[kentluvr]

♬⋆.˚ 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐫 – 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐲

⌗me.┆mayci ⋮ twentee ⋮ genderfluid ⋮ aroace

⌗char obsessions.┆𝗦𝗨𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗠 ⋮ 𝗧𝗜𝗠 𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗞𝗘 ⋮ 𝗦𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗥 𝗕𝗢𝗬 ♡

⌗games. ┆𝗵𝘀𝗿 ⋮ 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻 ⋮ 𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙑𝙀𝙇 𝙍𝙄𝙑𝘼𝙇𝙎

⌗requests. ┆ currently closed.

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ྀི ♪ ༘⋆ ͙͘͡★ ⋆☀︎｡ ⋆.𐙚 ̊. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ｡𖦹°‧

❤️💙 has been haunting me since middle school (narumitsu, superman, spiderman, captain america).

˙⋆✮ masterlist.

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

Three ditzy men that will find each other in every universe ✨️

[puppyboydominatrix]

puppy boy sammy <3

[yuucide]

why are there some writers on here proudly saying their fanfictions are ai slop

I didn’t come to read a robot’s story 😡 I wanted to read a story written by a writer who’s first language ISNT English ok

[acklesslvt]

sammy ready to take the strap

[insomniumstella]

summary: you've been begging Dean to stop at a mall for Victoria's Secret. Sam might just die when he finally does.

word count: 1,350

warnings: partial nudity, allusions to NSFW (?), awkward!Sam, girlygirl!reader, oblivious!reader, this is fluff(ish) .ᐟ

junie's rambles ☪︎ — please tell me the glitter text is showing up because it took hours to figure out ˙◠˙ also, would anybody want Dean's version? also, also, apparently VS sold shoes and even businesswear in the 2000s, which is insane. but anyway, happy early October 15th to those watching the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show this year ✮ツ

Sam Winchester was in heaven. Hell. Possibly either all at once. 

You’d been begging Dean for weeks to stop by a mall, whirring on about semi-annual sales, and Sexy Little Things, and fantasy bras as you browsed through catalogues in the backseat, lips sparkly from something Sam had caught you describe as “my one true love, Beauty Rush.” 

At last, Dean had given in on a random Sunday night in October. He’d dipped out to a nearby sports bar, grumbling under his breath about watching the Cowboys play the Eagles after a long day’s drive. Sam had offered you company. 

Sam so, so deeply regretted that particular decision. 

The store itself was bad—dimly lit and unbearably sensual. But the merchandise? Awful. Victoria’s Secret was a vortex of bras, thongs, little sheer slips. Sam had never felt more out of place, his usually imposing frame hovering behind you like an awkward shadow whilst you’d perused the racks, the shelves, the drawers, whatever, lined with lingerie. He’d tried steering you towards the register. The safe zone. A little nook of body lotions and perfumes, anything to bring you away from the dressing rooms. 

And yet nothing had worked. Not his feigned interest in lipglosses (which he’d learned were “tasty enough to kiss off” from the ad outside), nor his almost forceful attempts to literally push you forward. Twenty minutes in, your arms had been taken hostage by lace, and satin, and bedazzled… everything, really. 

“It’ll just take a minute,” you had said, already slipping inside the room that he’d soon find out would be his demise, the words a blatant lie. 

Based on Sam, anyway, because he could’ve sworn you’d been in the store for a hundred hours. It certainly felt so as he leaned against a striped pink wall, casting nervous smiles at everyone who looked his way. The blonde teenage associate seemed amused, occasionally pretending to consult her co-worker, although he could hear the two girls giggling in the corner between assisting customers. An older lady helping her daughter shop wasn’t as merciful, her disapproving (weirded out, perhaps, and not without reason) stare making Sam feel even more like an imposter than he already did. 

It’s fine. It’s FINE. I’m fine.

“Sam?” Your voice crawled through the thick slab of walnut, sweet like honey and soft like early morning sun. A trap. 

He knew that tone. 

Fuck. 

It was the signature “Sam” you’d use when you wanted his opinion, his help—just him. No way he could pop in there. No way, José. Purely imagining you try on Victoria’s Secret was agonising. 

Still, “what?” he answered, voice embarrassed and gratingly higher in pitch, for Sam was a fool. A masochistic idiot who was unable to deny you. 

You opened the door in a grin and a whole lot of nothing. Sam almost fainted. His mouth opened and closed, once, twice, would’ve been thrice if you hadn’t spoken. 

“I’m stuck.” He was suddenly yanked inside the dressing room by the sleeve of his Carhartt jacket. “Everything is so beautiful, it’s impossible to pick. Do you think this looks better on me in pink,” you chattered away, casual in contrast to his fluster, as you held up a lacy bra, gesturing between it and your cleavage, “or purple?”

It was more skin than he’d ever seen on you. So, so much more skin. Your body was essentially bare, and you were asking him about colours, of all things. 

Fuck my life. 

“Are you… are… am I allowed to be in here?” His cheeks burned, his hands were clammy, and his heart was surely trying to evacuate his body. Sam was going to die in a room where fuchsia had thrown up all over. “They might think we’re… I mean…”

“Stealing?” You waved a dismissive hand. How many times had he wondered if you were actually this clueless? He might as well have had “I’m so into you, it’s killing me to be here” written on his forehead, and you’d have missed the (sub)text. “I like purple, but pink is my favourite. And, I don’t have a lot of pink lingerie.” 

You hardly owning pink intimates was crucial information Sam could’ve lived his entire life without knowing. 

He slumped down on the plush ottoman in the corner, half because the expression on your face told him he was stuck there indefinitely, half to better hide the little (big) problem brewing in his jeans, and raked a stressed hand through his messy hair, a few pieces of his bangs standing up in different directions. 

“Pink’s good,” Sam mumbled in the midst of his attempt to keep his stare focused solely on your features. “That shade of purple is, uh, cheugy.” He’d never used cheugy. What even was cheugy? 

“Cheugy,” you giggled, furrowing your eyebrows in a way that made you look adorable, in Sam’s painfully smitten opinion. “I’m not convinced cheugy is an actual word. Y’know what, take a good look at this,” you gestured around your chest, deliciously innocent. “Memorise it. I’ll try the purple one on, and then you can make a decision.” 

The dressing room—Sam’s personal chamber of torture—fell silent as he just… stared. At what, he wasn’t even sure. One moment his eyes were on yours, the other they’d dipped to the bra in your hand like it was going to catch fire any second. You were going to MODEL a BRASSIERE for him. He’d either been a saint or a downright sinner in his past life to end up here. 

“Please don’t,” he pleaded, “for my sanity.” Silently, though. What really came out was, “uh…” 

You turned around before he had a chance to protest, and Sam almost groaned, his stare bouncing anywhere but your hips, your thighs, or the curves your thong dipped into. 

“I’m getting those,” you gestured offhandedly to what Sam would’ve assumed was underwear, but in Victoria’s Secret world, were most likely shorts. “Another lipgloss, the Sexy Little Things perfume.” You slid the lace straps down your shoulders and draped the bra over a pile of merchandise the poor hooks could barely hold. “And a Winter White bouclé sweater. That’s decided. But the freaking bra is making it difficult.”

