanda hummed, leaning down to nip at your earlobe and press wet kisses to your neck. “That’s right, baby,” she said after catching a glimpse of your expression. “It hurts my feelings that you barely remember your special times with mommy,” murmured Wanda. She kissed your cheek.

You had never seen yourself like this. You nearly couldn’t even recognise yourself while you were crying out for Wanda, your pussy so sloppy around her that both of you could hear every entry of her fingers into your tight hole.

“But you remember a little now, don’t you?” Wanda spoke into your ear. “How I slid my hand through your pretty thighs while you slept before pushing my fingers into your cunt?” You reflected on it through your clouded mind; your sticky parts when you woke up in the morning, the throbbing of your hole even after having been asleep for hours. “And don’t try and pretend you didn’t like it, malysh. If you really didn’t like the way mommy licked your pussy in your sleep, you wouldn’t have came as much as you did. Your cute little moans gave it away, too.”

“Mama…” you whimpered out, suddenly overcome by the warm idea of being Wanda’s even in your sleep. Your cheeks flushed and you turned your head to lay against her chest.

Your stepmother watched as you became embarrassed, finding consolation in burying your face in her chest. “You taste so sweet, don’t you know that, sweetheart?” she pressed on, amused by the way your flushed cheeks peeked out even as you tried your hardest to bury your humiliation. With her hand that had been groping at your breast, she cupped your cheek, forcing you to look up at her with your glassed over eyes and flushed cheeks from the overwhelming jumble of pleasure and humiliation that filled your empty head. Wanda thought you were so cute when you looked like that.

“Why are you embarrassed, baby?” she asked, her fingers’ speed not ceasing for a moment, and if anything, they were quickening. It seemed that Wanda was purposely trying to ask you such loaded questions while being all too aware of how difficult it was for you to answer them. “It’s just me. I love you more than anyone. You don’t have to be all shy around mommy.” Her arm rounded your shoulders, pulling your body against hers. Her gestures were swift and self-assured while you were a mewling mess on her lap, your juices trickling down to Wanda’s wrist and undoubtedly ruining her yoga pants.

You slurred out an apology and your attempt at speaking decently despite being filled by three of Wanda’s fingers pleased her.

“Give mommy a kiss, detka.”

You attempted to lean up and kiss her, but your frail body could barely hold yourself up largely due to how Wanda purposely pushed the heel of her hand into your clit when you were demanded to do things like answer her questions or move your body on your own. Wanda leaned down halfway to meet you and you whimpered into her mouth, struggling to keep yourself from falling back down against her chest simply.

Wanda’s fingers quickened once more. Not only were her fingers picking up speed, but the palm of her hand began pounding against your cunt as she fucked your hole ceaselessly. You had no choice but to fall back down against her chest, your body physically recoiling from the harsh impact against your pussy, but Wanda always caught up with you, disallowing you to part from her contact.

She put her hand on your shoulder unexpectedly and flipped you over, her fingers leaving your cunt momentarily. You were laying over her lap, your ass sticking up in the air. You squirmed, pulling yourself up into your elbows to sit up and reposition yourself from the humiliating pose. Wanda’s hand was suddenly placed against your upper back, the heel of her hand pressing painfully into your spine so you fell forward, your bare breasts pushed flush against the couch cushion.

Three fingers slammed back into your cunt with one swift moment, Wanda’s knuckles coming into painful contact with your folds. You wailed at the contact and gripped the edge of the couch with your hand. You could hear Wanda chuckling cruelly at your cries behind you as her fingers picked up speed, quicker than it had before. Her fingers were twisting inside of you as she entered you, curling periodically as pulled out and making you push your ass back into her hand while she brushed over your special spot deep inside your cunt.

“You’re such a fucking slut,” Wanda spat, her other hand coming down on your ass, making you flinch and try to pull back from her. She put her hand on your hip, digging her fingernails into your skin and pulling you back onto her lap. “My poor, innocent girl pretending her worthless hole can’t take it, but look at this, hm?”

