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therealdisneyfan2319 · 9 months ago

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Swing | Wanda Maximoff

A Stripper MILF Wanda Cinematic Universe Story

Summary: Wanting to make up for missed birthdays, you give Wanda quite the present

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut (18 + MINORS DNI), language

Word Count: 1.9K

Masterlist

You anxiously paced around the living room of your shared house with Wanda. She was en route back after dropping the boys off at Vision’s for the weekend. The quiet hour you had to yourself was spent setting up the latest in a long line of birthday gifts for your girlfriend. It was your way of making up for all the ones her ex had forgotten: how anyone could ignore Wanda on her birthday was incomprehensible. She insisted that you didn’t need to spoil her, arguing that you didn’t need to make up for Vision’s shortcomings. You ignored her. It was the first time in your life you had a woman to spoil and you were planning on taking full advantage of that.

The gifts started small: cooking her favorite dinner on Monday for no reason, surprising her with her favorite flowers on Tuesday, the new end table she’d been talking about for months on Wednesday, and a long after dinner massage on Thursday. Wanda wasn’t used to such thoughtful displays of kindness. Yet you were determined to make sure she had the best birthday yet, which is why you saved the best for last. This was the present you knew she wouldn’t be expecting at all. It’s the one she mentioned in passing once not realizing how you’d cling onto it for the last few months. It was the most expensive of the gifts. And it was the most…scandalous…of the gifts.

The sound of the front door unlocking snapped you back to reality. Your heart pounded in your throat, threatening to explode out of your body entirely as seconds turned to minutes turned to hours as you waited for Wanda to walk down the hallway.

“Virginia’s over for the weekend. She brought the kids with her, too. I know Billy gets along with Vin well enough, but Tommy really doesn’t care for him or Viv. And I don’t understand why the V names. Could they not come up with anything else?” Wanda frequently voiced her disdain for her ex-husband’s new girlfriend and her kids. While you knew that she was happy and secure in your relationship, you also knew that the topic of her failed marriage was a sore subject.

“The boys’ll be fine, Wands. It’s just for the weekend.”

“I know.”

“They’ve gotta get used to being around Virginia and the kids.”

“I know.”

“That means we have the weekend to ourselves.”

“I know,” Wanda smirked.

“I have a present for you.”

“Y/N, no. You’ve already gotten-” “It’s downstairs.”

Wanda’s mouth snapped shut abruptly as she looked at you, a curious expression painted on her face.

“Follow me?” you asked as you offered her your hand. You smirked knowingly as Wanda sighed, dropping her hands into your outstretched one.

“You know, you don’t have to spoil me like this just because it’s my birthday. Really, it’s okay.”

“I want to make up for all those ones that Vision missed or forgot or whatever…plus this one is for both of us.”

“What do you mean-oh.” Wanda’s eyes widened as she stared at the hanging mess of nylon and leather straps hanging from the heavy bag hook on the ceiling. “Oh my god.”

“You like it?” you chuckled, giving Wanda’s hand a slight squeeze.

“Oh my god,” she repeated. You felt her hand slip from yours as she carefully made her way over to the middle of the room. Wanda brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she eyed the set-up with a keen sense of curiosity.

“Now if you really don’t want another gift, I can always take it back,” you teased, cheekily shoving your hands in your pockets, watching Wanda stare awestruck at the swing in the middle of the room.

“Don’t you dare,” Wanda warned. “Where on earth did you find one of these?” she asked, reaching up to run her fingers through the straps.

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

She gave you a look.

“The internet. Some website. Google suggested it.”

Wanda’s look turned into a smirk. The nylon straps danced through her fingers as she continued to examine her newest present. You felt your heart slowly creeping up your throat the longer you stared at the straps twirling through your girlfriend’s fingers.

“You remembered.”

“Wanda, how could I forget?” Your heart threatened to burst out the side of your neck as blood rushed through every part of your body.

“And this is why you wanted the boys to stay with Vision this weekend?” “Do you want to keep asking questions or do you want to try it out?”

Her lips crashed into yours before you could get another thought out. Instinctively your hands found their way to her waist, pulling her body flush against yours. She sighed into your mouth, her soft hands gently tugging at your hair. No matter how many times you did it, kissing Wanda never got old. Each kiss was a new experience, a new sensation that you perpetually craved. She was the most entrancing woman in the entire world and she was all yours.

“So how does this work?” Wanda asked breathlessly as you nibbled on the sensitive spot under her jaw.

“Dunno,” you mumbled between kisses, your grip on Wanda tightening as soon as you felt her swoon ever so slightly. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

“This won’t fall down, right?” she asked. Her hands trailed down from your head to the buttons at the front of your shirt. You shook your head, recoiling slightly as you felt her cold hands brush your chest as she tore at your clothes.

“Hope not.” You undid the button on her jeans, your fingers slinking inside the waistband.

“Hope not?”

“I mean it should be good. Don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”

Wanda chuckled as she shook her head. She knew that you would’ve double and triple checked to make sure the swing wouldn’t fall down the second she got into it.

“So how do I get in? Do I just-?”

“I think you just sit back into it and put your legs in the straps,” you replied, stepping out of your jeans and boxers and kicking them behind you.

Wanda, now in her long sleeve shirt and panties, carefully looked behind her as she grabbed the leather support straps and allowed herself to sink into the swing. She fell back with an emphatic oomph, tentatively repositioning herself as the two of you prayed she wouldn’t immediately come crashing down.

“How is it?” you asked, slinking over to the swing and positioning yourself between her legs.

“It’s actually pretty comfortable,” she observed. “Can you help me get my legs up?”

“Yeah, but let’s get these off first,” you replied, teasing the palm of your hand between her legs. Wanda whimpered at your touch, a jolt of excitement running through her body as her hips bucked into your hand. You smirked at her as you pulled off the lace garment, tossing it over your shoulder. “Leg.”

Wanda lifted her leg up as you grabbed the extended stirrup, guiding her foot through the loop so that her leg sat bent against the swing. You gently grabbed her other leg unprompted, guiding it to the same position.

“I am definitely going to feel that tomorrow,” Wanda joked. She reached one hand forward and grabbed your cock.

“Oh yeah?” you stifled a slight groan as she began to pump her hand up and down your length.

“I’ve already got that bad hip, Y/N. Let’s see how much more damage you can do.”

You felt yourself twitch under her grip, hardening as you rocked into her hand. Luckily you were able to grab the metal bar at the top of the swing to steady yourself.

“You okay there?” she teased. You groaned in response, leaning forward to capture her lips between yours. She smiled into the kiss, knowing full well the intoxicating effect she had on you.

“You gonna keep distracting me or are you gonna let me-?”

“If you don’t put that inside me soon I may actually die.”

“Somebody’s dramatic.” “It’s my birthday, I can be as dramatic as I want today.”

“Is that so?” You grabbed the base of your cock, positioning yourself against her entrance.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded.

Instead of pushing yourself inside her, you rubbed your head against her folds, coating yourself in the wetness that was pooling between her legs. Wanda threw her head back and groaned. She gripped the straps tightly as you teased her, dipping the tip inside briefly before pulling out and sliding around her clit.

“Is this what you wanted, Wands?”

“Y/N, please,” she pleaded in a tone that was uncharacteristically whiny.

With little warning, you pressed yourself into Wanda, her slick folds parting with ease as you buried your length inside her. The feeling of her warm, wet walls around you elicited a groan from the deepest part of your core.

“Oh my god,” Wanda groaned, her eyes rolling back as you entered her at an entirely new angle for the first time. “Baby, oh my god.”

“That okay?” you asked.

“Move,” she ordered as she screwed her eyes shut.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Taking a firm grip on the straps, you rolled your hips into her. The moan that erupted from her lips was pornographic. Her body strained and tightened as your cock rubbed against the most sensitive part of her walls. She squeezed against you as you thrust in and out, forcing you to work harder than normal.

“Fuck,” you gasped, biting your lip as Wanda’s wetness engulfed you over and over again.

“Right there, Y/N, don’t stop,” Wanda begged. Her hand came up to rest against your stomach as you picked up your pace, pounding into her slick pussy as you pulled the swing toward you.

“You feel so good, Wands.”

“I love the way your cock feels inside me, baby. You always-fuck, that’s the spot right there-” Wanda let out a groan, unable to finish her thought as you pulled against the swing, changing the angle ever so slightly.

“You like that?” you gritted through clenched teeth, attempting to stave off your impending orgasm.

“I’m close,” she whimpered, arching her back against the swing. “Keep going, just like that.”