Somewhere between struggling to breathe and wishing the ottoman he was slouched on would swallow him whole, Sam made the mistake of noticing your reflection. You had to have done it on accident. Had to. Yeah. You were thrumming with excitement, oblivious to the mirror and the tiny, unrelated fact of inadvertently flashing him through it. 

Everything after was a blur. You had eased back into your clothes, probably. Public indecency was a crime. Sam vaguely remembered offering to pay, like a gentleman (or a boyfriend, his brain had helpfully supplied then), and manoeuvring outside the mall to reunite with Dean. 

“Drinks are on me.” Sam jumped, so subtly anybody would’ve noticed, and glanced behind his shoulder. Dean was across the room, devouring a plate of chicken wings, but the only sign your presence had ever been beside him was a small crapload of shopping bags. “Go crazy,” you grinned at him, folding your arms on the oak bar top. “It’s the least I can do.” 

“Yeah, well.” He did yearn to go crazy—just not in terms of whiskey. “I’m expecting you to pay when we find the equivalent of Victoria’s Secret for flannel.” 

The comment yanked a laugh from you, soft and carefree, the way he’d always hear it when his eyes closed. “Thank you for keeping me company. Tonight was great. I forgot how fun it is to be a girl.” 

Sam smiled, sincere yet oh-so-strained. He almost blurted out what he’d seen. Almost admitted how you’d affected him. Almost laid his heart out. But at last, “don’t worry about it,” was the only response he could muster. 

“Thank you,” you repeated for the thousandth time, caressing his arm before your warmth left him entirely as you retreated back to the table, to Dean, to a mountain of much needed fries. 

Sam Winchester was in so much trouble. 

[wvyik]

THE VIRGIN PROBLEM.

sam winchester x fem! reader

ꕤ summary: you’re a sharp-tongued hunter with a secret… one that makes you the monster’s perfect target. when things get tense, sam figures it out… and decides it’s time to solve the problem himself. very thoroughly.

♯ warnings: mdni!! explicit content, virgin! reader, soft dom! sam, p in v, oral sex (fem! receiving), emotional intimacy, consent focused, aftercare so sweet you’ll rot, mentions of fear/paranoia tied to virginity, dean walking in and mentally combusting, so slight voyeurism.

♯ notes: the bitch is back at it again!! also?? what the fuck is up with me writing so many virginity plots specifically for sam winchester. idk. guess.

you weren’t new to creepy towns, god knows you’d seen more than your share of cornfield nightmares and rusted playgrounds. but the second the impala rolled through the cracked welcome sign, something about the place just felt wrong. it wasn’t the broken sidewalks or the way the trees seemed too still, it was the air. stale. held breath kind of wrong.

“‘welcome to morrow creek. population 1,206.’” you squinted out the window, voice flat with disdain. “cute.”

dean snorted from the driver’s seat, tapping the steering wheel with a finger. he was already bored. “bet they sell nasty homemade jam.”

“three women,” sam muttered from the passenger seat, flipping through the thick folder of clippings in his lap. “all under twenty-five. found dead in bed, no forced entry, no signs of struggle, uh, local cops think it’s a carbon monoxide leak. but each of ‘em..” he paused, glancing back at you. “they were all virgins.”

the word dropped heavy between the seats, even though dean chuckled like it was just another day at the office. “so.. we’ve got a purity-sucking monster. awesome. what’s next, a ghost nun with mommy issues?”

you leaned your head against the cold window, lips quirking into a smirk that felt a little too tight. “well, good thing none of us fit the bill, right?..”

dean laughed under his breath, but you felt sam’s eyes flick back to you, too quick to mean nothing. you didn’t meet his gaze. instead, you stared hard at the road and let your smile fade.

the motel was standard horror-flick material, though. the three of you tossed your bags into one of the two-bed rooms and you immediately claimed the lumpy couch in the corner before the brothers could bicker about it.

“i’ll take the death trap,” you said, dropping your bag with a thud. “i’ve had worse.”

dean smirked, eyeing the couch like it owed him money. “suit yourself, sweetheart. hope you like springs in your spine.”

sam didn’t say anything, just watched you with an unreadable expression he got when he was thinking too hard. “you sure?” he asked after a beat. his voice wasn’t pushy, it was gentle, as if he wasn’t asking about the couch at all.

you raised an eyebrow, already pulling out the iron blade you kept tucked beneath your jacket. “don’t worry about me, sammy. i’m not exactly delicate.”

that earned the tiniest smile from him, but his eyes didn’t let go of yours right away. you turned your back before it could linger.

the three of you spent the afternoon digging through the town’s pathetic excuse for a library. sam and dean did their usual tag-team, sam sweet-talking the clerk for access to records, dean bitching about how much dust was on the damn files. you tucked yourself into a quiet corner and started scribbling connections, your fingers stained with ink and that familiar buzz of adrenaline humming under your skin.

you were good at this. better than good. you’d learned from the best, but you had your own rhythm now, your own gut instincts that whispered before the lore caught up.

you leaned over the table and tapped your notebook with the back of your pen. “look at the dates. all three deaths were on the waxing crescent. always between midnight and 3 a.m., always in their homes. no signs of entry. that means it’s either incorporeal, or it’s being let in.”

dean leaned over your shoulder, and you caught the faint scent of his cologne. “damn,” he muttered, lips close enough to your ear to make your skin prickle. “you’re getting scary good at this.”

“i’ve been scary good,” you replied coolly, not looking at him.

you could feel sam watching you again, from behind the half-wall of old encyclopedias. you could feel he was trying to peel something back. you didn’t give him the chance.

by the time night crawled in, the motel felt colder than it should’ve. dean was lounging on his bed with a beer, flipping channels, while sam meticulously salted the windows and doors, making sure every corner was sealed. you added your own touch, drawing sigils on the mirror with charcoal, tucking your blade under your pillow, double checking the line of salt at the threshold until it looked right. you told yourself it was just muscle memory. that you weren’t nervous.

but you were. not because of the hunt.

because of you.

because the second Sam said the v-word earlier, your body went cold. not because you were ashamed, or insecure, or anything stupid like that. you just hadn’t wanted them to know. you hadn’t wanted them to realize you were the kind of girl this monster wanted. pure, untouched. you’d spent years building yourself into something sharp and untouchable. and now, something out there could sniff it out like blood in the water.

you cracked open a beer and forced yourself to take a long sip, masking the shake in your hands with practiced ease. then you stood. “i’m beat. gonna crash early.”

dean waved you off with a lazy salute. “sweet dreams, killer.”

sam said nothing. just watched you walk out like he already knew something you didn’t want him to.

your motel room was just a few doors down, but it felt like another planet once you locked yourself inside. you did what you always did. you locked the door, salted the windows, tested your knife grip, triple-checked the lines on the floor. but your chest still felt tight. your palms were damp. your skin felt… exposed.

you weren’t scared of dying. that had stopped being your biggest fear a long time ago. what made your stomach twist was the idea that you might get chosen. that this thing might sniff you out, and suddenly sam and dean would know. they’d look at you differently. pity you, protect you.

and you didn’t want to be protected. you wanted to be seen as dangerous.

but right now? sitting alone in a dark motel room, knees pulled up to your chest as you stared at the door like it might explode inward, you felt like prey.

a knock broke the silence. your head snapped up.

