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aphrodite-made-me-write-it · 2 years

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12 Days of Holiday Fics

Day Seven: Tip the Sitter

(A/N) well. this is the one i was like,, wow,, about as;lkdfj it’s uhhh,, it’s a little much. More than i’ve posted on here at least. so. read the warnings lmfao i physically cannot prepare u for this. this one is for u, my sweet perverts. happy nut bustin’

Rating: E (EXPLICIT AS ALL HELL. 18+ ONLY FOR THE LOVE OF ME)

Warnings: MILF!Wanda; age gap (R is over 21, wanda is,, older); HELLA mommy k!nk; Slight food play; Degradation; light spanking; Dirty talk bc that’s just who i am as a person;; oral (r receiving); r is a horny lil shit and wanda wants to tip the babysitter; i am truly ashamed of what i have written here today

Pairing: MILF!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader (legal age gap)

Word Count: 1.6k

Synopsis: Wanda asks you to help her bake cookies while the boys are at their dad’s house. You refuse to accept monetary payment, so she finds a better way to tip you.

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When you first began babysitting for Wanda, you’ll admit, you made several MILF jokes with your friends. It was no secret amongst them that you found the older woman attractive, because the moment you landed the gig they looked her up on social media and took immediate notice of your flustered behavior about her.

In all honesty, your meeting had been completely accidental. She’d been at the laundromat and one of her boys had ‘accidentally’ dropped her dryer sheets in one of the numerous puddles gathering outside thanks to the vicious thunderstorm. You offered her yours, and since you were the only two in the place for a few hours, you got to talking. You’re already going to college to become a teacher, so the topic of her needing a sitter for her elusive ‘business trips’ was brought up. Just like that, you made simultaneously the best and worst decision of your life.

It’s not like she’s that much older than you. You’re able to drink, so really, the age difference shouldn’t matter. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. To be honest, in the months following your first encounter, your attraction only grew to the point where just looking at her made your cheeks warm.

The boys were at their father’s for the weekend. Wanda was determined in preparing enough cookies to last the rest of the holiday season, apparently, and had asked if you’d wanted to help. (“I can pay you!” She’d insisted. Of course you refused payment. Baking cookies means free samples, and that’s enough payment.) (You had to ignore Darcy’s jeering and Yelena’s relentless teasing about being ‘pussy whipped’.)

That’s how you find yourself completely alone in an empty house with the redhead. In your lifetime, you’ve made quite a handful of bad choices but this one has to take the cake. Your mind is so far in the gutter you’re barely hanging onto the threads of sanity. It doesn’t help that, ever since you got this job, you haven’t been seeking out any hookups whatsoever. It’s hard to get off when you can’t stop thinking about the woman you babysit for.

What’s worse is that Wanda is wearing nothing but a silk robe, the fabric loose around her legs but scandalously tight everywhere else. Your eyes have drifted down to her chest more than once, causing you to spill or drop something every goddamn time.

Wanda seems oblivious to the state she’s left you in. At least, that’s what you thought.

She’d been mixing the homemade icing for your little gingerbread folk, scooping the sugary goop onto two fingers. “Come try this frosting, it’s delicious.”

You’re not stupid. You know for a fact that she could have offered this using the spoon in her other hand. The fact that she’s offering this to you with her fingers means something, but you aren’t exactly sure what it is yet.

Wanda’s laughter startles you from your paranoia. “It’s alright. I won’t bite.”

Cautiously, you set down the bowl of wet dry ingredients you’d been working on for snickerdoodles. The distance between you isn’t large, but the step it takes to cross it feels like both a gaping canyon and a crack in the sidewalk. Your t-shirt is stained with flour and chocolate, hair pulled into a haphazard bun. You’re positive you look like an absolute mess compared to Wanda’s ever-composed perfect-housewife.

Fingers are brought up to your lips. Your already flustered brain is beginning to go haywire, several actions popping into the forefront of your thoughts before your body goes for the one that’s the least helpful to your pathetic state. You wrap your lips around Wanda’s fingertips, the fog of your own lust abruptly giving way to the horror of realizing that you’re literally sucking on the fingers of the woman you babysit for.

Wanda’s eyes widen, her pupils dilating significantly. A soft noise leaves her pouting lips as she twists her fingers so that she can slide the icing over your tongue. Horny Autopilot takes over. You run your tongue along her fingertips, making sure to clean off every drop of icing as the redhead watches you, transfixed. Your heart is hammering so loudly in your ears you wonder if she can hear it, too.