“Wanda, I’m gonna cum,” you whined. “Should I pull-”

“Inside. Please. Fill me up. I want to feel you finish inside me.”

Wanda’s words drove you over the edge. You groaned loudly as you came inside her, painting her with your seed. The sensation of being filled with your cum sent Wanda over the edge, too. She moaned your name over and over as you filled her up, squeezing every last drop from you.

The two of you came down from your highs in a sweaty tangle of naked bodies and leather and nylon. You collapsed on top of her, panting into her chest as your legs buckled under the ecstasy of your orgasm. Wanda leaned back, rubbing her hands through her hair as she struggled to control her breathing.

“Best birthday present ever,” she panted. “I am so sending the boys to Vision’s more often.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I don’t think it’s possible for us to use this quietly,” you chuckled. “I’ve never heard you moan like that before.”

“That’s because you just gave me the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“So what I’m hearing is I need to cum inside you more often.”

“What you’re hearing is I need you to have your way with me in this swing more often.”

“Round two then?” you quipped.

“You’re on.”

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff fic #scarlet witch fic #wanda maximoff x male reader #wanda x male reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #scarlet witch x male reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x y/n #self reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #therealdisneyfan2319

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highonmarvel · 1 year ago

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Isolation

Steve Rogers: Steve comes back.

An entry for Day 5 of the exciting @sintember challenge!

Prompt: Isolation, ft Steve Rogers (Captain America) of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Warnings: NON-CON, signs of declining mental health, captivity, 18+!

When Steve first put you in his basement, you nearly scoffed at the cliché: prisoner in the basement, like he couldn’t be bothered to be even slightly more creative. That was a few days ago, you think. You really had no way of telling. You remember screaming and banging on the door—you can still see the faint lines your nails scrapped onto it—but you can’t remember when that was. At first you counted a day as the next time you woke up, but you gave up, not because it’s obviously wildly inaccurate, but because you lost count of that, too.

You were hungrier than comfortable, but by no means starving, so maybe in that way it couldn’t have been too long, right? Without change, there is no time, and there has been no change in the basement since… however long it’s been. You couldn’t even rule out it had been months, though evidently ridiculous as that was considering your relative physical health (or, at least, as far as you can tell, or as far as you’re willing to believe), your sense of trust is out of balance.

Steve had been your best friend, you trusted him most, you never for a split moment thought he would hurt you. Steve, who’d you known all your life, time, as well, you’d known all your life: if you couldn’t trust Steve, could you trust your sense of time? You didn’t realise how much people rely on time, even when they have nothing important to attend to; time is the one constant, hours pass whether you want them to or not: you have no constant now.

You sit on the mattress (stained with a little blood you assume must be your own) hugging your knees to your chest, staring straight ahead. You weren’t going mad, you hadn’t had any hallucinations, had you?

Down here, there had only been the sounds you made—your breathing, your screaming, your crying—but your ears prick at an unfamiliar noise. It’s not unfamiliar, really, just one you haven’t heard in a while. Metal, not a lot, shifting around…

A key in a lock!

You scramble to stand up just as Steve pushes open the door, and your eyes lock immediately. You can’t help but notice even now he still has that superhero stance, his posture, standing tall and strong; assuring to everyone else, intimidating to you. But you refuse to allow yourself to be intimidated.

Steve doesn’t say anything as he begins his decent down the stairs; he looks away, but you stay fixated on him. When he reaches the floor, he turns to you with a smile.

No thought, you just sprint.

You dart towards the steps, but he easily scoops you up, and you’re bent over his shoulder, screaming as you hit your fists against his toned back and kick your legs uselessly in the air.

Another sound you hear, it sounds familiar, sounds like words being formed by a noise different to the one you make when you speak. It’s so bizarre to hear Steve speaking, so bizarre to hear anyone speaking but yourself after all (?) this time of hearing the same melody. It’s so bizarre, in fact, that you don’t really even register it, what he’s saying, until you’re dropped onto the mattress on the floor, falling quite a way (relative to what you would be used to hopping into bed) with a shriek.

“I’ve been alone, too,” he says, towering over you, blocking the single light that illuminates the basement, the light that hasn’t once turned off since you were thrown down here, it hasn’t even flickered.

He suddenly drops to his knees, straddling you. This position feels familiar, too; his knees caging you as you writhe under him in distress; it feels like the second time, now. It is the second time. And the first time this happened it ended with you being literally thrown into his basement. What would he do when he was done this time?

“Look…” he gently raises your right hand to his eyes, examines it, and then tilts it to display your nails to you; they’re bitten down so bad you’re bleeding, or maybe you’re bleeding from clawing at the door, either way, they’re damaged, fairly badly, and you stare back at your own fingers in shock. How could you not have noticed this?

“When you’re alone,” he says, gently, softly laying your hand back down to your side, “You hurt yourself. That’s why you need to stay with me.”

Right! You were at his place, as usual, and as you were falling asleep when he started, started speaking about how you needed to stay with him, because you needed him. Though while he violated you, he spewed the opposite.

“I need you…” he grunted.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the thoughts, but that memory seems to be replaying in front of your very eyes, a huge wave of déjà vu crashing over you as Steve strokes the side of your face. You slap his hand away, and that loving gaze he’d been showering you in turns dark. You try to throw a punch to his jaw but he catches your wrists and gives you a disapproving look. It’s extremely frustrating this seems to be so easy for him.

With nothing else to do, you start kicking and screaming; you’re sure it won’t accomplish anything, but you refuse to just roll over and accept this, no. You twist and turn under him until, to your surprise, he raises himself just high enough for you to turn all the way over. Before you can comprehend your little freedom, he brings his knees back down to the back of your own, and though it’s evident he’s not using all his weight, it’s still enough to make you cry out.

He lets his knees fall to the sides and manages to restrict your movements enough to tug your shorts down.

You want to scream No! but after all this time, you’re not sure if your voice can work to form actual words; you’ve only been screaming and sobbing for days. Or hours? Since he left, you haven’t spoken since he left, and you’re not sure if you can now.

You hear him spit in his hand and his soft groans as he strokes himself, and you’re lucky you can’t see it. You try to claw at his legs as you feel him line up with your entrance but he manages to pull your wrists together and shove them into your back.

He enters you slowly and with a soft groan, tears springing to your eyes as you sob, incoherent; you’re sure you’d plead with him to stop if you could. He ignores you and thrusts deep, in and out; you’re sure his careful movements may have looked loving and respectful to someone on the outside, yet it was anything but, despite what he’d have you believe.

“I need you…”

⍟

#sintember 2023 #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x you #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x you #soft!dark!steve #soft!dark!steve rogers #yandere steve rogers

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petriwriting · 6 months ago

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My Masterlist

Here is my current masterlist, I will be updating this regularly. Feel free to drop a request or idea in my inbox, Requests are always welcome!

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Mauraders, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Star Wars, A series of unfortunate events, Supernatural, Doctor who, Euphoria, Riverdale, Skins, Glee, American horror story, The walking dead, 5 seconds of summer, Legend of zelda, The last of us, The hunger games, Divergent and anything else I post on my Main Account.

Harry Potter

Regulus Black

For the first time - No matter how bad it gets at home, there's one person that makes Regulus happy no matter what.

French Poetry & Chocolate - *Requested! A Regulus black x Slytherin reader where they are best friends and the reader gets her period and he helps and comforts her? No worries if not!

Sirius Black

The Announcement - Rockstar!Sirius' wife is pregnant.

Memories - Harry reads a love story from his Godfathers old journal.

Remis Lupin

Scars - Remus is insecure.

Theodore Nott

Jealousy - What could go wrong when seeing other people?

I'll always stand up for you - Theo gets himself into a fight.

Promise - Theodore makes a promise by giving away his mother's ring.

We're just kids.. - Theodore falling in love with his best friend.

Bad idea, right? - Based on "Bad idea right" by Olivia Rodrigo.

Smithereens - Based on "Smithereens" by Twenty One Pilots

My Chef - Italian!Theodore flaunts his pasta-making skills.

Theodore Nott Headcannons.

Dad!Theodore Nott Headcanoons.

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Peter Parker - Spider-man

All over again - Peter falls in love for the second time. or maybe it's still like the first time.

Dad!Peter Parker Headcannons.

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kittenofdoomage · 14 days ago

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At Your Throat

THIS WORK IS ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR COPY MY STORIES. 18+ CONTENT AHEAD.