“hey… it’s me.” sam’s voice was low through the door, almost gentle. he already knew not to scare you more than you were.

you hesitated, heart hammering. “what the hell, sam?”

“i saw that expression when you left,” he said. “you okay?”

the words caught in your throat. you didn’t know how to lie to him right now. there was a long pause. thank fuck he didn’t push.

you stood slowly, crossed the room on quiet feet, and undid the lock. your hand trembled just slightly on the doorknob before you opened it.

“…come in.”

sam stepped inside slowly. honestly, he wasn’t sure you’d actually let him. his eyes scanned the room, your over-prepared salt lines, the open blade on the nightstand, the half-drunk beer. then they found you again. that same look.

and that, somehow, felt even worse.

he stood in the middle of your motel room like he didn’t want to make the first move.

“you gonna say something?” you asked, voice quiet but sharp. defensive. if he touched the wrong nerve, you might shatter or explode. you weren’t sure which.

sam’s gaze softened a little, but it didn’t lose focus. “did you really come in here just to sleep?”

you turned away, busying yourself by pretending to adjust the salt line by the window. “what the hell does that mean?”

“you’re scared,” he said, blunt now. “not of the hunt, or the monster. of being its target. and I think you already know why.”

you felt your pulse in your throat, your fingers twitching at your sides. “so what? you gonna tell dean? put me on some kinda leash? lock me in the car like a liability?”

he was behind you before you even heard his steps, his voice brushed close to your neck. “no. i’m not gonna tell him anything. i’m not here to judge you. i’m here because…” he paused, like he needed to find the exact words. “because if you are what this thing’s looking for, that means you’re in danger. and i’m not letting anything happen to you.”

you turned to face him, and suddenly he was close, his chest nearly brushing yours, his hand ghosting over the air between you. “you don’t get it,” you said quietly. “you don’t know what it’s like… walking around with this stupid secret. being the only one in the room who hasn’t-.. who is-..”

“a fuckin’ virgin?” sam finished for you, gently but without hesitation. “yeah, i got that part.”

your cheeks burned, but you didn’t look away. “…you think it makes me weak, don’t you?”

“no,” he said, voice low and certain. “i think it makes you brave as hell for coming out here and hunting with us anyway. for pretending like it doesn’t matter when i can tell it’s tearing you apart inside.”

you felt something split wide open in your chest. a dam cracking. you were so tired of holding it in. of hiding behind sharp jokes and harder walls.

“i didn’t plan on staying that way forever,” you murmured. “it just… didn’t happen. didn’t feel right. not yet.”

sam’s thumb brushed your jaw. “and now?”

you swallowed. looked up at him through your lashes. “now i feel like a goddamn target. like it’s this thing hanging over me and, sam, i hate it. i hate being afraid.”

his lips hovered close to yours, voice a whisper against your skin. “then let me help.”

you stared at him. “you don’t have to-”

“i want to.”

there was no hesitation in his eyes. no lust-fueled pressure. he leaned in, mouth catching yours in a kiss that was patient but deep, like he’d been holding it back for too long. you melted against him before you could even think, hands grabbing the front of his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring you.

his tongue brushed yours and the groan he let out was filthy, like the taste of you knocked the breath out of him. “you taste so fucking sweet,” he muttered against your lips. “been wondering what it’d feel like to kiss that mouth since you first mouthed off at me.”

you pulled back slightly, breathless. “that was, like… day three.”

sam smiled, hand sliding down to the curve of your hip. “yeah. i’m patient.”

you tugged his shirt off, finally getting your hands on all that muscle he kept hidden under layers. his stomach taut under your fingers as he stepped you back toward the bed.

“you sure about this?” he asked one last time, voice rough but gentle.

you nodded. “i don’t want it to be fear that takes it away from me. i want you.”

that did something to him. suddenly he was all over you, mouth on your neck, hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you onto the bed like you weighed nothing. he kissed down your body like a promise. every touch was careful and intentional, but so hungry. and when he finally pushed your thighs apart and knelt between them, he looked up at you like he was about to ruin you.

“i’m gonna make this good for you,” he murmured, voice so deep it made your toes curl. “so good you forget why you were scared at all. so good it won’t matter that you waited this long.”

you barely managed to gasp before his mouth was on you. hot, skilled, tongue licking long deliberate strokes on your pussy. he was memorizing every single sound you made. you clawed at the sheets, moaning his name like a prayer, and he just held you open with those strong hands, eating you out. he’d literally die if you pulled away.

and when you finally came, shaking and gasping, he kissed back up your body, slow and sweet. “i’ve got you,” he whispered, brushing his lips over your jaw. “let me take care of the rest.”

sam moved over you like he’d been dreaming about it. until now, until your back was arched against the bed and his body was finally settled between your thighs, all warmth with pressure and want. the motel room around you felt like it didn’t matter. the only thing real was him.

“you good?” he asked again, voice wrecked and whisper-rough, his fingers brushing your cheek while his other hand slowly guided his cock along your folds, teasing. not out of cruelty, but to give you time to breathe.

you nodded, but your voice cracked a little when you said, “yeah. i want it.”

he kissed you again, slower this time, like he was trying to calm your heartbeat with his mouth. “gonna go real slow,” he murmured, forehead pressed to yours. “you tell me if you want me to stop. you say the word, and i back off. no questions.”

“i won’t,” you whispered, hips already lifting to meet him. “i want you, sam. just you.”

the first push was gentle. he went slow, careful, watching your face the entire time, not even trying to hide how hard he was breathing. you were tight, hot, the stretch just on the edge of too much, and the feeling of him filling you had your eyes rolling back almost instantly.

“oh my god,” you gasped, fingers gripping his shoulders. “sam..”

“i know, baby. i know.” his voice was tight, controlled, but he was barely holding back a growl. “you feel-fuck-you feel perfect.”

he paused once he was buried inside, letting you adjust, kissing your neck and running one hand slowly up your thigh like it would help you relax. “breathe,” he whispered. “you’re doin’ so fuckin’ good.”

you were trembling, half from nerves, half from the feeling of him, all of him, seated so deep inside you, stretching you open in a way that felt devastating and intimate all at once. you didn’t even realize tears were brimming at your lashes until sam kissed one off your cheek. “you okay?” he murmured, thumb brushing under your eye again.

“i’m perfect,” you whispered. “just, holy fuck, don’t stop.”

his hips pulled back slowly, and when he pushed in again, it was smoother. still deliberate, but deeper, more rhythmic, trying to find his pace with you, tuning his body to yours. you wrapped your legs around his waist and let your head fall back, moaning shamelessly as he started fucking you in deep, slow strokes that made your breath hitch every time he bottomed out.

