#loki is always getting lost

[incorrectcompoundnotes]

Loki, walking into the compound 6 hours later than he said: I’m here!

Thor: Where have you been, brother?

Loki: I decided to take a trip to Philadelphia, you know, see the sights.

Thor: So, you were lost?

Loki: …No, never. I am a God, I would never get lost.

Thor, sarcastically: It’s okay, I totally believe you.

Loki: Fine! I was lost. Happy?

[pzyii]

Ultron won!Nat and The Avengers are dead!Steve can bond over being in love with Peggy Carter

[arolesbianism]

Doodle I did of my girl Juliet earlier

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Receiving a Dirty Picture from You in Public

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

God, I love Marvel Comics...

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

Peter has been through a lot. He’s fought villains, lost people he’s loved, and carried the weight of responsibility since he was a kid. But nothing—not Venom, not Doctor Octopus, not the Green Goblin—has ever hit him as hard as opening his phone and seeing you.

He’s perched upside-down on a fire escape, mid-stakeout with Daredevil, when his phone buzzes. He barely glances at it at first, assuming it’s an update from MJ or the Bugle. But then—his Spidey-Sense misfires. His stomach drops. And suddenly, he’s scrambling so fast that he almost falls off the fire escape.

“...Parker?” Matt’s voice is suspicious, brow furrowing beneath the red mask. Peter clutches his phone like a lifeline, heat rushing to his face, his entire body going rigid. “Uh—nope! Nothing’s wrong! Totally fine! Just, uh—gotta—go!” Before Matt can say another word, Peter web-slings away, heart pounding.

Later, in his apartment, he stares at the image, biting his lip so hard he might draw blood. Then, fumbling with his phone, he types back: You cannot just drop this on me in the middle of a mission. I almost DIED. You’re gonna make it up to me. In person. Immediately.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

Tony Stark is always the one making people flustered. He’s the king of inappropriate timing, the grandmaster of chaos. So when you flip the game on him? When you send him something completely indecent while he’s in the middle of a live press conference? Oh, he is in trouble.

He’s mid-sentence, standing in front of a sea of reporters, when his phone vibrates. He glances at it without thinking, because hey, it might be about stock prices or another alien invasion. But no. No, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

He visibly freezes. Blinks. Blanches. Then—his brain blue screens. The entire room stares as Tony suddenly cuts off mid-sentence, clears his throat, and forces a smirk that’s absolutely not covering up a crisis. “Uh—ladies and gentlemen, I think that’s enough questions for today.”

The moment he’s offstage, he stumbles into the nearest private room, yanks at his tie, and pulls out his phone like it holds the meaning of life. He types back immediately: Oh, now you’ve done it, sweetheart. I hope you’re home right now, because I’m on my way, and I’m bringing consequences.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

Steve is not a prude. He’s been around, he’s seen things. But there’s something about you—about the way you know exactly how to knock the breath from his lungs—that makes him feel like a kid again.

He’s in the middle of a strategy meeting with Sam and Bucky, his shield leaning against the table, when his phone vibrates. He checks it without thinking, eyes flicking down—and then every muscle in his body tenses. His grip on the phone tightens. His ears burn red.

“You good, Rogers?” Bucky gives him a knowing smirk, because he immediately recognizes that look—Steve flustered beyond belief. Steve clears his throat, hard, locking his phone like it’s offended him. “Fine,” he says, voice a little too even. “Let’s, uh—let’s keep going.”

But later, when he’s alone, he exhales deeply, pressing a hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, with slow deliberation, he types: I hope you know what you just started. Because I don’t break my promises, sweetheart. And I promise—you’re not leaving that bed when I get there.

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

Thor has seen battles, has waged wars across the cosmos, has faced monsters and gods. But when his phone pings—when he sees the absolute sin that you’ve just sent him—he forgets how to breathe.

He is in the middle of the Avengers’ common room, laughing boisterously with Bruce and Natasha, when he pulls out his phone. He expects something simple—a text from his brother, perhaps, or a message from Jane. But instead? Instead, he sees you.

The entire room feels it when Thor’s laughter stops. There is a moment—just a beat of silence—before the lights flicker. The air crackles with static electricity. His fingers twitch around the phone, and then, in a low, very serious voice, he mutters, “By the Norns…”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, but Thor abruptly stands, clearing his throat. “I must depart. Urgently.” Bruce frowns. “What? Why?” Thor barely offers an explanation before storming out of the room, typing furiously: You dare tempt the God of Thunder? Very well, little one. You shall learn what it means to summon a storm.

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

Loki is the undisputed master of control. He is calm, composed, always one step ahead of everyone else. But when you send him something so shameless, so brazen, in the middle of an important diplomatic event in Asgard—he nearly drops his goblet of wine.

He’s reclining on his throne, listening to some dull ambassador drone on about trade negotiations, when his phone vibrates. He lifts it lazily, expecting nothing of importance—until he sees you.

His entire body goes rigid. His grip tightens around the goblet, the silver denting beneath his fingers. His green eyes darken, and for the first time in centuries, he feels his pulse stutter. The ambassador keeps talking, oblivious, but Loki? Loki is seething.

Later, in his chambers, he lounges on his bed, turning the phone over in his fingers before smirking. Then, with slow, careful precision, he types: You dare tease the God of Mischief? Oh, darling, you are in such trouble. And you know how much I enjoy trouble.

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

Clint Barton is used to chaos. He’s fought alien invasions, taken down crime syndicates, and, most impressively, lived in a house with three dogs and somehow survived. But nothing—not the Avengers, not S.H.I.E.L.D., not even Kate Bishop’s endless sarcasm—could have prepared him for this.

He’s in the middle of a debriefing with Captain America and Black Widow when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it, but boredom gets the better of him. He sneaks a glance, tilting the screen just slightly—and immediately chokes on his coffee.

“Barton?” Natasha’s voice is sharp, her suspicious gaze snapping to him. Steve looks concerned. Clint, on the other hand, is malfunctioning. He quickly locks his phone, pressing it to his thigh like it’s burning him. “Yep. All good. Just… wrong text thread. You know how it is.”

The second he’s alone, he whistles, rubbing a hand down his face before sending a text: You are absolutely trying to kill me, aren’t you? I’m a trained marksman, babe. You know I always hit my target. Hope you’re ready.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

Natasha Romanoff is a professional. She’s endured psychological conditioning, trained with the deadliest assassins in the world, and can lie so well that even she forgets what’s real. But when you send her something so utterly filthy, in the middle of a high-stakes poker game with some very dangerous people—she nearly loses her composure.

She’s holding a perfect poker face, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette between her fingers (purely for effect). Then, her phone buzzes. She never checks her phone during missions, but for some reason, she does this time.

The second she sees the image, her fingers twitch. She almost fumbles her cigarette. Almost. A single slow breath is all that betrays her before she locks the screen and smirks, adjusting her sunglasses to hide the flicker of heat in her gaze.

Later, after she’s won the game (because of course she has), she finally responds: You must be very confident, sending me something like that. I hope you know what happens when I catch my prey, моя любовь (my love). Because I always catch them.

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

Bucky is already always on edge. He spent decades being controlled, his mind fractured, his instincts constantly telling him that danger lurks around every corner. But when his phone vibrates in the middle of a mission briefing and he makes the mistake of checking it—he nearly self-destructs.

He’s sitting next to Sam Wilson, arms crossed, trying to focus on the tactical discussion. Then, out of habit, he glances at his phone. And suddenly? His enhanced heartbeat spikes. His grip on the phone tightens, metal fingers creaking.

Sam immediately notices. “Dude. You okay?” Bucky doesn’t answer. He just exhales deeply, jaw clenching, and locks his phone like it’s personally offended him. “Fine,” he mutters, but the way his throat bobs betrays him.

Later, in the privacy of his room, he leans against the wall, pressing his flesh hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, he types—slow, deliberate, full of promise: You are playing with fire, doll. And you know I don’t burn alone.

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

Matt has learned to control himself. He has to, considering his senses pick up everything. The heartbeat of a liar, the scent of blood, the whisper of fabric against skin. But when he puts in his earpiece during a stakeout with Elektra and hears you—sultry, teasing, wicked—his composure shatters.

Your voice is a purr, warm and full of amusement, as you describe, in explicit detail, exactly what you want to do to him. Every syllable slides into his ear like a sin, and for the first time in years, Matt Murdock forgets how to breathe.

“Murdock.” Elektra’s voice is unimpressed. “Are you even listening?” Matt clenches his jaw, forcing his expression into something neutral as he slowly removes the earpiece. “Yeah,” he lies, his voice way too tight. “Loud and clear.” But his fingers twitch, betraying him.

Later, alone in his apartment, he plays the message again. And again. Until his own heartbeat is thunderous in his ears. Then, with a slow smirk, he records his reply—his voice low, gravelly, barely more than a rasp: Angel, you have no idea what you’ve just done. And I promise—you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

Frank Castle does not fluster. He’s a man who’s seen the worst of the world, a soldier who has lost everything. He does not get distracted. But when he’s sitting in the middle of a grimy bar, brooding over a whiskey, and his phone vibrates—everything stops.

He checks it absently, expecting intel from Micro or maybe a warning from Daredevil. But instead, he gets you. And just like that, his grip on the glass tightens. His jaw locks. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled, because you have just sent him something so utterly indecent that he has to set his whiskey down before he crushes the glass.

The bartender notices. “You good, man?” Frank barely glances up, his fingers white-knuckled around his phone. “Fine,” he mutters, voice rough. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and downs the rest of his drink in one go.

Later, in the dead of night, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, before sending a single message: You think you’re real cute, huh? Yeah. Keep that same energy when I get home. See if you’re still smirking when I’ve got my hands on you.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

Marc has lived multiple lives. A mercenary. A vigilante. A fist of vengeance. But the moment his phone vibrates in the middle of a stakeout, and he sees you—he nearly blows his own cover.

He’s perched on a rooftop, watching a weapons deal go down, his mind sharp and focused. Then, out of habit, he checks his phone. His breath hitches. His grip tightens around the device, and he has to physically restrain himself from groaning. Khonshu’s voice rumbles in his mind: "Your mortal desires are distracting, Spector." Marc grits his teeth. "Yeah, no shit."

“Something wrong?” Jake’s voice purrs from inside his head, amused. “She send you something nice, hermano?” Marc rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply before locking his phone. “Mind your damn business.” But his pulse is thundering.

Later, back at his apartment, he leans against the wall, staring at the image before typing: You have no idea what you’ve just done. Hope you’re home. Hope you’re ready.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

Johnny Storm is used to attention. He thrives on it. He’s a celebrity, a hero, a walking flame. But when you send him something scandalous in the middle of a live television interview, even he isn’t ready for it.

He’s laughing, flashing his signature cocky grin at the camera, when his phone buzzes. He checks it without thinking—because hey, it might be Sue yelling at him again—but instead, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

Johnny visibly chokes. His entire body tenses. For the first time ever, he forgets what he was saying. The interviewer blinks. “Uh… Johnny?” His brain short-circuits. His face heats—literally. The tips of his ears ignite before he clenches his fists and forces himself to not spontaneously combust on live television.

The second the interview is over, he’s sprinting to his dressing room, slamming the door shut and typing frantically: Ohhh, you are in trouble. You’re really trying to set me on fire, huh? Hope you’re home, babe, ‘cause I’m flying over. Right. Now.

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

Reed Richards is a genius. His mind is constantly working at speeds beyond human comprehension. But when he’s mid-lecture at a prestigious scientific conference and his phone vibrates—his brilliant mind suddenly goes blank.

He absently checks his phone, half-expecting an alert from the Baxter Building. But instead, it’s you. Wearing almost nothing.

For a solid ten seconds, he is frozen. His eyes slightly widen. His fingers twitch. And then, very slowly, he locks his phone and clears his throat. “Ah—excuse me, esteemed colleagues, but I must—um—attend to an urgent matter.”

Later, he adjusts his glasses, staring at the image with a fascinated, almost scientific appreciation. Then, with methodical precision, he types: You are a very distracting woman. I will be conducting an… in-depth study on you as soon as I return. Expect a thorough examination.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

Felicia Hardy is a master of seduction. She flusters men for fun. But when she’s in the middle of a high-stakes casino heist, and you send her something utterly indecent, even she loses her composure.

She’s leaning against the bar, sipping an expensive martini, eyes locked on her mark. Then, her phone buzzes. She lazily checks it, expecting an update from her crew. But instead? Instead, she sees you.

Her eyelashes flutter. Her lips part just slightly. And for the first time in years, her poker face cracks. The bartender—oblivious—raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay, miss?” Felicia exhales, smirking as she locks her phone. “Oh, it’s better than okay.”

Later, she lounges on silk sheets, staring at the picture before purring into her phone: You really think you can tease me, kitten? Oh, sweetheart… you just made a very expensive bet. And I never lose.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

Stephen Strange is not easily shaken. He’s fought cosmic horrors, bent reality, and wielded power beyond mortal comprehension. But when he’s in the middle of a magical duel with Dormammu, and you send him a sinfully explicit picture—he almost loses.

He’s mid-incantation, floating above the Sanctum’s rooftop, when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it—except something in the back of his mind tells him it’s you. He flicks his fingers, glancing at the screen—and immediately regrets it.

His spell stutters. His fingers twitch. The fabric of reality briefly warps. Wong, standing below, yells, “What the hell was that?!” Stephen clenches his jaw, locking his phone immediately before snapping his wrist and repairing the timeline. “Nothing,” he mutters. “Absolutely nothing.”

The moment the battle is over, he retreats into his study, loosening his Cloak, before typing: You dare distract the Sorcerer Supreme? You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed, darling. And I do hope you’re prepared for consequences beyond mortal comprehension.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

Namor is a king. He does not answer to anyone. He has waged war against the surface world, stood against the mightiest heroes, and commands the loyalty of an entire empire. But when he is seated on his throne, discussing politics with his council, and his communicator vibrates—everything else becomes irrelevant.

He glances down, expecting a diplomatic missive. Instead, he is greeted by you—a vision of temptation, captured in a way that only he has the privilege to see. His grip on the communicator tightens, his lips parting slightly. The light of the display reflects in his dark, narrowed eyes.

The council drones on, but Namor hears nothing. His golden gauntlets flex, his knuckles tightening as his jaw sets. A slow, deliberate exhale is all that betrays his reaction. But those closest to him—his most trusted generals—see the flicker of something dangerous in his expression. A storm, barely contained.

