#mcu hc

[ghostlyfleur]

listen

i want writers to make mr grumpy james bucky barnes even more grumpy. unhinged even.

still a good, caring guy like we know he is, but also definitely embracing all of his abilities in a sort of “hydra gave me the serum and this combate knowledge and these abilities to make me a monster now watch me use it on them” way.

like sorta “i know a crazy when i see one ‘cause i am crazy” insane. maniacal laugh. sarcastic little shit. insufferable. mad hatter type yk? MAD HATTER TYPE OF CRAZY. MAD. do you see the vision? and i want him dressed like this:

[seb played the mad hatter once. he can do it]

[aqua-v3nus]

— CHAPTER TWO: RIVAL HEARTS

word count: 1257

summary: laura, faces a fierce rivalry with the experienced yelena belova, challenging her skills and ability to navigate a competitive environment, ultimately turning their rivalry into a source of mutual motivation. asha.

annotation: the main pair of this fic is deadpool x fem!oc ! but when oc was in the red room she secretly dated yelena.

content warning: fem!oc, violence, rivalry, intense competition.

DANCE OF THE DEATH MASTERLIST & DANCE OF THE DEATH TAGLIST

prev | two | next

"Here in the Red Room, words mean little. It's what you do that truly matters." Yelena crossed her arms and gives Laura a challenging look.

"I'm not here to compete with you. My goal is to improve and prove what I can do." Laura stands her ground, her voice steady as she locks eyes with Yelena.

"Not bad, but I still think you have a lot to prove." Yelena arches an eyebrow, her expression a mix of disdain and curiosity.*

[peteypiessuperfamily]

I hc that mcu scott lang has an older brother who bullied him mercilessly growing up and hes played by ben affleck

[appocalipse]

the same thing ・❥・b. barnes

summary: during a mission, you put yourself in harm's way to protect bucky. back at the avengers compound, he wants to know why. | 1.4k words, angst with a happy ending

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"You should be resting."

You don't turn your head as the familiar voice comes from behind you, too focused on the delicate art of making the perfect sandwich to look away. You are a woman on a mission. "I was hungry."

A few seconds later, he's standing next to you, leaning back against the countertop with arms folded across his broad chest. "It's been less than twelve hours since they patched you up."

He's not going to stop hovering, you realize, because that's what Bucky does when he's worried.

"Want half?" Maybe you can distract him with food.

He regards the towering monstrosity on the cutting board and the chaotic layers of meat, cheese, and veggies sticking out at all angles.

You can't help but grin as you slap another slice of bread on top. "A quarter, then?"

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. "I'm not eating that thing."

You cradle the plate in your left hand, holding the sandwich with your right, and give him a pointed look. "Your loss."

Bucky just watches, arms still crossed, as you take a huge bite. His blue eyes remain narrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He's like a one-man intervention waiting to happen. You shrug and wander over to the kitchen table.

Sitting down is a bit of an effort. The wound on your side pulls as you slowly lower yourself onto the chair, but if you can keep from grimacing too hard, Bucky won't be able to tell, will he?

Your smile probably gives you away. He narrows his eyes further. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I'm hungry?"

"No." Bucky takes a step forward. "I meant why did you get between me and that shot?"

Good question. The answer is embarrassing and you'd sooner walk barefoot over hot coals than tell him the truth.

"Hm?"

Another step. "I have superhuman healing powers."

"I'll live."

"It was stupid."

"You're ruining my—ow," you mutter, dropping the sandwich as you instinctively put your hand over your bandage. There goes the carefully maintained poker face. You force yourself to remove your hand and look up at Bucky with what you hope is an innocent expression, even as your side throbs in protest. "My sandwich. You're ruining my sandwich. Are you sure you don't want a bite?"

Bucky is too smart to take the bait. He moves around the table, coming to stand in front of you. The whole 'arms-crossed-stern-glare' thing again. It would be intimidating if you didn't know him so well.