“that’s it,” he grunted, forehead still pressed to yours, sweat beading at his temple. “taking me so fuckin’ well, baby… i’ve got you. just let go.”

you couldn’t think. couldn’t speak. the way he was moving slow, his name kept falling from your lips in a quiet chant, the only word you could seem to remember.

sam’s hand slid between your bodies, thumb pressing soft circles into your clit. you gasped, body jolting, and he smiled against your neck. “that feel good, sweetheart?” he whispered. “you like when i touch you like this?”

“yesyes, please, don’t stop-” your voice broke again as pleasure started coiling hot and heavy in your belly. “i’m gonna, sam..”

“i’ve got you,” he said again, voice so loving it hurt. “you can let go. you’re safe.”

you came around him hard, clenching so tightly around his cock that he had to bite his lip to keep it together. your whole body tensed, then collapsed under him as you shook and gasped through it, and he held you like you were something precious, whispering through every twitch.

“that’s it, that’s my girl… fuck, baby, you’re so beautiful like this…”

he kept moving, chasing his own high now, breath stuttering as he fucked into you deeper, a little faster, but never rough. his face was buried in your neck, hand gripping your thigh, and when he came, it was with a full-body groan. he buried himself to the hilt, hips stuttering, panting like he’d just run a marathon.

and then… silence.

heavy breathing. the weight of him on top of you, solid and real and safe. you ran your fingers through his hair, and he let out the softest sound, content, like he didn’t want to move.

he stayed draped over you, his hand still curled around your waist like he needed to keep you close in case you disappeared. you felt wrecked, in the best way.

after a while, sam leaned up on his elbow, pushing the sweaty hair off your forehead, looking down at you like you were made of fucking starlight. “you still okay?” he whispered, and his voice was so gentle, so low and fond, it made your throat get tight.

“mhm,” you mumbled, already half-asleep, still spread out and naked beneath him. “i think you fixed me.”

sam chuckled, brushing his lips over your temple. “i’m a healer now?”

“literally,” you sighed. “virginity demon who?”

he kissed your jaw. “oh, the spirit is banished, alright. world saved.”

you rolled into him, lazy grin pulling at your lips. “one orgasm at a time.”

“…one?”

you blinked up at him, then immediately burst out laughing as he smirked like the smug bastard he was. “okay, chill, sam,” you groaned. “my body’s not even functioning yet.”

“i’ll give you thirty minutes,” he muttered, pulling you into his chest, tucking the blanket around both of you like you weren’t still sticky and sweaty and fucked dumb.

“i’m gonna fall asleep like this,” you whispered, fingers drawing little shapes on his bare chest.

“good. you should.” his voice was all honey again. “you’re safe with me.”

and that was the last thing you heard before you drifted off, wrapped in sam’s arms, thoroughly wrecked and absolutely ruined for anyone who wasn’t a 6’4” soft-spoken demon hunter who fucked like he was trying to put your soul back together.

it felt nice finally falling asleep. your legs were tangled with sam’s, your head tucked under his chin, and his hand was still splayed across your ass like it belonged there. which, to be fair, it did. the room was still warm with sex and body heat and whatever leftover cologne he wore that now lived in your hair.

until the door slammed open like it was kicked by a cop.

“you have got to be kidding me.”

you screamed. sam jolted awake with military precision, reaching for the knife on the nightstand in one motion while covering you with his body in the next.

and standing in the doorway, framed by shitty motel light and holding a crumpled paper bag full of snacks, was dean winchester.

mouth open. face full of regret.

you just stared at each other.

“…dude,” sam said groggily, arm still around you like he didn’t have his whole ass out under the sheet. “what the fuck.”

dean blinked again. “nah.”

he turned around immediately. stared at the wall. took a deep breath.

“oh, no, no no no, this is not happening. this is not how I start my fuckin’ morning. i got beef jerky and a coke and now I have to go pour bleach in my brain because my little brother decided to go all lust in the dust with you.”

you groaned, flopping onto your back and dragging the sheet over your head like a corpse. “please kill me. please kill me now.”

“don’t tempt me.” dean yelled, still facing the wall with his arms out like he was trying to keep a crime scene untouched. “i trusted you! you were the normal one! you sat next to me during stakeouts! you made fun of him with me! what the hell?!”

“i don’t think I’ve ever made fun of sam with you-” you started to say, but dean spun around dramatically, index finger raised like a furious little league coach.

“don’t lie to me now, sex goblin! i saw what i saw, and i can’t ever go back from that!”

sam had the audacity to rub his eyes and mumble, “you could’ve knocked, dude.”

“oh, don’t you start,” dean snapped, pacing now. “i’ve heard you. i knew you were in here. i was trying to be respectful. i thought, ‘hey, they probably just fell asleep watching TV, maybe they’re sharing the room, maybe sam’s just being weird and overprotective, maybe she had a nightmare..’ BUT NO.”

he spun to face you both again, looking personally betrayed.

“y’all were out here doing the monster mash and i walked in ten seconds too late to stop my retinas from dissolving.”

you peeked out from under the covers. “we didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

“oh really?” dean scoffed. “how were you planning to tell me? group text? powerpoint? smoke signals from your fucking bedroom?!”

sam sighed. “dean-”

“no. no ‘dean.’ i need castiel to erase the last ten minutes of my life.”

he turned back toward the door, paused dramatically, and looked over his shoulder with the most betrayed face known to man.

“i hope you know,” he said solemnly, “that i will never sit on that bed again.”

taglist; @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @mostlymarvelgirl @freeluigihesbae @impala67rollingthroughtown @multiversefanfics @starzify @ladykitana90 @idontwannabehere78 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @pieandflannel @tendertulip @tinas111 @everythingisaspectrum @pennywatsonlafayette @lunaleah @anxiety-prime-max @amsliajskxkxkx @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @kimxwinchester @incubusimmolation @riteofpassage77 @ohangeleyes @kcundercover4 @southernimpala @laceandlipstick @bowbowrry @fernsplace ⊹ ࣪ ˖

۶ৎ wanna be tagged too?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading! read more of my works @ masterlist.

[yuriosakawa]

hii!! if it’s not too much to ask, can i request a scenario for the Marvel Rivals self-aware AU? ^_^ essentially, the presence brings along one of their friends/“duo” (up to you how the heroes view the unfamiliar brought-along company), and they play as characters they ship together with?

ex. the presence plays loki, their duo plays adam, and they're both controlling the characters to do romantic innuendos in-game (ex. backshots, “kisses”, jumping together, emoting/sitting together)—i’d like to see how you write their reactions LOLOL i think it’d be pretty funny :33

of course, you can do other ships if you're more comfortable with them. iron fist and luna, bucky and steve, tony and bruce, mantis and loki, magneto and strange, luna and magik, johnny and spider-men, specifically the non-canon romantic pairs—love your work, you inspire me very much!!