Her fingers sped up momentarily to emphasise the sloshing of your pussy as she fucked you with her fingers.

“What do you think that means, puppy?” your stepmother inquired, looking over at your expression, face reddened and your eyes screwed shut as you moaned, unrelenting, like the whore you were, your body finally being put to use with your pussy being stuffed with mommy’s fingers. When you didn’t respond, Wanda spoke again, “It means you’re a filthy little bitch who likes to get her pussy fucked. I thought you were my innocent little girl, but I suppose I was wrong.”

You shook your head in immediate protest. “No, mommy,” you whimpered, opening your eyes to look back at Wanda. You continued to whine, “I’m your good girl. I’m… I am!”

Wanda raised her hand to interlace her fingers with your hair, scratching your scalp soothingly; a stark contrast from the way she was fucking you with her other hand. “Oh, baby, hush now. I believe you,” she told you, her gaze soft as she looked down at your face pressed down against the couch.

“I wanna prove it to you, mama,” you insisted.

Wanda hummed, reaching her other hand to tuck between your thighs and rub at your clit. “Then cum for me, puppy,” she answered.

You pushed your ass back into Wanda’s hand and she reciprocated by pounding into you ever rougher, making you whimper helplessly as you gave yourself to your stepmother completely. You were entirely at her mercy, and you would be her good girl by letting her do whatever you felt like, and happily, you welcomed it. You had never felt more special when you were making mommy’s fingers all sticky with your cunt juices as much as you did tucking your face into the crook of her neck while you fell asleep in her arms.

Her other hand circled against your sensitive nub harshly, and despite your whining and the way your body squirmed on Wanda’s lap, you continued to take her fingers like the perfect girl you were.

You mewled, screwing your eyes together tightly as you felt yourself closing in on your climax. “Mommy, I feel weird,” you whimpered. Wanda watched as you began riding her fingers, your hips grinding forwards and backwards shakily.

“I know you do, malyshka,” Wanda comforted as your hips began to thrash backwards. To both her surprise and thrill, you reached back and placed both your hands on either side of your ass. Fingers dug into your skin painfully as you pulled your pussy’s folds apart, allowing your stepmother more room to finger you harshly. With the stretch, more of your cunt became exposed to Wanda, causing her to moan out at the sight. She leaned down and ran her tongue down the sides of your stretched out hole. “Cum for mommy, baby. Make me proud,” she said against your pussy.

You inched closer to your hilt, the coil in your lower stomach growing ever tighter, and tighter, until it finally snapped, the feeling of Wanda’s dirty words being spoken out against your cunt helping you get there. A prolonged cry escaped from deep inside you and Wanda grinned, pressing a kiss to your ass as your soft walls clenched around her fingers. Your hands tightened their grips around your ass, your body tensing harshly as your orgasm pushed through you in harsh waves. Wanda continued to finger you, albeit slower, as you came down from your high, and once you did, she slipped out of you carefully, sticky ropes of your juices connecting to her hand as she rubbed your ass soothingly.

You were panting against the couch, your body shaking with occasional tremors as your orgasm’s last waves crashed against you. Your hands were limp by your hips, fingers twitching and your body rising and falling irregularly with your trembling breaths.

“How are you feeling, sweetness?” Wanda asked, leaning to the side so she could kiss your cheek. You nodded, mumbling out something imperceptible. She laughed and raised her hand to hook a finger under your chin, tipping your head to the side to kiss your lips. The faint flavour of your pussy coated the kiss.

You closed your eyes for what felt like several seconds before you were pushed forward against the couch, your ass being stuck up further in the air. Wanda hands were on your waist. “Mama…?” you mumbled, struggling to open your eyes to look back at her. “What are you doing?”

Your stepmother only hushed you in response, her hands smoothing over your ass for a moment before her hands gripped your hips and pulled you against her. Her cock was thrusted into your swollen hole, making you cry out and jerk your body forward, desperate to soothe yourself from the sudden sharp pain. But Wanda was faster, her fingers digging into the hollow spaces by your hips to pull you back into her.