Later, as he stands upon his balcony, overlooking the endless ocean, he types a single response: You seek to tempt a king, my love? Then be prepared for the wrath of a god. When next we meet, you will drown in my devotion.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

Johnny Blaze has seen Hell—literally. He has ridden across the desolate highways of damnation, stared into the abyss, and laughed. But when he’s sitting in a biker bar, nursing a whiskey and half-listening to some guy ramble about the Devil, his phone vibrates. And when he checks it—he nearly sets the whole place on fire.

The image of you is burned into his mind, seared into his soul. He sucks in a slow breath through his teeth, his fingers tightening around the glass. His knuckles go white. Somewhere deep inside, the Spirit of Vengeance chuckles.

“Something wrong, Blaze?” One of the other bikers eyes him warily. Johnny forces a smirk, setting his whiskey down before he crushes the glass in his grip. “Nah,” he rasps, his voice a little too rough. “Just realized I got… unfinished business to take care of.”

Later, on his Hellfire-coated bike, he sends a text: You got a real bad habit of making me wanna sin, sweetheart. And I promise—I’ll make sure you repent. Over. And over.

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

Eddie Brock has been through hell. He’s fought monsters, been one himself, lost everything, and still kept going. But nothing—not a damn thing—could prepare him for the absolute carnage of getting that picture from you in the middle of a crowded subway.

He’s scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, Venom muttering in his head about wanting tater tots, when the image loads. For a solid five seconds, he is completely still. Then—

“Eddie.” Venom’s voice rumbles, amused. “Your mate is very… bold. We approve.” Eddie, red-faced, slams his phone against his chest like that’ll somehow erase what just happened. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, eyes darting around to make sure no one saw. A teenager across from him raises an eyebrow.

Later, when he’s alone, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he types back: Oh, you think you’re being cute, huh? Yeah. Just wait till I get my hands on you. Hell, maybe we’ll even let Venom have a little fun, too.

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

T’Challa is a king, a warrior, a legend. His mind is a fortress, his will unshakable. But when he is seated in the royal palace of Wakanda, surrounded by dignitaries, and his Kimoyo Beads alert him to a personal message—his focus wavers.

He allows himself a discreet glance. And in that moment? His heart skips a single beat. His fingers—steady even in the heat of battle—tighten just slightly around his beads. His expression does not change. But to those who know him well—Okoye, Shuri—they notice the subtlest flicker of something dangerous in his eyes.

Shuri smirks. “Brother,” she murmurs, leaning in. “You look… distracted.” T’Challa exhales deeply, locking the message with a casual flick of his fingers. “I am merely… anticipating a conversation.”

Later, when he is alone, he reviews the picture once more, fingers grazing his jaw before he types: You are testing my patience, beloved. And you know I am a man of great discipline. But for you? I am willing to break my own rules. Expect me soon.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

Elektra Natchios does not fluster. She has slit the throats of kings, danced on the edge of oblivion, and played cat-and-mouse with death itself. But when she is sharpening her sai on the rooftop of a New York high-rise and her phone buzzes—her grip falters.

The blade nicks her glove. Barely. But it happens. Her lips part in a slow, dangerous smirk as she tilts the phone toward the moonlight, drinking in the absolute audacity of your message.

“Something amusing?” A voice—a rival assassin, lurking in the shadows. Elektra does not answer. She merely tucks her phone away, standing smoothly, her stance lethal. “Yes,” she purrs. “Something… very amusing.”

Later, as she leans against the window of her penthouse, she finally sends a reply: You are so very reckless, my love. And I do enjoy breaking reckless little things.

[lolab4t]

pinned down - smut 18+

MINORS DNI

pairing: thunderbolt!bucky barnes x f!thunderbolt!younger!reader summary: daily sparring sessions with bucky always toe the line between playfulness and tension. but today, that tension snaps. when another round ends with you straddling him on the mat, it sets off a chain reaction of confessions, teasing, and desire too long buried. bucky finally stops holding back, and so do you. word count: 8.8k warning(s): 18+ explicit content warning, smut, mature themes, light swearing, some power dynamics, dry humping, unprotected p in v, semi-public setting, mention of thunderbolts*, age difference, reader is described with afab anatomy a/n: so bucky is officially my current fictional man of the month. like i was always a loki girly, but tumblr has converted me... anyways, i really hope you enjoy :) and if you do, please feel free to like, comment, or reblog! <3 also, requests are open!

killshot - magdalena bay

“again,” bucky grunted as he got to his feet, breathless but stubborn.

the two of you were in the thunderbolts training facility, doing your daily sparring. strength wise, you were both pretty much on the same level. but, for some reason, you always seemed to come out on top. literally. it was usually you pinning him down.

you rolled your eyes from where you stood across the mat. “you sure? that’s the third time i’ve had you on your back today.”

his lips twitched. “don’t flatter yourself.”

"too late for that…" you chuckled, backing into your stance. “c’mon, grandpa.”

that got him moving.

he hated when you called him that. grandpa? sure, he was over 100 years old, but he sure didn't feel or seem like it. plus, a lot of those years he didn't even remember.

he didn't want you to think of him as too old for you.

the two of you danced in circles, boots quiet against the padded floor. it wasn’t serious, just the usual, but there was always an edge when it came to you and bucky. teasing. testing. a little too much eye contact.

he lunged. you dodged. your leg hooked around his, and with a twist and a push, he hit the mat again with a thud.

you landed straddling his hips, pinning his shoulders with your hands, grinning down at him.

“fourth time,” you said smugly. “you getting rusty, barnes?”

he didn’t answer right away. just blinked up at you with that unreadable expression, metal fingers twitching at your sides like he was debating something.

then, without warning, he moved.

in a blur of motion, he twisted under you, caught you off balance, and the next thing you knew, you were the one flat on your back. his body hovered over yours, one knee braced between your legs, hands pinning your wrists to the mat.

your breath hitched. why was that so hot?

trying to compensate for the blush creeping onto your cheeks, you scoffed, “cheap shot.”

“all’s fair,” bucky replied, his voice low. you could tell he was partially lost in thought, like he was still debating something.

you shifted under him, pretending like your pulse wasn’t hammering in your throat. “you gonna make a move, or just hover like a weirdo?”

his grip on your wrists didn’t tighten, but his gaze did… sharp, focused, like he was searching for something in your face.

“i think i just did,” he said, letting out a dry, short laugh.

your breath hitched again.

you knew what he meant.

the words hung there for a beat too long.

his eyes were bracing for rejection, like he’d already decided he could handle it.

then, breaking the silence, he gave a small smirk, “you know, i usually just let you pin me.”

you laughed, short, breathless. "oh, so you're saying you don't even try?"

"maybe i just like the view when you're on top of me."

you stared up at him, feeling like your heart stopped beating.

then you swallowed, speaking in an unsure tone. "you being serious?"

"i'm not the messing-around type. you should know that by now."

"good," you smiled, "neither am i."

his smirk turned into a grin, “so… rematch?”

you hummed, “maybe. only if you’re playing for keeps.”

then your grin turned into a smirk, your eyes darkening. "or… we could do something else."

he snickered, the challenge in his eyes shifting into something deeper, more intense. he lowered his voice, just enough for you to barely hear him.

“something else, huh?”

you nodded slowly, heart racing, the heat between you suddenly more than just from exertion. his metal fingers brushed against your jaw, light as a feather but enough to make you catch your breath.

“tell me what you want,” he murmured, his voice husky, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin.

you swallowed, eyes looking up into his almost innocently, words barely a whisper. “right here. right now.”

he chuckled low, a sound that sent shivers down your spine.

then, his lips were on yours. rough. passionate. heated.

he pulled your bodies up to a sitting position, you in his lap, straddling him.

your hands were all over each other. hungry.

“tell me if i’m moving too fast,” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with desire but a hint of hesitation.

you whispered against his mouth, “don’t stop.”

his lips curled into a slow smile before dipping down to kiss the sensitive skin along your neck. the roughness of his stubble mixed with the softness of his touch made your skin shiver.

you grounded your hips down on him, aiming for his growing bulge, causing him to let out a low grunt.

“i’m right here,” he murmured, voice low and whiny. “just tell me what you want.”

your hands explored the broad planes of his chest beneath his shirt, feeling the steady beat of his heart. your fingers curled into the fabric as you pressed closer, bouncing on his lap slowly.

"you, bucky. i want you."

he unraveled before you. his hands were on your hips, guiding your grinding to hit where he need you most just right. his face was in the crook of your neck. you could feel his quick breaths against your skin.

you whined, making yourself feel good against him. one of your hands snaked around the back his neck, moving up slowly to tangle your fingers in hair. the other moved down from his chest to his abs slowly, stopping right at his belt.

one hand remained on your hip, while the other had already unclasped your bra and pulled your shirt over your head.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and searching. “god, you're beautiful."

then his gaze softened ever so slightly, "we don’t have to rush.”

you shook your head, breathless but sure. “i don’t want to wait.”

his smirk deepened, “then let me show you how much i’ve been holding back,” he murmured, voice thick with need.

his lips found your jaw, trailing hot kisses down to your throat. you tipped your head back, giving him better access, grinding on him in a faster pace now. you tugged on his shirt, pulling it up slightly.

he chuckled as he moved his hand to pull his shirt the rest of the way over his head.

his lips went back to your neck, leaving a trail from your throat back up to your mouth, where he captured your lips in a kiss that was all tongue and heat and longing.

“fuck,” he breathed against your lips, “i’ve wanted this for so long.”

you smiled against his mouth, fingers trailing down his chest, feeling every muscle tense beneath your touch.

“then don’t hold back,” you whispered.

he grinned as his hands roamed lower, "i know you like having me on my back, but it's your turn, again."

his smirk widened as he eased you back onto the mat, hovering over you with that smug face.

“payback’s a bitch, huh?” he murmured, voice low and teasing as he brushed his lips along your jaw. “but don’t worry… i’ll make sure you enjoy every second of it.”

he slid your pants and panties down your legs, his mouth following the path of his hands, slow and deliberate, worshiping every inch of skin he revealed with eyes drinking you in like he’d never seen anything more beautiful. you were breathless under his gaze.

you tugged at his belt, fingers fumbling with need, and he let out a soft, breathless laugh, helping you shed the last of his clothes.

he captured your lips in another kiss, before pulling back to position himself in front of your entrance. "you sure about this? we can slow down."

you looked up at him, "i'm sure, bucky." your voice was confident and firm.

his jaw tensed at your words, like restraint was hanging by a thread.

“okay,” he breathed, voice husky and deep. “okay.”

he kissed you again, slower this time, like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth. his hands smoothed down your sides, grounding you, and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched as he finally pushed into you.

his movement was slow, deliberate, patient…

he smiled, soft, lopsided, nothing like the usual cocky smirk. just him.

his name fell from your lips in a whisper, and he caught it with another kiss, like he’d been waiting to hear it just like that.

bucky held you like you were something precious, like every inch of you mattered. and maybe, to him, it did.

your bodies moved in rhythm. his hands mapped your body with quiet touch, no rush, just the kind of intent that said this wasn’t just want, it was care. maybe even more.

the air between you was heavy, warm, laced with the sound of shared breaths and quiet murmurs of each other’s names.

it wasn't long before you both unraveled in each other's arms, your movements halting.

your bodies laid tangled in one another. bucky let out a quiet chuckle, pressing a kiss to your temple. “so… still think i’m getting rusty?”

you laughed, breathless and content. “nah. you’re just finally playing to win.”

he smirked, brushing sweaty strands from your face, his tone teasing but his gaze full of something much softer. “then i hope you’re ready to keep losing.”

and for once, you didn’t mind losing.

thanks so much for reading <3 requests are open

[midniqhtt]

miscellaneous marvel characters

masterlist • marvel • 06/19/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

tony

𑣲 sky rockets and robots I @amethystarachnid

Y/N's ex left her when she got pregnant, Tony is a softie here

steve/ loki series

𑣲 remember pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 pt8 pt9 pt9.5 I @bonky-n-steeb

Bored after staying on Asgard your entire life, you decide to sneak on earth. But what happens when Steve falls irrevocably in love with you, the Queen of Asgard, wife of Loki

sam wilson

𑣲 the futures overdue I @aquaticmercy

A year after breaking up with Sam Wilson, he shows up at your doorstep.

peter quill

𑣲 homesick I @rose-gold-bullet

You're sent on a mission to another planet and catch the attention of your ally.

𑣲 say yes (please?) I @mcondance

stephen strange

𑣲 we can’t be friends I @brunchable

Your relationship with Stephen Strange has been strained to the breaking point by his constant absences and mystical duties. Despite Stephen's attempts to mend your fractured bond, you decide to seek a more permanent solution.

𑣲 no other way I @/brunchable

stucky

𑣲 double trouble I @lostalioth

steve and bucky would follow you to the ends of the earth. one call of their names and they’re at your service. they’re obsessed, only problem is you aren’t theirs, not yet anyways.

𑣲 i met them and now im their queen I @mercurial-chuckles

𑣲 accidents happen I @myfictionaldreams

You were visiting a friend when you were accidentally hit in the face, leaving behind a cut across your cheekbone. How will Steve and Bucky react when they see their girl injured?

𑣲 between the pages of a journal I @crazyunsexycool

You had been in a relationship with Steve and Bucky up until the time they went off to war only to lose them both. Years later when Steve and Bucky have reunited the receive the letters and journals you had written. Through them they learn about your life without them.

𑣲 a soul for a soul I @jamesbuchananxsteviegrant

reader dies when collecting the soul stone with steve, and bucky finds out in the final battle against thanos

𑣲 we lost I @/jamesbuchananxsteviegrant

Reader Was In Space With Tony When Thanos Snapped And Is Later Reunited With Bucky And Steve

joaquín torres

𑣲 his secret I @writingdumpster

Joaquin has always wanted to keep you separate from his avenging, but when Sam and Bucky pay him an unexpected visit he can’t anymore.

𑣲 vuelve a mí pt2 I @nathanbatemanfucker

you and joaquin confront the cause of the end of your relationship.

thunderbolts* (multi)

𑣲 cumming in their pants I @lovebugism

𑣲 fake dating I @/lovebugism

𑣲 interrupted/getting caught I @/lovebugism

𑣲 nothing’s gonna stop us I @starktonyx

An attempt at homemade cookies, ridiculous requests to Valentina and a karaoke night will have you finding out you have a hidden singer in your team.