(…ps…do you think i can have your permission to write about this au,,,? full credits on every post of course 🥹)

Author’s Note: Of course you can make content about my AU! That’s what I aim to do! Just make sure you send me the link of what you do afterwards. I would love to see it! 😉

Marvel Rivals Self‑Aware AU: (Unrequited) Shipping 💖💖💖

Today was strange.

Not because the Presence had dragged them all into yet another absurd mission. By now, everyone trapped within the Timestream Entanglement had begrudgingly accepted that their invisible puppeteers possessed the attention span of children and the emotional maturity of sleep-deprived college students.

No, what made today strange was the fact that the Presence hadn’t arrived alone.

Usually, they brought along siblings, cousins, or friends they already recognized through voice alone. The heroes and villains had become disturbingly familiar with the chaotic collection of beings who controlled their bodies from beyond reality.

But this time, the Presence had brought someone entirely new.

And unfortunately for everyone involved, the newcomer seemed far less interested in the mission itself and far more interested in using their borrowed bodies to fool around.

Now, under normal circumstances, that wouldn’t have been too alarming. The Presence had forced them through humiliating situations before. Ridiculous dances in the middle of combat. Spinning in circles like confused chickens. Random synchronized jumping. Compared to all that, another embarrassing emote session during battle hardly seemed world-ending.

Or so they thought.

What nobody expected—not in a million years—was for the Presence and their friend to suddenly decide to play matchmaker.

It had started innocently enough.

You had chosen Loki as your avatar for the day while your friend picked Adam. The mission itself was progressing relatively smoothly; their Duelists pushed forward to capture the point while Loki and Adam remained in the backlines, healing injured teammates as their Vanguards held the enemy at bay.

For once, things were actually going well. Which, in hindsight, should have been everyone’s first warning sign.

Because apparently your friend had the brilliant idea of making Adam relentlessly flirt with Loki.

At first, it was subtle.

Standing a little too close.

Following him around.

Jumping together in suspicious synchronization.

Then came the “backshots,” which caused several teammates to nearly choke from laughter.

Then came the kisses. Or rather, what the Presences considered kisses: forcing the two of them to stand impossibly close together until their noses bumped awkwardly together while delighted laughter echoed from the heavens above.

The rest of the team immediately became accomplices.

Some whistled.

Others cheered.

A few nearly collapsed from laughter.

One particularly traitorous Peni Parker had even started mimicking tossing flower petals around them whenever the Presences forced the two healers together.

Adam, as always, took the entire situation in stride.

Loki, meanwhile, looked moments away from committing actual murder.

“Would you stop breathing on me so aggressively?!” Loki hissed as the invisible force controlling them once again shoved the two face-to-face, their personal space utterly nonexistent. “As if this mortifying experience could not possibly become any worse!”

“Why?” Adam asked innocently.

The golden humanoid glanced around at the cackling teammates surrounding them, entirely unbothered by the situation. “Everyone appears to be enjoying themselves.”

“Which is precisely the problem!” Loki snapped.

Finally, the invisible forces released them enough to allow several precious inches of separation. Loki immediately recoiled as though physically burned.

“And WHY,” he continued furiously, straightening his armor with what dignity he had left, “am I always the one forced into the maiden role in this embarrassment?!”

It was a fair question. The main Presence seemed to possess a very clear preference for casting Loki as the “girlfriend” of the duo.

A fact the rest of the team had noticed immediately.

“Oh my God,” one Squirrel Girl wheezed from the sidelines, “they made him twirl.”

“Twice,” Widow added helpfully.

Loki looked genuinely ready to walk directly into enemy fire.

Adam tilted his head slightly before speaking again.

“I do not understand the issue,” he admitted calmly. “You are objectively the prettier one.”

The battlefield went silent for exactly one second.

Then the entire team exploded into screaming laughter.

Loki made a sound of pure outrage that probably violated several laws of physics.

Somewhere overhead, the Presence could be heard shrieking with delight.

And that could have been the end of it. But nooooooo.

Apparently, the two Presences had enjoyed tormenting Adam and Loki so much that they decided to continue their little matchmaking game throughout every remaining mission of the day. To the horror of literally everyone involved.

The next match took place at the Collector’s Museum.

This time, you and your friend had chosen Iron Fist and Luna Snow respectively, and almost immediately, the team noticed the problem.

The two heroes kept standing suspiciously close together.

Not enough for anyone to outright accuse the Presences of anything—but just close enough that it constantly looked as though they were about to hold hands.

Every.

Single.

Time.

“Lie, I’m flattered,” Luna said playfully, looking up at Lin Lie with an amused smile. “But I’m afraid I only see you as a friend.”

“Oh— don’t worry about it,” Lie assured her quickly. “I’m not really looking for a relationship either.”

Unfortunately for him, the embarrassed redness spreading across his cheeks completely ruined the casual effect he’d been aiming for.

Luna burst into laughter almost immediately.

Above them, the Presences could be heard cackling like hyenas.

Then came Wakanda. Which was objectively worse.

Much worse.

“Steve, what the HELL are you doing?!” Bucky hissed in alarm as Captain America was suddenly forced to repeatedly crouch behind him in what could only be described as deeply unfortunate motions.

“I-I AM SO SORRY, BUCK!!” Steve Rogers—super soldier, war hero, living symbol of justice—sounded moments away from tears. “I DON’T WANT TO BE DOING THIS EITHER!”

From somewhere overhead came the unmistakable sound of delighted wheezing.

Tony Stark, meanwhile, was absolutely useless.

“Oh my God,” Iron Man choked out between laughs. “JARVIS, clip that immediately.”

Unfortunately for him, karma struck fast.

Very fast.

Because the Hulk suddenly turned toward him and began stomping closer.

Far too close.

Tony immediately stopped laughing.

“Uh… Banner?” he asked carefully, taking an instinctive step backward. “Buddy? What exactly are you doing?”

Hulk’s expression remained deeply offended.

“Annoying Voice controlling Hulk,” he grumbled. “Make Hulk do backshots on Tin Man.”

Behind the faceplate, Tony went deathly pale.

The rest of the team immediately lost control laughing.

The disaster continued on Klyntar.

For reasons beyond mortal comprehension, the Presences had apparently decided that Loki and Mantis looked “cute together,” which resulted in the two of them repeatedly being forced to jump in synchronized little circles around the battlefield.

“…Well,” Loki muttered bitterly as Mantis giggled beside him, “at least I am not being forced into the maiden role this time.”

“I do not think my brother is very happy about that, though,” Mantis replied innocently.

Loki glanced behind him.

Peter Quill was staring at them with the concentrated fury of a man witnessing his worst nightmare unfold in real time.

If looks could kill, Loki would have died instantly.

And finally—because fate clearly despised them all—the last mission took place on Krakoa.

This time, the Presences targeted Spider-Man and the Human Torch.

By now, everyone immediately recognized the signs.

The standing too close.

The constant following.

The suspiciously affectionate emotes.

The “kisses.” 

At this point, several teammates had simply given up and started taking bets.

“…You know,” Johnny said with a grin as the invisible force shoved him face-to-face with Spider-Man yet again, “this really isn’t so bad.”