“You know,” she says slowly, her accent stronger and her voice breathy, “I still want to pay you for helping me with this.” With her fingers still in her mouth and your body too stiff with confusion to do anything else, you keep your eyes locked with Wanda’s. “I see the way you look at me. I’m not blind.” Your cheeks go hot. Wanda smiles, withdrawing her fingers and smoothing her thumb down your cheek. “What do you think, detka? Will you let me show you how grateful I am?”

This cannot be happening.

Except it is. Holy fucking shit, it’s happening.

You’re nodding profusely, already weak with arousal. Wanda chuckles, pulling you into a gentle kiss that contradicts the rough way her hands suddenly grab your waist and pin you to the counter.

“You need to use your words,” Wanda purrs, her lips moving to your neck. “What do you want, detka?”

“Fuck- I want- I want you to touch me. Use me. Anything, please just- just fuck me, mommy-” you freeze at the slip of tongue, your hands going rigid on Wanda’s hips.

Wanda pauses for only a moment before biting down harshly on your neck, one of her thighs slotting between your legs as you gasp. “You want mommy to use you? Want me to fuck that pussy of yours until you can’t walk?”

You whimper when she rolls her hips into yours, the friction causing enough pleasure to make your teeth clank together. “Yes, please, Mommy. Need you so bad- always needed you…”

Wanda’s hand works at the button of your jeans, her lips branding a deep bruise into your neck. Without the support of the older woman’s other arm, you’re positive you’d have lost the ability to stand. Your hands find themselves in her hair and at the small of her back, pulling her as close to you as you can possibly manage.

You faintly hear a zipper before cold, thin fingers are slipping through your wet folds. You moan, hips bucking helplessly.

“Fucking drenched,” Wanda practically moans, pulling away from the mark she’d left on you with a smile. “How long have you wanted Mommy like this?”

“So long,” you admit with a blush. “Since we met.”

“My poor baby,” her fingers find your clit, toying with the sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re trembling. “You’ve wanted me for that long?” You nod, another moan spilling from your lips when she begins making small circles against your clit. “Let me make it up to you, then.”

With this, she pushes two fingers inside of you. You groan, head falling forward against her shoulder. Wanda lets out a breath of laughter, elated in the feeling of how easily she slips inside of you. Your hips buck helplessly against her.

You let out a pathetic cry when her fingers pull out of you suddenly. Wanda nips at your bottom lip, tugging it before grinning devilishly at you.

“No complaining. Take off your pants and bend over the island counter so Mommy can fuck you properly.” She orders. You don’t even recall obeying her, until your front is pressed against the marble counter and Wanda is yanking your panties down your legs. She bunches your shirt up until the bottoms of your breasts are touching freezing marble.

Wanda grabs your ass roughly, squeezing until your hips are bucking stupidly against the counter. “So eager to please,” she muses. “Such a good girl for Mommy, aren’t you?” You whine an incoherent plea in response, earning a hard smack to your ass. “No speaking until I tell you. Understand?” You nod, biting your tongue. “Good girl.”

Wanda lowers herself until she’s eye-level with your core, her breath hot against your already heated center. You try not to make any noise, but with her lips so achingly close you can’t resist a quiet whimper.

“You can moan for me, detka,” Wanda murmurs, lips just a breath away from where you need her. “I want to hear how good I make you feel.”

When her mouth connects with your pussy you nearly buckle with the moan that rips through you. Thankfully, her grip on your waist is steadying enough to keep you from toppling over. When her fingers enter you, she doesn’t stop until they’re down to the first knuckle and she’s prodding at the spongy surface of your g-spot deep inside you.

Your moans fall freely from your lips, your words half-coherent in a slur of curses and pleads for more. Her pace is unrelenting and unforgiving, like she really is making up for all those times you’d thought about her doing exactly this.

At a particularly hard thrust, you grip the edge of the counter. “Fuck-! M- fuck- so close. Mommy, please-”

“You want to cum for me?” Wanda pulls away from you long enough to give you a teasing smirk. “You’ll have to beg nicely, malyshka. Mommy wants to hear that pretty, fuckable mouth of yours beg her to let you cum.”

You obey without question. You would do anything she’d asked of you, as long as it meant that enormous warmth building in your gut could be released. “Please Mommy, I need to cum so badly. I wanna cum for you, please, Mommy, I- I can’t stand it- I have to-”

“Okay, baby,” Wanda’s lips return to your clit, earning a throaty groan of her name. “Be a good girl and cum for Mommy.”

You’re certain you blackout. Or maybe this whole situation feels unreal enough that you’ve convinced yourself you blackout. With Wanda’s fingers still deep inside of you, she presses heated kisses to your neck.

“You didn’t think I was done yet, did you?” She teases. “I still have to give you your tip.”

You’re in for a long night. (Side note: does it smell like burning cookies?)

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