𑣲 seeing you in lingerie I @webslinger-holland

𑣲 the thunderbolts watch you get ready for a date that's not with them I @/webslinger-holland

[budgieflitter]

WELCOME TO PLEASANTOWN

PART 1 part 2!!! this took much more thinking than the previous one but i hope it turned out just as engaging :) i'll likely make another post with more details also big thanks to al-pomegranate-seeds for the ideas you sent me earlier, it really helped! the descriptions are below 🔽

GRUNT = DREAMER Professor Buzz Grunt is a respected researcher in his field, as well as an aspiring history novel author. However, after the unfortunate fire accident and the loss of his wife it became harder to provide proper education to his sons. Can his golden child Tank prove his worth to this demanding dad? Is he really ready to make a commitment to the new Specter heiress for the sake of the family?

SMITH = PLEASANT

Jenny always knew that there will be difficulties with cross-cultural relationships, but between juggling family and career problems, her way too secretive husband is just too much to keep track of. What is he hiding? Will Johnny be able to fit in and reconcile with his little sister? SPECTER = GOTH

When the head of Specter Industries was about to retire and pass the business to her son, he disappeared without a trace. Is there a possibility that this is the doing of someone with eyes set on her fortune? Can Olive really entrust the inheritance to her niece Ophelia?

CURIOUS = BROKE

Economy is tough and passion for science is expensive, so the Curious brothers have to share the living space to get by. After the birth of Tycho things have become especially challenging. While Lazlo is invested in dubious hacking activity, and with Vidcund eager to fund another one of his “secret science projects”, can Pascal cope with his new role as a cosmic parent? And what about the rumor that the Specter heir was last seen scaling the deck of their house?

SINGLES = CALIENTE

Lola and Chloe arrived to Pleasantown to reconnect with their roots, or so they claim. Have they really been missing the fatherly affection, or do they have ulterior, fiscal motives?

LOSTE = LOTHARIO

Kristen doesn’t particularly care for Pleasantown, but she has to admit that people here are quite the attraction. She is committed to her dream of becoming a world famous sports champion. Is her commitment to Erin Beaker just as genuine?

BEAKER = BURB

After graduating from college, Erin moved in with her brother and his wife while she’s trying to adjust to adult life. While Loki is being hospitable, Circe is growing tired of tarot readings and psychic seances. Can Erin’s newfound love help out before Circe turns her into a makeup testing animal?

💬 i hope there is enough drama to make this work hahaha i'm also planning to post a couple of other characters and notable townies swapped separately

[coldilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 7

Again like- a lot of timeskips

____________________________

Present

"Yellow? You- you're giving me yellow?" Duke's brows furrowed at the color

Batman sighed "is something wrong with it?"

"no- just, everyone has dark colors, I don't wanna be a lightbulb"

"you will take what you'll get" Batman escorts Duke to the exit "Training starts tomorrow"

Bruce slumps in a chair, his hand crawling to a tv remote

"Okay- so- I'm bored right now, here is my cover of rolling in the deep------" A small nine year old kid holds a hairbrush as a mic

Countless videos of this child playing all by themselves, they found the iPad in the kid's room, while trying to search for a clue of what kind of person his child could be

-----"okay so, I'm on patrol right now, it's not allowed to record but loooook!" The camera pans to three small kittens in an alley

Bruce remembers, He made the kid throw the kittens back out on the street, Now he wonders how they felt when he let Damian's pets wander around the manor

__________________________

11 years old (Name)

"-You are no longer needed since Damian is here now"

The kid tightens their grip on their clothes "Is it that easy for you to replace me?" They asked, voice wavering, and their head lowering so Batman wouldn't see the tears that would fall

"(Name) I need a proper vigilante, not bait, so far you got attacked three times today alone" he pinched his nose

"And I managed to fight them all! If you're gonna turn Damian into a vigilante that's fine with me, but you're excluding me all together!?"

"this is not a discussion. If I ever find you in that suit again you won't be allowed to even get out of the Manor" he coldly said and turned away

(Name) has stayed away from the library since that day

____________________________

Aquaman stands before the council of governments and the justice league

"we are not responsible for the ocean's uprising! My empire has been doing everything to calm the ocean down, but it does not listen to my trident anymore!"

The sky and the seas have been raging lately, the shores have been rampaging, the justice league forced to evacuate sea dwellers

Wonderwoman spoke up "Aquaman is right, it is not his fault, it... It is the gods"

The crowd murmured in confusion

"Zeus and Poseidon have been having disputes, A powerful weapon was stolen and both sides are accusing each other, it is best to try and appease even a little of the gods anger, and pray they won't share their wrath with the humans" She finished

An uproar started

"You mean to tell us, lives were lost because of their arguing!?!"

"They're gods! Why can't they just talk amongst themselves?!"

"this is why I pray to Jesus... He is real right?" A reporter asked

"he is, but he's from a different Pantheon" Wonderwoman answered

"It's ALWAYS about fucking weapons, humans fight for nuclear weapons, and the gods fight about them too?"

"Do they need a spokesperson? I'll sort out their fight for them if they want"

A reporter raised his hand "Is there a place safe from their anger?"

"Well... Egypt is under the control of the Egyptian gods, but even, they are in conflict, Set is currently causing chaos, Boston and the land of the Vikings are protected by the Norse... Unfortunately- Loki has been freed from his prison and is also causing chaos" Wonderwoman sighed in stress

"But so far, no other Pantheons have been fighting, go to them, pray at them to protect you, just don't try to do anything that will anger the already angry gods as is, we might be the butt of their anger if we do"

With that the meeting ends, but not their fear though

___________________________

6 months later

"NNGGGHRRROOAAARRR" A roar from the Colchis bulls shakes the camp

Gerald Thanes (An ares kid) charged at the bull but was thrown at the table nearby

"What the fuck is that" you scream, A girl from your cabin grabs your hand and you run, "Can't we help!?"

"We can but we have to be careful, get a weapon or run to the armoury for protection first" with you guys being in a safe space now, she lets go and hugs you "I'll call on some dryads to help with the fire, stay safe okay?"

"you too" you say as you grab a spear on the floor, you throw it at the bulls feet, it nicks some gears off of it, but then It starts to charge at you

You ready to point your spear but then

?????

What?

It was running but it wasn't going anywhere, you walk to the side to see a cyclops holding it by the tail

He looks at you "Hi! :3 I'm Tyson"

You smile awkwardly "I'm (Name)"

Then two figures hug you to the ground

Percy laughs "I missed you so much!", Annabeth smiles at me "(Name)... let's finish this quickly, I want to tell you a lot of things"

Clarisse grunts as she gets thrown in our direction "can the three of you stop being sentimental! It's not the right time"

"Nice to see you too Clarisse" Percy says

______________________________

@delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven @sweetconnoisseurgardener @dhanyasri @bella-wolf100 @shortnsweetsposts @roseapov @d3sperate-enuf

[shadyfestivalperfection]

I loved your “Dating Loki” could you do one where him and the “reader” reunite during the Avengers? Nick Fury and the others won’t think he’ll talk until Thor brings the “reader” in. Loki thinks it’s Black Widow before he turns around, maybe he tries to keep his composure.

To Choose You Again~Oneshot

Summery: He let her go once in the name of power. Years later, broken and imprisoned, Loki sees her again—and this time, he’s the one who won’t walk away.

Characters: Loki x ex-girlfriend!reader

Note: Don’t worry, it has a happy ending 😉

||Main Masterlist|| ||Oneshot Masterlist||

Loki of Asgard sat on the floor with his knees drawn up, long fingers dangling loosely between them. His hair, longer now, curled slightly at the edges of his jaw, and the green in his eyes was dulled with something deeper than rage—fatigue. He stared at the far wall, unmoving. For hours, maybe longer.

He hadn’t spoken. Not to Fury. Not to Stark. Not even to Thor.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents watched him from behind mirrored glass, voices low and skeptical. Romanoff leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, her gaze cold.

“He’s not going to talk,” she said for the third time that day. “He’s waiting for something.”

“Or someone,” Banner murmured.

“Maybe a stage,” Stark quipped. “Guy always did love a dramatic entrance.”

Thor, standing slightly apart from them all, frowned in silence. His arms were crossed, and his brow furrowed with more worry than anyone present had seen since New York burned under the alien sky.

“He is… lost,” Thor said finally. “But not beyond reach.”

“Then who can reach him?” Steve asked, his tone calm but pressed. “Because we’re running out of time.”

Thor hesitated. “There was someone.”

Fury glanced over. “Someone?”

“She was once close to him. Before all of this. Before… everything fell apart.”

“Oh, here we go,” Tony muttered. “The ex-girlfriend bomb.”

“Her name is Y/N,” Thor said over the sarcasm. “An Asgardian by birth. Immortal. She left the realm generations ago. She chose Midgard—Earth. Lives in quiet. She is a researcher. A scholar. And she knew my brother better than any of us.”

Steve tilted his head. “Why haven’t we heard of her before?”

“She wanted peace,” Thor said simply. “And he let her go.”

“Wait,” Natasha cut in. “You’re saying Loki had someone he actually cared about? Enough to let her walk away?”

Thor’s eyes darkened. “Yes. And it nearly broke him.”

Silence followed. Only the faint sound of Loki’s breath through the speakers filled the stillness.

Fury crossed his arms. “You really think this woman—this Y/N—can get through to him?”

“I believe,” Thor said softly, “that if anyone can remind him he was once capable of love… it is her.”

—

The quinjet landed gently in a clearing surrounded by silver trees. Beyond them, nestled on the edge of a sheer cliff, was a small cottage with a moss-covered roof and a garden that bloomed wild and unbothered by human hands. It overlooked a stretch of sea so vast and calm it seemed the sky itself had poured into it.

Thor stood at the head of the team: Steve and Natasha behind him. No guards. No weapons drawn.

The moment they stepped through the trees, the front door opened.

Y/N stood in the threshold, still as the wind. Her long hair, loosely braided, hung over one shoulder, silver strands catching the fading light. She wore a simple sweater and linen pants—earthy, unassuming—but her eyes held a sharpness that hadn’t dulled since Asgard.

They were the eyes of a woman who’d seen empires fall and loved a man who helped break one.

“Thor,” she said evenly, voice like smooth stones in a stream.

He smiled, almost boyishly. “Y/N. You look well.”

“You didn’t come all this way just to flatter me,” she replied. Her gaze shifted to the two behind him. “Captain Rogers. Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha raised a brow. “Didn’t expect the welcome committee.”

“I’ve seen many things,” Y/N said. “But nothing surprises me anymore. Not even a god on my doorstep.”

She stepped aside. “Come in.”

—

Her home was filled with books. Stacks of them on tables, nestled beside vials of glowing plants and scrolls too old for even Steve to date. The air smelled of lavender and salt. It was peaceful. Still.

She poured tea without asking. The silence was comfortable… until it wasn’t.

“You’re here about Loki,” she said.

Thor lowered his cup. “Yes.”

“I figured.” She didn’t look at any of them directly. “Is he dead?”

“No,” Thor said quietly. “But perhaps worse.”

She didn’t speak.

“He’s in custody. After what he did in New York.”

“I heard.” Her voice tightened.

“He will not speak to any of us,” Thor continued. “Not even me.”

Y/N finally looked up. Her eyes had that familiar sheen to them—reflective, unreadable, and impossibly old. “And you think I can reach him?”

Steve answered this time, his tone careful. “He’s completely closed off. If there’s any chance someone from his past could draw him out—help us understand what he’s planning—it’s worth trying.”

“He’s always planning something,” she said softly. “That hasn’t changed.”

“But once,” Thor said, “he wasn’t only this. You saw that. You knew him before the fall.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

“I saw what you were to each other,” Thor added. “He loved you.”

She rose, walked to the window. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And still, he let me go.”

“Why?” Natasha asked quietly.

Y/N smiled faintly. “You’d have to ask him.”

Steve stepped forward. “We’re not asking you to forgive him. Just… speak with him. If you get through, we might be able to stop whatever’s coming.”

Y/N was silent for a long time.

Then: “When?”

Thor stood. “Tonight.”

—

The quinjet hummed softly as it rose into the clouds. Y/N sat across from Thor, her eyes on the horizon. The closer they flew to the helicarrier, the quieter she became.

Thor watched her with a heavy heart.

“You haven’t asked if he remembers you,” he said gently.

“I know he does.”

Thor nodded.

“And I know,” she added, voice barely audible, “that I never stopped remembering him.”

—

The S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier was cold and sterile, a place of harsh lights and harder edges. Y/N stepped out of the elevator, Thor just behind her, and immediately the chill of the place seeped into her bones. The smell of metal and ozone mixed with distant echoes of voices and footsteps.

They walked down the narrow corridors until they reached the observation deck, the glass cell standing silent and imposing.

Inside, Loki sat alone, his posture rigid, shoulders squared as if bracing against invisible storms. His back was to them, the dark hair falling messily over his shoulders.

“Are you sure he doesn’t know you’re here?” Y/N asked quietly.

Thor nodded. “He believes this is another attempt to interrogate him. He doesn’t expect you.”

They stepped closer, their footsteps muffled against the floor.

Y/N’s heart pounded, an old ache rising up—equal parts dread and longing.

“He’s not going to like this,” she murmured.

“I’m not here for his approval,” he said softly.

Loki shifted. “Another visitor,” he muttered, voice dry but edged with a trace of amusement.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Loki.”

He turned slowly. The moment their eyes met, the air shifted—charged with years of unspoken words.

His face was pale, a mask of cold composure. But his eyes betrayed him: wide, searching, almost disbelieving.

“…Y/N?”

She nodded, a faint, bittersweet smile curling her lips.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, stepping closer to the glass, his hand rising to meet hers.

The world between them felt fragile—time stretched thin.

“I came because there’s still a part of you I remember. The part I want to believe is still there.”

Loki’s gaze faltered. “I buried that part deep.”

“Maybe it’s time to dig it up.”

Silence hung heavy, then he whispered, “Tell me… why did you leave?”

Her mind flickered back to a night long ago—stars above, tears streaming.

“Because you wouldn’t let me stay.”

He closed his eyes, the weight of regret settling on his shoulders.

“Let me try,” he whispered.

For the first time since his capture, Loki spoke—not with malice or riddles, but with the rawness of a soul seeking redemption.

Loki’s breath hitched as he stepped back from the glass, pacing the small confines of his cell. The shadows seemed to cling tighter to him, but in his eyes, a flicker of something warmer, something more fragile, lingered.

Y/N’s heart clenched watching him—this god, so fierce and broken all at once.

“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?” she asked softly, leaning closer to the glass.

He stopped and stared at her, jaw clenched.

“I was afraid,” he confessed, voice cracking like thin ice. “Afraid that what I’d become was beyond repair. That the man you loved was gone forever.”

She swallowed hard, remembering the bitter nights she spent wondering if he even thought of her.

“I never stopped hoping you’d come back,” she said. “Even when it felt like you were slipping away.”

