#asgardian shenanigans

[mf-headcannontap]

MARVEL Headcannon #7:

It was basically confirmed in the Loki series that what passes as candy on Asgard was fruits and nuts. It can be implied that before coming to Earth, dessert for these two would be fruit tarts and fruit cake.

That being said, this is why Thor took such a strong liking to Pop Tarts and why the day the Avengers showed Loki sugar is one that must never be spoken of ever. Let's just say, a kid in a candystore was a more than apt description of what transpired, and there was a reason why Loki had such restricted access to grapes and nuts (and why when pretending to be Odin they indulged on these), a Chaos God on sugar is stuff of nightmares.

Also, Tony will forever be blamed for showing Loki chocolate. The day Loki discovered Chocolate Fountains was a day that still brings chills to those who remember having to separate Loki from it and wrangle the slippery, sugar high god.

[altrxisme]

❛ there’s nothing you can do to save them. ❜ (johanne)

&. 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

Her expression is neutral but storm blue eyes begrudgingly agree with his words. Still, the tense pull on her shoulders kept her from fully succumbing to the sentiment as the taut muscle on her jaw twitched for a brief moment. Johanne was never the type of person to stand by idly, even after she's given everything she can.

She took a step forward, kneeling beside the bodies laid out. Her head is bowed as she murmured in her native tongue, prayers and well wishes in their departure of this world. It's the least she could do for them.

[levans44]

Tipsy, smutty headcanons w/ cevans characters (pt. 1)

(aka: how steve and frank would fuck you after a few drinks)

Steve:

Steve’s never been one for PDA—nearly five months since you’ve started ‘going steady,’ but he’s still so polite about touching you, always keeping his hands to himself when you’re out together in public.

But all that changes with a few sips of Asgardian mead at an Avengers soirée, which gives him a high he hasn’t had the luxury of feeling since 1941.  

It’s that point in the night when the party’s starting to wind down—just a small circle of friends gathered around Tony’s living room, jostling about who’s worthy enough to lift Thor’s hammer.

You’re sat next to Steve on the far end of the couch, amused by the group’s shenanigans. You laugh along at all the right cues, chin in hand as you butt in with a witty comment here and there. Meanwhile, Steve can’t focus on anyone else but you, eyes zeroing in on your smile, the way those red lips stretch around the rim of your glass. The soft curves of your body under that little black dress as you cross your legs, leaning innocently into his side. 

With your attention still on the rest of the group, the alcohol encourages him to venture out a little. Careful fingers skim across the top of your knee, a quick brush of his calloused knuckles against your thigh. 

You miss it the first few times, but when his hand starts to inch closer and closer up the hem of your dress you turn to look at him, brows raised. You immediately notice the difference in his energy—eyes relaxed, head resting against the back of the couch as a lazy smile ghosts his soft lips. 

Steve, you okay? You murmur away from the group, head cocked to one side. 

Hmm? mmhm. He’s barely nodding, clearly distracted by something else. 

You frown, about to follow up, when a loud crash from the group makes you jump—Tony’s ingenious plans to lift the hammer using the suit had backfired (literally), the propulsion from his glove blasting him all the way across the room. 

The whole group starts groaning at the damage of the crash, and that’s when you feel Steve’s grip on your knee suddenly tighten. With everyone else distracted, he leans forward, hot breath teasing the shell of your ear as he whispers:

Can we go home?

You’re a little wide-eyed and breathless when it finally sinks in. One look at the way his tongue darts out to swipe at his bottom lip, his eyes shamelessly dragging down the outlines of your dress, and you’re shouting some incoherent excuse about an early morning to the rest of the group, grabbing his hand, and dragging his ass out of there.

He can’t keep his hands off of you in the back of the Uber, and as soon as the apartment door closes shut, he sleuths off all pretense of modesty, any sliver of chivalry he was holding onto at the party.

Steve, what’s gotten into you? Is this that stuff you were drinking at the party?

You’re laughing because he can’t seem to get you out of your dress fast enough, painfully hard beneath you as you run your fingers through his tussled hair, straddling him on the couch. 

Dunno. haven’t…  

He huffs out a breath, brows furrowed, pupils blown wide. 

…haven’t ffelt like this in a while. 

Hands dragging up and down your sides, his lips worship every inch of your body. And you’re pretty sure your heart stops beating the moment he leans up to your ear, murmuring oh-so-gently:

Want you to ride me. 

Please.

Brand fucking new, for Steve to voice his needs like that. You pull back, resting a hand against his chest, and he stares up at you like you’re the only person he’s ever known, completely exposed and defenseless. His heart thumps erratically under your fingertips—a reminder of his mortality, that he’s still just a man. Your man. 

You keep him underneath you all night, teasing mercilessly until he’s a groaning, panting mess underneath you—cheeks flushed, hips bucking, nails gripping at the upholstery. He can’t do anything but take it, head rolling against the back of the couch as you bounce up and down on his cock, grinding slow and hard, coming to a complete halt before speeding back up. 

And he’s grinning like an idiot the whole time. 

F-fuck, you feel… you feel so good, a-always so good. 

God, I love you.

He’s a stuttering mess when you finally let him come, a string of broken syllables that spell out your name. 

When he rushes up to kiss you, you grin against his mouth, closing a gentle hand around his neck. Your index finger slides over to his pulse point, just to the right of his Adam’s apple, tapping in time with the rhythm of a heart that only beats for you.

Frank:

Frank drinks when he’s pissed. And today’s just been… one of those days. Repair went south on a boat he’s been working on for weeks, and he was called into Mary’s school (for the third time this month) because she’d snuck her laptop in her bag and got into a fight over it at recess.  

He’s just dropped Mary off to stay at Roberta’s (after a lengthy conversation about ‘keeping that damn laptop at home’). On the drive back, he’s gripping the steering wheel hard enough to leave indents because all he can think about right now is you, you, you. 

He returns to an empty house, and it takes him a few bottles of liquid courage before he’s shakily looking up your name in his short list of contacts, texting you five simple words:

Can you come over tonight?

Like a dog to a whistle, you’re there in under 10. 

He yanks open the door after the first knock, his lips swallowing your soft greeting as he kisses you fiercely, wasting no time as he pulls you into his bedroom. 

Calloused hands drag down your hips, squeezing your ass before he slides your jeans off, pushing you onto the bed. Kissing his way up your neck, lips hovering over your jaw as heavy breaths warm up your skin.

Frank, you alright? W-what’s going on?

You slow him down, fingers grasping at the short hairs on his nape.

He nods against the crook of your neck, pulling back with a quiet sigh.

Yeah, m’fine, I just….

He’s never been great with words, but the familiar strain in his eyes tells you all you need to know. Cupping his face in both hands, you pull him back down, and his grateful lips respond to yours with fervor. His arm moves south, palm warm and heavy against your sex as he cups your mound. Drags his fingers against the wet patch on your panties until you’re arching into his touch and mewling against his mouth. 

He’s desperate too, practically throbbing by the time he hastily shucks his boxers down and reaches for a condom in the bedside drawer. His hands are shaking, unable to tear his eyes away from you—your naked form sprawled on top of his sheets, fingers drawing lazy circles over your clit as you smile up at him. 

And when he finally sinks into your heat, it’s the first time in days the noise in his brain goes silent.

He fills his mind, instead, with images of you. 

Your coquettish grin, delicate lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks as you blink up at him.

I’m all yours, baby.

Whatever you want.

You bring his hand up to your face, rubbing your cheek against his palm. Soft, pink lips mold around the tip of his thumb as you suck gently, circling your tongue over the tip, and it sends him over the edge. 

With one of your legs hooked over his shoulder, he drives into you, deep. Hits that one spot inside you that’s got your pretty eyes rolling into the back of your head.  

Fuck, yes. Right there, don’t stop.

Shit—m’not, not gonna last.

Let go for me, baby, I've got you.

He cums with a low groan, collapsing forward to bury his face in the crook of your neck as he bottoms out. When the aftershocks pass, you let him stay there for a while, fingers caressing the back of his neck while you listen to his breathing even out. 

He rolls off of you, mumbling a quiet apology, embarrassment etched into his brows as he lets out a low chuckle. 

Didn’t mean to jump you as soon as you got here.

Your chest heaves with laughter as you turn to the side, pink lips stretched into a wicked grin as you look at him dead in the eye.

Frank, never apologize for fucking me like that.

And despite everything that’s gone wrong that day, your words send butterflies to the pit of his stomach, making him blush like he’s a high schooler on prom night.

He’s only known you for a couple months now, and you’re a few years younger—vibrant and affectionate in ways that make him feel guilty on most days. And even though he’s asked to ‘keep things casual’ because ‘he’s not exactly in the best place to commit to a relationship,’ he knows from the light behind your eyes that it’s time. 

He asks you out for lunch the very next day.

author's note: gahh this was so fun to write and I hope you enjoyed! remember to drink responsibly kidz!!! If you do drink, reply&lmk what kind of drunk you are (handsy, loud, sad, etc) I’m trying to see something lol

also working on a pt.2 w/ ransom+andy but lmk if you'd like to see any other characters!

(update: read pt. 2 here!)

[insanityclause]

Over the past 13 years, Tom Hiddleston has died more times than he can recall. “Let me think about this,” the actor tells us, pausing to count in his head. “I think, officially, there were two big ones.” 

He’s referring to his many exits from the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the blockbuster franchise in which he’s played shape-shifting Norse god Loki Laufeyson since Kenneth Branagh’s 2011 film “Thor”—the son of Asgardians Odin (Anthony Hopkins) and Frigga (Rene Russo), and the half-sibling of Thor (Chris Hemsworth), the god of thunder. 

The character has since bounced between villain and reluctant antihero across five films, a handful of post-credits scenes, and Michael Waldron’s Disney+ spinoff series “Loki,” which Hiddleston also executive produces. The show wrapped its second—and supposedly final—season last November. The finale presents an end for the character, but not one of the aforementioned “big ones.” 

Hiddleston’s first “official” farewell came in Alan Taylor’s 2013 sequel “Thor: The Dark World,” which saw the god of mischief take a sword to the chest to save his beefy brother. “As written in the first script, it was a true sacrifice,” Hiddleston says. Unfortunately for Marvel’s long-term plans, the actor had done too good a job playing the trickster.

“When Marvel [executives] were testing the movie, they’d given [viewers] questionnaires that said, ‘Is there anything you didn’t understand?’ ” he remembers. “Literally every single audience member said, ‘Well, obviously, Loki’s not really dead.’ ” 

In classic comic-book fashion, the character did return, gallivanting alongside his brother in Taika Waititi’s 2017 follow-up “Thor: Ragnarok.” He died again one year later (“big one” number two) in the Russo brothers’  “Avengers: Infinity War.” There were no smokescreens or questionnaires this time; audiences watched as Loki’s neck was crushed by the purple fist of intergalactic warlord Thanos (Josh Brolin). 

Hiddleston remembers arriving in Atlanta to shoot his final scene and immediately bumping into Brolin. “He came up to me, gave me this huge hug, and said, ‘I’m so sorry, man.’ ” 

He meant it, too; everyone meant it. The sun, it seemed, had actually set on Hiddleston’s MCU journey. “At the end of that scene, I got a big round of applause, and everybody was so sweet and kind and gracious,” he says. “I got notes and emails saying, ‘Tom, you’ve done so much for us—what a journey. Come and see us anytime.’ I really thought that was the end.” 

And it was, for real, right up until it wasn’t—when the time-traveling shenanigans of 2019’s “Avengers: Endgame” blasted a younger version of Loki out of the established canon and into his own series. Over two seasons, the multiversal storyline envisions the title character as a figure who exists outside time and space. Across all there is, was, and may come to pass, there will always be a Loki, in some form, wreaking havoc. 

Hiddleston has long since accepted what this means for him as an actor. Maybe “Loki” Season 2 really was his last time in the role; or maybe he’ll play him until the sun burns out. “I’ve realized that, in human consciousness, that’s who Loki is,” he says. “Loki is this ancient, mythic character, who, in our collective mythology, represents the trickster, the transgressor, the boundary-crosser, the shape-shifter—somebody who’s mercurial and spontaneous and unpredictable who will always confound your expectations and wriggle out from underneath your certainties and convictions. Someone who we need and [who] is necessary.”

Hiddleston pauses, getting emotional. “Maybe Loki escaping death a couple of times is sort of an emblem of who he is in our culture,” he says, grinning at his own gusto. The actor has a habit of being self-deprecating about the depth of the character’s lore. “I spend a lot of time thinking about Loki. You can probably tell.”

You can tell, and it’s incredibly endearing. Talking to Hiddleston about Loki feels like discussing Shakespeare’s Richard III with Laurence Olivier or Tennessee Williams’ Blanche DuBois with Jessica Lange. They were actors who put their definitive stamps on those roles by returning to the well and constantly digging deeper. 

In conversation, Hiddleston is equally as likely to reference comic-book arcs as he is the ancient, anonymous Old Norse scribes of the “Poetic Edda” or Richard Wagner’s epic four-cycle opera “Der Ring des Nibelungen.” He speaks reverently of actors who embodied the trickster god before him, like Jim Carrey in Chuck Russell’s 1994 comedy “The Mask” and Alan Cumming in Lawrence Guterman’s 2005 sequel, “Son of the Mask.” He also heaps praise on those who played the part after him, such as his “Loki” costars Sophia Di Martino, Richard E. Grant, Deobia Oparei, and—in one very surreal Season 1 moment—“some alligator they found somewhere.” He cites legendary Marvel creators Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Walter Simonson alongside the likes of English essayist Walter Pater and Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw, who once wrote of life as a “splendid torch” to keep burning for those who follow.

“Loki is ‘a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment,’ ” Hiddleston quotes, “and I want to make it burn as brightly as I can before passing it on to future generations.” 