"You could've been killed," he's like a dog with a bone, you swear.

"But I wasn't," you say pointedly. "I'm fine."

"Fine? You were shot."

"Will you just let it go? It doesn't even...hurt...that much," you lie.

It will take a while for the super-soldier serum in your blood — a weaker variation of the same stuff that runs through Bucky's veins — to kick in and accelerate your healing.

Bucky exhales. He looks about ready to give you an earful, but then his gaze shifts and he notices the way you're holding your side, how stiffly you're sitting.

You move your traitorous hand away like you've been burned.

"How bad is it?"

"Huh?" you sound deliberately casual. Too casual. "It's...totally fine. Not bad, really. Don't worry. I don't even feel it."

There's the reason why you've never been a spy. You can't lie to save your life, apparently.

Or maybe just not to Bucky.

"Okay. It hurts, like, just a little bit...like—like not even hurts hurts, just..." you trail off with a grimace as he comes closer. "More of an itch?"

"An itch?" Bucky sounds dubious.

"More of a burn," you concede. "A...mildly annoying but totally manageable sort of a burn."

"You are a terrible liar."

"Okay, so it hurts," you snap, the last vestiges of your patience vanishing. "I have an extensive hole in my side, I get it. It's not—I don't want you to feel bad about it. It's really not terrible, I can take it."

Bucky shakes his head. "What if it had been worse? What if they'd shot you somewhere vital?"

"They didn't."

"But what if they had?"

"Then I would have died!"

Bucky looks at you like you just kicked him. "Yeah. That's what I'm trying to say."

You open your mouth, then close it.

"You think I want that?" he asks softly.

"No." You suddenly feel very small. "Of course not, I just...just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know," you admit with a sigh. "It's just that you are...people need you, you know? And you have a life, people who care about you, but I'm just..."

A nobody. A girl with no past, who can barely make sense of her present.

"...it would be better if it was me. That's all."

"It would never be better if you were hurt."

"Bucky—"

"You don't get it, do you?" he asks in a low voice. "People need you too."

You roll your eyes. "Please. You mean the team?"

"Me," Bucky says pointedly. "You think it's easy for me? When you get hurt? It kills me."

The sandwich lays forgotten on the table, squashed flat under your clasped hands. "It...kills you?"

He just looks at you for a long moment.

Your heart flutters in your chest. You have a sudden, intense urge to break the silence with a terrible joke, a quip, something light and witty to dispel the heaviness in the air and make this moment go away. But before you can open your mouth, Bucky shakes his head.

"You kill me."

Okay, that's not where you thought this was going. "What?"

"When you say stuff like that. When you make it sound like you don't matter, like it's okay for you to get hurt. Or worse. It's not."

Oh.

"Bucky," you try again, with a more serious tone. "I don't—"

"Stop saying that," he cuts you off.

You realize your mouth is still hanging open and snap it shut.

"You want to know what I think?" Bucky is so close now you could reach out and touch him, if you were brave enough. "I think that you got this...thing in your head, that you're not good enough, or strong enough, or that you're broken somehow. I think that you forget that it's okay to want things. I think that maybe you think nobody needs you. That no one wants you."

You swallow. You're afraid to say anything, to move, because your heart is hammering against your ribs and Bucky is looking at you like he can see straight into your soul.

"But I do."

"Do...what?" you whisper.

"Want you."

It's the last thing you expect to hear. "Bucky, you don't mean that."

His voice drops an octave. "Don't tell me what I mean."

Your cheeks are burning. You feel pinned under his gaze. Your side is throbbing again and you have a mouthful of butterflies and it's all just too much.

You move to get up but only make it halfway before the wound pulls again and you wince. "Shit."

"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky reaches out to help you, one hand braced against your shoulder as you sink back down into the chair. His expression has softened. "You need to rest."

You really want to kiss him right now.

It's the closest he's ever been to you, perhaps. You can feel his breath on your face.

"I need to...? You really confuse me, Barnes."

"How so?"