Loki’s fingers pressed against the glass, fingertips tracing where hers rested.

“I should have fought harder. For you. For us.”

“You did what you thought was right. But sometimes, doing right means letting go.”

His eyes darkened. “Letting go of you was the hardest thing I ever did.”

They stood, separated by the thin barrier, but their hearts stretched across the distance like a fragile thread.

“Maybe this is our second chance,” Y/N whispered.

Loki’s lips curled into a tentative smile.

“If you’ll have me,” he said.

Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Always.”

The hours slipped by unnoticed, swallowed by the quiet hum of the helicarrier and the steady rhythm of their voices.

Y/N found herself sharing memories she thought she’d buried—moments of laughter under Asgard’s twin moons, stolen glances during palace festivities, whispered promises beneath endless starlit skies.

Loki listened, his expression unreadable at first, but gradually softening like ice thawing under spring’s gentle sun.

“You always had that stubborn streak,” she teased, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“And you always knew how to challenge me,” he countered, eyes glinting with a rare warmth.

They spoke of things left unsaid—the fears, the regrets, the reasons that tore them apart.

“I thought I was protecting you,” Loki said, voice thick with pain. “But all I did was push you away.”

Y/N reached out, fingers brushing the glass between them. “You didn’t push me away. I walked because I had to survive. And because I believed there was still good in you.”

He closed his eyes, a single breath escaping him. “There is good. I buried it too deep, but it’s still there.”

She smiled through the tears threatening to spill. “Then let’s find it again. Together.”

Loki’s gaze locked onto hers, fierce and vulnerable. “I want to believe that. I want to try.”

Their hands pressed harder against the glass, desperate to erase the space between them.

“Soon,” Y/N promised. “Soon.”

As the conversation lingered, Loki’s guarded demeanor began to peel away, revealing glimpses of the man she once knew—and the one she hoped might still be there.

“I’ve been alone,” he admitted quietly. “Not just in this cell, but inside myself. It’s a cold place.”

Y/N’s heart ached for him, the weight of his solitude almost unbearable.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” she said, voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. “Not while I’m here.”

He looked at her then, truly looked—as if seeing her for the first time in years.

“You never left my thoughts,” he whispered. “Even when I told myself you had.”

She reached out again, pressing her palm to the glass. “Neither did you leave mine.”

For a moment, time seemed to pause. The sterile hum of the helicarrier faded into the background, replaced by the quiet resonance of two souls tentatively reaching out.

“I don’t know what comes next,” Loki confessed, “but I want to find out—with you.”

Y/N smiled, hope blooming like dawn breaking through endless night.

Walking away from the cell, Y/N’s steps felt lighter than they had in years. The walls around her seemed less suffocating, the weight on her chest easing with each breath.

Thor met her at the hallway’s bend, a knowing smile on his face.

“She is the light in his darkness,” Thor said quietly. “You gave him something I could not.”

Y/N nodded, wiping a stray tear. “He’s still lost in parts. But he wants to be found.”

Natasha approached, folding her arms. “He talked?”

Y/N chuckled softly. “More than that. He remembered.”

Steve smiled warmly. “Then we have hope.”

The team gathered around her as they prepared to move forward, their mission now carrying a new purpose—not just to contain a god, but to heal him.

Later, as Y/N stood by her window, looking out over the night sky, a single moonflower bloomed on her windowsill—a reminder that even in the darkest places, hope could still take root.

And somewhere, far away but no longer unreachable, Loki was thinking the same.

“We’ll find the path. Together.”

Loki was taken back to Asgard in chains. Y/N watched from the shadows.

He didn’t look back.

Not then.

But a month later, a letter arrived — in ancient Asgardian script, with his seal.

I meant what I said. I remember everything.If I ever find a way back to the light… I hope you’ll be standing there.

—

Three months passed. Then four. Then five.

Y/N accepted a quiet research post in Norway, studying Earth’s auroras — a nod to the skies she once knew. Her days were quiet. Her nights lonelier.

Until one stormy evening… the wind shifted.

She turned from her telescope, heart pounding.

He was there.

Not armored. Not kingly. Just… Loki.

Hair longer. Eyes tired. But real.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she breathed.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me.”

She crossed the room and stopped inches from him. “Are you here to stay?”

“I don’t know what I am anymore,” he whispered. “But I know who I miss.”

He touched her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For all of it. I broke the only beautiful thing I ever had.”

“You didn’t break me,” she whispered. “Just my heart. But I kept the pieces. I was hoping you’d come back and help me put them together.”

He leaned in, slow, unsure.

She met him halfway.

Their kiss was not the burning heat of youth — it was slower. Wiser. Real.

They watched the auroras from the cliff, his hand wrapped around hers.

“Do you think they’ll ever let me live in peace here?” he asked.

Y/N smiled. “That depends. Do you plan to conquer anything else?”

“Only your attention.”

“That, you’ve already won.”

He looked at her, the glow of northern lights reflecting in his eyes.

And for the first time in years — he felt whole.

-the end

[vigilante-3073]

Endgame

Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Y/N always thought that she and Steve would be together forever. But what happens when he has the chance to go back in time and choose another path?

TW: Betrayal, breakups, friends to lovers, mentions of death and drinking.

Y/N sat on the bench outside Tony Stark's cabin, staring ahead blankly as the team said their goodbyes to Steve. Everyone had gathered for a funeral service at the edge of the lake. The battle with Thanos had resulted in the losses of many, altering the lives of everyone who was affected.

The team had lost Tony. Natasha. Gamora. Vision. Loki.

Y/N hadn't known Loki or Gamora very well, but their sacrifice still mattered. The losses weighed heavily on family, friends and allies alike. Y/N was fortunate to have seen Steve return unscathed with his closest friends at his side.

It felt strange to be grateful in such a melancholic situation, surrounded by mourning individuals wearing black clothing. The service had been arranged for Tony, but most of the people who gathered together had their own loved ones to mourn.

It was the type of situation that opened people's eyes and made them look at their life differently. What could they have changed? Should they call that person they've been thinking about? Confess something that they've been keeping buried inside?

Steve had spoken to Y/N before the service about his plans. He hadn't confided in anyone else at the time, but his mind was already made up.

He was leaving her.

Steve had been hung up on Peggy for decades and Y/N always respected that. Y/N was naive to think that their connection could ever rival the one he had found with Peggy all those years ago. Peggy changed his life and Steve would never be able to fully let go of her, especially after being ripped away from her so suddenly when he went into the ice.

Their engagement was called off, but Steve encouraged Y/N to keep the ring. He apologized for the suddenness of his decision, but he didn't have a lot of time. He told her that their connection was amazing, but he would never forgive himself if he passed up this opportunity.

Y/N watched him smile as he shared a quick hug with Bucky before moving over to the machine that Bruce had assembled. He was gone in a flash, roaming through time and returning the infinity stones to their designated spaces along the timeline.

Then he would go to Peggy.

The thought made bile rise in Y/N's throat as tears gathered in her eyes. Steve just tossed her aside, discounting their years together and chasing a woman he barely knew over seventy years ago.

Y/N looked up as someone made their way over to her, "Mind if I join you?" Bucky questioned.

Y/N shook her head, not trusting her voice enough to speak. Bucky nodded, stepping past her and sitting down on the bench beside her. He glanced down at her hand, immediately noticing the absence of her engagement ring.

"I take it from the missing ring that he told you about his plan?" Bucky questioned, Y/N nodded.

"How much notice did you get?" He asked.

"He told me when I was getting ready to come here," Y/N replied softly.

"What a punk," Bucky muttered, shaking his head, "I'm sorry that this happened to you... You're a really good person and you didn't deserve this," Bucky continued.

"Thank you," Y/N said shakily, wiping away a tear with the sleeve of her sweater.

"He's an idiot for letting go of a girl like you," Bucky stated.

Y/N smiled slightly, "That's sweet," She said.

"I'm here if you need anything, okay? I don't want you to feel like you're alone in this because you're not," Bucky said.

"C-can I have a hug?" Y/N asked softly.

"Yeah, of course," Bucky said, standing up from the bench.

Y/N stood up with a sniffle, wiping away another tear before wrapping her arms around his neck. Bucky wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close to himself. He could feel her body shaking as she sobbed silently into his shoulder. Bucky looked up, gulping when he noticed Sam walk over to a white-haired man who was sitting on the bench by the lake.

"He came back," Bucky said softly.

Y/N pulled away quickly, turning around to see the old man as he talked to Sam, "Oh my god," She mumbled, turning away from them.

"I feel like I'm gonna be sick," Y/N said softly.

For a millisecond, she allowed herself to believe that he returned the stones and came home to her. It was like another heartbreak to see him sitting there after living the life he'd always wanted with Peggy.

"I need to get out of here," Y/N said shakily, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Let me take you. You shouldn't be driving in your condition," Bucky said, she nodded and passed him her keys.

Bucky led her over to the steps, resting his hand on her back as they moved down the stairs. Bucky could hear Sam chasing after them as they approached her car.

"Hey, Y/N, hold on," Sam called.

Bucky paused as Y/N turned around, allowing Sam to catch up to them, "Look, I'm really sorry about how everything went down, but he's here and he wants to talk to you," Sam said.

Y/N shook her head, "I can't," She stated.

"Y/N, please," Sam began.

"She said no, Sam. She's been through a lot today and it's borderline cruel for him to try and talk to her right now," Bucky said.

"He wants to apologize, Y/N," Sam stated.

"Sam, I'm sorry, but I can't see him like that. Not yet at least," Y/N mumbled, wiping away her tears with shaking hands.

Bucky opened the passenger side door, holding it open for her. Y/N moved to get into the car and Sam quickly grabbed onto her wrist.

"Just give him a minute of your time. Please," Sam pleaded.

"No, I can't," Y/N replied.

"Let her go, Sam," Bucky said firmly.

"Bucky, this is between Steve and Y/N," Sam stated.

"Then why are you the one chasing her down? Let go of her," Bucky repeated.

"Fine, but I want you to give me a call if you change your mind, okay?" Sam said, releasing her wrist.

Y/N nodded before quickly getting into the car, Bucky closed the door behind her, "Don't push her on this, Sam. She needs time," Bucky said.

"I know," Sam nodded, "Are you gonna stay with her tonight? She probably shouldn't be alone," He questioned.

"I'll keep an eye on her. I promised him that I'd look out for her and I meant it," Bucky stated.

"You're a good guy, Bucky. I'm glad she has you," Sam said.

....

Bucky drove down the road, the car was quiet besides the soft chatter of the radio. Y/N stared down at her lap, picking away at her cuticles as silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

Bucky glanced over at her, "Are you okay?" He asked.

"I don't know. I just-," Y/N huffed, "I really need a drink," She stated.

"I can definitely help you out with that," Bucky assured.

He pulled into the parking lot of the first dive bar he saw, leading her inside and finding them a set of stools at the bar. Y/N set her purse on the bartop, hopping up into the stool.

"Get whatever you want, doll, it's on me," Bucky said, sitting down beside her.

"What can I get you two?" The bartender asked.

"Can we get four shots of whiskey, please?" Y/N questioned.

The man nodded, lining up the shot glasses on the bartop and filling them from the bottle. Bucky handed him a few bills when he finished pouring the drinks.

"Keep the change," He said, the bartender nodded and stepped away.

Y/N picked up one of the shot glasses, downing the liquor with a grimace before setting it down on the bartop. Y/N moved onto the second shot glass, then the third and finally the fourth. Y/N set the last shot glass down on the bartop with a thud, letting out a disgusted shiver at the taste in her mouth.

Bucky stared at her in shock, "Wow... That was impressive," He said.

"I just really need to get drunk right now. I know it's not cute or responsible but it's necessary," Y/N stated.

"You're not gonna get any judgement from me, sweetheart. I'm here for you, no matter what," Bucky said, waving over the bartender for another round.

He sat with Y/N at the bar for hours, drinks turned her sadness into anger and back into sadness again. She leaned into his side, sobbing as she used a bar napkin to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"I loved him and I thought he loved me back... He left me the second he had the chance and didn't even care," Y/N rambled, her words slurring together as she spoke.

"He loved you, Y/N, I know that for a fact. If time travel wasn't possible, he would have married you and lived a happy life here. But as soon as it was an option, he felt like going back to Peggy was an option and it blinded him," Bucky said, hand rubbing over her bicep as she sniffled.

"He's an asshole and I never want to see his old face again," She muttered.

Bucky smiled slightly, "You almost ready to go home, sweetheart?" He questioned.

"I'm hungry," Y/N said.

"I can pick something up for you on the way home. Whatever you want," Bucky offered, Y/N nodded.

She straightened up on her barstool, grabbing her bag from the bartop before sliding off the stool. Bucky wrapped his arm around her waist as she swayed on her feet.

"Whoa, take it easy there, doll," Bucky said, leading her out of the bar.

"You're such a nice guy. Why don't I ever pick the nice guys?" Y/N questioned softly.

Bucky felt his cheeks flush, "Steve was a nice guy," Bucky offered.

Y/N scoffed, "Maybe, but he still dumped me for his ex-girlfriend from like sixty years ago," She grumbled.

Bucky walked her over to her car, opening the door and helping her get inside before leaning in to buckle her seat belt.

"Bucky," Y/N said, he hesitated in front of her.

He could smell her perfume and the alcohol on her breath as she stared at him. Y/N leaned in suddenly, eyes fluttering shut as she pressed her lips to his in a drunken kiss. Bucky cupped her cheek gently in his palm as he moved his lips against hers, eyes drifting closed at the gentle contact.

Bucky pulled away after a moment, eyes fluttering open and gaze flickering over her face uncertainly when he realized what had just happened. Y/N was drunk and vulnerable, he took advantage of her in an altered state and he refused to be that kind of guy.

"I'm sorry, that was stupid," Y/N said shakily, "God, I'm such a mess right now," She muttered, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about it, doll," Bucky assured, pulling away and closing the car door gently.

He took a steadying breath as he walked around the car before getting into the driver's seat, "Let's get you some food, huh?" Bucky said.

"You're the best," Y/N smiled.

...

It had been almost a year since Steve had abandoned them to return to the past. The first few months had been horrible for Y/N, returning to their shared apartment was like having her heart broken all over again.

Bucky stayed with her on the first night, sleeping on the couch in the living room and pretending that he couldn't hear her crying herself to sleep. He helped her clean out the apartment the next morning, packing all of Steve's belongings into boxes for Sam to pick up.

Every picture, every trinket, every clothing item and every gift was packed away. Y/N couldn't bear to look at anything that he had left behind without crying, she just needed it all to be gone.