“S-Shut up!” Peter hissed immediately, his voice muffled beneath his mask.

Johnny only grinned wider. “C’mon, you have to admit the view’s pretty great from here.”

Peter made a strangled noise that sounded one step away from a system shutdown.

Several nearby teammates collapsed laughing. Even Wolverine looked emotionally exhausted.

And so ended the day’s assortment of missions. With two Presences convinced they were master matchmakers… and a collection of deeply traumatized heroes who would likely avoid eye contact with one another for the next eight months minimum.

Somewhere above them, the Presences were already discussing who to pair together tomorrow.

The collective scream of horror that echoed across the battlefield could probably be heard across dimensions.

[kentluvr]

why do people tag their "silly rambles" with x reader tags? tell me why i'm scrolling down a dean winchester tag and there are rows of rows of people doing a funny one liner and have a sabrina carpenter lip bite photo attached to it. then i look at what they tagged and it's every fictional man to ever exist. worst part for most of these—they don't even mention the specific character i'm scrolling the tag for most of the time 😭 just tossing characters into their tags for the fun of it

[inkedtension]

Some jack frost smutttt

...

Jack Frost never knew he could sweat.

Not until now. Not until you.

His forehead is pressed against yours, icy hair damp at the roots, clinging to his temple like it's never known heat before. His breath fogs out in puffs, half from effort, half from disbelief. You’ve got your legs locked around his waist like a trap he’ll never escape from, even if he wanted to.

But he doesn’t. God, he doesn’t.

“Shit—” he huffs, voice hoarse, “—you ruin me, sweetheart.”

His hips slam up into you again, sharp and deep, and you clench around him so tight he stutters—just a little, just enough for that cocky smile to twitch at the corners of his lips. That grin. That infuriating grin that always makes you want to slap it off or kiss it until he forgets how to use it.

He doesn't stop, even after he’s spilled inside you, even after his body’s gone taut with aftershocks, even after his moans turn into those breathless little gasps that sound more like pleas than anything else.

And he does not pull out.

He can’t.

“F-fuck—fuck, angel, it’s too much, you feel—” His voice cracks as your walls flutter around him again. “—you feel so good, baby, I can’t—I can’t stop—”

He’s still thrusting. Hasn’t even thought of stopping. His hips roll in circles now, trying to grind just right, shifting angles like he’s memorizing every one that makes you gasp louder, clamp down harder. That whimper when your legs shake around his waist? It ruins him.

“You’re shaking,” he pants, nose brushing your cheek, forehead dragging against your shoulder. He’s drenched now, slick chest sticking to yours. “You like that? You like when I rub you right there?” He thrusts deep, groaning. “God, you’re squeezing me so hard. Do it again, darling, please—I’ll cum like a fucking mess if you do it again.”

Your hands slide down his trembling back, cool with sweat. One hand cups his neck; the other rakes through that messy white hair, wet and sticking to his forehead, and when your fingers tug, he gasps.

“Please.” Jack breathes the word like he’s crying, hips faltering, twitching inside you, thrusts sloppy and so sensitive now that it hurts—but he’s still moving. Still serving.

“Want to stop?” you whisper, even though your hips rock up into him again.

He chokes. “No, no—fuck, no, don’t sto—” He cuts off with a moan when your walls flutter around him again. “Shit, you’re still—still so tight—how—”

You try to speak—beg or curse or maybe just breathe—but your moan rips out instead, sudden and sharp, when he shifts his angle and hits just right.

Jack feels it. Hears it.

“Ah—there it is,” he pants, pulling you flush against him, arms locking around your waist as he starts thrusting up, not just in but up, chasing the way your body tightens and sobs. “You liked that? Wanna keep you right there, sweet girl. Cry on my cock just like that—fuck, I love it when you cry.”

You do cry. A little. Your eyes sting with it, the ache blurring into heat, into pleasure so far past the edge that you’ve forgotten where the edge even was. Your fingers thread through his damp hair, tugging, gripping—trying to ground yourself while he keeps fucking you like you’re the last warmth on earth.

And he’s still talking. Still gasping out praise like prayer.

“Don’t stop holdin’ me like that, baby,” he groans, forehead slick against your shoulder, the scent of sweat and snow sticking to both your skins. “You feel so fucking good. You love it too, yeah? I can feel it—every time I push in, your pussy just sings for me—god, it’s singing right now—”

He’s gone. Utterly gone.

Your thighs tremble at his sides. He moans when they do, grinds just to feel it again.

That’s when you clench again.

“Ngh—shit—don’t do that, you’re gonna make me—” He bites his lip hard, slams his hips deeper, shifting again, faster this time—“oh my god, right there—fuck—I’m so close, sweetheart—gonna cum so hard if you just keep—fuckfuckfuck, please—”

He’s rutting now. Messy. Desperate. Moaning your name into your mouth, kissing you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. His cock twitches inside you, hot and throbbing, overstimulated and slick with everything he’s already given you.

You grip his waist, dragging your nails down as he thrusts, broken and gasping.

“Y-you like this?” he babbles, breath hitching. “You like me like this, baby? So—so desperate for your pussy I can’t even think straight? My mind’s gone, sweetheart, I’m so—so fucking gone—”

Your hands crawl over his skin—his throat, collarbone, down to his abs, sweaty and twitching. He hisses when you scratch lightly, biting at your shoulder to keep himself from cumming.

But you feel him twitch. You know he’s close.

“Want me to cum?” Jack whispers, voice ragged and aching against your ear. “Gonna let me? Let me fuck it into you like a good boy, yeah? Fill you up so warm you forget—”

You grind up against him, and he whines. Actually whines into your mouth, kissing you so deep it’s filthy. So messy you barely breathe.

Your orgasm slams into you before you can even see it coming, all white heat and static. Your body arches like a bow, mouth open in a silent scream as your walls flutter and tighten around him, as his mouth finds your throat. Jack curses, eyes rolling back, holding still for one breathless second.

His whole body jerks as he spills inside you, moaning your name like it’s a fucking prayer, trembling, clinging to you, hips still moving through it like he needs to give you everything he has, every last drop. He keeps going, even through overstimulation, face buried in your neck, whispering

“You’re so good, so good for me, I’ll keep going—‘m not done, baby, not ‘til you’re shaking—”

He collapses onto you, skin like winter silk, but burning.

And then, that stupid voice again, muffled against your chest.

“…So. About round four…”

[cowsnotcrows]

Time to be weird and scary with big bro!

based on the trend from twitter (I think I’m not on there lmao)

[quezartt]

I couldn't finish it 😔

[transgwender616]

Monsterfucking is so normalized on Tumblr I kinda forgot it even counted as a kink. I thought it was like liking boobs on girls. The basic normal stuff most people like.