This level of study started before he even landed the role. He recalls the 24 hours leading up to his “Thor” audition, when he was 28 years old. After graduating from the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in 2005, he quickly earned small-screen and stage acclaim—but he hadn’t yet achieved a major breakthrough. When he received the script for “Thor,” it felt familiar. “I remember thinking, This is almost Shakespearean, this language,” Hiddleston says. “What’s the best example I can [look to] of an actor who managed to humanize and make real this elevated world of myth?” 

He found the answer in Christopher Reeve, who played the title role in Richard Donner’s 1978 blockbuster “Superman.” “He’s masterful in that film,” Hiddleston says. “In a way, it’s a similar premise: He’s a god or he’s a being from a different realm, and it’s not naturalistic in the way that we might expect. He does it so truthfully, and it’s so clear and clean and open and honest. I thought, If I can even approximate or get close to the kind of clarity that Christopher Reeve had in those films, I’ll be lucky.” 

And then, the morning of his “Thor” audition, Hiddleston went for a run, “which is my habit before doing anything unusual,” he explains. 

Running has remained a constant throughout the actor’s MCU tenure. At any given moment over the last decade, the god of mischief was likely doing laps around Marvel’s go-to shooting location, Pinewood Studios (now Trilith Studios) in Atlanta. “Life is movement; I really believe that,” Hiddleston says. 

“I find when I’m running or walking, the repetitive nature of it relaxes the mind and allows ideas and inspiration to come from a deeper place. I see my work as an actor—especially in preparation for a project or a scene—as almost preparing myself to be open and ready to receive ideas, to receive energy from other actors, to receive energy from my imagination.”

Hiddleston found the technique particularly helpful when he was filming a scene for the “Loki” series premiere that he calls “one of the most thrilling challenges I’ve ever had as an actor.” In it, Loki has been poached from the flow of time itself by the temporality-policing Time Variance Authority and forced to watch what is, essentially, a highlight reel of his entire MCU arc. It’s one of the most deeply existential moments you’ll ever find streaming alongside the likes of “Bluey” and the “Cars” movies. Here is a man watching the sum total of his life—his hopes, his dreams, his failures, his own death—play out in a 30-second clip that ends with the cold, clinical words: “End of file.”

“I just kept imagining: If you were afforded the opportunity or forced to watch your own death as a bystander, it would bring about an existential shock and crisis unlike any other,” Hiddleston explains. “It was a scene where I thought, I don’t have a reference for how to play this. I just have to allow shock, disgust, disgrace, shame, disbelief, acceptance, incredulity, and sorrow to exist in the center of me.” 

As an executive producer on the series, Hiddleston had a say as to which of Loki’s many misdeeds would play in the sequence. He chose clips like Frigga’s death in “Thor: The Dark World” and his father’s final words in “Thor: Ragnarok”—moments Hiddleston knew would most fill the character with regret. As production was preparing to shoot the scene, he asked first assistant director Richard Graves for a 20-minute warning.

 “I decided to jog around the stage and internalize as many of those memories of those people, those characters, those actors [as possible]—to try and find the center of my own vulnerability,” Hiddleston says. “Part of the joy of it was just going back to basics, trying to simplify this very complex thing…. Go for a jog, get into your body, allow yourself to be open, and just be there; just feel it.”

One “Loki”-like time jump later, Hiddleston found himself in a similar situation as he was preparing to shoot his final moment of Season 2—a scene that effectively caps Loki’s 13-year arc. Across 12 episodes, the show guided its title character toward a truly heroic end: With all of existence on the verge of collapse, he steps out of time to tie the strands of every reality together. As the credits roll, Loki sits at the center of time, holding in place all that is—alone. 

It’s a lot for any actor to internalize, especially one who’s performing solo in front of a blue screen. With 45 minutes to cameras rolling, episode co-director Aaron Moorhead made a suggestion. “He said to me, ‘Why don’t you go back, if you can bear it, and watch some of your work [over] the last 15 years?’ ” Hiddleston remembers. “ ‘Take it in, see what it means to you, and then carry it when you step out onto the stage.’ ” 

The actor took Moorhead’s advice to heart. And suddenly, without meaning to, he was mirroring the moment that started the series: absorbing the sum total of Loki’s MCU run. But this time, his regret had been replaced with gratitude. Hiddleston watched clips from “Thor,” remembering a time when he and Hemsworth had yet to ascend to the A-list. He recalled working with powerhouses like Hopkins and Russo, and the bonds he forged with the “original six Avengers” in 2011. He thought about how fun it was to film “Thor: Ragnarok” with Tessa Thompson and Jeff Goldblum, and of the more recent friendships he found with his “Loki” castmates Di Martino and Owen Wilson. 

“I thought, What Loki is doing, he is doing for his friends. And so, Tom, why don’t you do it for your friends?” Hiddleston says. “That’s where the two of us met in that moment. And then I was so grateful I had this most amazing crew, and we did it together.”

The actor is, of course, noncommittal as to whether this is actually the end of his MCU run. The franchise is scheduled out until at least 2027, and Hemsworth has mentioned his desire to make another “Thor” film. And if Loki’s past has proven anything, even the most official endings can be undone. 

Either way, it seems to Hiddleston that something significant has ended, even if it’s just Loki’s full-circle arc. “I hope it feels redemptive because his broken soul is partially healed; and you see that this character, who is capable of love, has made a decision from and for love,” he says. The actor cites the “beautiful prologue” of the first “Thor” film, in which Hopkins’ Odin tells his two sons: “Only one of you can ascend to the throne, but both of you were born to be kings.”

“At the end of Season 2, Loki is sitting on a kind of throne; but it’s not arrived in the shape he expected, and there’s no glory in it,” Hiddleston explains. “There’s a kind of burden, and he’s alone. He’s doing it for his friends, but he has to stay there without them. There’s a poetic melancholy there which I found very moving.”

For now, Hiddleston “can’t even conceive” of his life without Loki. He only hopes that he’s lived up to his guiding ethos as an actor, which he sums up with a plea from E.M. Forster’s 1910 novel “Howards End”: “Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height.”

“The feedback loop for actors is that we get to inhabit a fiction,” Hiddleston says. “But hopefully, that fiction bears the shape of a truth that we recognize about life—that what we do reflects the ups and downs, the peaks and troughs, and the breadth and profundity of all of our lives.”

Hiddleston exists in that space between fiction and reality, the work and the resulting art, the prose and the passion. Long after we’ve moved on from our interview and started casually discussing the cherry blossoms blooming in New York, his eyes light up. He’s made another connection, remembered one more thing—just one last thing he’d like to impart about Loki. 

He spends a lot of time thinking about Loki. You can probably tell.

“I’m so aware that the reason I’ve been able to play him for so long is because of the audience’s curiosity and passion,” Hiddleston says. “I’ve been delighted to find that for a character of such stature, he’s remarkably human. Many of the characteristics that people connect to in Loki are deeply human feelings. That’s been the pleasure, is infusing this elevated character with humanity.”

Even then, honestly, it feels as if Hiddleston, like Loki, could go on forever. Unfortunately, outside of the MCU, time moves in only one direction. Once again, he has to run.

This story originally appeared in the June 6 issue of Backstage Magazine. Subscribe to In the Envelope: The Actor's Podcast to hear our full conversation with Hiddleston (out 6/6). 

[xenocorner]

Here's a small batch of very old rough wips that never made it past the sketch phase :') ft some of my Asgardian Stephen shenanigans-

[infinitystoner]

An Interesting Theory

Masterlist

Summary: In which you teach Loki about a Midgardian party trick but learn it’s not so easy to one up the God of Mischief. Pairing: Loki x GN!Reader Word count: 1.1K Tags/Content: Mentions of Alcohol, Sexual Tension, Shenanigans, Flirting, Fluff Author’s note: For the darling @lunarnights95, inspired by this prompt.

“What a week, huh?” Bruce removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes as he leaned over the bar. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Steve. But this has been a lot.” 

“Well, to his credit, it’s not every day you turn 105,” you quipped, popping a maraschino cherry in your mouth as you spun on your stool, studying the dwindling party. It was the last unofficial fete tacked on to the end of a week full of jubilant celebrations for the Captain. You and the rest of the team had barely gotten a moment’s rest until now. 

Twenty or so people were still gathered in the sunken lounge area of Tony’s penthouse, overlooking the glittering expanse of Manhattan. Most partygoers had taken their leave as the commemorative fireworks over the East River came to an end – now only the Avengers and a few S.H.I.E.L.D. agents remained. 

Your eyes swept around the room and landed on Thor and Steve. They stood together behind the sofas, arms crossed and gazes fixed on Tony as he attempted to lift Mjölnir from the coffee table. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes – the three of them seemed to be locked in a never-ending pissing contest. Raucous laughter filled the room as Tony let out a string of curses, his face twisted in concentration, muscles bulging as he put forth all his strength. Usually, Loki would be whispering a witty comment or snide remark in your ear regarding the situation, but he was nowhere to be found. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for hours.

The thought lingered in your mind for only a moment before a piercing pop! sent your heart into overdrive. Just as you prepared yourself for fight mode, you realized Sam had accidentally stepped on one of the balloons littering the floor as he navigated an elderly man through the space. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Bruce sighed, wiping up the beer he’d tipped over in shock.

“Got ‘em!” the old man exclaimed as he passed by, casting you a devilish wink that made him suddenly appear years younger. What a handful he must’ve been back in his day, you thought. Hell, considering the trouble he kept giving Sam, he still was. 

“Sorry, sorry!” the Falcon laughed as he tightened his grip on the bumbling veteran. “He just had to try some of that damn magic mead.”

You let out a chuckle before turning your attention back to Bruce. You were about to ask for a refill when you sensed an omnipotent presence beside you: Loki, leaning casually against the bar, his signature smirk on his lips, eyes sparking with amusement as he watched an exasperated Sam wrangle the old codger onto the elevator. 

“Well, well,” he mused, dipping his head in greeting as he settled on the stool next to you. “At least someone at this soiree seems worthy of Asgardian revelry.” 

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’ve gotten into the mead, too,” you teased. 

He lifted an eyebrow, the hint of a grin still playing at the corner of his mouth. “Me, let my guard down in the presence of these mortals? Perish the thought,” he scoffed, but you could see a glint of mischief in his gaze as he glanced over your shoulder. “I’m just here for the entertainment.”

You turned, noting that Tony had finally given up his quest to lift that damn hammer. Shaking your head, you popped another cherry in your mouth. “I’m afraid you missed out on quite a show.”

“Ah, yes. The ever-present contest of ego.” Loki puffed out a laugh. “But that’s hardly what I meant, darling.” 

His knee brushed against yours as he turned towards you, your heart thumping wildly against your chest as his hand lingered on your leg. Loki leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your cheek. 

“You know, no one has ever made such a fuss over my or Thor’s birthday,” he continued, feigning a pout. “And we’re centuries older than Rogers.”

“Only the best for America’s sweetheart,” you commented, trying to maintain some sense of composure as Loki’s thumb began to stroke your inner thigh. The thrill of his touch sent goosebumps along your skin. “Besides, I thought you said you didn’t celebrate birthdays?”

“We don’t.” His eyes sparkled. “It doesn’t mean we wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment.”

“Last call,” Bruce interrupted, refilling your drink before popping the top off a fresh bottle of beer for himself. “Can I get you anything, Loki?” 

“No, thank you, Banner,” he replied, never breaking eye contact with you as he took a sip from a glass of wine that you could’ve sworn didn’t exist moments before. You ignored the look Bruce cast in your direction before exiting the bar. 

“What is this?” Loki asked curiously, setting down his goblet and picking up one of the cherry stems you’d crafted into a knot. 

“Oh, that? It’s just a party trick. They say if you can tie a cherry stem with your tongue, it means you’re a good kisser.”

Loki quirked a brow. Something about the way he looked at you made you feel like you were the only person in the room – in the realm, even. “Tell me, have you found this to be true?”

“Well, I’ve never gotten any complaints,” you laughed, a heat creeping across your cheeks as Loki’s thumb traced circles along your knee. “But come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone else who can do it.” 

Loki held the knot between his thumb and forefinger, studying it for a moment before he spoke again. “What an interesting theory...” 

You watched in awe as he delicately plucked two stems from the bowl of cherries, bringing them to his lips with a sly grin. Your breath caught in your throat as you silently observed the seductive way his strong jaw moved, the muscles below his cheek flexing with perfect precision. 

After a few moments, Loki parted his lips, slowly revealing a perfect little bow. He placed the twisted stems on the bar, turning to look at you with an air of satisfaction.

“Shall we put your theory to the test, then?” 

The suggestive tone in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, the heat in your cheeks spreading throughout your entire body. As you opened your mouth to respond, Loki leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. The sweet taste of wine lingering on his tongue was almost too much to bear, and you found yourself melting into him.

The kiss was soft yet electric, sending waves of pleasure through your body and leaving you breathless. When you finally parted, Loki snickered, quite pleased with himself. 

“I do love to be right,” he purred, his lips brushing against your ear as he took your hand and guided you away from the bar. “But I think some further experimentation might be necessary to confirm our hypothesis.”

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[no-gorms]

Omega Tony Stark getting baby fever later in life (at a similar time to Canon!Tony I guess so mid to late 40’s and let’s pretend there was no CW and the team is still all friends together*). And he never wanted kids before, in fact the very idea made him shudder! (à la IM3). Plus he resent the stereotype of “baby crazy omega” being foisted on him in his youth and fought HARD against it until the public all agreed with him, thank god Tony Stark never had kids.

but then he starts interacting with Peter and he’s getting more into mentoring and he’s been having these dreams of little babies with his eyes…

And like, he knows his body has been thru the wringer even BEFORE the reactor and he hasn’t been gentle since. And he’s been single for years now so it’s not like he has a partner to help him get the job done…

So good thing he has a team! And what luck, he’s besties with some demi-gods and super soldiers and wizards, at least one of them should help cheat biology a bit. And miraculously he’s still getting heats! Inconsistent ones yeah but still, doesn’t hurt to try! better get a move on, the biological clock is ticking!!!