"Well, first you tell me that I kill you, and then you say you want me. It's kind of a mixed message—"

"I'm not interested in being just friends with you," Bucky cuts you off abruptly. "Is that clear enough?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. There's a warm, tingling sensation in your chest and you suddenly can't breathe properly. "That's—you—"

Bucky smirks, just a little. He looks almost...proud of himself? Like he's happy he's rendered you speechless for once.

You decide to take a page from his book and put him on the spot. "And what do you think I want?"

"I don't know," he murmurs, leaning even closer. "But I hope it's the same thing."

His lips brush against yours, soft and gentle. He pulls away and you want to chase after him but then he's back again and kissing you harder this time, all teeth and tongue and ragged breathing and heat.

You close your eyes. Your head is spinning and you can't get enough air but you're kissing him back now, both hands coming up to fist in his shirt, holding on for dear life.

His mouth trails down your neck, leaving hot kisses along your jawline. You let out a breathy sigh.

"Is that...supposed to help me heal faster, mhm?"

Bucky just smiles against your skin.

[araneapeixes]

happy dragon age month, i miss my homies so I doodled them in some simple camp clothes (bc im bg3pilled)

[lostalioth]

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞

→ premise: it was meant to be just a simple quick visit to your sweet boyfriend at work, a regular thing on your days off, something steven looked forward to. especially when the both of you snuck off to the bathroom.

→ pairing: steven grant x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, against the wall sex, bathroom sex so semi-public sex, creampie, nicknames [baby, love, darling]

→ a/n: kinktober 11

It was merely meant to be a short visit to Steven, your lovely boyfriend, at his job in the gift shop. You just missed him and wanted to see him, you didn't intend for it to end with the two of you sneaking off the bathroom.

“Darling I really need to get back to work, my boss won't like that I'm gone so long” he groaned out, his voice soft as his breath fanned across the back of your neck. His body betrays his words however as he makes no move to stop pinning you against the bathroom wall. His hands grab onto your hips as he drills into form behind. Your chest up against the cold tile wall, your hips bouncing off of his making a slapping sound that filled the echoey bathroom alongside your whines. Your knees grow weaker and weaker the closer you get and the faster and harder Steven thrusts inside you. “Mm baby please just a little longer im s’close” you whimper out about too loudly, the words slurred as your head was going hazier from the pleasure.

Steven's large hands leave your hips, one comes up to cup over your mouth muffling your loud moans, the other drifts between where your bodies are connected and rubs at your clit. “As heavenly as you sound love you‘re gonna get me fired if you aren't quieter” his voice trembles as he can feel you clench around him in response to him silencing you. His eyes screw shut in bliss as he can feel your cunt trying to milk his release from his aching cock. “Gonna cum baby oh fuck-” your words come out mumbled and broken from beneath his hand though Steven can hear you enough to understand.

“Cum for me darling” he moans out, his hips speeding up even faster trying to push you right over that edge. His cock hitting just right deep inside you and his thumb playing with your bundle of nerves you cum hard on his cock. Biting your lip to help further muffle the wanton moan that threatens to escape, it comes out as a strangled desperate whine instead. “Good girl baby, fuck im gonna cum okay love?” He grunts out as his hips falter in rmyth fucking you through your high. With an almost pathetic sounding whine leaving his lips, Steven’s orgasm hit him, shooting hot ropes of cum inside you. After a minute or two when the both of you catch your breath he slowly pulls out, the mixture of his cum and your own leak out of you, trailing down your thigh.

“Maybe you should visit me at work more often darling” he chuckles softly and leans down to kiss at your exposed shoulder. You smile sweetly at him as he quickly works at cleaning you up best he can before he goes back off to work with a short but loving goodbye kiss.

→ a/n: i have never written for steven, this is really short and kinda ass as i rushed it cause its like 2 days later than when i wanted to post this, im trying to get back on track and not fall further behind so there will hopefully be another kinktober day posted today as well.