Bucky stayed at her apartment again that night, sleeping on the couch and doing his part to make the place feel less empty. Y/N truly valued his friendship, but there had always been something buried underneath.

That night at the bar, Bucky and Y/N shared a kiss that neither of them would ever forget. It took about six months before Y/N asked Bucky to move in with her.

Things moved quickly between them after Bucky moved into the apartment. They settled in easily, the domesticity taking them by surprise. They both needed someone reliable at their side, someone who they could trust to remain consistent even when things got hard.

They began to see each other romantically almost a year after Y/N's engagement was called off. Bucky was clear about not wanting to rush her, but Y/N knew exactly what she wanted.

Bucky sat on the couch, flipping through the channels as he searched for something to watch. His cellphone rang on the cushion beside him, pulling his focus away from the screen.

Bucky picked up his phone, smiling at Y/N's contact photo before sliding his thumb across the screen. Bucky lifted the phone up to his ear, lowering the volume of the television.

"Hey, sweetheart, you on your way home?" Bucky questioned.

"Just leaving work now. I'm going to stop at the store on my way home and just wanted to see if you needed me to pick up anything," Y/N said.

"No, I'm all good," Bucky replied.

"Okay, I'll see you in a bit," Y/N said.

"See you soon, sweetheart," Bucky replied, pulling the phone away from his ear and hanging it up.

Bucky set his phone on the cushion beside him, resuming his search through the various channels on the TV. Bucky settled on a baseball game, watching silently for a few minutes.

He looked up when someone knocked on the door, Bucky stood up and slowly made his way over. Bucky unlocked the door, opening it to find Sam standing in the hallway.

"Bucky? What the hell are you doing here?" Sam questioned.

"I live here," Bucky stated.

"Since when?" Sam asked.

"Can I help you with something, Sam?" Bucky questioned.

"Steve called me. Said he was missing a leather jacket in his stuff," Sam said.

"I'll take a look," Bucky stated, stepping out of the way.

Sam moved into the apartment, looking around and quickly spotting the framed photographs of Y/N and Bucky on the mantle.

"Wow, you guys didn't waste any time, did you?" Sam questioned.

"None of what happened makes much sense, alright? Steve left her and I was here," Bucky said, walking off into the bedroom.

Sam followed closely behind him, lingering in the doorway as Bucky opened the closet door and began to search through the clothing.

"So, you two are a couple, then?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah, we are," Bucky stated.

"Have you talked to Steve about this?" Sam asked.

"He left her behind, I shouldn't have to ask for his permission," Bucky said.

"I thought he was your best friend," Sam replied.

"So did I," Bucky stated.

He looked over when he heard the front door open, "Baby, you here?" Y/N called.

"Baby? She seriously calls you baby?" Sam asked.

"Shut up," Bucky muttered, stepping back from the closet, "In here, doll," Bucky called.

Y/N appeared around the corner, smile falling briefly when she spotted Sam, "Hey, what are you doing here?" Y/N questioned.

"He wanted to pick up a jacket for Steve," Bucky stated.

"Oh, okay," Y/N nodded.

She stepped around Sam before approaching the closet, "Can you grab the black box on the top shelf?" She asked, Bucky nodded.

He pulled down the box before passing it to her, Y/N moved over to Sam and held the box out to him.

"That should be it," Y/N said.

Sam lifted the lid slightly, "Yeah... Thanks," He nodded.

"I'll walk you out," Bucky offered.

Y/N lingered in the bedroom as Bucky led Sam to the door to their apartment. Bucky opened the door, allowing Sam to step out into the hallway.

"Bucky, you and Y/N are really good together. I'm sure Steve would be happy if you told him," Sam said.

"I'm sorry, but he lost the right to know about her life when he broke off their engagement. She is the best thing that's ever happened to me and I know that I am the luckiest guy around. Steve screwed up by dumping her and I'm sure that he'll figure it out someday soon," Bucky said.

"Alright... I wish you the best," Sam replied.

"Have a good one, Sam," Bucky said, closing the door carefully behind him.

"Did you mean that?" Y/N asked, Bucky turned around to find her peering around the corner at him.

"I did," Bucky stated.

Y/N smiled, stepping out from behind the corner and making her way over to him. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, standing up on her toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"I love you," Y/N said softly.

"I love you too, honey," Bucky replied easily, smiling down at her.

[slowcatsworld]

Master Striker Kisses

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Julian Loki kisses you innocently. His kisses start out chaste, with smiles breaking upon both of y’all’s faces as you part. His kisses don’t last long, but they en capture the bliss of young love within every second.

Edit: hell no I could do sm better especially with Loki getting more coverage in the later chapters yall buckle up

Julian Loki kisses you fervently more than anything. It always starts sweeter, more innocent with smiles from the two of you constantly breaking his advances. However once he’s gotten serious about this make out session with you his kisses change from chaste to intense. They’re more fast than anything (fast pecs, fast tongue action ykwim), like a barrage of his lips against your own- they leave you worked up and chasing after him

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Lavinho kisses you passionately. This man puts his whole soul into his kisses, and you feel it too. They are hot, they are heavy, they are addicting. He always melds his mouth with yours and makes you want more as he pulls away to kiss along your jaw.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Marc Snuffy kisses you tentatively. He is focused, he is analyzing how you’re reacting to his approach. Snuffy ends up kissing the side of your mouth as he tilts his head to make room for his nose more often than not. (It became y’all’s thing as a go-to quick goodbye gesture.)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chris Prince kisses you with vigor. He’s excited and commonly ends up breaking your kisses by smiling too much. He has a tendency to get lost in your make out sessions, quickly escalating the moment if you allow it to much more than smooches and caresses. He loves lip locking with you while you play with his hair.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Noel Noa kisses you reverently. He doesn’t kiss you much in public, but in the depths of y’all’s home he locks his lips with yours in sacred solace. It’s sweet, it’s private, it’s familiar and juvenile. He found a way to bring comfort through his kisses; both to you and himself.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This biscuit is just for you, mwah 😽

[prinzrupprecht]

When they hurt your feelings

Featuring: Indra, Loki, Poseidon, and Hades ( part 2 )

First time doing Indra so some things finna be made up in the peak of Svarga here. So bare with me on it. Loki is a fun character to write so ofc he is in part 2. Poseidon gonna be real easy to do as well so I wanted to add.

Part 1 and Part 3 if you missed them

Warnings? Yandere tendencies with Loki.

Indra

He was calm, stoic and minded his own business most of the time. When he was accepted into the tournament to fight for the final spot in Ragnarok, you were upset. Not happy, but upset.

“Why do you care? It’s not like I care whether I win or lose,” he would speak so casually while puffing on the cigarette like usual. Your eye twitched, you were his wife and he says this?

“Agh, never mind.” You had tried to leave but you just watched you turn on your heels and storm out of the room. The first match was about to begin and you would rather not even be near Indra.

You had found Shiva who was watching the first match by himself. “You got lost?” he asked but you scoffed.

“Huh? No, I’m just… bored.” You stood a bit away from him.

“Well, whatever then.” Two of his arms were propping the back of his head up. You had wondered why he was here. He doesn’t even need to be here.

“Why are you here anyway?” You pursued your lips. Shiva shrugged and sat up a bit while the first match was a bit intriguing with Ra and Cu he still was able to answer.

“Hmm I like the idea of this tournament and also, I want to see how my buddy Indra fight.” Shiva turned his head away to watch the remaining of the fight between Ra and Cu. Buddy eh?

“You don’t care if he dies?” You had asked with slight worry. You can’t deny it since it was allowed to kill your opponent. And his opponent was the red-haired man who looked cocky. You already disliked Suzaku and you hoped Indra beats him.

“That’s the whole part of this. Taking risks. It’s a risk you may die but you could also win. Indra is tough, so stop worrying.” Shiva waved you off. Even his wives weren’t even worried about Shiva being apart of Ragnarok. You were still upset how Indra didn’t care whether he dies.

You wanted to find him and support him now. As you were walking back, you still had worries fill your heart. You saw Indra off in a corner and ran up to him. He raised one brow to you. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have doubted you.” You breathed out. Your cheeks puffed a bit with stubbornness.

“You ran to Shiva, didn’t you?” Indra sighed while he had an arrogant exterior. He didn’t like how you always ran to the other gods to fix your problem. He preferred you to talk it out with him.

“I… I— no! I just saw him,” you flat-out denied it. You weren’t as hurt before but you wanted him to come out of this alive.

He pulled you into his side with his arm squeezing your waist. You almost had jumped from his touch but you eased a bit from the sudden movement. Indra may be an introvert and prefers to be alone most of the time, but he still rather you stay by his side. After all, you were surrounded by gods from every pantheon. He didn’t want to have to fight everyone to keep you next to him.

Loki

Arguing with this man has become second nature. He doesn’t understand that you wanted to have some personal freedom away from Asgard. Loki always spins on you how you’re trying to leave him. Leave? Leave?! This hurt you a bit. How could you leave him? You were growing furious with his accusations.

“Sometimes Thor is more tolerable to be around than you, you should know that.” You have crossed your arms and tried to turn away.

Loki pulled your arm and that’s when you saw the new look in his eyes. It was like he changed in an instant. “Him?! He wouldn’t give you the ounce of care that I have for you, don’t you get it? I can give you whatever you want—” You jerked your arm back.

“I never tried to throw you aside, Loki. You’re always too overprotective and rude towards anyone tries to associate themselves with me.” You crossed your arms and gave him a soft glare.

“Rude? Ha! You’re mixing me up with Huginn and Munnin.” Loki was right about Odin’s ravens being obnoxious at times. You tried to not interact with them. They never shut up and were yappy and said mean things towards you. However, he tried to divert the topic. You tried to leave the room but he noticed the tension between you two was… already bad.

Loki tends to over think his thoughts and assume the worst.

He knew he wasn’t making the matter any better. “Hey! Wait, I shouldn’t have been too harsh,” Loki caught up to you. You clenched your hands into fists but sighed. His accusations can be irritating to you but it’s like he has no faith in you. No trust either.

“I’m just mad because you assume the worst sometimes. I just want to visit some family outside of the castle. It’s been ages so yes, I’m a bit hurt.” You put your foot back down and spun on your heel to face Loki.

“Fine, fine you can visit your family! I wasn’t trying to keep you away from them.” He raised his hands up innocently and gave you a smile. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to trick you into believing he doesn’t care anymore. Deep down he would rather you all to himself but he can’t force you to be with him all the time.

“Whatever, I’m not hurt anymore. When I return you’re going to burn that weird doll of me in your secret room you’ve been hiding for years. It doesn’t even look like me either.” You huffed annoyingly before stomping out of the palace. He was confused with what had happened. He wanted to retaliate but it was a losing battle with you.

You weren't mad or called him the worst names for it? Loki wasn’t sure how to feel about you finding out about that stuff he kept in his secret room. You must’ve found out about that room when you stumbled upon it one day.

He sighed in relief but he was a tad bit disappointed that he had to burn it. Oh well, as long as he had the real thing— you. Nothing would matter more than you to him.

Poseidon

You had tried for many years to impress Poseidon. You weren’t a follower, but you had admired his strength and title of king of the seas. You wanted to be notable like him.

He only acknowledged your existence whenever he treated you as a maid even though you were more than that. You were a goddess but weak in his eyes. There was no going back, no way to prove your worth to him. ‘What an ass,” you thought. You wanted to be something more, but you didn’t know how to prove it.

He would brush your politeness off when you asked if you could stay with him and clean his room. Poseidon snapped his head in your direction. “Why? There’s no need for you in my personal space. You don’t deserve my time.” His words struck like steal into your flesh. Heh? You immediately left afterwards.

Your feelings were incredibly hurt. It’s been several days since that incident and you refused to be around Poseidon. There was no way he would accept you. Any progress was gone and you were back in your room. Alone. Like usual.

You changed your position and decided to be on your own. Apollo saw you casually walking through the Olympus garden admiring the beauty of it. He thought you looked elegant and not some Poseidon simp as he had always thought you were.

“Why are you here?” Apollo tilted his head and you jumped and bowed in his presence. After all, he still has higher authority than you. You liked how you respected them but he could tell something was wrong.

“Sorry if I’m not allowed here, I’ll leave.” You waited for him to speak so you could lift your head.

“Lift your head, dear. Your position is the same as everyone else here unless you’re well… Zeus.” Apollo grimaced and wondered why you were so upset. Little to your knowledge Poseidon saw Apollo approach you moments before and decided to lean against the wall out of sight to hear in what Apollo was trying to do.

“You’re way too beautiful for someone like Poseidon to treat you like this. No need to deny it, I know I’m right.” He could read minds?! Or was it obvious you were just too much of an admirer of Poseidon?

“It’s nothing, I’ll still serve Zeus wherever I’m needed.” You tried to hide the void that Poseidon left on you but Apollo knew you so well even though you barely knew him.

“Hmm, whatever. If you want to serve someone better, you know where to find me.” Apollo swiftly turned on his feet and left out of sight. You fell silent, even though his offer was up in the air. You didn’t want to leave Poseidon still. Why were you feeling such pain still?

You were about to leave the area and when you immediately turned around, the god of the seas stood in front of you unannounced. His eyes lingered over your form and he didn’t say anything. “You want to serve my nephew?” He spoke lowly and you looked down. You were trying to not feel afraid of him.

“N-No, not at all. I only serve you…” your lips quivered.

Poseidon stepped forward and only was mere inches from you. He loathed for what Apollo said but he didn’t take it to the heart. You were too beautiful for someone like him? Maybe you were beautiful, but you weren’t undeserving of him. He refused to believe that. He was going to have a talk with Apollo later.

“Come, I’ll prove Apollo wrong.” He turned away from you. You were nervous and confused. He didn’t look over his shoulder to look at you either. Prove him wrong?

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he frowned and a glint of hope sparked in your chest. You were happy that he didn’t want to let go of you yet.

Hades

Some monster had tried to kill you again in Helheim. You were mad and wanted to be left alone before you fought the serpent monster to the death. You were strong and Hades admired you for it which was why he was interested in you from the beginning and swayed you into being his wife later on, however, he didn’t like you venturing out without his knowledge. There are far tougher things to worry about than lowly entities that would attack you at any given time.

“What did I say? You’re supposed to tell me if you’re going to leave the castle. Don’t be foolish and reckless next time.” Hades was trying to calm himself but you frowned at his words.

“I am not hurt, why are you mad?” You defended yourself from what he was implying. Did he have any faith in you? He thinks you’d die to something so easy?

“That’s not the point.” He snapped his head at you before sitting back down on his chair.