Summary: Temptation is hard to resist…

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: incubus!Steve Rogers x fem!reader x incubus!Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 5972

Warnings: dark!fic, angst, introverted!reader, dubious consent, enchantments, so much smut (somnophilia, implied invisible restraint, oral, fingering, tongue fucking, size kink, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, anal, manhandling, throat fucking, cum swallowing, squirting, double penetration, overstimulation, praise kink, dirty talk, begging, marking/bruising, rimming - I think that’s everything), ambiguous ending

The fair isn’t anything like you remembered from your childhood. When Lucy and Mark suggested going, you had initially been excited, but as the night wears on, it’s all bright lights and screaming kids, candy floss that’s too sickly sweet for your adult taste buds, and the worry that you’re going to step in something gross. It doesn’t help that you’re dateless, and your two best friends are still in that honeymoon phase where they don’t really register the amount of smooching they’re actually doing in public. Needless to say, you’re not sure they hear you when you say you’re going to explore on your own, with every intention of finding a quiet bench until they’re done with their fun.

The site is huge, big enough that you have to remember landmarks as you stroll. Beyond the ferris wheel, there’s a quieter spot between a wall and a merchandise stall where you find a cleanish spot, and you barely notice the woman at the stall as you sink to the floor. Your feet hurt, and you’re definitely regretting your decision not to bring a coat.

“Lost your friends?” the woman calls.

“Uh,” you shake your head, “no.”

“Taking a breather then,” she chuckles.

You smile politely - interacting with strangers has always made you uneasy. “Yeah, I guess.” She smiles back, busying herself with something out of sight. Dragging your gaze along the table, you realize she’s selling trinkets, though most of it looks like the back catalog of Hot Topic. You get to your feet and wander over, perusing the rings and pendants. “I didn’t know the fair had stalls like this.”

“There used to be more,” the woman sighs. “We’d sell all sorts of things but… well, times change.” She smiles wistfully, resting her fingers on the edge of the table. “I used to be the fortune teller here. People would always line up to see their future. Now, it seems everyone is terrified to ask.”

You could sympathize with that. A crystal ball would probably show you in an apartment with a thousand cats with the way your life was turning out. Your eyes stray to the stand of pendants, and something red catches the fluorescent flood lights in the distance. It’s a stone, a ruby maybe, an oval set in ornate silver, no bigger than a dime, hanging from a silver chain. In the very center of the stone, there’s a flaw, shaped almost like a lock.

The woman notices your trance, moving just into the edge of your peripheral vision. “Something took your fancy?” she asks curiously.

“It’s pretty,” you whisper, reaching out to touch the stone but drawing back at the last second. You can’t recall a single moment in your life you’ve ever wanted something this badly, not even as a kid. “How much is it?”

The woman smiles, but you don’t see it. “It’s a gift.”

There’s a little voice in your head warning you, yet you can’t imagine why. You ignore it, focusing instead on your desire to have the necklace. “Really?”

“Oh please, no one’s come by all night,” she scoffs. “It’s nice to talk to someone. Kids these days aren’t interested in this sort of stuff.”

“That’s very kind of you,” you murmur, though your eyes are still locked on the gem, rooted to the flaw in the middle. You don’t stop staring at it even when she lifts it from the stand, walking around the table to hold it out to you.

“Would you like to put it on?”

It feels like you’re moving automatically when you turn, moving when required so that she can fasten the locket at your throat. The silver is cool, heavier than you expected, but when you look in the mirror, it makes you smile. Jewelry isn’t usually your style, but this was subtle, classy, and probably went with everything.

Someone calls your name and it’s like you’ve been dragged back into reality. The woman moves off, disappearing through the back of the tent, and Lucy comes running up, red faced and breathless. “Where’d you go?!” she exclaims, grabbing your wrist. “Come on, Mark’s waiting for us by the ghost train.”

You grin and bear the rest of the evening, pretending to be frightened of the zombies and skeletons, almost sighing with relief when you could finally call an Uber home. Lucy attempts to coax you to a local bar but your social battery is done, and besides, you know you’re the third wheel and she’s just trying to make you feel better. They see you to the car, and wave you off, and you feel like you can breathe again once you’re away from the noise. The driver doesn’t speak the whole way - he’ll get five stars for that later.

Once you’re back in your apartment, you can shed the day, stripping down before climbing into the shower. The fair has left you feeling a little gross, but five minutes under a hot spray washes the feeling away, and you forget about the necklace until you’re staring at your foggy reflection in the mirror.

Maybe you should take it off before you sleep. It might break, or choke you. You reach for the clasp, and then your phone buzzes across your nightstand, distracting you. With the necklace on, you go to answer the text; it’s a photo from Lucy with a short line of text insisting you’re missing out. You smirk, necklace forgotten, and climb into bed, putting your phone on silent until the next morning.

The sounds of your apartment lull you to sleep. The heating comes on, and you kick off your pajama bottoms, squirming in the sheets as your dreams become more vivid. You can’t see anything, can’t move, but you can feel the warm hands on your skin, touching you, moving your clothing out of their way as they kiss every inch of you. You know there’s two of them, too many hands for one person, and after a little while, they start to talk to each other, soft murmurs of indistinguishable words.

A warm tongue slides through your folds and sends a shiver down your spine. Your dream lovers spread you open, easily manipulating you like a doll, and when the mouth on your cunt attacks your clit, you want to cry out for more. Another warm pair of lips surrounds your nipple, and you’re lost in the sensation, at their mercy but wholly content to be so.

You wake the next morning feeling like you’ve actually had several orgasms, and your panties are drenched. There’s a wet spot on the bed; your dreams were very good even if you can’t quite remember the details, so you change the sheets before work, rushing so you’re not late.

It’s hard to focus at work when you’re still thinking about your dream. You somehow get through the day, zoning out while typing, ignoring all your messages and emails for the time being. When you get home, all you can think about is going to bed, but you force yourself to stay up a little longer, eating dinner in front of Netflix until you can’t resist the call any longer. The sheets are a little chilly when you climb in; you warm up quickly and doze off contentedly.

You can open your eyes in this dream. The air is warm, and your blankets are gone, along with your pajama bottoms, and though you can’t see much in the darkness of your room, you can make out the figure that’s between your thighs. His hands are pushing them wide, and he pushes his nose right against the crotch of your panties, groaning against you. Your heart pounds as his tongue drags along your seam, reigniting the delicious thrill you’ve been craving all day.

The bed sinks with the weight of another, and a meaty hand grasps your jaw, forcing your head to turn. You strain your eyes to look up, coming face to face with a thick, erect cock, and you can barely see the face of its owner smiling down at you. He doesn’t say a word, tapping the tip of his generous manhood against your bottom lip, and your mouth opens automatically, granting him permission to use you.

There’s no rush as he rocks his hips, pushing more and more into your mouth. Finally, he says something, looking down at you like you’re a miracle with one hand on your cheek. “Good girl,” he praises, and you feel a pulse of something new in your core. His voice is syrupy thick, washing over you as you take more of his cock, eager to please him.

You’ve almost forgotten about the man between your legs, until his tongue is pressing right against your entrance. It thrusts into you, feeling deeper than you’re sure is possible, and you moan around the other, letting your eyes fall shut. The need to cum is unbearable, like a pressure right in your gut, building higher as the tongue inside you squirms deeper. You try to focus on what you’re doing, inching to move your hand and touch him, but no matter how hard you think on it, you can’t. Your climax is terrifyingly close, more intense than you’ve ever felt and just as you feel like you’re going to pass out, the man between your legs stops and withdraws.

A hollow ache follows as the build up fades, and this time you moan out of frustration. Both of them laugh, and then fingers caress your throbbing cunt, cupping it and kneading teasingly. You whine, desperate to move, but you can only take what they give and beg for no more.

Two fingers sink into you. An obscene squelch accompanies the penetration, and you moan again. The cock in your mouth plows deeper, brushing the back of your throat; you realize with shame that you’re enjoying this degradation, enjoying the rush of being their fucktoy. You crave whatever they want to do to you.

A third finger sinks in, moving back and forth alongside the others, and you can feel the pressure building again. The man’s tongue slides against your clit, increasing the thrust of his hand, making stars explode behind your closed eyelids. You’re certain you’re vibrating, and the one fucking your mouth picks up speed, edging deeper until you feel like he’s bulging your throat. The lack of oxygen heightens everything, and when you finally cum, it’s hard and messy, a literal out of body experience. You feel the cock in your mouth throb, the next second your nose is brushing against hair, and he’s cumming thick down your throat, forcing you to swallow.

It’s the most erotic dream you’ve ever had.