[grimquil]

Mark grayson x male reader

Mark was on his knees in front of you, taking your cock into his mouth in one smooth glide and sucking you down deep. His tongue pressed flat along the underside, swirling around the head every time he pulled back before diving down again. He hummed around your length, the vibration shooting straight through you, while one hand cupped your balls and rolled them gently as he bobbed faster.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, holding him steady. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked harder, lips stretched tight. Saliva dripped down his chin as he swallowed you to the root again and again, working you with steady, hungry strokes.

You could feel yourself getting close. He doubled down, taking you even deeper, throat relaxing around you as he moaned encouragingly. One hand stayed on your hip, the other stroking what he couldn’t fit, twisting on the upstroke.

Right as you felt the edge hit, you pulled out of his mouth and started stroking yourself hard and fast. Mark sat up straighter on his knees, positioning himself directly under you, head tilted back, eyes locked upward. He opened his mouth slightly, waiting.

You came hard with a low groan, thick ropes of hot cum shooting across his face in heavy lines—splattering over his cheek, his nose, his lips, and several thick streaks landing right on his beard. Mark stayed perfectly still, feeling every warm pulse land on his skin.

He didn’t pull away. He leaned in and dragged his tongue along the underside of your spent cock, licking you clean with long, deliberate strokes. The scratchy beard rubbed against your pelvis as he nuzzled in close, working his way from the head all the way down to the base, sucking the last drops from you and cleaning every trace of cum from your shaft.

This was a request but for some reason tumblr won't allow to answer it.

[lucenties]

marvel rivals twt links + blurbs

tw: afab reader, p links, rough sex, dp, threesomes, oral (fem and male receiving), size kink, anal, breeding, toys, monsterfucking(?), general horniness

! rivals women p links here !

make sure you're logged in to twitter/x to view the links!

ADAM WARLOCK

↪ adam loooooves taking it slow, not even bothering to slip you out of your panties, rubbing himself against your puffy clit. your slick heavily coats his tip, and he indulges you by putting just a little bit of his dick in shallow stokes before pulling out, just to do it all over again.

BLACK PANTHER

↪ it’s like a symphony in t’challa’s ears – the rhythmic clapping of your ass alongside your deliciously sweet moans. the man owns an intergalactic empire, and yet his favorite place ever is right under your body where he can plunge deep into your cute holes while holding you tight.

BLADE

↪ when you feel like taking charge, eric just lays back and enjoys the view. your confident smirk hovering over his face while you set your own pace – slow and deep, just like he likes it. it’s even better when you reach a hand down to help your pussy out in stroking his fat dick.

BRUCE BANNER

↪ bruce is the definition of a munch. this man will press your legs against your stomach and bury his face in your pussy without you uttering so much as a word. lapping at your leaking hole, drooling on your sensitive clit, there’s no doubt he’s in this for the love of the game.

CAPTAIN AMERICA

↪ steve’s entire body underwent a massive upgrade thanks to the super soldier serum, and his dick was no exception. it’s so hard for him to get past the tip inside you despite how badly he wants it :( next time you better slobber over it some more before trying to take on his monster.

CLOAK (+ BONUS DAGGER)

↪ you can’t have tyrone without tandy, whether anyone would want to or not, so why not make the most out of it? you and tandy take turns on his cock, helping each other take as much as you can, the sight of both your faces enough to help him release a thick, gooey load into your mouth.

DAREDEVIL

↪ patroling the streets is hard work, please let matt use your body to take out his frustration! it’s hard enough dealing with the evil in hell’s kitchen, he just wants to have some semblance of control. let him drive his cock deep into you and fuck you stupid so he can feel like he’s doing something right.

DOCTOR STRANGE

↪ stephen still knows how to use his fingers juuuust right when it comes to bringing you pleasure. two digits are all he needs to stretch you out, readying you for his thick aching dick. he uses his magic to create a makeshift cockring that is snug enough to swell his already large member that stuffs you full.

GAMBIT

↪ remy is a kinky motherfucker – sex is always something new with him. recently, he discovered just how much you moan and babble nonsense when he charges a bit of kinetic energy into his cock and drives it into your puckered asshole. a few thrusts in and you’re already begging him to let you cum.

HAWKEYE

↪  as much as he loves the act itself, clint gets a special kind of pleasure right after sex, when he pulls his dick out and finds his cum leaking out of you. he helps you clean up your messy pussy by pushing the mess running down your ass back up to your clit, giving it another little rub with his tip.

HUMAN TORCH

↪ even with all his experience, johnny still finds himself learning about what women like. ever since he found out how quickly you cum when he kisses you during missionary, it’s become like an addiction for him to lean down and make out with you while he drives his cock in and out of your sweet cunt.

IRON FIST

↪  lin is always so eager to do anything with you. sit on his face, rub him with your thighs, take his energetic thursts like a good girl and he’ll make you see stars. it’s not his fault you’re so soft and that your walls squeeze so tight around him every time that he always thinks he’lll cum too fast :( 

IRON MAN

↪ only you knew how nasty tony could be. he’d already cum a couple of times, stuffing you full of his thick loads and soiling the sheets. the sight of your cunt taking him completely from behind, cum leaking and lube shining only makes him thrust harder and deeper to see how much bigger of a mess he could make.

LOKI

↪ what good are loki’s clones if he doesn’t use them on his pretty girl? it may take a lot of work to prep you every time to make sure you can take him in your ass and your pussy, sure, but it’s worth it when you moan like a pornstar every time he “accidentally” stuffs two dicks in one hole.

MAGNETO

↪  erik has some tolerance for your bratty behavior, but it sometimes gets to a point where he needs to shut you up the best way he can: using his large size to get on top of you and fuck your body into submission, just rough enough for you to stop your whining and start begging him to cum inside you.

MISTER FANTASTIC

↪ reed is one of the smartest men alive, and he uses this feat to analyze your reactions whenever he fucks you. he memorized the exact spot deep inside you that makes you moan the loudest and let out the most obscenities, focusing that one spot to drill into and overstimulate you.

MOON KNIGHT

↪  marc gets too into his head sometimes, often resulting in him muttering sweet praises in your ear while he continuously digs his cock deep into your cunt, far after you have already come twice. he doesn’t notice your fucked-out face or the fact that you’ve stopped responding coherently to his mumbling until after he’s buried a load inside you.

NAMOR

↪ namor is used to the royalty treatment as the king of the seas, and his authority extends to his favorite plaything: you. guiding your head down on his cock and stroking it against your cheek, he doesn’t miss an opportunity to remind you of your place and making sure you understand he owns you.

SPIDER-MAN

↪ peter may be too shy to admit it, but his favorite way to cum is after you’ve teased him to hell and back, stroking his cock and praising him for being such a gooood boy. he gets too loud, so be sure to put a hand on his mouth or stick your tongue down his throat to quiet his needy moans while his cum spurts out, tainting your hands.

STAR-LORD

↪ peter fucks you on the pilot seat of the guardians’ ship every time you ask him to. with the way you’re dripping at the thought of possibly getting caught and the quiet, shallow moans you let out as he  moves your body up and down on his cock until you cum multiple times, how could he say no?