“Fine, I’ll just be bored here with you then.” You huffed and went to sit alone in a corner. Hades was growing irritated by your stubbornness. He wasn’t restricting your freedom but some areas of Helheim were completely riddled with dangerous monsters.

“My work is not boring, you on the other hand can’t even follow simple orders. It’s just a miracle I keep you alive.” Hades rested his hand on his armrest while he raised his brow to see you reading something about devils. Hades wondered why you wanted to fight them so much. He’d prefer that you stayed away from them.

You were offended by what he said. He went from being a loving husband to ‘it’s a miracle I keep you alive?!’

“You keep me alive because you feel like it? Why don’t you actually kill me right here?” You walked over to him. You thought there was more to it. Why did he want you as his wife then? Another deity who had been in Helheim longer than him and was carefree?

“That is not what I meant!” He stood up as you cowered your head. You didn’t mean to anger him and he was one of the most feared gods to exist. However, this was the first time he had ever raised his tone at you.

It was unusual for any god to be in Helheim. You were one of the few gods that resided in the dark hell hole known as Helheim and learnt how to adapt to it, you chose it over Valhalla for other reasons. You liked how you got to do whatever you wanted, up until Hades took over, and you were surprised that someone had an interest in ruling the netherwold. You had introduced yourself as just another underworld goddess. You never called yourself queen but when he asked if you were the queen of the netherworld, you were taken back. You never thought yourself as one. No, he wanted to make you his queen since that day.

When you remember how Hades became your husband, it wasn’t ever supposed to be like that. He just appeared one day and took over the shit hole while you defended yourself and lived in survival mode. He was also the one who saved you from the Titans that raided Helheim which was how you met him. You owe your life to him and it felt impossible to say no to him to be his wife. You still gave him the love he wanted but was that enough?

You refused to make eye contact with him but walked towards you and pulled you in his arms. “Why did you— Why didn’t you kill me that day? Wouldn’t it have been easier than dealing with me?” You remember the day when the Titans broke into Helheim and he fought them off and saved you from being killed by them. He spared your life despite he didn’t have to.

“No. I saw the look in your eyes. You were afraid. You wanted to live. I haven’t seen such determination in someone’s eyes.” He brushed some of your hair back behind your ear.

“It worries me that I won’t be able to save you a second time. It would be a shame with how lonely it would be without you.” His arms wrapped around your body and you calmed yourself with him holding you.

You were no longer hurt and had accepted this was the love from the man who wanted you more than anything to stay by his side.

Note: that is all for now. Sorry Loki is written as a weird dude like usual. Weird is fun and I like weird broken characters. Dunno when I’ll do part 3. I want to get back to some other things and requests.

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Realizing They Are Jealous

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

- Peter Parker has always told himself he’s not the jealous type. He knows better. He’s seen what obsession does to a person, how it corrodes and twists and turns something good into something dark. He swore he’d never be that guy, the one who grips too tight, who loses sight of what matters. And yet, as he watches some stranger lean in close, flashing a smile that’s just a little too confident, he feels it coil inside him—hot, sharp, unexpected.

- His fingers twitch, and he clenches his fists like he’s bracing for a fight, even though there’s no real battle here. Just words, just glances, just you laughing at something someone else said. And Peter—who has fought gods and monsters, who has lost more than he ever thought he could survive—finds himself standing frozen, drowning in something far more terrifying than any villain.

- He tries to be rational. Tries to remind himself that you’re not his, that he has no right to this feeling clawing at his ribs. But then your head tilts, your lips part in that familiar, effortless smile, and it hits him like a fist to the gut: he wants to be the reason you smile like that. He wants to be the only one.

- The moment passes, the stranger moves on, and Peter still can’t breathe right. He should let it go, should shake it off, but when you turn to him, bright-eyed and oblivious to the war raging in his chest, all he can do is force a grin and hope you don’t notice the way his voice strains when he speaks.

- Later, alone in his room, he presses his forehead against his hand and exhales shakily. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Because Peter Parker? He’s never been good at letting things go. And now, he doesn’t think he can let you go, either.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

- Tony Stark doesn’t get jealous. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. He’s been around the block too many times, seen too many people come and go, to let something as petty as jealousy get under his skin. He’s Tony Stark. He’s seen it all. So when he spots some smooth-talking nobody leaning into your space, flashing that kind of grin he perfected years ago, he should laugh it off. Should.

- But he doesn’t. Instead, there’s a flicker of something sharp and ugly curling in his chest, something possessive and unfamiliar. It’s ridiculous, really. He could have anyone, could fill a room with people hanging onto his every word, but none of them matter. Not the way you do.

- He swirls the whiskey in his glass, eyes narrowing as he watches the way you tilt your head, the way your lips quirk in amusement. It’s harmless, he tells himself. You’re just being polite. But his jaw tightens all the same, and suddenly, the ice in his drink isn’t the only thing cold in the room.

- He doesn’t make a scene. No, Tony Stark never needs to. Instead, he waits until you’re alone, leans in with a smirk that’s just a little too sharp, and says, “Didn’t know you had a thing for guys who wear cheap cologne.” You roll your eyes, laughing, but there’s something in his voice that makes you pause. Something raw beneath the bravado.

- Later, when you’re gone, Tony leans back against his chair, rubbing a hand down his face. Damn it. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. But now that he does, now that he’s seen what it would be like to lose your attention, he knows one thing for certain—he’s not going to let that happen again.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

- Steve Rogers likes to believe he’s patient. He’s fought wars, survived decades of loss, and carried burdens most men would crumble under. He’s not impulsive. Not reckless. He’s better than that. Or at least, he thought he was—until now.

- The sight of someone else standing too close to you, their voice too low, their gaze lingering just a second too long—it sparks something in him, something old and primal and dangerous. His fingers tighten around the coffee cup in his hands, his jaw locking as he forces himself to breathe.

- He knows he has no claim on you. No right to this feeling twisting inside him. But that doesn’t stop the way his chest tightens, the way his pulse kicks up in something too close to fight-or-flight. He’s fought wars, but this? This is different. This is personal.

- He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t stake a claim—Steve isn’t the kind of man to do that. But when you finally turn away from the conversation, when your eyes meet his across the room, there’s something there—something in the way he looks at you, steady and unyielding, that makes your breath catch.

- And maybe, just maybe, you see it too. The truth of it. The confession that lingers in the space between you, unsaid but undeniable. Steve Rogers is a patient man. But even he has his limits. And when it comes to you? He won’t let someone else take what should have been his.

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

- Thor Odinson does not know jealousy the way mortals do. He does not simmer in silence, does not let resentment fester like a slow-growing storm. No, when Thor feels, he feels. And right now, he feels the weight of something heavy, something possessive, something undeniable.

- He watches as another person captures your attention, as their voice fills the air where his should be. And though he does not doubt your loyalty, though he knows the strength of his own heart, something inside him rumbles. A warning. A storm brewing on the horizon.

- He does not shrink. He does not sulk. Instead, he acts. With slow, deliberate steps, he crosses the room, placing himself at your side with the ease of a warrior reclaiming his place on the battlefield. “Ah, my friend,” he says, voice rich with warmth, though his grip on his hammer is just a fraction too tight. “Are you enjoying my beloved’s company?”

- The title slips from his lips before he can stop it. Beloved. It is instinct, raw and unfiltered, and when you glance at him in surprise, he meets your gaze without hesitation. There is no retreat, no denial—only the thunderous certainty of a god who knows what is his.

- And in that moment, as realization dawns in your eyes, Thor Odinson understands—there is no turning back from this. And by the gods, he does not want to.

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

- Loki is not a fool. He sees things others miss, reads between the lines of every conversation, every fleeting glance. He is a god of mischief, a master of deception. And yet, for all his cunning, he did not see this coming.

- He did not expect to feel the sharp sting of jealousy as someone else’s words make you smile. He did not expect the coil of irritation tightening in his chest as he watches you lean in, drawn into a conversation that is not with him. And above all, he did not expect the slow, creeping realization that follows: he cares.

- The thought unsettles him. Love, affection—these things are not meant for him. He has been cast aside too many times, burned by his own foolishness, by the cruelty of fate. And yet… here you are, undoing him with nothing but a laugh that isn’t even meant for him.

- He does not confront it, not directly. Instead, he sidles up beside you, his presence a whisper of silk and shadows, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “Surely, you do not find them that charming?” The words are laced with amusement, but his fingers twitch at his sides.

- And when you turn to him, curiosity flickering in your gaze, he holds it—holds you—longer than he should. He will not admit it. Not yet. But the seed has been planted, and gods help him, he does not know if he has the strength to pull it free.

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

- Clint Barton isn’t the type to take himself too seriously. Life’s too short, and his luck’s too bad for that. He rolls with the punches, cracks a joke when things get tough, keeps it light—because that’s what keeps him sane. But watching someone else flirt with you? Yeah, that’s not funny.

- He tells himself he doesn’t care. You’re not his, you don’t owe him anything, and really, it’s probably his own damn fault for never making a move. But still, there’s this tightness in his chest, a slow-burning irritation curling in his stomach, and suddenly, he’s gripping his drink a little too hard.

- He could walk away. Should walk away. But instead, he lingers at the edge of the room, watching, waiting, fingers tapping against his thigh like he’s counting down the seconds before he does something stupid. And when you laugh at something that guy says? Yeah, that’s when he snaps.

- He doesn’t make a scene. No, Clint Barton is too smooth for that. Instead, he saunters over, slides an arm around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and grins at the guy like he’s already won. “Hey, sweetheart. Who’s your friend?” His voice is light, teasing, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it. A warning.

- And when you glance up at him, confused but not pulling away, Clint feels something settle inside him. Something warm, something right. Maybe he’s been an idiot. Maybe he’s been avoiding this for too long. But he knows one thing for damn sure—he’s not letting anyone else steal what should’ve been his all along.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

- Natasha Romanoff is a master of control. Of reading a room, of keeping her emotions locked behind an unshakable mask. But this? This is unexpected. This burn in her chest, this sharp, cutting edge of irritation curling along her spine as she watches someone else pull you into a conversation that should be hers.

- She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t let a single crack show. But her eyes follow every movement, her fingers tapping an idle rhythm against her thigh, the only outward sign of the storm brewing beneath the surface. It’s ridiculous, really. You’re not hers. You’re free to do whatever you want. And yet…

- Yet, when you tilt your head, smiling at something they say, something inside her snaps. It’s subtle, barely there, but she moves—slipping through the crowd with effortless grace, coming to stand beside you, close enough that her presence demands attention.

- “Interesting conversation?” she asks, voice smooth as silk, but there’s something dangerous in the way she tilts her head, in the slight smirk playing at her lips. The person flirting with you hesitates, suddenly unsure, suddenly feeling like prey in the presence of a predator. And Natasha? She enjoys it.

- Later, when you’re alone, she leans in, voice softer now, more real. “You should be more careful,” she murmurs, fingers brushing yours. “Some people don’t deserve your attention.” And though she doesn’t say it outright, you hear the truth behind the words. She wants you for herself. And Natasha Romanoff always gets what she wants.

Bucky Barnes aka. The Winter Soldier

- Bucky Barnes has been through hell. He’s lost more than most, suffered in ways he doesn’t talk about, and rebuilt himself from the ground up. He knows better than to let himself get attached. But when he sees someone else standing too close to you, when he watches them steal your attention, something inside him goes cold.

- It’s not anger. Not exactly. It’s something deeper, heavier, a pressure in his chest that won’t ease no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. He doesn’t like this—this feeling of being on the outside, of watching you smile at someone who isn’t him.

- He clenches his jaw, looks away, tries to focus on something else. But then, as if the universe is testing him, he hears it—your laugh. Soft, genuine, warm. And it wrecks him. Because that laugh? It’s his favorite sound. And he doesn’t want anyone else to have it.

- He doesn’t move right away. He’s still figuring this out, still sorting through the mess of emotions he doesn’t know what to do with. But when you finally turn to him, eyes bright and unknowing, he meets your gaze and holds it. And for the first time, maybe ever, he lets the truth slip through.

- “Didn’t think I was the jealous type,” he admits, voice rough, words meant just for you. And when your lips part, surprised, he only smirks, shaking his head. “Guess I was wrong.”

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

- Matt Murdock is a patient man. He has to be. He’s spent his entire life walking the razor’s edge between control and chaos, between justice and vengeance. But this? This is different. This isn’t a courtroom battle or a rooftop fight—this is you, smiling at someone else, and it is unraveling him in ways he doesn’t expect.

- He can hear everything—the steady heartbeat of the person flirting with you, the subtle shift in your tone, the way your breath catches just slightly before you laugh. It’s innocent. Harmless. And yet, his grip on his cane tightens, his jaw locks, and he hates the way his pulse betrays him.

- He’s never been good at sharing. It’s not in his nature, not when it comes to things that matter. And you? You matter. More than he’s willing to admit. More than he should ever let himself believe.

- He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t step in. But when the conversation ends, when you finally come back to him, he tilts his head and murmurs, “They seemed… interesting.” There’s a sharp edge to his voice, something unreadable behind his glasses. And when you chuckle, brushing it off, he exhales slowly, forcing himself to let it go.

- But later, when it’s just the two of you, his fingers linger when they touch yours. His voice is softer, quieter when he says, “Just—don’t let someone else take what they don’t deserve, okay?” And though he doesn’t say it outright, you understand what he means. He wants to be the only one.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

- Frank Castle doesn’t get jealous. At least, that’s what he tells himself. Jealousy is for men who have something to lose, for men who still believe in the kind of love that doesn’t end in blood. And Frank? He doesn’t have that luxury.

- But then he sees you—sees them, standing too close, talking too smooth, and something inside him goes black. His blood turns to fire, his muscles coil tight, and suddenly, he has to remind himself not to break something.

- He watches. Silent. Dangerous. The kind of quiet that makes lesser men nervous, that turns a warm room cold. And when your laughter rings out, light and unknowing, Frank swears he feels something crack inside him.

- He doesn’t make a move. Doesn’t say a word. But when the conversation ends, when you finally turn and meet his eyes, there’s something dark and unreadable waiting there. Something that should scare you. But it doesn’t.

- Later, in the dead of night, he exhales smoke into the silence and mutters, “Should’ve killed ‘em.” And maybe he’s joking. Maybe he’s not. But either way, Frank Castle knows one thing for sure—he’s never letting anyone else think they have a chance with you. Not while he’s still breathing.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

- Marc Spector has always been a man of war. His heart is battle-worn, his soul stitched together by vengeance and duty. Love? Love is dangerous. Love makes you weak. But when he sees someone else’s hand resting just a little too long on your arm, when he watches their eyes linger on you the way only he should be allowed to—Marc feels something snap.