When you wake, you’re a mess, and the wet spot is even bigger than the morning before. You’re going to need to do laundry at this rate. Sluggishly, you drag yourself out of bed, readying yourself for the day while clinging to the details of your dream, surprised that it’s still so clear even when you’ve had your first cup of coffee. It takes another two to get through the morning, and you’re relieved when it’s lunch time.

Lucy calls halfway through your sandwich. You answer with a pleasant tone, but you can tell she’s concerned by her first words.

“I thought something had happened to you,” she scolds. “You haven’t answered for two days.”

“I’m fine,” you dismiss, one hand straying to the necklace at your throat, wondering how you’d forgotten it was there. “Did you enjoy your night out?”

“You missed some fun,” she sighs. “What are you doing tonight? I thought we could go see a movie or -”

“Oh, no, uh -” You panic, trying to think of an excuse. “It’s been a really heavy couple of days at work, I’m pretty beat.”

It’s obvious she’s disappointed. “You’re sure? You can pick the movie.”

“No, you go with Mark,” you urge. All you want to do is go home to bed. “I’ll only yawn all the way through.”

“Okay, well…” She trails off, and you wait, hoping she’s just going to end the call so you can finish your sandwich. “Just let me know when things calm down. I don’t see you much lately. I thought we had fun at the fair.”

“We did!” you lie, because you don’t really want her to feel bad. It’s not her fault you prefer staying indoors and away from people. “I promise, as soon as I’m feeling up to it, we’ll have a girls night or something.”

That seems to placate her. “Deal,” she laughs. “I’ll text you later.”

The call ends, and you eye the rest of your sandwich, wondering if you could leave work early if you cut your lunch short. After a few minutes of deliberation, you toss it, deciding to get something on the way home once you’ve gotten out of the office.

You don’t even try to convince yourself to stay up when you get home. The sun has only just set as you get into bed, daringly deciding to sleep naked for a change. Laying on your back, you feel the weight of the necklace against your chest, and you touch it, wondering if you should take it off just in case, but your eyelids are already heavy, and it means moving to the dresser…

You’re woken in pitch black by two fingers slowly sliding back and forth inside you, and you mewl needily, spreading your legs wide. The realization you can move is quickly shoved aside as a thumb begins to stroke your clit in small circles, and you know that they’ve been getting started for a while when you feel how wet you are.

One of them leans over you, hovering with his face centimeters from yours. You can see him clearly now; he’s blond, blue eyed, almost ethereally handsome, and he smiles before dipping his mouth to press it to your lips. The kiss surprises you for a second and then you react, kissing him back as he pushes his tongue against yours. He tastes sweet, addicting, pulling away after only a few seconds to leave you craving more.

“Bucky wants to have you first,” he murmurs, turning his gaze to the hungry eyes between your legs. He’s a little clearer now as your eyes adjust to the dark, and where the first man is light, Bucky is dark. The only similarities between them is their eerily blue eyes and their sheer size. You feel tiny underneath them, submissive to their whims, and your easy acceptance of that is a little shocking at first.

Bucky adds a third finger, keeping his thumb on your clit. You gasp and squirm, quickly finding yourself pinned by the blond. He uses one hand to hold you down and the other cups your breast, tweaking your nipple until it’s achingly hard. With the trio of sensations, you’re helpless to the ecstasy that overwhelms you, forced to ride it out until Bucky withdraws his hand.

“She’s as ready as she’s gonna get,” he murmurs, making a lewd display of licking his fingers clean. “You gotta taste her, Steve.”

Steve chuckles, gaze locked on you. “Later,” he promises, pinching your nipple and you whimper, unable to tear your eyes off of him.

The thick warm tip of a cock brushes your cunt. There’s a second of alarm when Bucky begins to thumb it in, and he’s big, maybe too big. You’re pinned by Steve’s weight, and Bucky’s hands press your thighs wide, feeding the first inch into your tight slick channel. “She’s fucking tight,” he hisses, moving his thumb to your clit.

You can’t form words, too lost in the pleasurable stretch as he enters you. He rocks back and forth, getting a little deeper every time, and then it’s like something pops and he slides balls deep, punching a cry out of your throat. Your whole body trembles at the sudden rush of sensation, and Bucky only waits a few seconds before he starts to move with shallow strokes. You feel like you’re thrown headfirst into bliss, barely registering Steve’s hands on your tits as Bucky fucks you.

If this is a dream, it’s the most vivid dream you’ve ever had. You can feel the heat coming off of them, every throb of the thick cock spearing you open, even their breath on your skin. Steve’s fingers are soft and calloused as they continue to toy with your breasts, and Bucky’s grip on your thighs is bruising. He gets faster and faster, grunting like an animal as you come undone around him, going limp and listless while he uses you.

Steve scoots down until he’s almost laying beside you, lips against the shell of your ear. “You’ve been such a good girl for us,” he purrs, trailing his fingertip around your nipple. “You want him to cum, honey?” You nod, feeling tears of desperation in the corners of your eyes. Steve smiles, rolling your nipple between his fingers. “Mmm, you wanna feel it, huh? Tell me, sweetness, say the words.”

“Please,” you keen as Bucky growls and pumps his hips faster. “Please cum inside me.”

“Oh, good girl,” Steve groans, turning his head to look at his counterpart. “You hear that, Buck? She wants you to cum deep, see if you can’t make her overflow.”

You feel like your brain is melting, like there’s nothing in the world but the carnal need infusing your veins. Bucky’s hips stutter, and he finally hits his peak, slamming into you one last time, hard enough to make you scream as he spills inside you. Every pulse of his climax echoes in your gut, and you shake your head from side to side, dizzy from pleasure. He relaxes, releasing your legs, and they hit the bed either side of him, forcing him to withdraw.

Steve’s still laying beside you, continuing to touch you. You’re sensitive all over, shivering as the warmth abandons you, and when his fingers move south, you’re not certain you can take anymore. “I can’t,” you gasp.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t believe you,” he dismisses, and his fingertip slides down until it’s touching your clit. From across the room, Bucky laughs, watching as your thighs part again. Steve’s touch is already reigniting the craving, and when he pulls you into his lap, you gasp as your slit comes flush with his bare cock. He’s bigger than Bucky, seeding doubt as he pulls your hips to grind your cunt against his length.

“She’s nervous,” Bucky comments, kneeling on the bed behind you.

“She can take it,” Steve urges. His hand catches your chin, and Bucky presses against you from behind. “She just needs a little help.”

Strong arms hook underneath your armpits, and you’re hauled up. Steve reaches down, holding the base of his cock with one hand, using the other to spread your delicate petals, making you whine when he brushes the throbbing head against you. The men share a look, and then Bucky lowers you down.

Your head falls back as Steve splits you open. Even with your previous orgasms and Bucky’s preparation, it takes work for him to get in, and you’re quivering when gravity takes over. You slide down until your body is flush with his, gasping for breath when it feels like he’s so deep he’ll break you, and Bucky’s the only thing keeping you upright.

Steve groans with deep satisfaction. “Made for this,” he mutters with awe, running his hands over your thighs. “Look at this little cunt, taking me so well.”

The second he moves, you shatter. You have no control; Bucky holds you up as Steve ruts into you from below, forcing you to accept every inch over and over, and you know that no real life experience could ever compare with this dream. You’ll surrender everything to these men if they ask, exist as their perfect little fucktoy, beg for more when they’re done.

You see stars when Steve fucks you through one orgasm into another. Bucky shifts, holding you easily with one muscled arm as he presses his fingers between your asscheeks. He chuckles when you tense, and Steve groans when he feels it too. “Mmm, another time,” Bucky murmurs hungrily. “Bet you’d take both of us at the same time, wouldn’t you, doll?”

It hasn’t really occurred to you before that moment but now you can’t stop thinking about it. Bucky’s fingers keep teasing, steadily stoking a new craving that makes your whole face hot. You want it. You’re sure you’ll beg for it.

Steve’s fingers bruise your thighs as he cums, dragging you down so hard you think he might break you. You feel swollen when he’s done, and you resist them at last, crashing down into your sheets.

When you wake, it’s an hour after your alarm should have gone off. There are bruises on your thighs, and you’re beginning to think that they aren’t just dreams. As you stand in front of the mirror, inspecting the marks that were obviously made by fingers, your gaze drifts to the necklace, still secure around your throat. You touch it, leaning forward, making the connection that the dreams only started after it came into your possession.

“That’s stupid,” you grumble, dismissing yourself. You’re going to be late for work, and though you’re tempted to call in sick, you get into the office with thirty seconds to spare and earn yourself a dressing down for not being at your desk ready to work on time.