[cosmicwavelengths]

imagine bucky working on sarah's boat all day under the hot louisiana sun and it makes his vibranium arm super duper hot (metal is a good conductor of heat)

bucky: sam i'm home

sam: hey buddy -reaches in for a hug-

bucky: wait no

sam: YE-OOWWWCH

[yelenabemylova]

sugar mommy agatha who always insists on driving you everywhere. she always has blankets and your favourite snacks in her car, "nothing but the best for my passenger princess." at first, you were skeptical to accept her offers, however she insisted as the mere thought of you sitting on a crowded bus everyday to get to university made her skin crawl.

sugar mommy agatha would always greet you with your go to coffee order and favourite pastry waiting for you, knowing how much of a bad mood you could get in when tired or hungry. she even had the café in the office add your order to their menu, the combo being named after you, of course.

sugar mommy agatha would call you on slow days if she knew you weren't busy, pestering you until you came to see her at work. she would send a driver to come and pick you up, always putting your safety first. even though you had visited countless times, you would always knock sheepishly before entering her office.

sugar mommy agatha who would immediately pull you into her lap when you walked into her office, covering your face in light kisses and holding you ever so tightly as if you would escape if she let go.

sugar mommy agatha who would let you stay while she worked, often typing up emails and taking phone calls with you sitting pretty in her lap. occasionally, she would wear a strap to work, hoping to rile you up by having you feel it beneath you. she would often make you cockwarm her, not allowing you to move while she joined conference calls and team meetings, claiming her camera was broken.

sugar mommy agatha who would always appreciate you cooking dinner for her after a long day at work. she loved coming home to find a lasagna and garlic bread in the oven, the aroma spreading throughout the house. she would always show her gratitude however you wanted her to, sometimes sexually, and sometimes by simply watching something you liked while cuddling with you.

[enthyrea]

my truth is turning dr. strange into a nepali uncle

[ironspidersblog]

Like father like son

[ceeisatlumon]

Presidential frostbugggg!!!!!!

I don’t have a lot of head cannons rn unfortunately but I would LOVE to hear other’s head cannons on them!!! (Would honestly be very happy 😭 feel free to tell me in asks !!

I really need to draw them more so I might look up some prompts

I have also been thinking about jotunn Loki and Mantis,,,,

❄️🪲

[graceisslillayy]

me tryna read a long ass fanfic but I know I have a attention span that's shortter than 15 seconds:

[aqua-v3nus]

– CHAPTER THREE: A HOT DATE WITH DANGER

word count: 1648

summary: in an abandoned factory in madripoor, wolverine and deadpool plan an ambush for their mutual enemy, viper. the fight turns chaotic when mercenaries intervene, forcing the three adversaries to reluctantly team up to survive the battle.

annotation: the phrases of deadpool on this chapter are so hot. need him so bad. need both so bad.

content warning: fem!oc, physical combat, blood, dark humor and sex jokes, weapon use.

MORTAL TRIANGLE MASTERLIST & MORTAL TRIANGLE TAGLIST

prev | three | next

"This isn’t a damn date, Wade. It’s a trap. We get rid of her and then go back to our lives." Wolverine, sharply defining the mission's seriousness.

“Come on, Logan! Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying a bit of the thrill.” Deadpool, teasing Wolverine about their unexpected partnership.

“You know, Viper, if you weren’t so busy trying to kill us, I might invite you to dinner... like an explosive barbecue." Deadpool, blending humor with danger.

"Well, it seems fate has brought us together in a beautiful trio." Deadpool, mockingly acknowledging their forced alliance.

“How about we celebrate with a couple of drinks? Don’t worry about the tab, I’ll cover it… and if things get interesting, we could always ‘discuss’ who pays afterward. I promise to be gentle… at first.” Deadpool, adding a flirtatious twist to his humor.