- It’s not a rational thing. No, it’s visceral, instinctual, an old wound torn open and bleeding jealousy into his ribs. His fingers twitch, his vision narrows, and for a brief, fleeting second, the weight of Khonshu’s will presses against his skull. Hurt them. Make them regret it.

- But then, you laugh—soft, unknowing, untouched by the storm raging inside him. And that’s what stops him. That’s what saves him. Because you don’t need his darkness. You deserve something gentler than him.

- So he stays where he is, jaw tight, fists clenched, shadows curling around his thoughts like whispers in the night. He doesn’t interfere. Not yet. But when you finally turn to him, oblivious to the war he’s fighting inside, his voice is low, rough, edged with something he doesn’t dare name.

- “Let’s go.” It’s not a request. And when you blink up at him, confused but willing, Marc exhales. You’ll never know just how close he came to losing himself for you.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

- Johnny Storm doesn’t do jealousy. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. He’s too cool for that, too charming, too damn good-looking to ever feel threatened. But the second he sees someone else trying to steal your attention, the easy confidence he’s built around himself starts to flicker.

- He keeps it casual at first—leans against the bar, crosses his arms, smirks like he’s just so amused by whatever’s happening. But beneath that cocky grin, his fingers tighten against the glass in his hand, and the tips of his ears burn hot.

- He tries to laugh it off. Makes a joke at your expense, something playful, something light. But when you don’t immediately turn back to him, when you keep talking to them, the flames inside him rise, licking at the edges of his restraint.

- “Okay, that’s cute,” he finally mutters, before striding over and slinging an arm around your shoulders with deliberate ease. His smile is bright, a little too sharp, as he looks the other person up and down. “You make friends fast, huh?”

- He plays it off well. Too well. But later, when you’re alone, he mutters, almost to himself, “Y’know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to kill me.” And when you laugh, shaking your head, he exhales. Yeah, he’s in trouble. Big trouble.

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

- Reed Richards has spent his life solving impossible equations, unraveling the mysteries of the universe, conquering the unknown with nothing but his mind. But this? This is a problem he doesn’t know how to fix.

- He sees you—sees them—standing too close, exchanging words he can’t quite hear over the noise of the room. Logic tells him he has no reason to react. You are not a variable in an equation he controls. And yet, the sharp sting of possessiveness coils in his chest, irrational and unrelenting.

- He tells himself to let it go. There is no scientific basis for jealousy. It is an emotional impulse, a flaw in human reasoning. And yet, his fingers tighten around the pen in his hand, his mind fracturing into a thousand calculations, each one ending in the same conclusion:

- He does not want to lose you.

- Later, when he finally speaks, it’s careful, measured, spoken in that calm, analytical tone that betrays nothing. “You seemed… engaged in that conversation.” It’s not an accusation, not quite, but when you tilt your head at him, curious, he wonders if maybe, just maybe, he’s already lost the upper hand.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

- Felicia Hardy doesn’t do jealousy. She’s far too confident, far too aware of her own power, to feel threatened by someone else’s presence in your orbit. And yet, when she sees them flirting with you—sees their hand brushing your arm, sees your lips curve at whatever they said—she feels something sharp and territorial curl inside her.

- She doesn’t react immediately. No, Felicia Hardy is far too strategic for that. Instead, she watches, waits, lets them think they have a chance. And then, just when they start to relax, she makes her move.

- “Mind if I cut in?” Her voice is silk, smooth and effortless, her fingers trailing along your arm as she steps between you and the intruder. She doesn’t even have to look at them to know they’ve already lost.

- She leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, her voice dropping to something only you can hear. “Careful, kitten. You don’t want to get tangled up with the wrong person.” And when you shiver—when you look at her the way she wants you to—she knows she’s won.

- Later, as you walk together, she smirks, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You should be more careful who you flirt with.” And when you laugh, shaking your head, she only grins wider. You were always going to be hers.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

- Stephen Strange has never been the kind of man to fear losing something. He has conquered the impossible, rewritten fate, bent the very fabric of reality to his will. And yet, when he sees you with them—sees you laugh, sees you lean in—he feels something disturbingly close to fear.

- He tells himself it’s illogical. That he has no claim to you, that what you do is none of his concern. But the words taste hollow in his mouth, and the air around him hums with restrained magic, with emotions he refuses to name.

- He doesn’t intervene—not at first. No, Stephen Strange is not a man of petty impulses. But when the conversation lingers too long, when he sees them touch your arm, he exhales sharply and moves.

- “I wasn’t aware we were entertaining guests.” His voice is even, his expression unreadable, but there is something unmistakably sharp in his gaze as he steps beside you. The other person stiffens. Good.

- Later, when you question him about it, he only lifts a brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But the way his fingers graze your wrist, the way his magic lingers against your skin? It tells a different story. One he isn’t ready to say aloud. Not yet.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

- Namor is a king. A warrior. A god among men. He has no reason to feel jealousy, no reason to regard anyone as his competition. And yet, when he sees another lingering too close, their gaze trailing over you with something unearned, his blood boils.

- He watches, expression composed but dangerous, as they speak to you, as they dare to bask in your presence. Do they think they are worthy? Do they believe, for even a moment, that they can take what Namor has already claimed in his heart?

- He does not interrupt—not immediately. No, Namor is patient, calculating. He waits for the perfect moment, stepping forward with regal, effortless confidence, his presence alone enough to command attention. His fingers brush your arm, a deliberate, possessive motion. “My dear, surely you do not waste your time with this one?”

- His voice is smooth, edged with something sharp. The poor fool who thought they had a chance swallows hard, sensing the shift in the air. Namor does not need to fight for you. He simply reclaims what is his.

- Later, when you tease him about it, his only response is a slow, knowing smirk. “You belong at my side, and my side alone.” And when you see the certainty in his gaze, you realize—he’s not asking. He’s declaring.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

- Johnny Blaze has never been a man of peace. His soul is battle-worn, haunted by fire and vengeance. But nothing—nothing—burns quite like the sight of someone else trying to steal your attention.

- His jaw tightens, his grip on the edge of the bar going white-knuckled as he watches. He tells himself to let it go. He’s not the type to get jealous, right? But the Rider in his chest—the monster wrapped in fire and bone—growls in warning.

- He doesn’t make a scene. He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he moves, slow and deliberate, stepping into the conversation like he was always meant to be there. His presence alone is enough to shift the atmosphere—dangerous, electric.

- He doesn’t glare, doesn’t threaten, but when his dark, firelit gaze locks onto the poor bastard who thought they had a chance, the message is clear. Back off. Now. And they do. Because everyone does, eventually.

- Later, when you ask if he was jealous, he scoffs, looking away. “Jealous? Nah. Just didn’t like their face.” But the way his hand lingers on your hip, the way his body hums with unspoken possession? Yeah, he’s a terrible liar.

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

- Eddie Brock knows jealousy. It’s been his constant companion—festering, clawing at his insides long before the symbiote ever took root in his veins. But this—seeing you smile at someone else, seeing their eyes linger on you—it’s a different kind of ache.

- “We do not like this.” The voice slithers through his mind, low and possessive, the symbiote pressing against his ribs like it wants out. Eddie grits his teeth, his fingers flexing as he tries to shove down the urge to tear something apart.

- He tells himself it’s fine. You’re not his. Not really. But when that idiot reaches out—when their hand dares to brush against you—Venom surges forward before he can stop it. A dark, twisted growl bubbles from his throat, something inhuman.

- The poor bastard nearly jumps out of their skin. “What the hell was that?” they mutter, backing away as a shadow flickers over Eddie’s eyes. And when you glance at him, brow furrowed, he exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders. “Dunno. Must be the wind.”

- Later, when Venom whispers, “We should eat them,” Eddie just mutters, “No, we shouldn’t.” But as you walk beside him, unaware of the war raging inside him, he wonders—what would it take for you to see that you’re already his?

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

- T’Challa is not a man ruled by petty emotions. He has been raised in the art of restraint, taught that a king must always remain in control. But when he sees another vying for your attention, when he watches their hand hover too close—his restraint is tested.

- He does not react immediately. No, he simply observes, his expression unreadable, his mind already three steps ahead. There is no need for outbursts, no need for crude displays of possession. T’Challa wins wars with patience and precision.

- And so, when the moment is right, he moves—effortless, calculated, undeniable. His voice is smooth as he steps into your space, his hand settling gently at the small of your back. “Forgive my interruption,” he says, gaze flickering to the would-be suitor, voice full of quiet authority. “But I believe I was promised this dance.”

- The other person falters, unsure, outmatched in a game they did not even realize they were playing. T’Challa does not need to fight for you. He simply reminds the world who he is.

- Later, when you tease him about it, his lips curve into something soft, something secret. “You are… precious to me.” And though he does not say more, the look in his eyes is enough. You are not just a passing fancy. You are a queen, and he will not let anyone take you from him.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

- Elektra is not jealous. Jealousy is for the weak, for the foolish, for those who lack the confidence to take what they want. But when she sees them—sees you—laughing at something someone else said, her knives feel heavier at her hips.

- She does not make a scene. No, Elektra is far too skilled in the art of subtlety for that. Instead, she watches, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Not with violence—not yet.

- When she finally moves, it’s with all the grace of a predator circling its prey. She doesn’t touch you, not immediately, but she steps into your space like she belongs there. And when she finally speaks, it’s a soft, amused purr—“Surely you don’t find them interesting?”

- Her hand traces your wrist, feather-light, but the weight of it is undeniable. She doesn’t even look at the other person. They don’t matter. They never did.

- Later, when you tell her she was jealous, she only smiles, slow and dangerous. “Jealous? No. But if they touch you again, I’ll consider sharpening my blades.” And something about the way she says it makes you wonder—was she joking?

[fatkish]

How the different Avengers take care of a sick Omega Reader

The Alphas:

Bucky-

it depends on when you get sick.

If he’s still on the run then he rarely ever leaves the your side. The only time he does is to get food. He’d buy fruits, white bread, white rice, and other easy to digest foods. He’d probably skin and boiled some apples before mashing them up to make applesauce

He definitely doesn’t trust anyone to help his omega. Would definitely feed you by hand and be waiting on you constantly. Barely ever lets you leave your nest

If you’re feeling weak then he’ll help you get around and help you bathe. He’ll cuddle with you and make sure you’re drinking water. He’ll always have a large bowl or bucket nearby in case you puke

If it’s after he reunites with Steve and spends time in Wakanda

He’ll immediately alert whoever, either Friday or someone in Wakanda depending on where you guys are

He’ll allow Bruce or whoever to look you over and give you medicine but he will be hovering around watching

Treats whatever the doctors say as gospel and makes sure to follow it. If you want a food that the doctors didn’t specify say was okay then you’re not getting it

Might let Steve look after you if needed

Loki-

How he goes about caring for his omega depends on whether he’s on earth or Asgard

King. Of. Comfort. Is your nest too small? Don’t worry you can have the entire floor if necessary. Blankets not soft enough? He’s getting you the most luxurious and soft blankets ever. Lights too bright? He’s about to fight the fucking sun. There is nothing this man won’t do for his omega

Would personally oversee the chefs who make your meals by using a clone if you’re on Asgard. If you’re on earth then he’s constantly backseat driving while either Bruce, Wanda or Pepper cook for you. They’re the only people he trusts to not poison you accidentally

He would cook your food himself but he wants the best for you and his cooking isn’t. Also, he doesn’t want to leave your side while you’re not feeling well

If you have to take medicine that you don’t like then he’s going to find a way to get it in you. Doesn’t matter the method, if you need this medicine you’re getting this medicine even if he has to trick you or seduce you

If you’re sore or tired and need a bath then he’s more than happy to help. He’ll carefully wash your hair and skin, making sure not to get soap in your eyes. He’s careful not to jostle you too much in case you’re feeling queasy

If you’re having trouble keeping things down then he’ll hold your hair back and sit with you by the toilet. If you’re crying from the constant vomiting then he’ll rub your back and softly sing to you to comfort you

If your nest doesn’t feel right then he’ll gladly be your proxy and build your nest for you as you tell him where to put things. It doesn’t matter how many times he has to repeat the process, as long as you’re comfortable

If you’re just an overall emotional mess then he’ll be more than happy to comfort you in your time of need. If you’re just so sick of feeling sick he might put a sleep spell on you so you don’t have to suffer, he’ll watch over you and make sure you come out feeling better

Thor-

Giant. Puppy. Energy. He will cuddle with you, bring you food, watch tv with you. Whatever makes you feel better, he’s down for it

You want to snuggle and have skin to skin contact? Move over, he’s already lost his clothes and doesn’t mind snuggling. You’re self conscious because you’re sweaty, your hair is a mess, you look like shit? He only sees the most beautiful omega ever and he’s more than happy to prove it to you

Whatever food you need he’s gonna get. If he has to fly across the world just to get these one chips you like only to return and you throw up after eating them, he doesn’t care. As long as it’s to help you, he’ll do whatever he needs to

You want to steal his cape and use it in your nest? He already put it there. The world needs saving, eh, there’s always tomorrow, right now his omega needs him

If you’re fussy and a pain when your sick, he doesn’t mind, you don’t feel well so he’s happy to let you do whatever you need to make you feel better

He’ll tell you stories about his childhood and his adventures as you lay your head on his chest and try to rest

He’ll bring you the fluffiest blankets for your nest and help you build it too, all he wants is for his omega to get better

Steve Rodgers-

Having spent over a decade being sick in the past, he’s no stranger to being ill. He might not be an omega anymore but he knows and remembers what helped him

He’ll make old family recipes just for you, he’ll use everything he remembers from being sick. Cold damp towel on your forehead to help ease the fever, warm blankets and easy to digest meals

He’s more than happy to feed you if you need it. If you can’t keep things down then he’s already got the puke bucket ready for you by your side

If nothing works then he’s happy to do some research even if he struggles with it

Will gladly let Bruce look you over and give you a checkup. If you need medicine and you hate the way it tastes he’ll use every trick in the book to get you to take the medicine. Afterwards he’ll give you praise and lots of snuggles

He’ll help you bathe but he’ll definitely be shy about it. He has to clean your crotch and chest? His face is red as he looks away but he’s gentle and thorough making sure you get clean

If you have an accident like throwing up on yourself because you couldn’t reach the bucket or the toilet fast enough and your embarrassed, he’ll smile softly and reassure you that whatever you did, he’s probably done at least twice. He’ll even tell you embarrassing stories about himself and have Bucky join in if it makes you feel better