And so he calls a team meeting and asks very sweetly for any volunteers, and Alphas or Beta’s for something like a sperm donor, but if they wanna be part of the little nugget’s life Tony is down with that! Be it cool uncle or full co-parent it’s all gravy. And speaking of gravy

(Yes Tony swung this hypothetical talk by HR and they “highly recommended against it but it isn’t technically illegal…” (thanks to archaic omega laws) so he took that go ahead and ran)

And wouldn’t you know it? Ever since Steve told Tony about his parents and Bucky and some…heated disagreements about the team and politics there’s been some polite distance between them. And during this distance Steve of course realized he had feeling for Tony (king of waiting to long over here) and has been pining every since…

…so maybe that’s why Steve stands up and essentially, loudly, volunteers as tribute, talking loudly over like say Thor who was clearly about to also agree.

Does Tony accept this outright or does shenanigans happen where like, Thor challenges Steve to some kind of contest for the privilege. Or that Tony was gonna leave it up to people to donate anonymously or something but Steve just jumped in feet first

What happens next? Do they try turkey baster style first or is it a known fact in the Omegaverse that the “old fashioned way” is the most effective (blah blah special pheromones thru touch/heat/ancient breeding magic blah blah). Does Steve wanna go full co-parent? Do they start dating DURING the “attempts”? While Tony is preggers?? After the baby gets here???

(preggers!Tony fretting about what to wear on their first date while just SO VERY pregnant is hilarious to me.)

*Or if you wanna go full angst CW DOES happen but the team was able to come together and defeat Thanos and now they are technically all together and friends again but there are ~*~tensions~*~ and (TヘT) ���distance~*~ + pining

---

Lol well that's a fun scenario! I don't think Thor would challenge Steve for the honour, but he might see the determined glint in Steve's eye and think to himself, ah what fun! And make a show of trying to convince Tony that he's a better prospect than Steve, arguing about Asgardian genes and the ease of the pregnancies in Thor's family, meanwhile Steve is getting redder and redder in the face, but anyway Tony's like, actually I don't want my kid to suddenly start levitating or whatever magic nonsense you guys get up to, so Steve it is!

Steve would probably suggest the turkey baster (lol) insemination for Tony's ease but it doesn't take and Tony gets anxious because of super soldier swimmers are struggling with Tony's slightly(!) aging self then he might really have a problem so ANYWAY would Steve be up for going the traditional way?

Yes. Yes, Steve would. Anyway it's the best sex Tony's had in his life and he's just like, okay, what was that. Maybe... they can go again just to make sure. A third time, just to be REALLY sure. Then oh he's pregnant so. uh..... that's good. Good job, Steve. Thnx~

But intimacy is what it is and the spectacular sex may have addled Tony's brain because he's totally fine with Steve fussing around him, and asking very politely if he can be part of the child's life and will Tony allow him to take care of Tony during this time? With foot rubs and making drinks for him and fetching hot water bottles and calming Tony down whenever Tony has an attack of the doubts, and so on?

Then Steve is so focused on giving Tony everything he wants and anticipating his every need to make sure the pregnancy goes as smooth as possible, that he misses that Tony is having a slowly-unraveling meltdown under Steve's glorious attention.

I see your possible date while Tony is heavily pregnant, but also I think it would be hilarious if Tony is so determined not to lose focus on the baby, because his priorities have to change with this gift he is bringing into the world and there's no energy left over to do something about developing feelings for Steve (never mind that Tony is king as multitasking)...

But at the very last minute when Steve has sent Tony to the hospital and they're prepping for Tony's c-section, and Tony has another flash of fear for the soon-changing future, and grabs Steve for a big ol' smooch. Steve is shocked, but smooches back. Then Tony gets rolled out to the OR.

[anika-ann]

Seven Minutes (S.R.)

Type: TWO-SHOT, independent, canon-ish

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 8700

Summary: You’re not obliged to go to that party, but you go because it’s a rare occasion during which most of your fellow Avengers meet and have some fun together. Until someone suggests a stupid teenage game. Until you and Steve end up locked in a closet together and things take a turn you couldn’t have possibly predicted.

Maybe you should have. Whenever Tony or – god forbid – Loki gets involved, it’s bound to end up in a disaster. Only this time, the victim of the shenanigans might be your heart.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, NSFW, (unprotected sex, fingering, glimpses of size kink and praise kink, soft hints of D/s, mirrors, possessiveness;), alcohol, a drop of angst, language (a lot)

A/N: written for @jtargaryen18 Halloween challenge. Prompt in the final notes. I toyed with it so much that it might have been cheating 😅 dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕

Part 1: Seven Minutes in Hell

“I thought about how there are two types of secrets: the kind you want to keep in, and the kind you don't dare to let out.” ― Ally Carter, Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover

The party had died down; or as Tony said, only the fittest had survived. Banner, drunk on Asgardian liquor, let out a sensible chuckle at the words and fell asleep as he was, sprawled over one of the couches in the communal area, which looked more like a war zone than an aftermath of a giant party.

It wasn’t the mess of empty bottles and glasses and cushions having been thrown around at some point. It was the skeletons. The fake blood. The few smashed pumpkins, literally beaten to a pulp. Luckily, the one single torn-off arm which some idiot had smuggled in despite the strict ban on those, based on the fact that at least half of the guests suffered some form of a PTSD, had been kicked under the bar and covered by a cloth as soon as you had found it. Tony, despite already finding himself in a drunken haze, agreed to kick the asshole who had brought it out. Steve had shot you a grateful look when you had asked Tony to do so. Bucky – thankfully – never learned about the tasteless joke ever taking place.

Unlike the space, the Avengers had an aura of comfort around them. Lying around, some chatting sleepily, chuckling every now and then, some talking animatedly with a few friendly nudges under the ribs, they lounged in the area and welcomed the 1 a.m. announcement by Friday with relative grace.

Except for Tony, who booed and proceeded to glare at every single conscious Avenger present, one by one; Natasha and Clint comfortable on one couch, Steve and you on the other, Thor filling out a huge armchair, Rhodey looking a bit small in the other in comparison, Wanda practically lying in a lounge pug with Vision hovering by her like a guard, Helen and Maria crossed legged on tiny tabourets, Sam and Bucky, having been fighting each for their space on the couch, now sitting carelessly with Bucky’s feet against Sam’s thigh. And then there was Loki, spinning slowly in his egg chair he had charmed up and kept up in the air with his magic, Pepper having reluctantly sat down in the other which Loki had graciously made for her with a snap of his fingers.

“Seriously, guys! Just… boooo! This party is dying! We need to shake things up!” he called out theatrically, standing in the middle of the Sleepy Hollow with judgement written all over his face. Then, he lowered his voice, a wicked smile twisting his lips. “Do you wanna play a game? I do.”

At least four distinct snorts sounded around the group at his poor impression.

“Really, Tones?” Natasha questioned, probably referring to both his acting skills and the suggestion.

“I do want to play a game. It’s called let’s go to bed,” Bucky groaned, rolling his shoulders and throwing his feet back to the ground, startling Sam in the process.

“The night is still young, Barnes,” Clint huffed despite his eyelids barely staying open as he kept twisting a rubber imitation of femur between his fingers. “You sound like an old man.”

“Oh? That coming from you really says something,” Sam pointed out, a good-natured smile curling his lips; at the same time, Tony hummed: “Or a kinky one.”

“I must say I agree with Stark this once,” Thor boomed, nodding thoughtfully as several voices groaned at the gleeful grin lighting Tony’s face. “There seems to be a lull to these revels and it is indeed too soon to retire to bed. The sun has not even risen yet!”

A single clap of hands and Tony was gesturing towards Thor. “See! The Asgardian agrees with me. I must be right.”

“I bet he’s already regretting his words,” Steve noted, drawing a small chuckle from you.

In all honesty, you would be inclined to agree with Bucky on this one. Going to bed sounded heavenly, but there was one huge disadvantage to bed compared to the Sleeping Beauty Castle the Halloween party had turned into: the company wasn’t nearly as good. You weren’t greedy – you wouldn’t need all the Avengers present to come cuddle you in bed. Just one would do. The one whose thigh occasionally brushed yours as you talked about anything and everything, all kind smiles and a slightly tipsy spark in his gorgeous blue eyes which were complimented by the treacherous midnight shade of his one-size-too-small shirt.

“Now, now, Captain. The other Asgardian agrees too,” Loki’s voice slowly sneaked in, something in his tone causing your heart to skip a startled and yet excited beat.

Loki was… a friend. After trying hard for redemption, he had begun to join the Avengers business on occasion, his magic always proving to be of enormous help. His humour was a little wicked and twisted, but his heart was not nearly as dark as people had believed – or even he himself had. You sensed Steve’s wariness towards him still and understood his reasons; and secretly, you revelled in the worry Steve expressed whenever you spent time with Loki, which the golden-hearted captain feared you did so with a little too much trust.

The only reason why you wouldn’t throw it back to Steve’s face that he was questioning your judgement was the fact he had admitted he did actually not do that, ever – but simply cared for your safety – and that fact that he attempted to be as respectful about it as possible. That and the heartwarming knowledge that he thought of you, one way or the other. Maybe him being the person who was giving out the gentlest hugs could have played a role as well. Or perhaps even that you had – like a silly, silly girl – fallen for him long time ago and would let him not only get away with murder at this point, but probably also ask him if he needed any help to hide the body. Because you’d either believe him it was for a good reason that he had committed the crime, his moral compass just about perfect, or simply because he deserved the most loyal friends and loved ones he could get.

The sudden heavy thud snapped you back to present, causing you to jump in your seat. Steve’s warm hand covered yours in an instant, gaze trailing to you to make sure you were alright. As he gently squeezed your hand, you glanced at him and shot him a grateful smile.

He let go as soon as your gaze returned to the source of the noise: a large closet now standing a few feet from the seating area.

“How about this?” Loki suggested, calmly beckoning to the piece of furniture having just appeared out of this air.

“Do you… want to play Seven Minutes in Heaven?” Wanda, suddenly wide awake at the stronger present of magic, questioned.

“Why not? I was under the impression Midgardians enjoyed this game during a party.”

“What are we, thirteen?” Sam asked, eyebrows creased sceptically.

“…going on thirty? Good movie,” Clint hummed, his grin showing pride at his reference.

“Ew, no-“

“Do you even know what Seven Minutes in Heaven is about?” Natasha asked, her expression intrigued; you had no doubt her mind had already begun to race as she tried to decipher the trickster’s motivations.

“Yes. I am quite pleased by the concept. If we play, perhaps I will be lucky enough to spend some private time with lovely Lady Speedy.”

Your eyebrows shot up as your gaze found Loki’s, a provocative smirk twisting his mouth. Interesting. Maybe even intriguing. Except it was not; at least not for the reason one might think. Loki was not at all interested in you. If he had, you would have known without a shadow of doubt. He wasn’t one for subtlety; if he had had an eye on someone, he would make sure to court them, persistently so. Or perhaps he would simply take.

No, Loki had not spent time thinking of you, much like you hadn’t spent time thinking about him.

There was only one Avenger whose company and love you longed for and had for the longest time – and you wouldn’t be surprised if Loki knew. What you hoped he had no idea about was the fact that you could have had it, once.

You could have had Steve, but you had mucked it up, too shocked to yes when he had asked. It had felt too fast, too surreal to be even happening – Steve Rogers asking you out for a cup of coffee – too good to be true.

Naturally, in a very Steve Rogers fashion, he had been too polite to disrespect your decision or let it negatively impact your blooming friendship back then; he had not made a single attempt to ask you out again since. In return, you had been too embarrassed to explain yourself – to explain that you felt like the luckiest girl on Earth, if not in the universe, that you would have jumped at the chance if he as much as hinted he was still interested – and in a very mature way, you never mentioned it again.

That was fine. You and Steve had become friends. Perhaps even good enough friends to mention it as an awkward memory; and only that, because you doubted that he was still carrying a torch for you. He had even briefly dated with Sharon Carter after the incident; he clearly moved on, because there was nothing to move on from. You had barely known each other back then. It wasn’t like you broke his heart or something. You just decided mess up what could have been a beautiful relationship.

Instead, you had a comfortable caring friendship. That counted as a win, yes?

And if you ended up in a closet with him for seven minutes now, you would, once again, acted like mature adults and… hug or something, yes? You would not give in into some stupid game and kiss him just because you’d have an excuse to do so. You would not be tempted to--- no. You respected Steve too much for that. You would never make anything to make him uncomfortable; if you had, you would not only not deserve to call yourself his friend, but even a decent human being.

And you were not thirteen anymore. You knew better. The awkwardness would not be worth it; the rejection would not be worth it. Losing the gift of Steve’s friendship would most definitely not be worth a few seconds of Heaven, of testing whether his lips were be as soft and gentle as you thought, if they tasted like you dreamed of. Knowing whether he would respond, whether he would kiss you, whether maybe, just maybe, there could be the faintest traces of seeing you differently than a friend and colleague.

No, the stakes were be too high.

“Hm… I think we should play,” Natasha said, earning at least five shocked stares, including yours.

“What?!”

“We should definitely not,” Steve protested, leaning forward with a very displeased frown, his eyes burning as he glared murderously at Natasha for entertaining the trickster’s whim.