[caskethounds]

messy doodle based on stucky discord shenanigans

[appocalipse]

hi amyyyy!! i just saw that your requests are open and i got sooo excited 🤭🤭 so if you're up for it i have a bucky request where maybe r is a little shy, sweet person and has been secretly pining after him ever since they both started living in the avengers compound, so she decides to cook dinner for him one night just to do something nice for him?? just a little fluff for our sad beautiful tragic super soldier

our man does deserve some loving 😭 thank you for your request, lovely! | 1.4k words

"What the hell are you doing to that poor tomato?"

You whirl around from the kitchen counter, heart leaping into your throat at the unexpected sound of Bucky's voice behind you. He's standing there with an arched eyebrow, broad shoulders barely fitting through the entryway to the kitchen in the Avengers Compound, dark hair damp and wavy from a recent shower. His metal arm gleams under the bright lights as he reaches up to push his hair back from his face. Oh, man.

You shoot him a stern look, heartbeat returning to normal, and raise your tomato-covered knife in mock threat. "Don't sneak up on me like that," you warn. "I could've cut myself."

"I didn't exactly sneak," Bucky protests. "The floor squeaks like crazy in here."

"But you move like a cat...maybe I should put a bell on you."

He grins at that, the flash of teeth so unexpected that it leaves you blinking for a moment, mesmerized by the way it lights up his whole face in a gentle way completely at odds with his hard-edged features. "You think you could put a bell on me?"

He probably didn't mean to make that sound as flirtatious as it came out, you decide. The man can't help it if he's naturally devastating.

"I could, you know," you maintain, recovering your equilibrium with effort. You're generally hopelessly enamored with Bucky Barnes, but you do have some self-respect and you intend to keep it that way. "If I wanted to. But right now, I'm fighting with this poor, defenseless tomato."

He takes this as an invitation (which it absolutely wasn't; your limbs seem to lose their ability to function when he gets too close to you, you've noticed) and strides over to peer at the cutting board like you're conducting a vitally important experiment. "Looks like it's losing," he comments. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Uh...no. No, I—actually, I was making something for you, but now I think you don't deserve it."

You take a step back from him and his broad shoulders before your brain can melt into a useless puddle.

He glances at you like you've grown a second head. "For me?"

"Yeah, I thought—well, I like cooking. And Steve told me that you used to really like his mom's spaghetti when you were kids, so I thought—what? What's that look for?"

Bucky's still staring at you like he's never seen you before. His eyes are very blue and very disarming. "I just didn't know you liked to cook."

"You, uh, you don't have to eat it or anything if—if you don't want to," you manage, unsure how to respond to this odd reaction other than with a dash of humor, which you tend to default to in awkward situations. "I won't be offended."

"I'm not saying I don't want it." He sounds genuinely taken aback. "Of course I want it, who wouldn't want it? I just...I didn't know you cared about what I liked."

You consider pointing out that you do, in fact, care very much about what he likes, given that you've been pining for him in your quiet, hopeless way ever since he joined the Avengers team and made every brain cell you own spontaneously combust...but that would beat the point of your silly, juvenile crush remaining a secret. "Well, there's lots of things you don't know about me," you joke instead.

"I'd like to know more," he says.

It sounds surprisingly earnest. You're not sure what to do with that.

"You're only saying that because I'm making you food," you tease, defaulting to the safety of flippancy yet again. If Bucky knew how thoroughly and embarrassingly you've lost your heart to him, things would get really awkward, really fast, and you'd be forced to quit your job and move to a cabin in the Alaskan wilderness to live in lonely solitude.

Bucky gives you a small (and, of course, unfairly disarming) smile and leans his hip against the counter, hands tucked in his pockets as he regards you from underneath a sweep of dark hair. "I'm serious."

Your nerves feel like they're vibrating. "I'm really not that interesting," you insist, quickly putting the chopped tomatoes into a pot on the stovetop. You've already got onions and garlic sauteing, adding to the scent of warm tomato paste that's slowly coming together. "You'd get bored of me really fast if we hung out."

"I doubt that."