THE PUNISHER

↪ frank makes love to you in all kinds of different positions, but he always has his thick hands on you. he needs to feel you, to get as close as possible to you during this most vulnerable act to show you what he cannot always do with words: that he fucking loves you and the tight squeezing of your pussy as you milk him dry.

THE THING 

↪ ben is HUGE. there’s no way to sugarcoat it, but the already large hunk of a man was only made larger after his transformation. thanks to reed and a specialized condom he designed for your pleasure, you and ben have been at it like horny teenagers every chance you get, making sure all you can think about is your lover’s thick cock splitting you open.

THOR

↪ size queens beware! thor has such a big, heavy cock that you can’t help but put it in your moth first thing when he takes it out his pants. his godliness shows in the way it hangs due to its own weight, like a trophy on display. don’t forget to play with his balls, hot and heavy, prepping the god-sized loads to come.

ULTRON

↪ ultron’s dislike of humanity comes through when he’s playing with you. he’s mean; he uses toys on you before he even thinks about letting you fuck him. hours go by with the vibrations on your clit pushing you to the edge of ecstasy until he takes the toy away completely, reveling in the way your tears flow down your face as you beg him to let you cum.

VENOM

↪ eddie tries his best to be gentle with you, but it’s so hard when he’s got you pinned down, balls deep in your warm holes. despite your incessant cries of pleasure, all he can hear in his head is the voice of a certain alien demanding him to breed her, breed her, breed her. we are insatiable.

WINTER SOLDIER

↪ bucky has been through so much that you take it upon yourself to take care of him. you eagerly do all the work, rhythmically fucking back into his dick with enough force to send ripples through the skin of your ass. he thinks you’re spoiling him with the way you focus on his pleasure first.

WOLVERINE 

↪ when logan puts his mind to something, there’s no stopping him. that includes when he sets his mind to your pussy and demands you drop everything to sit on his face that instant. you leak your juices all over his jaw and hands as he alternates between prodding his tongue into your hole or curling his fingers into your soft spot.

a/n:

yeahhh I'm a huge pervert <3 i've been a fan of marvel in general for forever but there's something about the rivals' versions of these characters that make me feral

[ilovelinkk]

why isn't there any new lie fics esp with his new skin. like hello.. do I need to pick back up the keyboard and make my own fics

[yuriosakawa]

I love your self aware marvel rivals stuff so much and was thinking imagine the Presence wishing they added some other characters.

Especially nightcrawler I just love the x-men especially want to see them happy and especially rouge.

imagine the Presence saying nightcrawler and daredevil can talk about bibel study there both Christians I want to see them interact.

Wanda hearing from the Presence they wish that they finally add Pietro so she can be happy.

Magnito hearing from the Presence they wish that they added professor x because in their word they miss their toxic old man yaoi.

And for the phoenix they wish they have their cyclops.

Not me yapping about the x-men I just love them so much and want to see them happy they don't de hate 😭

Marvel Rivals Self‑Aware AU: X-citement 

Mutantkind had grown accustomed to fighting for itself—scraping together victories without recognition, without support, without so much as a thank you. And when acknowledgment did come, it was often thin, brittle… layered with halfheartedness that felt worse than silence.

They were used to being overlooked.

But ever since the Presence came into their lives, things had begun to change.

“God, I hope they hurry it up and add more X-Men. We’re really lacking in the mutant department.”

Your voice echoed from above—vast, disembodied, and warm in a way none of them could quite explain. It rolled across the living island of Krakoa like distant thunder softened by sunlight.

The (admittedly) limited number of mutants currently residing there paused.

They looked up.

They listened.

Another voice followed—faint, muffled, unintelligible to them. It sounded like a question, but the words dissolved before they could be understood.

“Which X-Men would I like to see? Hmm…”

You hummed thoughtfully, the vibration of it sinking into the earth beneath their feet.

“Honestly, I want to see Nightcrawler the most. Mostly because… I want to see the X-Men happy. Especially Rogue.”

Rogue gasped softly, her gloved hands flying to her chest as if to hold her heart together.

“…Meh?”

Her voice came out small—almost disbelieving.

A bright, fragile smile spread across her face as tears welled in her eyes, catching the light. Beside her, Gambit—Remy—tilted his head, a fond, crooked grin tugging at his lips.

“Cher…” he murmured, already pulling a handkerchief from his coat.

He offered it to her without a word.

Rogue accepted it with a quiet, grateful nod, dabbing at her eyes as she let out a breath that trembled more than she’d like to admit.

“And Nightcrawler and Daredevil can talk about Bible study since they’re both Christian,” the Presence added casually, as if shrugging. “I don’t know—I just want to see them interact.”

Rogue let out a wet snort into the handkerchief, shoulders shaking as she laughed.

“Yeah,” she muttered under her breath, voice thick but amused. “That does sound like Kurt.”

“I also want to see Quicksilver—Pietro. We need more Brotherhood members,” you continued. “But also… because I want Scarlet Witch to be with her brother again. So she can be happy.”

Silence fell—soft, reverent.

Wanda’s lips parted slightly, as if the words had physically touched her.

Happy.

The idea felt… distant.

Her gaze drifted downward, red energy flickering faintly at her fingertips before dimming into something gentler, something quieter. A small, hesitant smile formed—fragile, but real.

It had been so long since she’d seen Pietro. So long since she’d heard his voice cutting through the chaos, grounding her, teasing her, being there.

Not since she had taken on the mantle of Sorceress Supreme.

Not since everything became… complicated.

But to hear someone—anyone—say they wanted her to be happy?

That was rarer than magic.

Her fingers curled slightly, as if trying to hold onto the feeling before it slipped away.

He’ll come back, she told herself. He always does.

“And we should also get Professor X in here,” you said.

Several heads nodded instinctively.

It made sense.

Charles Xavier was one of—if not the—most powerful telepaths in existence. His presence alone could shift the tide of any battle they faced.

“Mostly because I miss my toxic old man yaoi with Magneto.”

“…What?” Magneto’s voice cut through the air like a snapped wire.

He stared upward, helmet glinting as his brow furrowed deeply—equal parts confusion and offense.

A few of the younger mutants nearby choked back laughter, shoulders shaking as they turned away, pretending very hard to be occupied with anything else.

“Oh! And of course—Cyclops!” the Presence continued brightly. “We just can’t have the X-Men without Scott. That’s just… wrong.”

A soft laugh escaped Jean Grey.

The faint glow of the Phoenix flickered warmly around her, responding not with destructive fire, but with something gentler—something almost like comfort.

Her eyes softened at the thought of her husband.

“Yeah…” she whispered. “That does sound wrong.”

The Presence kept talking—rambling, really—jumping from one name to another, listing mutants they missed, mutants they loved, mutants they hoped to see again.

And for once… the mutants of Krakoa didn’t feel like forgotten pieces on a board.

They felt seen.

Wanted.

Missed.

And maybe—just maybe—if the tides of the chaotic Timestream Entanglement were kind…

If fate, or code, or whatever unseen force governed their fractured reality allowed it—

Then all of them would find their way back.

Back to each other.

Back to their family…

~~~xXx~~~