“I mean… why not, after all? Two people in a closet, in cramped space? What is not to enjoy?” Bucky added, clearly changing his mind about going to bed. He was next at the receiving end of Steve’s disapproval.

“Ask a claustrophobic, I’m sure they’d come up with a reason or two,” you hummed, earning a sardonic ha ha from the dark-haired supersoldier.

“I mean… who knows. Could be magical,” Tony wiggles eyebrows.

“Are we back to 13 going to 30?”

Wanda, Pepper, Maria and Sam said NO with impressive coordination.

“I must say I am intrigued as I cannot quite see the appeal. It would be an enriching experience for me to understand. What is the worst that can happen?” Vision questioned.

“You did not just ask that,” Sam complained.

“Please tell me it’s just a closet and not some sort of a portal to Narnia?” Pepper chimed in, Loki’s smile surprisingly pleasant as he turned to her.

“It is simply a closet, my dear Lady Potts.”

“I don’t know, you guys, it still sounds like a pretty bad idea,” you chuckled nervously as you felt the air shift towards agreement to participate in this ridiculous game.

“Seconded,” Steve grunted by your side – but it was too late.

“Too bad, I’m getting an empty bottle,” Tony blurted out as he practically sprang after the nearest bottle indeed.

It was the perfect opportunity to walk away; it was the last chance to get out.

You didn’t.

Perhaps you didn’t want to look like a coward. Maybe you didn’t want to be a party pooper. You guessed you hoped they would scrape the idea after one round, because they would realize the game was lame and boring. Maybe, just maybe, a little part of you wondered if something interesting would come out of it – and you didn’t want to miss it.

Those were the things running through your head when you walked side by side with Steve, cursing the universe or some sort of physics cheat Tony had pulled or maybe Loki’s magic. Because of course it happened. Of course, the bottle pointed at you – and then on Steve.  

Could have been worse, you reasoned with yourself. Could have been… yeah you didn’t know who. Bruce who might turn in to the Hulk while in there was asleep, so he never was an option.But it was too late to back out now.

Steve, ever the gentleman, let you walk in first, offering a hand, a gentle smile on his face as he rolled his eyes at your friends being children. You squeezed his hand and smiled back, grateful – and calm.

Yes, being with Steve in such tight space with the knowledge what the game was about sent a few tempting thoughts into your head – but you’d be fine. You’d just chat, privately; you had done that countless times before, late night talks and maybe even your head resting on his shoulder when you got too sleepy to sit straight. You’d be fine.

Steve climbed up after you so you stood face to face, flashing you one last comforting smile. And then Tony closed the door behind you, leaving you in utter darkness.

Your first thought was that the inside of the closet was a lot smaller than it had appeared from the outside.

Your second thought was that perhaps that was not the fault of the closet or your eyes; the sheer width of Steve’s shoulders and other proportions of his body which had starred in too many of your dirty dreams and innocent fantasies alike were to blame instead.

Your third thought was that the air was becoming a little too hot and heavy to breathe a little too fast and that you weren’t certain you could last seven full minutes in this space where it felt you might as well already be wrapped in Steve’s arms. The subtle tones of his woodsy cologne, the heat radiating off his skin, the faintest light peeking through the door reflecting in his slightly ruffled hair and in his eyes, caressing his features the very way you always wished.  

Your fourth thought was, incidentally, less of a thought and more of an emotion – a red hot one at that. The flash of anger that ripped through you honestly took you by surprise, and hit you too hard to be ignored.

Because this was stupid.

This game was the stupidest thing possible that your friends could come up with. Steve was entirely stupid with his brilliance and courage and care and morality and outrageous handsomeness and most of all with giving you hope once that you could be good enough for him, that there was a glitch in the universe large enough that would somehow made the two of a potential couple. And you, oh you. You were the most stupidest of it all. To allow yourself to hope as well. To not let go of that fleeting seconds when the light of Steve Rogers was in your reach and you stood there like a dumbass without grabbing it, never speaking of it again then and yet still carrying a torch for him for two idiotic years.

Maybe if one of those things had been different – most likely of all, you – you could have been making out now. Maybe, you would feel his gentle touch in these shadows; or maybe hungry touch even. Maybe, because your friends were nosy assholes and drama queens, they would have banned you from participating in this in fear that they would have to disinfect the closet after you got full seven minutes in here.

Instead, all you had was a tentative brush of Steve’s hand to your elbow and the kind rumble of his voice, laced with worry.

“Hey, Shines. Are you okay?”

Ah yes. Another maddening thing: Steve’s sweet nickname for you. Where others called you Speedy – because of how quickly you had finished the intelligence test and made your way up in the Initiative – Steve had expressed his distaste in the nickname because just around the same time, he had learned about the modern term “speed”. Apparently, he did not like the idea of calling you something that reminded him of amphetamines. So instead, he had once admitted, he converted it in his head to the speed of light. And so Shines had been born.

The affection he sometimes spoke the single word with – the affection you longed for and mostly only imagined – was perhaps even more idiotic than your lack of reaction to his slightly shy advance two years ago.

For someone with your IQ score, you really were surrounded by stupidity and radiated it generously yourself.

The chuckle that escaped you tasted bitter on your tongue. “Why, sure. You?”

Even with the limited amount of light, you could see Steve’s searching gaze clearly. You could practically hear his mind whirling, wondering where the sudden ire had come from.

In an instant, you felt bad for snapping. Your trouble and your insecurities nor your anger at yourself were something he deserved to bear consequences for.

“I’m… fine,” he said after a while, kinder than you would have in his place. “Is there anything I can do to make the ‘sure’ better?”

Yeah, you thought. There were quite a lot of things; either put his mouth on yours – or elsewhere on your body, you weren’t picky – or maybe stop being so damn good of a person and being so damn loveable all the time when he didn’t mean anything beyond friendship by his behaviour.

You swallowed the once again bitter note and charmed a smile, your hand covering the back of his, still softly resting on your elbow.

“No. But thank you. I’m… sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he replied, eyes still searching. And soft. So annoyingly soft and caring.

You lowered your gaze and gulped, not finding it in yourself to respond. What could you even say to that?

The problem with Steve was that even if you weren’t looking at him, you could still feel him looking at you. At rare times, it felt like a punch, if he got truly angry with you – when you did something he considered stupid and dangerous as if you hadn’t been quite inspired by his own bravery – but at other times, like this, it felt like a fluffy blanket and a warm cup of tea pressed to your hands when the blues came knocking on your door.

No words were spoken for a long minute. And then, like you should have known they would, Steve’s arms carefully pulled you to his chest and wrapped you in a hug which felt just like his gaze a moment ago; except this feeling was real. He sucked up all your anger and frustration you into his chest with ease, breathed in once, then twice and unlike you, he simply let it go, allowing you to soak in his affection instead. 

You could cry at the sweet gesture. Sweet, sweet Steve: deadly force, righteous passion, beautiful soul and infinite kindness locked in a body of a gentle giant.

“Thank you,” you muttered into his shirt and you could hear the smile in his voice when he responded, arms tightening just a fraction.

“Any time.”

You felt your lips curl up in a smile too, allowing yourself to bask in the goodness he was. Strong embrace, but kind. Almost too hot to touch, like a sun, but somehow still feeling like sunshine instead. Lips soft as they touched your hairline, fingers gently running through the length of your hair-

You stiffened. It felt too good; it felt like what you wanted but didn’t actually have. Steve Rogers did not kiss you; not your cheek, not your lips, not your forehead or the crown of your head.

Or at least he never had before.

“Steve?”

His smile was a little bashful as he retreated, his hand sliding down your hair, holding your chin in gentle hold you could easily escape should you want to. But you didn’t. Why would you when his thumb caressed your cheek, eyes firmly holding your gaze even as his smile was slightly shaky?

You didn’t dare to stop whatever this was; because this was what you wanted. Whether this was Steve giving into the game only or anything else, you’d take it. Because you didn’t start it, you didn’t force him into something you wanted. He initiated it; he held you as if you were something precious all on his own. If this behaviour expired in a few minutes, well. At least you would have a sweet memory to cherish, wouldn’t you?

“I’ve been thinking of you.”

Your eyes must have been wide – even ridiculously so – at the admission, your heart like a thunder in your chest and in your ears. You… certainly you must have misheard. You must have misinterpreted what he was trying to say. That was not right. Was it?

“…you have?”

His smile widened, eyes full of good-natured amusement. “I’m always thinking of you, Shines. I’m honestly surprised I’m keeping it so subtle that you are this shocked by the revelation.”

You licked your suddenly dry lips. You must have breathed in something. You had too much to drink. Tony sneaked some edibles into the refreshments – yes, that had to be it.

But then the even more rational part of your brain chimed in: you could never dream up something as detailed. And Steve would have been immune to the drugs. He hadn’t drunk too much of the Asgardian liquor from Thor’s flask either.

You were both perfectly sober at this moment – as insane and surreal as it felt. Did Steve really…? You swallowed the slightly hysterical giggle trying to claw its way up your throat.

“You wouldn’t… you wouldn’t make fun of this, would you?”

Steve’s eyes grew serious even as they remained kind.

“No. I wouldn’t,” he assured you, the slightest hint of offence in his tone. “You’re just… you’re everywhere. I try to focus on work, but you’re always on my mind. That smile, those pretty eyes. This… this drive and passion you have and turn it into hard and good work and kindness. Those gorgeous, gorgeous lips…”

You licked again them on instinct, not missing the fact that Steve’s gaze flickered down at the motion.

No way. No way.

You had hit your head. This was a fever dream, this… this was all you wanted and needed, it couldn’t possibly become true all of sudden. Right?

But if this was a fever dream, you might as well enjoy it. If it was reality, even the better. Because Steve Rogers was serious in matters of heart – he was most definitely not pranking you. So if he was saying he had been thinking about you, you had no reason to doubt him.

There rarely ever was a reason to doubt Steve Rogers.

“I… I think about you too,” you reluctantly admitted, his lips suddenly so, so close you could feel his breath when he spoke only one word in response.

“Good.”

The first touch to your lips was nothing but tentative; nothing but temptation and yet everything you could ever want. His hand cradled your face like precious porcelain and his kiss was like one of an artist asking his muse to allow him into her favour. Warm and soft; his lips were as soft and gentle as you had always thought they would be. The tender brush of his fingertips to your face however made your first kiss all the sweeter, as did his smile and the sparkle in his eyes when he released your lips. The giddy feeling burst inside your chest with intensity you couldn’t possibly contain.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m gonna have to agree with good,” you whispered; and before you could feel silly, Steve’s low chuckle echoed in the limited space, his thumb tapping your lips.

“Yeah.”

That was the only warning you received before his mouth were back on yours, letting you taste that smile of his; his arms, still around your waist, pulled you closer against the hard planes of his chest, the sensation reminding you that you could in fact too do more than simply lay your hand on him. He appreciated your initiative with a content hum, the vibration against your lips sending pleasant shivers down your spine and into your belly. When he deepened the kiss, his touch on you growing firmer, angling your head to his liking, you felt like you could melt from the inside, all nerves on the most beautiful fire.

Your startled sound when your back bumped into the wall of the closet drowned in Steve’s mouth, your parted lips but an invitation for him. The sensations were quick to rise into your head like a heady wine and suddenly only seven minutes in whichever alternate reality you felt as if you had entered seemed unfairly short. Your fingers flexed in the material of Steve’s shirt, his large palm sliding to your hip and squeezing. His hips rocked ever so slightly against yours and the semi-hard bulge pressing against your core had you whimper his name just as his lips moved to your jaw.

“Love hearing my name like this from your lips, Shines,” he whispered like a secret into your skin, teeth grazing your sensitive flesh and nearly causing your knees to buckle. I’ll say it as much as you want, you wanted to say, the words stuck in your throat, only a breathy Steve coming out again, much to his apparent delight. “That’s it. Wanna hear it more… but not here.”

The flash of a rationality was brief; before it could take, his lips were back on yours and you felt yourself falling, leaning into his touch, hands wandering over his exquisite body, hips rutting forward at the beautiful, beautiful groan your touch elicited from him.

I did that. He wants me, he wants me like this. I want him. I need him.

The simple thoughts occupied your brain, a last portion of coherency you managed as his palm slid to your ass with purpose and pressed you against his hardness in a promise of what was to come. You decided that you could die a happy woman right there and that you needed his mouth on your more than you needed oxygen; you grabbed onto his face, pulling his lips back to yours, rewarded by a deep kiss and both of his hands grabbing your hips, fingers digging into your flesh with a little too much vigour.

You succumbed to the pleasure of his touch, head spinning, the world passing by in a blur.

It didn’t matter how you got into his room next; it didn’t matter, not when his hands were on you again, an absurdly polite can I? as his dextrous fingers slid the strap of your dress off your shoulder, a kiss to every inch of the newly revealed skin, leaving nothing but hunger for more in their wake.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” he praised as he mouthed at your skin, the new endearment causing your heart to tremble, stomach fluttering pleasantly. “The times I imagined this, imagined you… turn around, Shines.”

You’d swear that you would let Steve Rogers get away with murder; but asking you to turn away from his hot lips, that was toeing the line of insanity.

“Steve-“

“Shhh… I’ve got you,” he cut of your protests, strong hands simply spinning you around.

He rewarded you for the lack of resistance by placing his hand over your stomach, skin hot even over the thin fabric, pressing you back against his chest and his more than evident arousal, lips attaching to the column of your neck, sliding the other strap of your dress down. Instinctively, you leaned your head back, exposing your throat to him, a small but sharp nip of teeth sending a fresh wave of arousal into your core.

Long fingers slid up your throat, turning your head so his lips could meet yours again, demanding and yet so giving, hand inching from your belly down your thigh, toying with the hem of your dress and causing your breath to hitch.