“Ah! Mommy, stop! It hurts, that’s too much!” you pleaded, reaching back to push her hips away. The orgasm Wanda had given you was the first in quite awhile, and the strongest you’d ever had, and she had only been using her fingers.

Wanda leaned forward so her front was cocooning your back, the contact making you feel the slick coat of sweat that had enveloped your body. “I thought you wanted to prove to mommy what a good girl you are,” she reminded you. Her hips had begun to slow to allow you to answer her properly. She reached one of her hands up to move your hair to your other shoulder, allowing her to see your fatigued expression.

You hesitated, “Y-Yes, but-”

“Yes, but what?” Wanda hissed, suddenly impatient as she watched you struggle to form words. “Suddenly you don’t want to be my good girl?” She cupped your cheek, running her thumb over your cheekbone.

“No! I want to-”

“Then let me fuck your pussy the way I want to.”

Wanda watched you a little while longer as you nodded. She softened at your obedience and kissed you. “That’s right. Mommy loves you so much, detka,” she whispered against your lips. You had been told by your stepmother that she loved you countless times before, but it held a different weight now. You smiled into the kiss, happy to be hers.

“I love you too, mommy.” You saw a flash of Wanda’s pretty smile before she straightened and positioned her hips against your ass again.

Her thrusts picked up speed. The pressure of having her cock being buried deep within you was completely different from the feeling of her fingers. Wanda took your hand with hers, placing it on your ass as she continued to use the leverage to fuck you against her strap. She squeezed your hand supportively and tried your best to squeeze back in response.

Wanda’s moans were louder and more frequent than before, and you knew she was grinding her clit against her strap’s harness as she fucked you. The realisation made you all the more wet thinking about how she was just using you as an object to get herself off. “You feel so tight, malyshka,” she told you, her head thrown back as she fucked into your pussy, hands still on your hips.

The sensitive pain that had been shooting up your body was long dissipated into white-hot pleasure, as if your entire body was aflame, every inch of your skin incandescent as you lay limp, every thought you could ever think and anything you could ever feel being placed in Wanda’s hands. It was her authority that rained upon you, her very word that was, and would forever be, your law.

“I’m the only one who’s ever allowed to touch this pussy,” Wanda said. Her hand rounded your hip to rub her fingers against your clit. “Do you understand, Y/N? Repeat it to me.”

You groaned, willing everything in you to answer her. Several seconds was too long of a response time. Wanda slapped her hand down against your ass, making you yelp and jerk forward. She brought you back up to her, the impact of being pressed back down against her hips propelled you closer to your second orgasm. Wanda must’ve caught on because she started thrusting faster, her fingers’ contact against your clit becoming harsher. “You’re the only one allowed to touch my pussy,” you whimpered out finally, a proud chuckle coming from the woman behind you. “Mama, please…”

She squeezed your hand. “Oh, my sweet girl. What is it?” she asked. Although her words were indicative of concern, the way she patronised you was all too audible, and the way she got off on it was even more evident.

“Gonna cum again, mommy,” you cried. You buried your face into the couch cushion, your forehead pressed against the soft fabric. Opening your eyes, you could see Wanda’s knees from between your thighs and the hard work she was putting into fucking you. To think she cared so much about making you feel good made your head all fuzzy and warm.

“You are?” Wanda questioned, her tone alike to that of a preschool teacher talking to a child as they feigned interest in their droning. One of her hands was placed on your thigh, lifting your leg up as her other hand let you lay down onto the couch carefully so your stomach was flush against it. Your body was limp, simply a marionette at the feet of its puppeteer as Wanda turned you around so you were on your back. She let your other leg down, her actions careful so her cock didn’t accidentally slip out of you.

Your arms raised to your stepmother and she placed a hand by your head to lower herself down to your face. You kissed her as if it was an inherent desire to feel her soft lips against yours when she was this close to your face. Wanda parted from your lips to pepper kisses across your collarbone, all the while your legs lifted to press your thighs against her sides.