Is it your imagination or is there a slightly suggestive undertone to his words? "Bucky—"

He shakes his head, as though to cut you off. "How can I help?"

You look at him blankly. He seems very tall, standing this close to you, and warm, and solid, and his eyes are bluer than the sky outside, and the smell of him—a clean, masculine scent with a hint of cedarwood—is making your thoughts get jumbled up and skip tracks.

"Do you want me to stir the sauce or something?" he asks patiently, not looking like he minds standing here staring at you while you drool over him. Maybe he's having fun, you think, under all that quiet solemnity.

You find your tongue. "Yes. I mean no, no, that's okay. You can sit down and relax."

"I don't really do relaxing."

"Everyone should do relaxing."

Bucky gives a small huff of amusement, something close to a laugh. You catch yourself before you can stare at him in gooey-eyed adoration and focus on stirring the sauce, which is just beginning to bubble in the pot, releasing a rich scent into the air.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be—to make you uncomfortable," Bucky says abruptly. "I'm not good at...small talk. Or conversation in general. It's been a while."

"Since you've talked to someone?"

"No, since I've tried to hit on someone."

Your eyes widen. Bucky seems amused at your reaction, although his expression is back to its usual quiet, watchful look, with only the tiniest glint of humor in his blue eyes giving him away.

You could be misreading it, though.

But you're pretty sure you're not misreading it.

"Doll, you're burning the sauce."

"Shit!"

You turn back to the stovetop and jerk the saucepan away from the burner. The bottom of the sauce is definitely sticking to the pot, charred and smelling smoky, a dramatic change from its formerly bright red, succulent state that it had been when you last checked it five minutes ago.

How long have you been standing here silently staring at the pot? "Dammit." You grab a spoon and try to scrape the charred sauce off the bottom of the pot, wincing at the scraping sound. "Dammit."

Bucky's quiet chuckle sends goosebumps over your skin. "Dammit?"

"This was supposed to be a nice gesture," you lament, looking forlornly at the ruined sauce. "I—"

He plucks the spoon from your hand with a deft twist of his metal fingers, his body so close to yours that you can feel the warmth radiating from him and smell the cedar scent of him again. "You're really adorable when you're flustered."

Your jaw drops. Bucky smiles at your expression, dipping the spoon into the pot of sauce to take a small taste, then reaching past you to add a dash of something from a bottle on the countertop.

"B-bucky, I didn't—what are you doing?"

He takes another spoonful of sauce and holds it up in front of your face, cupping his hand underneath the spoon so it doesn't drip onto the floor. "Here, taste."

"That's for you."

"Taste."

You reluctantly take a small taste, because it's spaghetti sauce and you have absolutely no willpower where Bucky Barnes is concerned. "I burned it."

"Only the bottom," he says, dropping the spoon into the sink with a clatter. When you blink at him, he lifts his shoulders in a shrug, suddenly looking almost shy. "I, uh, I've learned to cook a few things when I was in Wakanda."

"I kind of feel like my self-esteem just took a massive blow," you murmur. "I tried—what? What are you doing?"

Bucky has spun you around to face the stovetop again, standing behind you and reaching over your head to stir the sauce again. The solid warmth of his chest is pressed against your back, and you have to lock your knees so they don't give out on you. He's really, really tall. And warm. And smells amazing.

"Helping," he murmurs, ducking his head to (oh God oh God oh God) speak the word in your ear, his breath ruffling your hair.

Somehow, you feel like it's much more than that.

[fandomismylife]

I think my new favorite thing is Steve carbon copy Peter.

Like, obviously not in looks, but in morals and personality, they are almost exactly the same.

So imagine some sort of shit happens that results in Peter explaining why he became a hero so young, and he says something like

Peter: I never want to hurt anybody, but someone has to stop all the people who actually DO want to hurt others, and I have the abilities to. When bad things happen and you can stop them, but you don’t, it’s on you.

Bucky, internally: omg omg omg its little Steve all over again OH MY GOD-