God, you needed him. You wanted him in every way possible, but if this was what came before he’d take you out, you had zero problem with that. You needed to feel him.

The please escaping your newly freed lips sounded almost pathetic to your ears, but Steve clearly disagreed with your assessment.

“Oh sweetheart, you sound so pretty like this… and look at you,” he rasped, nudging you to actually look ahead, only for you to realise you were now facing the tall mirror of his closet, gaze setting on your own face, dominated by the kiss-swollen lips and pupils blown up by lust. “Gorgeous… and you’ll look even more beautiful when you’re coming apart for me. First on my fingers and then…”

You shuddered when his fingers finally slid under your skirt, caressing the lace of your thigh-highs, chest vibrating against your back with an appreciative hum. Your gaze strayed to Steve’s face, only to find his eyes laser focused on your face in the mirror, flashing darkly when his fingertips found the soaked fabric of your panties and pressed.

“So wet for me, Shines. I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me. Can’t wait to make you mine… you want that, don’t you?” he whispered, your lips parting wordlessly and at the very moment, he pushed the offending fabric to the side and dipped his index finger in your slick. He stroked a few times, coating his fingers in your essence and entered you with two with laughable ease. You pushed your hips forward on instinct, already needing more.

“Steve, oh god-“

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped, free hand pressing your back to his front, hardness digging into our ass. “I can’t wait to see you take my cock. You’ll be as pretty as a picture…”

Vainly wriggling against his strong hold because that was exactly what you wanted, you caught his smile in the mirror, his lips pressing softly against your temple as his fingers begun pumping in and out of your tight channel, stealing the breath from your lungs. Resigned and secretly thrilled by his dominance, you leaned against his chest, letting your head fall back against his strong shoulder, praying he’d give you more soon.

Instead, he pulled his fingers out altogether, painting your inner thighs with your slick, stepping back, leaving you cold and empty.

“St-“

His hand landed gently on your shoulder, his other hand easily sliding the zip of your dress down your back, letting it fall to the ground. Standing in front of the mirror in nothing but your stockings, soaked panties and lace bra, you shuddered under Steve’s hungry gaze; but at the same time, the adoration and admiration shining from his gaze even made your stomach flip and stopped your hands from self-consciously covering yourself at least a bit.

You weren’t shy. You weren’t ashamed of your body; but goodness, Steve’s eyes trailing the length of it, taking in every inch of bare skin and appreciative of how the fabric hugged the parts still covered made you feel like a goddess. A muse.

His gaze was hypnotic as his eyes met yours in the mirror again, his smile soft before it earned a lustful edge.

“You’re a piece of art, Shines…” He stepped back to you, lips attaching back to your neck and his fingers pushed the panties down and let them slide down your legs, hand sprawling over your pubic bone and teasing your core with his fingers again. “And I’m going to appreciate that in every way I know… but you’re gonna watch. I wanna watch you as you fall apart for me, and I want you to see how beautiful you look when I make you mine. Can you do that, sweetheart?”

You didn’t think. You nodded at the promise of pleasure, instantly rewarded by three fingers stretching you, one of your hands landing on his wrist to keep him inside, the other grabbing at his head behind you. You felt his smile against your neck before he sucked on your skin, setting a punishing pace, this time letting you meet his advances. The sight of his large hands over you was insanely erotic; his size and strength captured in a repetitive picture, your muscles contracting as you tried to encourage him to give your more. The pleas seamlessly blending with his name were falling from your lips as the pressure inside you built and built, the wicked curl of his fingers nearly having you reach for the stars.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Steve-“  

“Watch, sweetheart,” he reminded you feverishly, the blue of his irises nearly swallowed by his blown pupils, dark, pleased and unabashedly on you taking his fingers one moment, on your face contorted with pleasure next, the sheer hunger in his gaze aimed at you only adding fuel to the heat in your abdomen.

You tried to keep your eyes on your pair, you truly did, just to please him, just to gain more. It earned you a whispered praise to your ear, a sucking kiss on your throat and circling motions on your clit.

That had you were done for. Your eyes fluttered close as you clenched around Steve’s fingers with a breathless cry, ecstasy exploding inside you and lighting your body on fire.

You could feel Steve’s burning gaze on your still, but he didn’t push you again, didn’t deny you just because you didn’t give him what you couldn’t at the moment, too wrapped in your bliss. Of course, he didn’t. He was still Steve; much filthier than you imagined, but still himself. Warm and safe, holding you close when his motions slowed down, prolonging your pleasure, still supporting your weight when your legs nearly gave out. Chuckling silently with an adoring soft kiss to your jaw when you breathed out a thank you, thinking about the fact he caught you, probably sounding as if you were thanking him for absolutely ruining you with his fingers only, not so subtly showing you that you might not survive when he’d turn it up a notch and actually took you.

“You’re beautiful, doll,” he whispered into your hair, carefully pulling out his fingers as not to hurt you. “Even more beautiful that I imagined.”

You shuddered, unable to respond with words, turning around and chasing his lips instead. He obliged and kissed you sweetly, wrapping his arms around you close, only now having you realize he was still fully clothed himself. And that the way his had cock pressed against his slacks must have been painful at this point. For that reason alone – that he put your pleasure before his, as you knew he would – you would sink to your knees in an instant if your core wasn’t already throbbing for him.

“I want you,” you said against his mouth, revelling in his smile and the playful nip on your lower lip he graced you with upon your admission.

“Good. Because I need you. I need to see those pretty lips parted for me and unable to speak anything but my name when I fill you up so well you’ll never even think about another man again,” he said slowly, letting every heavy syllable sink into your skin and have your already racing heart nearly give out – and letting your lips loose.

“Yes. Please.”

When you suddenly found yourself in the air, held firmly in his arms and carried to the bed, you couldn’t find the shame in you to be bashful about your needs.

Because when he sunk into you and delivered on his promises, you felt like you entered another plane of existence. When his hands grabbed onto you, his body an art piece you could feast your eyes on and touch, you suddenly understood his need for a mirror, for a glimpse from every angle, the absolute beauty of your bodies together as one, of seeing him lose himself to pleasure of his own.

His chants of endearments, praise and mine echoed in your ears, your lips indeed only remembering to speak his name, whisper it and scream it. When he lifted you to your high two more times, filling you with his spent to make you his indeed, you knew that you would be his forever; you had been for a long, long time.

“You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine…”

“Yours, I am yours.”

Blinking your eyes open, you slowly realized you never knew darkness could feel so violent to your eyes. Steve’s deeply concerned gaze was firm on you, frown settled in his brows, both hands on your biceps holding you as if you were about to pass out any second.

His relieved breath brushed over your face, shoulders sagging.

“Thank god, Shines. I was starting to get worried. Are you alright? It’s like you went to a completely different place for a moment there.”

Why were you standing? You had been just lying down, the heat of Steve’s skin seeping into yours from your back and his arm wrapped around your middle as you had fallen asleep.

“What?” you rasped, feeling the ghost of the soreness in your throat as you nearly lost your voice having screamed his name. You blinked again as the image of his beautifully red parted lips trembling with your name flickered in front of you, disappearing just as fast – replaced by him growing worried by the minute.

In a closet. You were in a closet. The sound of idly chat and chuckles dimmed by the walls of the closet reached your ears. The party was still in a sleepy swing; a stupid game was still on.

The realization was like a bucket of icy water dumped on your heated body, all-consuming confusion swallowing all your thoughts.

But… how? You--- that wasn’t- you had been to Steve’s room. He had—- he had kissed you, right here, a dream coming true when he admitted he was still thinking of you and was ready to act on it, his hot soft lips, his hands, deliciously long thick fingers, wickedly dextrous as they sneaked between your legs, opened you up for his--- he had stretched you so good, in every way imaginable, his gaze so dark as he watched you both in the mirror, so sweetly and devilishly delighted at filling you up to the brim, making you his-  

“Okay, that’s it, Shines. We’re out of here-”

“No!” you blurted out, horror seizing you at the mere thought of coming out to the light right now. With you face flushed; with your core painfully empty and slick even as the aftershocks of your orgasms, having felt so real, turned from echo of pleasure to mortifying all-consuming shame. “No, no, it’s fine! I’m fine. I just… I must have had too much to drink and zoned out.”

“You didn’t drink that much,” Steve opposed swiftly, his gaze so unnerving, and could he just stop, stop looking at you like he cared, so sweet and nice and so frustratingly not yours even if the affection in his gestures felt all the same as in whatever fucked-up dream experience you just had just been through. “We should-“

“Please, don’t-- they’re never gonna let us live this down if we bail,” you argued lamely, unconvincing even to your own ears, feeling tears burn in your eyes and desperately trying to stop them from showing.

“Fuck that. It’s just a stupid game.”

‘Fuck, look at you. I can’t wait to see you take my cock. You’ll be as pretty as a picture…’ echoed in your ears, so crystal clear you would have sworn it had happened – but what other evidence did you need that it was just a wild creation of your mind?

Steve didn’t love you. Steve didn’t want you this way. It had never happened. You were still in this closet in the dark, blinded by the light his persona, this time annoyed since the light only hurt your eyes.

And you heart. Your stupid little foolish heart.

“…yeah. Yeah, just a stupid game. Just… so so stupid,” you muttered, no longer talking about the game – and unable to stop the tears from coming anymore.

You laughed bitterly, understanding nothing, but not caring, even more irked at the alarmed expression on Steve’s face when he noticed the few glistening drops rolling down your cheeks.

“Shines… what is it? What can I do to make it better?”

His hands, having been burning a brand onto your biceps, shifted, one caressing your arm, the other rising to your face; and you couldn’t take it. You couldn’t take the touch, not when it meant less than what you wanted and needed, not when his fingertips brushed your cheek as if it was something precious to him – not when you knew it wasn’t.

You stepped back out of his reach hastily, your back hitting the wall; but not without catching the flash of hurt on his face when you rejected the affection and comfort he was offering.

“I’m sor-“ The words died in your throat, the sudden almost electric shift in the air making your hair stand on end.

As fast as if you snapped your fingers, Steve was no longer looking at you.

In fact, he wasn’t looking at anything.

Your stomach dropped.

“…Steve?”

Your whisper was tentative, but your step forward was not. Heart thundering in your chest, your eyes roamed his suddenly expressionless face. What the hell was happening?

Gulping, you reached out for his hand with yours; but as you squeezed, his hand remained limp by his side.

“Steve, can you hear me?”

Frustration and shame swiftly forgotten, your fingers slid to his wrist, feeling for his pulse. It fluttered under your touch like a hummingbird; but with how fast your own heart was beating, it might have been that you could feel your own.

You went to a completely different place for a moment there, you recalledhis words, real words, right after you found him observing you with concern rather than pulling you to his bare chest after an intense session of fucking.

Whatever had happened to you, be it blamed on alcohol or anything else, was clearly happening to him now. That or you accidentally triggered some kind of a flashback with the way you had reacted. If you had, you’d never forgive it yourself; but you’d have time to feel like an asshole later. Now, Steve needed your help. Fast.

Except you had no idea what was actually taking place in here, let alone how to solve it.

“Yeah, fuck this game.”

You were not going to stay here another second. Not when Steve, sweet kind Steve who deserved the world, was stuck in some strange trance you might have caused.

You were just about to bang on the door of the closet with all your might when a gasp for air had your head snap back to Steve so quickly you almost gave yourself a whiplash.

Your hands were on his arms to steady him before you could think about it twice. Relief flooded your body when his gaze unmistakably found yours, even if he stared at your wide-eyed, clearly rattled by whatever had just happened.

“Shines?” he rasped, blinking a few times as if to adjust his sight to the darkness again, following the lines of your arms to where you were holding onto him with confusion. You swiftly dropped your hands, his frown only deepening at that.

“Sorry. Are you okay?”

“I--- I think so?”

The uncertainty in his voice and the suddenly unreadable emotion in his face made a lump grow in your throat.

“Yeah, the fact that this sounds more like a question than an answer really tells me you were right,” you stated, feeling small as you saw Steve had trouble finding his footing. As his friend, you had the privilege to see him vulnerable more often than the general public, but that didn’t mean the fact he seemed clueless and slightly lost now was still unsettling. “We should get out of here, right now. You were staring blank ahead for at least a minute. You really scared me, Steve.”

His eyebrows shot up as he learned that was what happened.

“I was…? That’s what-- you scared me too. You were staring into space before too... What happened to you in that time?” Steve queried, gently despite obviously being affected himself. “Do you… do you remember any of it?”

You let out a small distressed noise, heat of shame flooding your body all over again.

Yeah, no. You were not going to tell him what exactly happened, regretfully only in your head.

You rarely lied so blatantly, less so to Steve, but these were desperate times. You’d rather keep at last some of your dignity.

You licked your lips. “I… I just zoned out. And then suddenly you were here, asking if I was sure I was okay. You?”

His eyes searched your face for a moment as if he could sense your lie – or at least lack of complete honesty. Yet, he didn’t press, swallowing loudly instead and giving you a shaky smile.

“…yeah. Yeah, same. That was… strange.”

No kidding. You believed him losing consciousness the way he had was strange indeed.

Except when you zoned out, you dreamed of a world where Steve railed you into oblivion while watching you both in a mirror. Until now, you thought that shoving you against a wall and hauling you up in those enormous arms and railing you like that would be more than enough to satisfy your cravings, but apparently you were wrong. But never mind that, right? You could be flexible… flexible enough, in more ways than just one. God knew sex with a man as fit as Steve might require some stretching.

You licked your lips again, mouth feeling dry at the memory. And yet. It wasn’t all a memory. He still was so close, watching so intently. Almost as if… no.

You laughed without a trace of humour.

“Yeah, well, maybe Stark laced the walls with something when he was closing the door-“ your voice trailed off, eyes growing wide as you entertained the wild thought. “Actually, you know what, I wouldn’t even be surprised.”