An erect nipple was taken into Wanda’s mouth. The feeling of her lips wrapped around you, her teeth raking down your bud carefully, forced a long moan out of you. Her hand cupped your cheek gently and you looked down to find your stepmother’s eyes piercing into yours with surprising focus despite the rapid thrusting of her hips and the maintained contact with her fingers against your clit. The sight was that of a woman you had not known before tonight, one who craved you like one did oxygen, a woman, who in desperate desire for your entire being and very soul to be one with hers, suckled at your breasts and fucked herself into your cunt. She switched breasts and licked the long stripe up the other before kissing you again.

Without uttering a single word, Wanda pressed another kiss against the shell of your ear before exhaling breathy moans and grunts against the side of your head as she grew closer to her own high.

Having not enough strength to hold yourself up any longer, your ankles rounded Wanda’s lower back as she rutted into you, crossing them to hold your legs up and pull her closer.

The familiar coil in your lower stomach tightened, stronger than it had before, painful and unbelievably pleasurable all at once. You blabbered out partially-completed words declaring your proximity to your orgasm.

The whole universe dissipated into nothingness when your stepmother whispered into your ear, “Let go.”

You clenched around Wanda’s cock as you came for the second time, every inch of your body locked into tight tremors. Your back arched into her, your breasts pressed against hers, as your orgasm lit you ablaze like Icarus’ zenith atop of the world, enveloped in your wax wings as Wanda held you close, her own orgasm coming over her.

When your body fell back into the couch, shaky pants leaving your lips, you watched your stepmother as her head was thrown back, her body arched atop of yours like a great lioness in a grand stretch. Her moans were long and raspy. Strands of her dark hair stuck to her sweat-slicked forehead. Wanda was the most beautiful woman you had ever known.

Although you had never turned to watch her, what was above you now was wildly different from what you had only heard last night. What used to be a creeping presence, hardly there and nearly chalked up to delusion, was now a mighty force towering above you, indelible once it bled through you and tenacious when it had chosen its target.

Wanda plummeted from her hilt, her forehead resting against yours as she caught her breath while her eyes fluttered shut. Her hands found your arms, gripping tightly. When she opened her eyes, she smiled down at you and you felt as if you had melted into the couch. “My pretty girl. So good to me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and her throat raw. Wanda slipped her cock out from between your puffy reddened pussy lips and unfastened her strap from her hips. You heard it tumble to the living room floor.

“Can you tell me you love me again, mommy?” you asked.

Wanda’s smile widened as she lifted you onto her lap, reaching down to pick your shirt up from the floor. You raised your arms for her and she put your shirt back on. “I love you so much, puppy,” she said, pressing a kiss to your nose when your head popped out from your shirt as she pulled it down your body.

“More, please,” you requested. Your voice was so tiny, your mind all clouded by fuzzy-feeling thoughts. Your body was tired and happily used by mommy.

Your sweatpants were picked up from the floor after you watched Wanda pocket your panties slick with your icky juices. You slipped off of mommy’s lap to stand up. Wanda lowered herself to between your hips and pressed a gentle kiss just above your sensitive little princess parts. “I love you,” she uttered against your skin, looking up at you from between your thighs. The sight made you all blushy. Wanda grinned and kissed your lower stomach. You stepped into your sweatpants and Wanda pulled them up to your hips.

“All mommy’s, right?” Wanda asked after you sat back down in her lap and nuzzled your face into the crook of her neck.

“Right,” you answered proudly. “All mommy’s.”

Wanda felt you smile against her neck and she kissed your forehead, leaning forward while you hung to her like a young koala to its mother. She picked up her glass of wine, taking sips of it while she played a sitcom on the television. You snuggled closer to her, turning your head to watch with her. Your stepmother placed a hand atop your head and scratched at your scalp gently.

"I love you so much, Y/N," she said.

You’d never belong to anyone else.

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