By lunch, it’s apparent you don’t want to be there. You feign a headache and sit through another grilling, then you escape, returning home to your bed. It’s not even three in the afternoon, and you lie there for an hour, slowly frowning more and more as you stare at the ceiling and will yourself to sleep. Nothing happens, so you get up again, deciding to eat before trying again when it’s dark. You’ve never been able to sleep very well in the light, so you put it down to that and enjoy a couple of hours of Brooklyn Nine Nine with a sandwich.

Night falls, and you feel the familiar pull to bed. You yawn your way through your apartment, undressing without thinking before you climb onto the mattress, landing face down. Your eyes flutter shut, and you drift, wondering if you’ll dream about them again. Halfway between awake and asleep, you register the bed dipping, but you’re out of it, and it takes soft fingers caressing your sex to make you realize they’re back. There’s an atmosphere of desperation about the way they’re touching you, and in seconds, the fingers are replaced, and Steve slides into you with one smooth stroke, moaning against the back of your neck.

You’re awake now, eyes open wide and fixed on Bucky’s smiling face as he takes up the space left on the bed. It’s not a dream; you’re beginning to understand that they’ve never been a figment of your imagination. Steve chuckles into your skin, wrapping his arm around your waist as he starts to thrust lazily, stirring every cell in your body. “That’s it,” he rumbles, “you’re getting it now.”

Bucky presses in close, sandwiching you between them. His fingers toy with your nipples, kissing away your sounds as Steve pounds into you from behind, pushing you towards the limit of what your cunt can endure. “You’re ours,” Bucky murmurs, as if you hadn’t understood the possessiveness in their touch, the hunger in the way they looked at you.

Still, your curiosity won’t be silenced. “W-what are you?” you gasp, struggling to form the words while Steve keeps up his punishing rhythm.

Fingertips brush over the necklace. It’s hot against your skin, and you keen quietly as Steve slows, grinding his cock deep until you’re sure you’re going to combust. “You chose this,” Bucky says softly. “You crave this.” He sighs, one hand cupping your breast. “You’re so good for us.”

There’s a deeper meaning behind his words, but you’re too far gone to think any further than the pleasure you crave. Bucky laughs under his breath and slides down the bed, lifting your thigh to expose you, humming at the sight of your pussy so stuffed full. His tongue darts out, brushing against your clit and you cry out, shuddering on the edge.

Steve withdraws abruptly, leaving behind a hollow ache that makes you reach for Bucky. He bats your hand away, and then you’re being manhandled onto your knees. Held upright with your back to Bucky’s chest, you gasp as his lips brush your ear and he grinds his cock between your ass cheeks.

“Tonight,” he breathes, voice full of desire, “you’re going to take us both.”

Your heart races, pounding so hard you can feel it in your bones. Steve smirks at you, resting against the headboard with one hand wrapped around his dick, and if you had a spare brain cell, you might have felt ashamed at the way you crawled to him, mouth open and ready to please him. He releases himself so you can take over, moaning as you wrap your lips around his cockhead, suckling needily.

You don’t really register what Bucky’s up to until his tongue traces your cunt. He grunts against you, opening you up slowly as you moan around Steve, getting more enthusiastic the more Bucky works his tongue into you. It still feels impossibly long, and when he suddenly abandons your slit and moves up, you freeze, realizing that he’s about to do something no one’s ever done.

He doesn’t rush. You move distractedly as the point tip of his tongue circles your tightest hole, gently testing as he applies pressure. It’s not unpleasant, odd, but enjoyable, and you slowly begin to relax into it. Steve slides his hand around the side of your head, thrusting his hips a little to encourage you, and splitting your attention between the two of them occupies every thought. Bucky’s tongue presses deeper, opening you up, and you break off from Steve to cry out in surprise. You find yourself quickly dragged back down by the blond, and he growls as he starts to fuck your mouth, leaving you dizzy and soaring as Bucky replaces his tongue with a thick wet digit, sliding it deep into your ass.

The penetration feels warm and unusual, and your pussy throbs with a need for attention. Your jaw is beginning to ache, and Steve somehow senses it, slowing as his attention moves to where Bucky has your ass filled with his finger. He smiles, nodding his head at the other male, and a second finger inches in, just as warm and slick as the first. You moan around the cock in your mouth, instinctively pushing back as Bucky fucks his fingers into you, abandoning slow in favor of taking you apart.

Steve doesn’t have to do much as you move with a little more vigor, taking him deep enough that your eyes roll back and it’s hard not to gag. “Oh fuck,” he drawls, tightening his hold on your hair. “Goddamn, you’re such a good girl…”

You’re not sure how you’re so close with just fingers. Where before there was apprehension, there’s now only the demand for more, and you push back onto Bucky again in a silence request. He nips at your asscheek, growling lightly. “You think you’re ready, doll?”

You nod, squeaking when you’re abruptly dragged off of Steve and hauled upright again. Bucky holds your arms behind your back, sinking his fingers into your ass easily this time. “P-please,” you beg, sobbing with the desire to feel more of what he’s offering.

He releases you, and you drop, ass in the air, cheek against the messed up sheets. Steve watches, amusement on his lips, eyes locked on your face to see your reaction when Bucky presses the tip of his cock against your clenching hole. The thought of lube races through your head when he starts to ease in; you don’t recall seeing any, but his cock is just as warm and wet as his fingers. The tip pops in and your eyes cross, a shuddering breath puffing out into cotton.

“I thought her pussy was tight,” Bucky groans, holding still. Your impatience gets the better of you, and you wriggle, trying to take more. You succeed, making him moan as more fills you. “Someone’s eager,” he comments, grabbing hold of your hips. “You want the whole thing, huh?”

You don’t get a chance to answer. He surges forward, sinking every inch into your forbidden depths and you scream, clenching tightly as the invasion makes your blood sing. It’s overwhelming, hot and thick, throbbing in your ass until you’re desperate for him to move. He doesn’t move, keeping you in place, and when you look at Steve, he’s watching you with a thoughtful expression.

“Pull her up,” he instructs. Bucky doesn’t think twice, and you’re suddenly upright again, forced to practically impale yourself on his thick length. Steve hums as he kneels in front of you, looking up at your twisted expression before he reaches for you. The first touch of his thumb against your clit makes you jerk in Bucky’s hold, and a shameful whimper escapes your lips. “Let’s see if you can cum with a fat cock in your ass,” Steve chuckles.

You know he’s going to get what he wants. Despite your achingly empty pussy, you’re hanging onto the edge, and it doesn’t take much to make you weep with ecstasy. Steve still doesn’t stop, working you harder and harder. “Please,” you sob, “I can’t -”

“You said that before,” he grunts, narrowing his eyes. “I can feel how close you are, honey.” His thumb presses harder, and your cries get louder. Bucky huffs against your shoulder, and then he begins to move too. The slow drag of his cock against your insides only adds to the pressure in your core, building to a terrifying crescendo. “Give it to her, Buck,” Steve growls. “She wants it.”

You’re drowning, gasping for breath, twitching, losing your fight. The battle is over when Steve sinks a finger into your dripping cunt, and seconds later, you’re drenching his wrist, cumming with such ferocity that you don’t make a sound. Bucky slows and stops, but he doesn’t withdraw, holding himself deep. “No more games,” he snaps at Steve, who rolls his eyes and pulls his hands away, walking closer on his knees until he can lift your legs.

Suddenly the solidity of the bed below you is gone. Something is holding you up, though you get only a few seconds to figure out what’s going on before Steve’s thumbing his cock into your sensitive and aching cunt. You gasp, eyes falling shut as he fills you, and finally, they’re both seated deep in your body - it feels more like becoming whole than it should.

They don’t wait long before they start to move. You don’t make a sound, quivering between them as they use you, so overly sensitive that one of them could brush your clit with a feather and you’d cum. Just the delicious slide of each cock inside you, in and out, in and out, grinding deep, is enough to keep the bliss ignited in your veins. It’s exquisite, like you were meant for this.

Bucky cums first, holding deep so you can feel every single burst of his seed inside you, and when he’s done, he starts thrusting again, still hard and throbbing despite his orgasm. Steve doesn’t even stop thrusting, making a mess of your already ruined cunt, chuckling when you look down at your bulging stomach. You’re not sure how many more loads you can take, but it seems they’re intent on finding out.