Honestly, it would be a perfectly plausible explanation. In fact, you wanted that to be the explanation; it shifted the blame. You and Tony could share the blame for the inappropriate images still flashing in your mind at least.

Not to mention that theorizing was the most welcomed distraction you could get in the tiny space growing hotter by the minute, full of Steve’s masculine scent seeping into your skin and making your underwear even damper by the second.

“Hm…” Steve hummed, intrigued, his concern melting into outrage. “Loki suggested the game and made the closet. Whatever happened could be on him.”

You frowned at the implication, instinctively protective of the god of mischief; Tony was the kind of guy who would pull this kind of shenanigans using precisely the fact Loki might end up being blamed while he’d laugh his ass off.

“Tony didn’t exactly protest, maybe he just jumped at the chance.”

“Hold on a second… do you think they would team up? To deliver some sort of an advanced Halloween prank?”

Your first instinct was to say no. The thought was absurd. Loki and Tony tolerated each other at best, Tony being one of the people having the hardest time forgiving Loki for the destruction he had once caused… when it suited him. Other times… well.

“I’m…” you hesitated, “I’m not sure, actually. But I know I’m not laughing.” For sure.

Steve face was serious as he observed you, worry creeping into his expression again – you only hoped he forgot all about your earlier outburst, even as you were aware that was very unlikely.

“Can’t say I do. Once we’re out, this game is over.”

“Yeah, good idea,” you agreed instantly. “Are you sure that you’re okay?”

He seemed a little flushed, a little shell-shocked still. Then again, you imagined you did too. At least you hoped you did; you hoped Steve couldn’t read you like a book… and you hoped Wanda was smart enough not to enter your mind while you were in here.

Oh god, Wanda.

“Yeah… but that’s only cause it’s not a terrible imposition to be here with you of all people,” Steve said lightly, a ghost of a genuine smile curling up his lips, an unvoluntary smirk passing over yours at his choice of words.

“Well, I’m honoured not to be a terrible imposition to you, Captain,” you sassed, unable to stop the warmth spreading in your chest. “I suppose there are worse people to get stuck with.”

“Such a compliment,” he threw back readily, eyes twinkling. Minutely – and you would swear it – his gaze flickered to your lips.

You heart started racing. You only imagined it. There was no way. Was there? Or…?

“Shines, I… there’s something I think I should tell you,” Steve said slowly, voice turning surprisingly soft.

You blinked, the feeling of déjà-vu hitting you like a train. You had to be dreaming again. There was no way he said those words, not so tenderly, not-

The door opened so suddenly you had to squint against the flood of light; light as harsh as the truth, overtaking all of your senses.

You stumbled out of the tight space with a deep breath, the colder air sobering you up fast.  Whatever Steve was about to say, it didn’t matter; it was probably your mind playing tricks on you again and if it wasn’t, it was probably just words of consolidation he came up with at the spot, an attempt to sooth whatever had bothered you before. Nothing more.

Because whatever you had fantasied about in the closet, it was just that: a fantasy. True, one you weren’t aware you had, but a fantasy nonetheless.

Steve had long moved on from asking you out two years ago. Whatever could have been, you had missed your chance then; he was just being friendly. He tried to offer comfort, because that was what he did. Even when you hurt him by your rejection of it, even when he was rattled himself by whatever he had experienced, he tried to comfort you again what could be two minutes later, because that was what good friends did.

Not a terrible imposition – that was what he said, after all. Even as you knew he probably chose the words on purpose to distract you and amuse you, it was not exactly a declaration of love. There was nothing but friendship between you, not from his side and that meant you would keep it that way unless you were ready to risk it all.

Which was going to be never.

As Steve firmly announced that the game was over, contrary to the booing from several Avengers, you wondered what it would take to rename the stupid activity to Seven Minutes in Hell.

Part 2

Steve Rogers masterlist 

Complete masterlist

Thank you for reading 🥰 I hope you had fun! Leave feedback if you have the energy and time, we love interaction in this house💕

I suppose this is where you could end it, but you won't find the what the heck actually happened and how - and what will happen next 👀 I hope to post part 2 soon since it's almost done 🎃 If you enjoyed and wish to be tagged, let me know :)

Prompt: 7 Minutes in… Where?: You know the game. Only when you and your significant other are locked in the closet for 7 minutes, you’re transported somewhere else.

Many thanks for Jamie for hosting this challenge and stirring this sleepy fandom to life 🥰

[gloriousburden]

I miss when it was still exciting to go see a marvel movie. Now, I just feel dread every time something is announced or is in the theaters. it seems like the more possibilities they get (such as introducing new characters, new storylines, the whole multiverse bullshit) the movies become more garbage. It really was better when the movies were just about the Avengers versus Loki. The Avengers versus new bad guy. The Avengers versus each other. Asgardian shenanigans. Captain America versus Hydra shenanigans. Black Panther. Doctor Strange. GOTG even though I’m not necessarily a huge fan.

Honestly, I can’t even remember liking any of the movies/series that came out… and I saw most of them. The MCU is so over and it’s so saddening to me. It used to be so much fun. Some of the What If episodes were kind of fun, but everything else… 😞 I wish the Avengers could’ve been forever. Endgame is the evil that keeps on giving. It never stopped.

Obviously, the MCU has always had its mistakes and flops. But… it wasn’t every single project back to back. Possibly the only thing that’s remained consistent is their love of whitewashing, butchering, and nerfing characters. None of that changed.

[buckrecs]

Clingy / Drunk Bucky Fic Rec

I binge read clingy & drunk bucky oneshots till 2am and now that i’m conscious i’m gonna make a list.

Clingy by @sleepypanda27

Steve and Sam bring home drunk Bucky, the reader takes care of him. It’s fluffy.

Crazy In Love by @/sleepypanda27

Bucky is in love and he doesn't care what others think about it

In Your Arms by @writemarvelousthings

goes to bed early because they're tired, but soon after comes back out of the bedroom to get their partner because they don't want to be in bed alone.

Sober Thoughts by @tropicalcap

James Barnes doesn’t get drunk, until he does.

Maybe Later by @lovelybarnes

"marry me" "maybe later"

You’re way too drunk by @storiesnobodyreads

reader goes out with friends and gets a little too drunk. She calls Bucky, her boyfriend, who is overprotective and comes over to the club.

Drunk by @lifeasadorkwithnolife

You took Bucky out to a bar, seeing how you two were getting back from a tiring mission with HYDRA, and Bucky needed to loosen up.

Pudge by @buckyalpine

Bucky being absolutely adorable.

Cheeky by @/buckyalpine

Bucky Barnes does not back down from a dare.

you know what rhymes with drunk? sex by @seventven

bucky comes home drunk after a night out with sam. 

Drunk Words are Sober Truths by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Bucky gets a little inebriated at a party and his loose lips let his secret slip.

Once Upon A Good Time by @shamevillain

Bucky wants attention so he’s going to use your biggest weakness to get it.

Drunk Buck Running Amuck by @coffee-with-bucky

Bucky is drunk and absolutely giddy with affection and you don’t know whether to thank or kill Thor

morning by @lovelybarnes

person a won’t let person b out of bed by cuddling them + person a peppering kisses all over person b’s face

Guess What’s On Your Mind by @tellmealovestory

Are you drunk?

You’re not going to work by @winter-soldier-vibes

Bucky comes back from a long mission so excited to see you. Little does he know, you have a full schedule that day. At least, you planned to. No way is he going to wait any longer. 

Drabble by @pellucid-constellations

Fluff with drunk Bucky

Waking Up in Vegas by @wxntersoldiers

a weekend in sin city can change everything. 

fuck it by @mellowswriting

Thanks to a little Asgardian liquor, Bucky gets drunk for the first time in almost eighty years. He’s more than willing to engage in a little drunken shenanigans with you. 

I Think I Wanna Marry You by @likeahorribledream

During an after party at the Tower, you’re introduced to a new side of your best friend: Drunk Bucky. And Drunk Bucky has it bad for you. Really, really bad.

drunk off you by @cunaeparker

asgardian liquor comes in clutch, sam’s a cockblock, and tony’s parties have a tendency to get spicy.

Gone with the mead by @writingsoftheloser

There’s a limbo between confessing one’s feelings and the use of ‘I love you’ that’s filled with amazing, strange and sometimes insecure things. Or the one where Bucky Barnes underestimated Asgardian mead.

Guy’s Night by @teamcap4bucky

You used to think that Hydra missions were your worst nightmare. Then the boys started having “Guys Night,” and you realized just how wrong you were. Nothing ever good comes from this night...or does it?

drunken proposals by @bluehourbucky

too much alcohol leads to proposals

Imagine by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord

Imagine Bucky being drunk.

Day Off by @softlyspector

Bucky really wants to take a nap with the reader, but she just wants to read. (Bucky is a giant dog who needs a lot of attention)

[noturlondonboy]

Fireworks Weren’t on the Menu

-Bishova 4th of July Oneshot

Masterlist

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova (established)

Summary: We’re getting the band back together! At Clint’s farm, specially- for the 4th of July. Nobody thinks to warn Yelena about the fireworks.

Warnings: panic attack, angst, not proof read

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: some domestic Bishova fluff and Avengers family shenanigan followed by the angst that none of them can escape. Enjoy <3

“I still don’t understand the point of this silly holiday,” Yelena grumbles aloud, pouting as she helps Kate grab blankets and coolers from the back of their car.

”Yeah, I think it’s overrated, but it’s also an easy excuse to take work off and spend some fun time with family.” Her wife shrugs and props a cooler up on her shoulder. Yelena gives herself a moment to admire the strain in her muscles between her pouting, and Kate just laughs and rolls her eyes when she catches her.

”You guys are late!” Natasha’s voice calls out, and Yelena grins widely as she bounds over to her sister, coolers completely forgotten.

“But you love us, so you cannot even be mad,” Yelena coos, her eyes wide and innocent as she throws her arms around the redhead’s neck and squishes their cheeks together.

Natasha giggles, arms looping around Yelena’s waist to hug her back. “Maybe I’ll just have to tickle you to get back at you.”

The blonde shrieks and jumps a foot in the air, leaping back so quickly that she bumps into Kate and subsequently knocks the brunette over. The coolers topple, luckily not spilling, but they both still wince at the loud sound.

”Sorry, darling,” Yelena says quickly, grabbing Kate’s hands and pulling her up to her feet. “Are you okay?”

Kate nods and brushes a stand of hair from Yelena’s face, pressing a kiss between her eyebrows. “Yes, silly. Grab a cooler for me? Nat, can you get the blankets?”

The assassin’s both nod, grabbing their respective items and heading into Clint’s house behind Kate, chatting happily.

The atmosphere on the Barton farm is light and happy, and Yelena’s smile is infectious. Kate follows behind her wife with a content smile on her lips, eyes bright as they greet their friends and family.

”So! What is the plan for today?” Yelena asks at one point, her hands moving efficiently as she chops up a watermelon.

“Well, there’s a pool with some water toys outside for the kids, and the dogs are all running around, and Clint is getting some games out while the food is finishing, so it should just be kinda open and relaxed.” Kate finishes slicing the strawberries, her tongue poking at the inside of her cheek as she lines them up on a cake to make the red stripes of the American flag. “Plus, once the kids are asleep, I hear Natasha and Bucky are planning to break out a few bottles.”

Yelena can’t stop the grin on her face as she continues to chop, going on autopilot as she glances to her archer. “Sounds like fun.”

Kate scoffs amusedly, her tone light. “I’m a little scared to see Steve drunk.”

Yelena hums, going back to her watermelon, but stops after a moment. “He can’t get drunk.”

The archer shrugs. “Thor is bringing Asgardian ale just for him and Bucky. Should be interesting.”

The blonde barks out a laugh, her eyes scrunching. “The star spangled man, tipsy on alien alcohol.”

“Clint’s camera will be out,” Kate chuckles softly.

The two of them melt into a comfortable silence, humming and working around each other as they prepare separate dishes in the coolness of the kitchen.

“Lena?”

“Kate Bishop?”

“I love you.”

Yelena’s expression melts into adoring gooeyness, and she spins happily into her wife’s arms, their lips meeting softly in kiss after kiss after kiss as Kate dips her, their cheeks rosey.

“And I love you.”

——

“LITTLE BARTON!”

Yelena’s shriek echoes around the open space, catching several people’s attention as the blonde is mobbed by Nathanial and Cooper, armed to the teeth with water guns. She’s laughing and screaming playfully as they soak her, her own hands empty of any weapon as she scrambles around the pool in search of equipment.

Kate watches the scene with a glowing heart, her arms folding over her chest as she dries off from swimming.

“Cheating! This is cheating! I am unarmed! Clint Barton, your children are ruthless!” Yelena yells, her cheeks aching with open mouthed laughter. She shrieks as Nathanial throws his little frame at her, and she catches him before he can sink beneath the water, her head tilting back to avoid his splashes.

“Kate Bishoooop! Save meeeee!” she wails, eyes scrunched happily as she pleads for mercy.

Kate giggles and sips at her drink before jogging over to the pool, diving in and swimming under the water towards Yelena’s legs. With an over exaggerated roar, she bursts from the water, scooping up her wife and Nathaniel into her arms. Nathaniel shrieks with laughter, his limbs flailing in an attempt to escape, and Cooper rescues him from Kate’s hold with a coy smile.

The two women giggle loudly, brushing their noses together. “My white knight,” Yelena beams, blinking water from her eyes.

“My lady,” Kate smiles back, her cheeks flushed and she covers Yelena’s face with kisses.

Cooper makes a gagging noise at the same time that Nathaniel wiggles from his arms to join in on the love, his little body scooped back into the embrace of the two women and his soft cheeks smothered in little pecks as he squeals in delight.