Bruce/Hulk-

There’s only one thing these two can agree on and it’s that they love/care about you

The moment Bruce realizes you’re sick, he goes full mother hen mode. Partially because he himself is an omega, but also because it’s the doctor in him. He brings you to his lab or he brings his equipment to you and does whatever tests he needs

Hulk will be yelling at him in his head the entire time to let him out so he can take care of you while Bruce does his check up on you

Bruce somehow manages to convince Hulk to let him run the tests so he can make sure your condition is nothing serious. Once they both know that it’s just the flu and you won’t die or need some exotic/fancy treatment then Bruce relents and allows Hulk to care for you

Hulk is definitely a cuddler, he climbs into your nest and lets you use him as a bed. He’s got his arms around you and holds you keeping you warm. C’mon, the guys practically a giant gamma powered heater

Hulk will wrap you up in a blanket burrito and purr to you, Hulk can be surprisingly soothing and he holds nothing back, he knows he can’t smash the germs making you sick, so he provides moral support while your body fights

Hulk listens to Bruce’s instructions on how to care for you and make you food. If his form is too inconvenient then he’ll let Bruce handle the intricate things like cooking or getting your medicine

Bruce has a Hulk sized tub so Hulk can bathe, Hulk helps you and is gentle with you as he washes your hair and body. Makes sure you’re nice and dry using his big towel

Hulk gently rubs your back as you puke and holds your hair back. He doesn’t like seeing you so miserable

If you want to watch movies then Hulk will cuddle with you even if you fall asleep and he hates the movie, anything for his omega

The Betas:

Scott Lang-

This sweet baby is immediately on his feet and worried for you

He might not be an alpha but that has nothing to do with how much he loves/cares for you

This lovable goofball is running around like a chicken with his head cut off at the first sign of the sniffles

Will definitely get the ants to help clean the house and make sure to sanitize everything so that the germs are gone

If you’re puking then he’ll braid your hair and put it in a bun so it’s out of the way, he has a daughter so his papa instincts are in full swing

He helps you get in and out of your nest, bringing you whatever you need and making sure you’re warm and cozy

If you’re feeling down or tired of being sick then he’s more than happy to cheer you up. Cue the magic tricks and playing rockband with the ants

He’s more than happy to cuddle with you if it makes you feel better, anything for you

He doesn’t mind if your nose is stuffed or runny, he’s got plenty of tissues and even makes a game of seeing how many he can throw in the trash from afar

Tony Stark-

Now he knows he’s not the best with caring for sick people but as the team’s omega, which he personally recruited, he takes his job seriously

He’ll have Bruce look you over and make sure it’s just the flu before making sure that you have everything you need

If you specifically want him to snuggle with you then move over, he’s snuggling but your watching a movie too

He’ll have either Jarvis or Friday monitor you so he can ensure that you’re eating and staying hydrated. If you’re puking they’ll alert him so he can make sure you get easy to digest meals

He’ll watch bad movies with you so the both of you can roast the movie. For example: an old sci/fi with terrible visual effects that he’ll keep commenting on. That or you’ll watch YouTube videos of people failing and doing stupid stuff

He’ll gladly order whatever you need no matter how ridiculous, if a dozen dancing cacti make you feel better, you’re going to get double

You’re not allowed to move from your nest unless it’s to use the bathroom. He’s very controlling but in a loving sense. You don’t move to get anything, that’s why he’s here, he’ll get what you need so don’t move

He almost becomes like a worried parent, constantly hovering over the line of ‘its just a bruise’ and ‘everyone panic! It’s the return of the plague’. He’s constantly a mix between relaxed and incredibly worried

[lokisgoodgirl]

Distractions [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: You suck Loki's fingers during movie night with entirely predictable results. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Avenger!Loki x Female Reader. Finger-sucking. Smut. Chino-besmirchment. Language. 'SEVEN' movie references. (w/c 1.6k)

You flinch as Brad Pitt recoils from the body on the bed in disgust. Scott hollers in the corner, sending popcorn and assorted snacks nestled between he and Sam flying. “Wooooah-” Scott cries. Sam's face is aghast as he tries and fails to scramble the chocolates. “Dude, what...these are new chinos. Pale stone, man. Pale...stone.” Scott’s hands crest at his nose. “Did you see that guy on the bed? Ho-boy, that’s gross. So gross. Rewind it.”

“Fan-tastic,” Sam says dryly, yanking the depleted bowl to his side. He clutches it in one hand, searching for stray chocolate buttons concealed beneath his thighs with the other. Tony snaps the leg panel of his recliner down, bracing at the sides. “Zip it or you’re barred. I have managerial rights.” “C’mon man, you saw what he did to my snacks - to my chinos.” Tony raises a silencing finger to Sam, moving it slowly to Scott. They both shrink into the sofa. "You know you're out of line when the lovebirds are better behaved that you are - and one of them is Loki." Loki’s mouth moves to your ear in the midst of the bickering, his breath making your scalp tingle. “It still amuses me that these picture reels affect you so. So easily unnerved.” “I’m not affected,” you mumble against his t-shirt. Loki’s low chuckle jostles your head. You prop your chin on his chest, staring up at the taut underside of his jaw. His eyes are bright and reflecting the screen stretched across the wall of the common room. “Yes you are,” he whispers in a frequency it feels like only you can hear. “It would be unreasonable for you to be as stoic as a god, darling. Very difficult to affect us to the same extent, you see.” “Is that right?” “Mmm,” Loki hums as he focuses on Morgan Freeman doing something clever. “My concentration is impeccable. Always has been.” You snort against his t-shirt. Minutes pass and peace is restored to the Stark cinema. You reach for Loki’s hand, intertwining the fingers. He gives it a squeeze, kissing the top of your head with his eyes trained on the screen. “Quiet,” Tony snips. A puff of air escapes against your hair. Loki squeezes your hand again and you press a kiss into his stomach, sucking the cotton between your teeth. The hard heat of his muscle clenches as your teeth graze the curve of a pectoral, blowing a blast of heat through the fabric. A strained exhale escapes Loki’s nostrils. “Careful, darling,” he murmurs. Silently, you shift the back of his hand to your lips. It's huge. Your dainty fingers get lost in the flickering shadows from the screen beneath the perfect pale of his long digits. His abdomen tightens against your cheek; hips shifting beneath you. After pausing a few moments...just to make him sweat, you press your lips against his skin. The unlikely pair on-screen move and talk, but you’re not really listening. It’s Loki’s gentle breaths you’re listening to, the ones drawn with such utmost precision that they’re anything but natural. Your lips move along the back of his hand, kissing the way you used to practice when you were a kid. “Mmgh,” he groans quietly, widening his thighs. Without looking you can tell Tony is glaring. “Apologies,” Loki says. “Cramp.”

Your tongue covertly traces the line of Loki’s finger from his second knuckle to the tip, catching it between your lips. A violent shudder wrenches his thighs and his effort to remain casual is astonishingly evident in the tighten of every muscle touching your body. His finger balances on the flat of your tongue and Loki’s holds his breath. After a pause, you slide it to the back of your tongue, fastening your lips to the base of his finger. “Norns,” he breaths, clearing his throat. It times perfectly with a jump-scare on screen. His free hand is curled to the arm-rest, perfectly manicured nails turning white as he digs them into the upholstery. You began to suck.

A growl rumbles his chest and the desperation to seem un-phased makes heat pool in your belly. You shift your hips, wetness sliding in your underwear. Loki’s cock is hardening furiously against his thigh, the drape of your hand, swelling against the tight jeans he insists on wearing. Sucking firmly, you drag your mouth down his finger, lingering on the tip and swirling your tongue. When you do that to his cock, just right, he cums down your throat with a whimpering stutter of your name. “I can’t do this anymore,” Loki mutters. Suddenly the world is upended and you’re tossed against the cushions on the opposite side of the sofa. Loki’s on his feet, one hand on his hips and the other pointed at the screen. It glistens with your saliva. Tony slams the feet of his recliner down. “Laufeyson for Christssakes will you pee before the movie? How many times.” “This man is an insufferable buffoon,” Loki says as he gestures at Morgan Freeman. “It’s clear the villain they seek is among them: the man with the vaguely attractive face who’s eating constantly.” Scott covers his ears while Sam leans forward. “Yo, man...spoilers,” he warns, raising an eyebrow. Loki lowers his head, shaking it with a smirk. Dark curls fall around his face and the pulse in his neck races in the half-light. “Fools. Come, darling. We shan’t waste your depleting lifespan on this nonsense.” Loki grabs your hand and yanks you from the sofa, bustling towards the door. “Keep moving,” he orders while a frantic hand runs over your ass and squeezes hard. The door barely clicks shut before Loki descends like a storm; hands and lips and dark sighs smothering you against the wall. “You dare to tease me thus?” He pants between the words, wet lips parted and eyes heavy. “I didn’t think you’d be affected, you say as Loki’s eyes glint. “I thought your concentration was impeccable.” He steps between your legs and the flat of his thigh pressed up against your clit. You gasp. “Even a god can be undone by simulated oral pleasure on his extremities, darling." You bat your lashes, biting your lip. “I won’t tell Hydra, I promise.” Loki growls again as he trails his knuckles over your breasts; his black hair and t-shirt and jeans melting into the darkness of the unlit corridor. The hand snakes down your thigh, working under the loose hem of your skirt. “Loki,” you say, eyes darting to the cinema-room door at the other side of the corridor. “Shhh…” Loki buries himself in your neck, sucking against your pulse. There’s a girlish scream from inside the room as another body is discovered. Your fingers fumble with Loki’s jean buttons, a desperate sigh of relief clouding the air as his cock springs free. “You’re impossible,” he says as he pulls the gusset of your panties to the side. “You’re impossible.” “Well, yes,” he says with a conspiratorial smile before hoisting your legs around his waist and sinking you greedily onto his length. The tug of his cock squeezing inside you hits with new fire as his hand covers your mouth. The finger you sucked is still wet and you pant against his palm. His eyes are bottomless in the gloom; the slight tremble of his brows and the part of his lips as he fucks you against the wall making you melt against him. Every slow roll of his hips erupts a quiet moan between his fingers. His breathy pants time with your own as he gets off on your pleasure like he always does. Your fingers claw at the V of his t-shirt, bunching it in a fist with a mewl of his name. “Teasing a god rarely ends without mischief, love,” he murmurs in the dark. Loki’s skin is flawless in the weak light leaking beneath the door to the cinema room. “You’d do well to remember that as we continue this…” He thrusts with calculate precision. “Venture.” You moan against his hand, eyes screwing shut as the coil tightens deep inside you. He loosens the pressure of his palm, a finger nudging at your lips. “Go on,” he whispers through heavy exhales. “Suck it as I fuck you. Show me how filthy you are for me.”

You let it slide against your tongue, sucking the digit over the flat with every rise of his hips. Legs tightening around him, Loki bites his lip as he looks down at your head falling back against the wall with unbridled approval. “You like it,” he moans with a whiff of condescension. “Perhaps I can summon a duplicate of myself for you to pleasure while I take you another way; would you like that?” The thought has blood thumping in your ears and the twisting pressure tightening in your core reaches critical levels. You whine, sucking Loki’s finger frantically as his eyes glaze with lust and his teeth clench. “F-fuck,” he chokes, stiffening against you. His forehead presses to yours, a guttural sigh shaking from his chest. Breath mists against your lips and you can feel the swell of his hot cum leak from your slit as he shuffles, milking the last of his pleasure – and yours. Your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders as you cum with a strangled whimper, dragging against the cotton. Loki’s thrusts slow, his kisses working into the angle of your jaw and the thud of your pulse. “You were wrong,” you sigh as he lowers your feet to the floor. “Excuse me?” “About the killer. It’s not Brad Pitt.” Loki’s brow scrunches as trembling fingers pull at his zip. “How can that be?” You shrug mysteriously, buttoning his jeans with a pat of his softening bulge. “Shall we go back in?”

Loki’s eyes narrow and he curls a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “Alright. But no distractions.” “I promise,” you lie, and a wicked smile plays on Loki’s lips.

Tags in comments because Tumblr continues to be annoying❤️

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Hi dangerousstrawberryshark. I have a possible fic if you wanna write it? Imagine stepbrother Thor. Reader has been in lust with him for a while and Thor has noticed him. One day after a battle where he nearly lost his stepbrother, Thor realizes he wants to bond with reader. And how better to bond than fucking his brains out. Including scent/armpit kink, worship, breeding kinks. Just an idea. Thank you.

(It’s literally 2 am here and yeah. This may be bad cause I’m a little delirious rn. Enjoy tho!)

Thor knew you had been lusting after him for a long time but never thought about it. It was only after a battle where he realized he wanted to bond with you— sex is the best way to bond!

Your eyes rolled back from the musky and manly smell of Thor. Your older stepbro shoving you into his pits, letting you know what a real man smells like. You licked Thor’s armpit, basking in the smell.

“You like the smell? It’s always like that after a good sparring match.” Thor laughs as he feels you desperately clinging to him, he could see your cock twitching in your pants.

Stepbro!Thor let you work your magic. Licking and taking his musky smell. He would definitely love it when you worship his body like how a worshipper would with his god. He is quite literally a god, so it makes sense. His large muscular body glistening with sweat dripping down his chiseled abs and biceps.

Stepbro! Thro watches you kiss and touch his body with your mouth and hands. Gliding up his torso and arms. Like a stud, he would flex his biceps, wanting you to be impressed with him— which works all the time.

Stepbro! Thor has a body of a God but also a dick of God. Bigger and thicker than any Midgardian male’s dick. Heavy hanging balls and sway every time he walks naked in your shared room with him. His balls are so heavy with cum churning in them.

Stepbro! Thor is a God of many things— that includes fertility. He fucks you mating press position — fucking you like a bitch in heat. His large fat cock ramming deep inside, watching as your face contorted with tears and pleasure. Your screams crying out for him to go harder— who knew his little stepbro was a slut!

Stepbro! Thor definitely spurts gallons of cum. He rarely gets off and his hookup of men and women from Asgard and Midgard weren’t enough and leaves him unsatisfied. No wonder his balls are massive. Thankfully he has a little stepbro who can handle him and his orgasm.

Stepbro! Thor will definitely breed you. His cum floods your ass like the flood in the Bible. He sees your face become blissed and satisfied. Thor could still feel his balls tightening and cold throbbing as more of his thick cum gushes inside you. Had to wait 5 minutes before he finished his orgasm.

Who said men can’t get pregnant? If you’re not, he’ll definitely keep trying. This will lead to more bonding time’ definitely a win for both of you.

Also, he could use his bonding time to maybe fix his relationship with Loki?