It feels like hours later when Steve cradles your face, wiping away the sweat that’s almost blinding you. “You wanted to know what we are,” he whispers, and it’s all you can do to nod. He sighs, brushing his fingers over the necklace at your throat, lips curling into a smile. “Incubi,” he says, so quietly you almost can’t hear it over the thump of your own heart. “You wear our stone. You called to us. So we are here.”

There are so many questions but your exhaustion silences them all. You drift off in their hold, still full of them, drunk on them.

You wake with a jump the next morning. Their touch - real, not imagined, you now understand - lingers on you, inside you, and you can’t stop thinking about it. Climbing into the shower, you wash away what they left behind, trying to make sense of it, to make sense of why you’re not freaking out. Two strange men have been in your apartment, in your room consistently every night, touching you, doing ungodly things to your body, and you aren’t the least bit frightened. They had told you what they were, why they were there, yet you aren’t scared of them, more of the deep rooted lust for them that’s burning through your mind.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you suddenly realize how wretched you look. Your gaze drops to the necklace, back to their words. It’s their talisman, their way of infecting you. Before you can second guess yourself, you tear it off, breaking the clasp, and it clatters when it hits the back of the sink and lands behind the faucet.

You don’t look at it again. After calling out from work, you spend the day alternating between fruitless searches online for anything like what you were experiencing, and pacing the floor outside the bathroom. The internet tells you these men are incubi, demons, and that their purpose is to feed from you during sex, among other things you hadn’t been able to stomach reading. You’re not sure how much stock to put in myths and legends on the internet.

The day crawls by. You order food, eat it in silence, flick through the various streaming services before turning the television off in frustration. No matter what you do, the thought of them is there, of the necklace sitting on the sink, of the pleasure they guaranteed you. You’ve never felt needed, felt wanted like they’ve made you feel in the last few days. You hunger for their touch like you’ll suffocate without it.

Day turns to night. You’re almost clawing at your skin. The craving for them is bone deep, the sort of desire that you should be terrified of, but mostly it’s driving you mad. You watch the clock, counting the seconds. The night gets older and you get weaker.

The bathroom door creaks when you open it. You tug on the light cord, and the fluorescent ceiling tube flickers to life. The necklace is right where you left it.

It’s not broken anymore.

You stare at it, fingers twitching when you finally reach to touch it. Their voices are in your head now, beckoning you, and you can’t block them out. The necklace is heavy in your hand, and the tiny warning you’d first felt at the fair is begging you to toss it out of the window. But the warning is not loud enough, not to override the desire drying out your mouth, and you sigh with relief as you fasten it back around your throat, closing your eyes at the familiar weight.

“We knew you’d make the right choice,” Steve murmurs.

You open your eyes. They’re both watching you from the doorway, reflecting in the mirror, and they look so, so hungry. The light flickers, and you smile your surrender as you turn to them, letting them pull you closer. Everything else falls away; it’s only you and them.

You’ll never take the necklace off again.

THANK YOU FOR READING, PLEASE CONSIDER REBLOGGING SO OTHERS CAN ENJOY IT 😁

#fanfiction #fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky x reader x steve #monster fucking #incubus #monstober 2024

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thighzp · 3 months ago

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Firstprince and 🍦kids party please (cause I’m still obsessing over the two of them as dads)

A girl after my own heart!! Another one for the FPGDCU (firstprince girldad cinematic universe)

***

“Alex… you didn’t.”

“Hen, I most certainly did,” Alex smiled coyly as they led Ellie and her gaggle of 5 year old friends out into the front yard.

“An entire ice cream truck? For a bunch of 5 year olds? The last thing they need is that much sugar!” Henry tried to protest, but the girls were already sprinting toward the vehicle parked at their curb.

“Daddy daddy, look what papi did!” Ellie yelled excitedly from the side of the truck.

“I see that love, that is so generous of your papi! What do you say?” Henry ushered their little one toward Alex.

Ellie looked up at Alex sweetly, her twinkling brown eyes a mirror image of his own. “Thank you papi, this is the best birthday ever!”

Alex scooped up their daughter and peppered her face with quick kisses. “Of course baby girl, anything for my favorite princess,” he winked at her as he gently flicked the plastic tiara that sat over her curls.

“Now girls,” Alex continued, addressing the entire party that only reached about knee-height. “One ice cream each, okay?” He glanced sideways at Henry, then back at the girls conspiratorially. Cupping one hand on the side of his mouth that faced Henry, he loudly whispered, “and you can each get one more to take home but shhh, don’t tell Mr. Henry.”

Henry rolled his eyes fondly at his husband. Alex whispered something in Ellie’s ear only for her to hear, before he put her down. Soon, Henry found a flurry of pink and ruffles and glitter bounding toward him. Without a second thought, he reached down and collected Ellie in his arms.

“What is it, little love?” Henry asked.

Ellie cupped her palm next to her mouth, imitating Alex’s previous move. “Thank you for my ice cream party, daddy. I love you,” she kissed his cheek.

“Oh you are most welcome my princess. Your daddy and I love you so much,” Henry placed her back on the grass to join her friends at the ice cream truck.

Alex rejoined Henry’s side.

“I call foul play, pitting our child’s cuteness against me,” Henry huffed.

“Works every time,” Alex smiled.

***

Okay wait this was so cute I just let myself get lost in the girldad-ness I love them so much!!!

Request a ficlet!

#alex claremont diaz #alex and henry #alex x henry #red white and royal blue #henry fox mountchristen windsor #first prince #rwrb #firstprince #firstprince ficlet

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wander-wren · 8 months ago

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sometimes i wonder about what fandom is going to look like in 5 or 10 years. i think we might have already started to see a shift.

because, look, most of the oldest, biggest fandoms are from tv shows and movies, in particular ones that go on for years and scores of episodes. star trek, star wars, stargate (is everything star?), doctor who, supernatural…even sherlock really got its biggest popularity boosts in the modern day from tv adaptations. marvel and dc were comics first, too, but movies made them more accessible; their “cinematic universe” tags are the biggest on ao3 by far.

but what tv shows are we getting now? short, 8-episode things that get canceled two or three seasons in, that are usually less-than-faithful adaptations of other media anyway.

what movies are we getting? well, marvel turns more to slop every day, and everything else is remakes and sequels no one asked for. the general populace will still go see them and find some good movies that they like, but there’s not much really for fandom to grasp onto.

the best shows for fandom that we’ve had recently, that i can think of, are stranger things, game of thrones, and maybe our flag means death. stranger things is dying off, especially since they’re looking at a 3-4 YEAR gap between s4 and s5. game of thrones’s popularity plummeted after its final season, we all know that. our flag means death is still chugging fairly okay, but after that second season a lot of the fandom dropped it, and with it now being cancelled, i don’t see it sticking around.

yes, we can chalk part of this up to a new generation to of fans having this growing idea that fandom is super temporary, to be abandoned as soon as its not on trend. but media used to be on trend for a whole lot longer than it is now. seasons were longer, we had filler episodes, things were lower quality sometimes but at least they came out on a consistent schedule. i don’t mind if supernatural isn’t an artistic masterpiece, but if i was a stranger things fan waiting until 2026 for the final season, i would be annoyed if it wasn’t damn near perfect. that’s assuming i watched it at all—we’re all so used to not getting endings and moving on, so why would i bother?

i think there are two types of shows doing sort of okay about this. one is procedurals—9-1-1 is a popular one i’ve run into, and it started in 2018, around the beginning of the decline, but it’s managed 7 seasons in those six years, most of them with 18 episodes. the other is, honestly, anime—though we can and SHOULD talk about the terrible working conditions that make the fast turnarounds there possible. look at how big some anime fandoms are.

judging by the relative fandom popularity of other procedural dramas (grey’s anatomy, law & order, criminal minds), i think that’s going to remain sort of niche. fandom likes fantasy and scifi best, and they just don’t tend to have as strong of an overarching arc to dig into. at least, that’s why i wouldn’t watch them. i think there’s also a good chance these will start to die out in the coming years as well.

anime could also die out a little bit. better working conditions would necessitate less/slower content, and it’s true that most of the popular anime fandoms have been around for years, even decades.

so, what, no new, lasting tv show or movie fandoms anymore?

what will the biggest fandoms be in 5-10 years?

podcast fandoms have a shot. the magnus archives is still going strong, and i’ve been seeing a lot about dungeons and daddies. i think we’re kind of almost past the golden age for podcasts, but i am an outsider, so maybe that will change.

book fandoms seem like a kind of obvious choice, but they just don’t get as big without, you guessed it, a movie or show adaptation. and the downsizing has hit them, too—can you think of anything from the last 5 or 10 years that rivals harry potter, percy jackson, warriors, lord of the rings, hunger games, acotar…even game of thrones (asoiaf) again? i can’t. the collapse of the publishing industry is another post entirely.