——

“Kate Bishop, pleaseeee, I cannot eat another bite,” Yelena begs, clutching her full stomach even as her eyes twinkle and she accepts the brownie in Kate’s hand.

Her wife just smiles brightly, an eyebrow raised. “Not another bite? Maybe you’ll have some room for dessert later, though, right?”

Yelena gives her a knowing look. “You know I always have room for dessert, love.”

Kate grins. “I know.”

Clint’s voice rings out over the group a few minutes later as the sun begins to set. “Okay, who’s ready for fireworks?”

People whoop and holler, their cheers excited. Steve looks particularly amped, but that may be the asgardian ale. Who’s to say, really.

Yelena’s brow furrows and she watches in confusion as small boxes and tubes are set up on a patio out in the middle of the field, with most of the boys crowded around them excitedly. Bucky and Sam lag behind, looking perfectly content to rest in their chairs and whisper to each other.

“Kate, what are…” she starts to say, her words peetering off when she glances over and sees Kate’s chair empty. Yelena hums, looking around the yard for her wife and spotting her showing Laura something on her phone. She lets out a soft sigh and stands after finishing her brownie, stretching her arms above her head and wincing at the crackling in her joints.

Yelena stops to say hi to Darcy and Carole on her way over, oohing and awing over Carole’s powers for a minute before waving with a smile and continuing on her way. She’s about halfway to Kate when the first explosion goes off.

Something in Yelena’s blood boils, her ears ringing as her body instinctively blanches away from the noise. Except that the noise is everywhere, and there are showers of light burning the sky open.

She’s in the Red Room again. Women are bleeding in her arms, skin burnt away and bullet holes riddling their bodies.

Her body is tucked away on the ground when she stumbles blindly and smacks her head on something, and the concrete is the only thing keeping her from screaming out. Something warm drips from her face. Blood coats her hands. There’s another explosion. Her ears ring. Her head swims violently.

There are hands clawing at her stomach, tearing away at her insides in a desperate attempt to be free. Her palms slap painfully over her ears, nails digging into the side of her head as she tries to curl her body into a ball, but the explosions are surrounding her, drowning her, burning her-

Hands are on Yelena’s body, hands that are warm and kind and safe, but she flinches away from them so violently that she physically gags, her tongue coated in bile as her stomach roils. Her elbows split open on the pavement, her feet kicking out blindly as her mouth opens in a scream that she can’t hear.

Everything is wrong. Everything is bad. Everything is burning.

She spends minutes in a haze of terror and sorrow. Hours. Days. Eternities. It starts with the Red Room, and it ends with the Red Room. She ends with the Red Room. She is nothing but the Red Room.

No one escapes. No one gets out. Fire is coating her skin and tugging at her nerves, sizzling them away as the memory of needle stabs and cold gun muzzles shoot through her stomach.

Yelena heaves again, something gritty in her eyes when she presses her forehead into the ground hard enough for a rock to cut into her temple, and she coughs so sharply that her stomach twists into painful knots.

“Yelena, sister. You’re not there. He’s not here. You’re safe. Yelena. Yelena.”

Her hand instinctively slaps out in a fist, connecting sharply with something that makes a noise in retaliation, but Yelena can only wail as her chest constricts and she slams her hands back over her ears. The explosions continue, and they rattle her skull, make her lips buzz, causing her to bite down into her tongue and fill her mouth with sticky metal.

Yelena gags again, coughing and spitting, her head swimming and eyes going blurry when the pavement underneath is suddenly awash in red that relflects the horrible things exploding in the sky.

“Yelena, Yelena, Yelena.”

The tears in her eyes feel like blood, and she can only scream.

——

Yelena doesn’t register that she even exists until what feels like hours later, when she finally blinks her eyes open to see the familiar faces of Natasha and Bucky, and not blood raining down from the sky like hellfire.

“Where am I…?” she croaks out in Russian, her tongue dry and thick and her lips feeling as if they’re about to crack.

Bucky is holding her head gently in his lap, his tired eyes kind as the cool metal of his arm stokes sweaty hair from her forehead. Natasha’s hands are oh-so gentle as she cups her sister’s cheeks, as if she’s afraid Yelena’s will break if she’s handled any harder.

“We’re at Clint’s place, Yelena,” Natasha says softly, switching to their mother tongue in a smooth motion. The familiar accent is like a balm on Yelena’s ears, so much gentler than the explosions that had rocked the sky.

“You had a panic attack, little bear.” Bucky rests his metal fingers against her eyebrows, and the temperature contrast heightens her awareness of just how warm her body feels. “A nasty one, too,” he continues, also in Russian. His deep voice is soft and raspy, and settles Yelena comfortably into a sense of familiarity that helps her breath come easier.

Yelena blinks up at them both, the muscles behind her eyes sore. “What…?”

“Fireworks,” her sister explains, shifting to settle back down with Yelena’s hand in her own. “They’re a traditional part of the 4th of July. You remember those neighborhood parties we would have back in Ohio? Yeah. We didn’t… I never thought to mention them.” There’s guilt in her voice, her green eyes haunted as she scans Yelena’s form over and over, as if looking for injuries.

“It’s okay, Talia,” Bucky mutters gently, his free hand resting on her knee. “I didn’t either. Neither did Kate. Nobody did.”

Yelena blinks again, her head starting to pound now that the world exists in her perception again. “So we’re not… everything’s okay?” she mumbles, one of her hands coming up to rub weakly at her forehead.

Bucky and Natasha both nod in tandem. “Everything’s okay.”

A heavy sigh falls from Yelena’s lips, and she lets herself sink back into Bucky’s lap, stretching her legs out in front of her from the awkward, curled up position they had been in. “Son of a bitch…” she mutters to herself, her hands flexing uneasily over her stomach.

Her sister laughs softly, her expression starting to ease. “Yeah. Son of a bitch.”

“How are you feeling?” Bucky asks her gently some time later, his metal fingers careful as he works at some of the kinks in her hair.

“Like shit,” Yelena mutters back, a groan in the back of her throat.

“Fair enough.”

They all sit in comfortable silence with each other for several minutes before Yelena lets out a deep sigh and cracks her eyes back open. “Where is Kate?”

“I think she’s distracting herself with the dogs right now,” Natasha murmurs. “Do you want me to go get her?”

Yelena nods. “Please.”

Bucky stops Natasha before she can get up, gingerly moving Yelena’s head from his lap to her sister’s. “I can go, Natalia. I need to go make sure my husband isn’t doing anything stupid, anyway.”

Natasha’s eyes are grateful, and she gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, James.”

The super soldier nods and exits the room after giving Yelena a soft look, his footsteps silent on the hardwood. He keeps the door open a crack behind him, and Kate’s face appears through it a minute later.

“Ekaterina,” Yelena murmurs once she sees her.

Kate’s entire body seems to droop in relief, and she pushes her way into the room when her wife beckons for her. “Hi, baby,” she says softly, her eyes distraught as she sits on the floor next to the two Widows.

Yelena takes her hand immediately and brings it to her lips, pressing featherlight kisses to each calloused knuckle before resting the familiar, slender fingers against her forehead. “Are you alright?” she asks gently in English, accent thick.

Kate nods and uses her other hand to cup Yelena’s cheek. “I should be the one asking you that, my love,” she murmurs. “I didn’t think to warn you about the fireworks. I’m sorry.”

“I am okay now, Kate Bishop.” The blonde gives a weak smile and pushes to sit up with a groan, and both her sister and her wife wrap their arms around her shoulders to help prop her up. “Just… feel like soggy noodles.”

The archer gives a small nod. “Can I hold you?”

Yelena sinks into her embrace without hesitation, her cheek pressing into Kate’s collarbone. She sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, her brain relaxing further at the comforting scent of cinnamon and flannel. “I am sorry for scaring you, Kate.”

Two pairs of arms wrap around her, Natasha’s red hair tickling her cheek as Kate rubs absently at the knots in her back. “Don’t be. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“Did I ruin the silly little July 4th?” the blonde whispers after a moment, her eyes half lidded as she stares at the wall through Kate’s ponytail.

“No, baby. Not at all. Everyone just wants to make sure you’re okay.”

Yelena groans loudly and presses her face into her wife’s neck. “Great, all those posers have their attention on me.”

Both Kate and Natasha rumble a soft laugh. “Those posers are your family, and they love you very much.”

“I know, I know.” Yelena presses closer to Kate. “Can we just… stay in here for a bit? Please?”

“Of course, my love.” Kate rests her hand on the nape of her wife’s neck, tucking her under her chin while Natasha continues to run her fingers down Yelena’s spine.

“We can stay here as long as you need.”

[muddyorbsblr]

winter warmers collection: all wrapped up

See all the Winter Warmers pieces here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: After getting in hot water with Fury about his shenanigans that revolve around candy cane, you give Loki some advice on how to seduce someone if he really wants to go down the red and white striped road. Even if it hurt you to do so.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: 18+ | unrequited love-themed angst; smut (minors and pearl clutchers i better not see you here if you know what's good for you); p in v; oral (f receiving)

Things to be aware of: besties to lovers; some fluff peppered in there to keep it interesting

"A Team, I swear on God, Allah, and whoever else is up there in that great big blue sky that if I catch wind of one more infraction from Laufeyson, I will forbid him from exiting this floor without at least one member of the team chaperoning him to make sure that this shit will not happen again. Do I make myself clear?"

You all looked up at Fury, who was standing at the top of the stairs whereas the rest of you parked yourselves into the seats strewn about in the common room. He exuded irritation and authority in his all black getup topped with a leather trench coat, looking down at each member of the team as if you were rambunctious toddlers who had a food fight in the dining room around the fine china rather than fully grown adults rightfully confused why once again he was giving a lecture on how to handle Loki.

"Director Fury, with all due respect, what exactly did Loki do this time?" you queried, not daring to look a the raven haired god by the island currently engaged in a hushed conversation with his brother Thor. You suspected it had something to do with his notorious flirting ways with the employees of SHIELD anyways.

"Let's start with the most frequent complaints I've been hearing," the director began while descending the stairs. "He's been dressing up in a red and white striped skin-tight neoprene jumpsuit and asking employees if they wanna--Hold on, you two!" He pointed at Parker and Bishop who were sitting closer to the door, Kate carrying Stark's little girl in her lap. "Out of the room. You're too young to hear this. Take Morgan with you."

"Well shit," the little Stark uttered, making everyone turn their heads toward Tony as the three children made their way out of the common room.

"What can I say she takes after her father," Stark proudly said with an exaggerated shrug. "Continue, matey."

"I resent that," Fury shot back. "As I was saying, neoprene red and white suit, approaching employees and asking if they would like to lick his candy cane." As soon as the words flew out of Fury's mouth, Sam and Bucky broke out into fits of laughter, asking Loki if he could lend them some of his shamelessness.

You did your best to ignore the irrational white hot needles of jealously spearing through your heart at the unsurprising knowledge that yes, this meeting was about the god once again sexually propositioning anything and anyone with two legs. Of course he would constantly try with every single person he could come across. Of course he was never satisfied with whoever he brought to bed that weekend; hell, with the mental tally you kept, you found that a woman was lucky if she was even brought back for a second time.

It wasn't even like this behavior took you by surprise. Thor had once regaled you with stories of how virile his brother had been in the parties they had back in Asgard. How many princes, princesses, debutantes, and dignitaries he had corrupted in his chambers.

The blond Asgardian meant well, of course, only trying to get you all to see his brother as something more than the possessed version of himself that the initial 6 members fought back in 2012. His ridiculous stories even paved the way for you to be able to strike a conversation with the god of mischief when he did arrive on Earth, eventually giving you both the opportunity to be quite good friends.

And yet it still stung whenever you had to reconcile with the reality that that was your ceiling; that was all you'd ever be. The friend he could conspire with to play pranks on the rest of the team, the one he could drag along to try out restaurants that you just knew he was going to bring a date to as soon as you gave your thumbs up. The cuddle buddy at movie nights with the team where he'd get so bored he ended up asleep with his head resting on your shoulder.

You had all those parts of him that he never shared with any of those other people. That should be enough. That was enough.

Except for the days when you'd get constantly reminded that it meant you didn't have all of him. You simply got the rest of him when those people who shared his bed had concluded with getting the best of him. And today, with Fury holding over the threat of undergoing a two-day seminar on sexual harassment over the heads of every member of the team? Today was definitely one of those days.

"Director Fury, let me be the one to sincerely apologize for my brother's infractions. I assure you that we will not allow for this to happen again," Thor announced, walking over to Fury and clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm holding you to this," he addressed the god, before turning his gaze to roam over everyone in the room. "All of you." And then he walked out of the room, shaking his head as his leather trench coat trailed behind him almost like a cape.

"Mischief, you idiot," you grumbled, storming up and out of your seat and marching toward the stairs. "Why did you have to do that in public?" You ignored the amused smirk on his face at how you chose to cap off your question. "I mean if you really wanted to seduce someone the red and white neoprene was not the way to go. You wanna seduce a chick? Show up in her bed with nothing but red ribbon wrapped around you like you're the goddamn present, and if you really insist on the candy cane thing then spiral the ribbon along the length of your--Wait hold the fuck up why am I enabling this??"

"Doll face, please keep enabling this," Bucky joked from his seat, earning glares from everyone in the room. "What? I mean I figured if I wanna up my game with beautiful women I should consult the most beautiful woman I know," he explained, motioning toward you. The honesty in his words brought a smile to your face without much effort. Why couldn't you just get over your stupid infatuation with your friend and go for someone who was actually outspoken in wanting to be with you?