2020 is really what cemented these changes, though they were starting in the late 2010s, at least. with actual industries shutting down, there was room for indie creators making things alone in their houses to pop up, and people had more time on their hands to try new things out and get into them.

the two things that have really been on the rise since 2020 is rpf and video game fic—often both combined. we’ve got genshin impact, call of duty, minecraft of course being huge, rpf of various youtubers, and k-pop rpf. now, i think rpf is contentious enough that it won’t really become the main fandom, but video game fic…might be it.

even video blogging rpf can often be a blurred enough line that people are more comfortable with it. and the thing is…youtube creators are actually more reliable than mainstream television these days. they need to be, to maintain their platforms. they need to not cancel series and to live up to their own hype as best they can and to not abandon the channel for 3 or 4 years at a time. and again, you can talk about burnout and unrealistic expectations and all of those things, but it’s still true.

maybe i’m completely wrong. maybe in 10 years the film and publishing industries will all sort themselves out and we’ll go back to the status quo. but i think this position fandom is finding itself in is interesting, and i wouldn’t necessarily be surprised if what’s most popular (both in the specific source material sense and the medium/genre sense) is different some time down the road.

#wren wrambles #fanfiction #ao3 #fandom #fandom meta #fanfic #fanfiction meta #i’m curious what other people think about this #tempted to tag the fandoms i mentioned for reach but. dont know. we’ll see how this does

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mappingthesky · 5 months ago

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never not mine

here’s the long-awaited jealous nymphia prompt i have been promising for some time now.. thank u for ur patience :’) i also want to thank @headgleeksana for her contributions to this fic & for being the best beta reader in the universe (and for being a total muse) without further ado, pls enjoy some sexy sweet angst ::)

It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise, because this is what she’d said she wanted, but it comes as one anyway.

It isn’t Nymphia’s party, it’s really just Xunami’s excuse to get a bunch of beautiful girls in one place, but the whole thing feels like it’s orbiting around her. She’s sitting pretty in the center of the room, a vision in hot pink and a ponytail, and feels every bit as effortless as she looks. She’s freshly unattached to anyone, for real this time, and, by the looks of it, other people have caught on. She exudes a quiet rule over the room, gracious and bubbling and effervescent. She feels the eyes of other girls on her outfit, on her lips. They hang on her every word, their laughter following the last word of her jokes like thunder after lightning. They want her, or they want to be her. She feels in control, like she could make anything happen, like she could change the flow of the whole night with the flutter of her fingertips. Everything comes back to her - she’s the center of gravity.

She’s only vaguely aware of Jane’s arrival, and is determined not to pay any attention to it. Jane is a mere tug on Nymphia’s force field as she circles the party, honey blonde and apparently happy, her smile a glittering flash in the corner of Nymphia’s eye. Jane, Nymphia reminds herself, is just one of many small planets revolving around her. Even if she happens to be exceptionally, unfortunately gorgeous. Even if she’s dressed in something black and skintight. Even if her hair looks a shade darker, and making Nymphia wonder whether she’s the reason why.

She brushes the thought away, because this is what she wanted, and focuses on making the pretty girl across from her lose her mind. The girl is going on about the band Nymphia mentioned liking, clearly trying to make a lasting impression, although Nymphia’s attention seems to have been diverted for no particular reason. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. She’s back now. Nymphia hones in on the girl with expertise; leans in ever so slightly, locks eyes and flutters her lashes. The other girl stutters, tries to stumble through the rest of the sentence before losing sight of it completely.

It doesn’t matter that Jane doesn’t seem to be looking at her, at least not when Nymphia steals a second glance, because it's better this way. Crazy things happen when Nymphia and Jane get together - crazy, obsessive, mind-altering things that contradict Nymphia’s attachment to not getting attached. She doesn’t need someone who can’t tear themselves away from her, she needs her freedom. Besides, should Nymphia ever need her, Jane will never be too far away. She doesn’t have to catch her staring to know that Jane’s eyes are on her, stealing glances when Nymphia isn’t looking. It’s inevitable, not that Nymphia really cares. Still, she reasons that, if she’s going to be looked at, she might as well look good. Besides, she’s got it down to a science: she sits up straight, or stands with a delicate arc to her spine so her ass sits right. She flicks her hair, flashes smiles, holds her drink just below her mouth to emphasize her lips, drags her finger slowly where the cocktail is clinging to the corner of her mouth. She’s sure of her approach, sure that if she turned her head just now, she’d find Jane staring. So, just to prove a point…

It’s a calculated glance, a cinematic turn of the head worthy of slow motion cameras and silver screens; Nymphia’s hair flying over her shoulder, her lips parted mid-word, like she only just happened to look in Jane’s direction. Everything is precise, perfect - except for what she finds when she gazes across the room and into the kitchen. Because Jane isn’t looking at her.

Jane is thoroughly distracted. She’s got a drink in one hand and a girl in the other. A pretty, short, curly-haired brunette who slides herself suggestively between Jane and the edge of the countertop. Wedging herself perfectly into the space Nymphia has created for her. The space Nymphia said she wanted.

It’s a tiny deviation from the natural order of things, a miniscule slip in the grand cosmic scheme, but it upends everything. The entire order of the universe as Nymphia knows it ceases to exist. Gravity fails, and every celestial body orbiting around her becomes little more than stray debris floating haphazardly through space.

Someone might be speaking to her, but Nymphia isn’t listening. She’s watching, transfixed, as Jane’s hand flies to the brunette’s waist as though compelled there by some strange magnetism. She smiles down at the girl and it’s gut-wrenching - it’s toothy, her canines pointed with want, tongue catching just between her teeth like she has to hold herself back from attaching herself to the other girl’s neck. The brunette says something and Jane laughs like she has to, her hand inadvertently lifting as she gives some flirty response, then willed back to its resting place on the shorter girl’s waist by some force Nymphia can’t comprehend. Nymphia glares at the back of the girl’s head, her chocolate curls bobbing as she laughs. She talks and Jane tilts the last of her drink into her mouth, sets it aside, and lays her palms flat on the countertop on either side of the girl. Nymphia watches as Jane leans into the brunette, looking down at her with this devious, fascinated sort of expression. It’s not quite the way she looked at Nymphia just a few weeks before, but it’s a little too close. It ignites something in Nymphia she didn’t know was capable of burning.

Eventually the girl is dragged out from under Jane by a friend. She holds her hand until she’s torn away, and promises she’ll be back. Don’t bother, Nymphia thinks.

Jane’s looking after the girl as she totters off after her friend, her eyes low and almost certainly on the brunette’s ass, and Nymphia’s up off the couch and crossing the room to her in half a second flat. Jane’s head turns when Nymphia storms into her periphery. She straightens up and is halfway through some polite, only half-surprised hello until she sees the look on Nymphia’s face.

“What?” she says, wide eyed and suddenly serious. She doesn’t look caught, in fact she actually looks concerned, and Nymphia doesn’t know if that’s better or worse. Jane is a deer in headlights, desperately trying to work out just what has Nymphia so uncharacteristically riled up. She doesn’t have much time, because Nymphia just grabs her hand and drags her down a hallway. She hardly has a plan, much less an idea of what it means - the inexplicable notion that she needs Jane, needs her anywhere but here.

“What?” Jane questions over and over while Nymphia’s shoving her into the bathroom and locking the door behind them. Nymphia turns and huffs and it’s supposed to be out of frustration, but her breath catches in her throat halfway through, because for the first time tonight she’s letting herself really look at Jane.

“What is it?” Jane presses, dark brows knit tightly together. Her eyes look almost silver, rimmed with a sparkling shadow and searching Nymphia’s face. Nymphia sees them and thinks of a hundred different ways to keep them on her, thinks she wants to try them all one by one. She looks at Jane’s lips and wants them, wants the pale pink of her lipstick stamped across her skin as evidence that Jane still wants her. The honey blonde of her hair cascades in waves down her back and Nymphia wants to ruin it, to bury her hands in it while Jane moves down her body. She’s wearing this little black dress that’s making everything worse, because Jane looks so good in black, and the thin straps are begging to be slid down her shoulders, and her shoulders are begging to be bitten, and Nymphia isn’t quite begging but she’s not that far from it.

“Nymphia,” Jane looks actually worried, and it’s a painful reminder how much that she actually cares. The last time they’d spoken it had been about seeing other people, and it’s too soon to say whether or not that was a mistake, but from where Nymphia is standing it sure looks like one. “What’s up? What happened?” Jane urges.

What happened is that there’s a room full of people who would probably take Nymphia home in a heartbeat. What happened is that she thought that's what she wanted. What happened was she saw Jane wanting someone else, and she wanted her to want her instead. But Nymphia doesn’t say that. All she can manage right now is, “Are you having fun?”

Jane blinks. “That’s it? You’re holding me hostage in a bathroom to ask me if I’m having fun?”

Nymphia shrugs and leans back against the wall. It’s supposed to be an invitation. “It looked like you were.”

“Did I do something?” Jane asks, and she’s so concerned with not upsetting Nymphia that she’s completely missing the point - that Nymphia wants her to ruin her completely. “Because I’ve been trying to stay out of your way. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Is it not cool that I’m here?” Jane continues, “because I thought about staying in, but ‘Nami told me I should come. She said you’d be fine with it.”

Nymphia rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well that’s because she wants to fuck you, Jane.”

Jane groans, tilts her head back and stares at the ceiling because here we fucking go again. “Ok. I’m not fucking Xunami, if that’s what you’re worried about. I told you I wasn’t interested in hooking up with your friends, remember?”

Nymphia does remember, remembers how she was so certain that she was the only one Jane really ever wanted. It was easier to brush her off when she thought that would never change.

“What about that other girl?” Nymphia’s voice is low, decidedly sultry as she steps closer. “In the kitchen.”

Jane misses a beat, cocks her head. “I’m sorry, did you not tell me I should sleep with other people?”

Nymphia ignores that last bit, and closes in on Jane. She slides herself against the sink, trying to work out what it’ll take to get Jane pressed against her like she was with the other girl. “Do you want her?”

Jane looks confused for a moment, then it all just melts away. “Oh,” Jane makes some personal revelation, smiles like something is funny. She steps back and Nymphia’s spell is broken.

“What?” Nymphia whines, actually stamping her foot because she’s trying to seduce Jane and there’s nothing funny about it.

“You’re jealous.” Jane turns back, suddenly smug, Nymphia wants to wipe the grin off her perfect fucking face. Wants to dip her fingers in her mouth and pull her smirk apart.

Nymphia tries to shrug it off, to remain unflappable, but feels flimsy. “Maybe I just don’t like the way you looked at her,” she says. Jane doesn’t fall for it.

“You’re so jealous,” Jane repeats, and she has Nymphia completely trapped in more ways than one. She angles closer, nearly pinning Nymphia to the countertop. “Ironic, isn’t it? Weren’t you the one telling me I was too obsessed?”

She’s hovering over Nymphia now, looking at her like she’s trying to decide just how worth it it would be to tear into her, trying to determine just how fucked she’d be afterwards. It crosses Nymphia’s mind for the first time that it doesn’t have to be like that, but more on that later.

“Look at you now,” Jane coos, soft and searing. She’s smiling, because she’s actually the fucking worst. Her eyes drag over Nymphia’s face like she knows they’re allowed to, seeing right through her and directly at the things she’s not saying. Jane always had this gift for reading people, for turning them transparent, for finding that one thing that they’re desperately trying to hide and bringing it right to the surface. Out of admiration or kindness or something much bigger, Jane’s always given Nymphia the courtesy of a blind eye, but not anymore. Now Nymphia’s on the other end. She feels wholly and completely exposed, and it should be terrifying, but instead it's overwhelmingly sexy. Voyeuristic somehow.

“Okay,” Nymphia gives a little. Maybe it’ll be enough. “So what if I am jealous?”

“So what if you are,” Jane shrugs, playing as unbearably indifferent. “I went after her because you told me to.”

Okay, so maybe Nymphia’s jealous. Maybe she misses Jane, and maybe it’s that the girl she was seconds away from tearing into looked nothing like Nymphia, and it’s doing horrible things to her head. Maybe she’s just fully lost her mind, because she deviates. She doesn’t say the thing that’s scientifically proven to seduce, she looks up at Jane and says the thing she really means:

“Don't you still want me?”

It’s supposed to be sexy, and to some degree it is. Nymphia is baiting, because she thinks she knows what the answer will be. It’s not until the words pass her lips, until she’s already asked the question, that she realizes she may not like the answer. It’s not until then that she realizes why she’s really asking - because she’s uncertain. Her doubt manifests as an almost undetectable lilt to her voice - just a touch too sad, too pleading. Most people would miss it, but most people aren’t Jane. There’s a little flash of feeling in Jane’s eyes when Nymphia says it - like she can't fathom why Nymphia would ever have to wonder.

Nymphia is a little awed by it - the way that Jane, just for a moment, goes immeasurably tender. How immediately she’s willing to do it for Nymphia; even here, even now. There’s a small shake to her head when she says it, Jane’s eyes soft and her voice unmistakably sincere. “You never have to ask me that, Nymphia.”’

It’s everything Nymphia didn’t know she needed to hear, and suddenly she’s moved by something much more than simple desire. She’s leaning up to seal the deal, to make Jane hers again - that’s when Jane hardens once more.

“Ah-ah.” Jane pulls back; not by much, but just enough to watch it happen - the way Nymphia’s eyes fill with want for what’s just beyond her reach. She’s finally got Nymphia right where she’s always wanted her, melting and malleable and in the palm of her hand, and she’s going to make the most of it. “I want to hear you say it.”

Nymphia gapes up at her, lips still parted in what was almost a kiss and eyes still filled with love-struck stars. All she can manage is a flustered, fluttering, “huh?”

“You’re jealous,” Jane smiles as she stares down at the indisputable proof. Her words burn like liquor - hot and addictive and getting Nymphia a little high. “What do you want me to do about it?”

Oh, Nymphia thinks, and her mouth moves towards a grin, because she knows what happens next. This is the part where she gets the upper hand, where she exacts her carefully calculated control over Jane like she knows she can. She keeps her eyes on Jane as she wets her fingers with her tongue, watches her eyes fill with want as she slides her hand down her torso, dips beneath her skirt-

“Uh-uh,” Jane stops her hand. “Use your words.”

Nymphia scoffs, starts on some sort of excuse, but it’s no use. Jane presses against her, and there’s nothing she could do about it, even if she wanted to. She knows her too well. Jane leans and offers the slightest incentive, her lips brushing all too softly on Nymphia’s neck. “What do you want?”

Nymphia’s eyes flutter at the feeling of Jane finally on her, at the feeling of all the places she still isn't - all the places she still needs her to be. “I want you,” Nymphia whispers. It’s an admission, but it’s barely audible, and it doesn’t even come close to the full extent of the truth.

Jane nips at her neck and Nymphia actually fucking gasps at everything it is - pressure, presence, punishment. “You can do better than that.”

“Jane,” Nymphia pleads, because she doesn’t know if she can. She’s flushing red and she feels hot to the touch, and Jane’s hands are firmly planted on the sink but Nymphia needs them everywhere. Speaking with her body is one thing, but actually saying it out loud has her uncharacteristically nervous.

“You can say it, baby,” Jane encourages, drawing back, eyes reverent. It’s cruel, and it’s caring. She brushes the hair behind her ear, a small gesture of composure in the face of Nymphia’s falling apart entirely. She leans back in, offers a start. “You want me to…”

She sinks her teeth into Nymphia’s earlobe, and her hand flies to the nape of Nymphia’s neck as she nearly dissolves in her hold. Something swells inside her. It’s the collapse of everything, the world as Nymphia knows it, and the birth of something new: A supernova, an unexpected safety found in the complete surrender of herself to things outside of her control. She finishes Jane’s sentence, as easy as an exhale, “fuck me.”

All at once Jane is everywhere - lips at her lips, right hand at her hip, knee sliding expertly between Nymphia’s thighs. She kisses her and Nymphia’s not afraid anymore, not of anything. She offers half a dozen alternate endings, the words surging up and out of her.

Have me, when Jane’s thigh works against her. Make me yours, when Jane pulls Nymphia’s hair from her ponytail, sends it streaming down her back.

Take me home, when Jane’s eyes meet hers. When Jane leads her through the hallway, flushed and flustered. When they pass through the party hand-in-hand. When they make it known that it was never over, not really.

#this one was spicy who cheered #EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU HEADGLEEKSANA #literally could not do it without her #can u believe i finally wrote angst…#i have a whole fluff piece in my drafts but i felt like we needed this after The Events #also….#guess who the brunette was in my mind. GUESS.#planymphia #she writes #prompt

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