"Alright," you relented with an exaggerated sigh. "Just for you, Sergeant." He leaned forward to make a show of him listening intently to your next words. "Find a way to sneak in music. If she's into the campiness of the holiday, then use one of those sexy sounding Christmas songs. And for fuck's sake, ready a drink or a snack or something. You both will be exhausted and she'll appreciate that you actually bothered to think about aftercare."

"And what about the ones who just wanna hump 'em and dump 'em like your bestie Mischief here?" Sam's words simultaneously caused Loki to let out a low grumbling sound in the veteran's direction, as well as unleashed a fit of cackles from you.

"Truly, darling?" Loki deadpanned, the slightest lilt in his voice toward the end.

"I mean you do have that reputation, Mischief," you said through your giggles. "But honestly, Sam? Do it anyway. Choose violence and ruin her for everyone else but you."

Your words broke the room out into raucous applause as you made a show of curtsying and blowing kisses to the other members of the team. "Now see here, if you actually took the time to listen to her, Jack Frost, then maybe Fury wouldn't have threatened us with a two-day seminar," Tony remarked, immediately returning your sour mood.

"Literally nobody here needs a two-day seminar on what constitutes as sexual harassment," you seethed, leaning against the nearby wall. "We know that when the pipi's shown without consent that counts. We know that if someone puts their hands on us or makes inappropriate comments when we've shown no tangible signs of attraction and interest, that that absolutely counts." You glared at the raven haired Asgardian who was currently approaching you slowly. "Loki if I have to sit through two days of people spelling out the exceedingly obvious to me because you couldn't keep it in your pants, I swear on you, Thor, and every other deity there is out there that I will cut someone--"

You words were cut off as the god tugged on your wrist and pulled you into his arms, his free hand cradling the back of your head. "I know. I know, darling, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it would hold consequences for you as well. It will not happen again."

"Agent Y/L/N, you should be out celebrating with your friends. At least your team. They're all already upstairs getting ready to exchange gifts. The paperwork can wait for the new year, I guarantee you everybody will be too drunk off their ass to even file them correctly. You'd be doing them a favor handing them in late."

You looked at Fury with an amused disbelief in your eyes. "Never thought you'd be a bad influence on us, Boss," you answered him with a chuckle. "I'm almost done anyway. I'll just…conveniently forget to turn it in until the first week of January."

"Atta girl. Oh, and before I forget, good job with Laufeyson."

Your brows knitted together in confusion. "Boss, I--I haven't worked with Loki on any missions for the last few months…"

"I'm talking about his behavior. I haven't heard any new complaints about him being a sleaze to anyone ever since that last time that I called you all in. Asked his brother about it and he just said that I 'have Y/N to thank for that'. So whatever you did, good work."

"You might not be saying that once you find out that all I did was tell him that if I ended up wasting away two perfectly good days parking my ass in a sexual harassment seminar that I would stab someone." Your words made him bellow in a fit of hearty laughs. "So really, whatever it is, it wasn't me. Wish I could tell you who to thank, though."

"Whatever you say, Y/L/N." Fury shrugged as he walked away from your desk. "Happy Holidays and all that."

"Happy Holidays," you mumbled as you finished up the last of the paperwork, putting the forms aside so that you could work on the tags for your presents to the team. You'd just begun to start on Wanda's gift when you saw movement coming toward your desk from the corner of your  eye. The silhouette was more than enough for you to surmise who it was.

"Darling, you should come upstairs." You kept at your gift tags as Loki kept approaching you, only stopping when he was in front of your desk. "I can only guard your plate for so long until my brother makes a play for it."

His jab at Thor had you chuckling quietly to yourself before you took a deep breath and returned to the lettering for Wanda's tag. "I'll be up in about twenty minutes, Mischief. Thanks." You looked up and the sight before you had you using all your strength not to make it known that your heart had dropped and shattered to the ground.

He was holding two rolls of red ribbon. One about two inches thick, the other less than half an inch thick. You were immediately brought back to your conversation with him a few weeks ago, about what he would do if he really wanted to seduce someone. He followed your gaze to the items in his hand and gave you a sheepish smile. "Let it be known I always listen to perfectly sound advice, dear Y/N," he said with a playful wink as he walked away from your desk. "I'll see you upstairs."

"Good luck," you blurted out, forcing a contrived smile onto your face as he turned around to look at you. "Whoever she is, I'm sure she'll love it." He simply  answered you with a devastatingly brilliant smile as he walked into the elevator; you waited until the doors closed before you allowed the tears to start welling in your eyes, not bothering to even wipe them away as they rolled down your cheeks.

Half an hour later you were heading up to the little party that Stark threw together for the team, your presents for each of them placed under the tree and you dressed up in an A-line tea-length dress with spaghetti straps set in a deep green rather than the more traditional and predictable poinsettia red.

"Lady Y/N!" You turned around to see Thor already halfway through a glass of whatever liquor his massive mug held. "Quite the choice of attire for tonight. I'm positive my brother would be more than flattered." He motioned toward your dress, the knowledge that you were currently wearing Loki's colors only now making itself known to you and quickly sinking into a feeling of utter mortification. "Ohh! And it is quite fortunate that I found you so early in the night; my brother told me that if I were to see you, I am to tell you that  he will not be attending this party as he is preparing a present…?"

"Yeah, I know about the present, Thunder." His eyes lit up in a strange mixture of excitement and fear. "He passed by my desk earlier and he was holding rolls of ribbon. He's the present. He's off to seduce some Midgardian girl. Lucky bitch." You finished your sentence with a huff, tilting your head toward the ceiling and willing yourself not to start tearing up in front of Thor; he wasn't nearly drunk enough to forget this yet.

"Oh no…" he signed, lightly placing a hand on your shoulder. "My friend, surely by now you know--"

"You know what? I'm over it," you blurted out, throwing your hands up in surrender. "He can do whatever he wants, he's a big boy he can take care of himself." You placed your hand over his. "Happy Holidays, Thunder."

A few minutes of picking at the food on your plate decided your course of action for the night. And none of it involved staying with the team as they merrily exchanged their presents and got so drunk off their asses that they'd be unable to take care of themselves in the morning. You declared yourself the designated caretaker to the children and the team tomorrow and began the journey back to your apartment.

"Babes!" You turned around to find Natasha and Wanda arm in arm, drinks in hand. "You're leaving already?" You nodded at them. "Nooooo but you just got here and you look hot and we haven't even exchanged presents yet."

"I'm not in the partying mood, Babes," you answered with a sad smile. "I'll only be a downer. You all go open presents without me I'll probably just bully Thor into gathering mine for me so I can open them in my apartment tomorrow or something."

"Really? Not Loki?" Wanda queried, slurring her words and swaying slightly in Nat's hold.

The bitterness seeped into your heart again as you answered, "He's not here tonight. Too busy getting busy. Probably with someone from Operations or where the fuck ever."

"But I thought--"

"Wan, it's fine," Nat cut off the sorceress. "Y/N, Babes, you don't have to stay if you're not feeling up to it. We'll see you in the morning." They both approached you and wrapped you into a stumbling embrace. "Besides, at least one person in the unholy trinity should be sober in the morning to take care of the others' hungover asses."

"Carbo load," you told them simply. "There's a tray of pasta in the catering table, I checked. And if that's not enough, I'll see about making you two some grilled cheeses after the party wraps up."

"You're the best," Wanda sighed, resting her head on your shoulder. "Merry ho ho."

You couldn't help but let out a laugh as you pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Merry ho ho, Wanda." Nat helped pull her off of you so that could continue heading up to your apartment. Once you were only a few more meters away from home, your phone rang. A look at the Caller ID had your heart pumping erratically. Loki.

"Just in case no one's told you yet, darling," he spoke once you answered the call. "You look resplendent. Absolutely regal."

You scoffed into the phone, rolling your eyes at his words. "You're not even here, Mischief. I could be wearing a potato sack for all you know."

"And even then my words would still ring true."

Dammit, why did he have to make it so hard to not love him?Life would be so much easier if those words didn't hit me right in the heart. You sighed at his usual brand of what you lovingly referred to as "friendzone flirting". "So that was fast," you commented, your poor attempt at steering the conversation toward him and far away from you.

"What was?"

"Your seduction," you said as plainly as you could manage. "I know what that ribbon was for, Mischief. Don't even think about placing that back in the gift wrapping stock when you're done with it."

"Not quite," he answered you with a light laugh. "See, it hasn't begun yet."

You could feel what little food you had at the party start to come up at his implication. So he was calling you before he fucked his latest conquest because what? Why? Because he was bored waiting for her to put on her lingerie that he was gonna snap of anyways?

"Where are you, Y/N?" he asked with an even voice, as if he were almost cooing.

"Walking back to my apartment.  Actually scratch that. I'm right at the door," you answered as you unlocked the front door. When you were finally inside, you were taken aback at the sight of a golden drinks trolley by the entry table, containing two mugs, a jar of what you assumed was powdered sugar, a box that said Harry & David Hot Cocoa Bombs, and little containers of marshmallows, candy canes, and a little cinnamon shaker. "What the--"

"I used my key to your apartment to place my present for you." Something in his tone made it obvious to you that he was nervous about this.

"You got me a hot cocoa bar? That's--Damn, Mischief, I don't know what to say--"

"That's not quite the present, darling," he cut you off. "That's for after."

"After?" You walked toward your bedroom, ready to just kick off your heels and soak in the tub until you felt your unwarranted heartache melt away. "After what?"

Something from his end made you stop in your tracks. You could hear a woman's voice from his end, which was expected. What wasn't expected what that the voice…was yours.

"Loki, where are you?" you asked shakily, your heart beginning to pound in your chest as your brain tried to reconcile what you thought was happening. You pressed your ear to your door, dreading both the answer and what you would hear from your bedroom.

"Laying in bed, darling." Your free hand clutched at your chest as you heard his voice both from the phone pressed to your ear and from the door. He was there. "Truthfully my plans for tonight were not to seduce another nameless faceless Midgardian whose face I would end up enchanting in order for them to resemble the visage of the one I truly wish to share my bed."

"Really now?" you breathed out, your mind running a mile at minute at his words. At what they implied. "And what exactly were your plans for tonight, Mischief?"

"To lay out my heart to the woman who owns it, as well as my body if she'll have me. See, she and everyone around us have this image of me that I am a philanderer, and I fear that even if I tell her the truth of my whorish ways that she would simply choose to not believe me. I would understand. After all, it would not be so easy to believe that in my mind I have only ever been with her, that as I mentioned earlier I enchant the faces of those I lay with so that my eyes see her face looking up at me instead of an insignificant stranger's. That I love her beyond comprehension and seeing the obvious pain in her eyes the last few weeks as she looked upon me have felt like someone had taken my own daggers to my heart and twisted the blade. I knew I had to make right the wrongs I hadn't even been aware I'd done."

"Loki--"

"Open the door, darling. Please." You could hear his voice wavering as he said the words. "Let me see you."

You took a deep breath as you clutched your door handle, bracing yourself for whatever sight may greet you. Though you already knew what you would see: His godly form bared and wrapped in a festive red ribbon. Like a present.

Your present.

The image of him performing the over the top gesture in your imagination, however, was nothing compared to seeing said gesture with your own eyes. He truly was one of those exceptions wherein reality surpassed fantasy.

You steeled your expression into one of feigned indifference, one that he absolutely saw right through but you did it regardless, as your eyes roamed his sculpted physique, the red ribbon wrapped intricately around his torso that would come off in a dramatic flourish with one tug at the bow settled on the center of his chest. And attached to the thicker ribbon wrapped around him was the thinner ribbon leading to--

Goddamn he really did it. Candy cane dick.

"You look so divine it would put all the goddesses in Olympus and Asgard alike to shame," he spoke softly. You instinctively looked away to prevent yourself from any rash decisions when his eyes roamed over your body and you saw the candy cane twitch.

"And you look ridiculous," you choked out, your voice not even holding a shred of conviction. A lie so bad you may as well have worn a neon red sign saying This bitch lying.

He held out his hand towards you, beckoning you to him. "Come here and unwrap your present then, my love."

Your knees buckled at his words. "Your love," you echoed, though your tone was so laced with doubt that it sounded more like a question than anything else. When you reached your bed and placed your hand in his he sat up on the bed and pulled your hand toward him, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

"Yes," he answered you with a soft smile, his eyes looking up at you with such veneration it stole whatever breath you had left in your lungs. He placed his hands on either side of your body as he pulled you close enough so that he could press several kisses to your clothed stomach. "It's you, darling. Since the moment your eyes met mine."

His hands traveled down to the sides of your thighs, guiding you to rest your knees on either side of him on the bed, straddling his hips. Once your faces were level, you could see so clearly the emotions swimming in his eyes as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to your cheek, so gently it was almost as if he were afraid you'd break.

"Then why all those--"

"I valued your company too much that I dared not risk it simply because I desired your body," he explained in hushed tones, as if he was confessing to you, as if they were words of contrition. "You were too precious for me to lose to my own lust. And so whenever I felt the urge to shatter our friendship, I would find another to unleash those desires upon. It mattered not who. Even when I would deceive my own eyes I knew it would never be enough, and--"

"And in the process of finding another after another with the intention of preserving our friendship, you instead shattered me," you cut him off, your bottom lip quivering and your heart breaking with the effort you were exerting to not sob and yell your words out. "Every. Single. Time." He pulled away to look into your eyes, already brimming with unshed tears threatening to escape. Your next words barely came out a whisper. "I can't. I refuse to be another notch in your bedpost."

"You won't be," he pleaded, brushing the tips of his fingers lightly across your cheek. "I love you, Y/N. You are all I would ever desire. All I have ever desired since the moment we met."

You placed your hands on his shoulders, bracing yourself both physically and emotionally for the next words you were about to let out. "I love you, Loki." The smile on his face was so blindingly brilliant and rife with relief as he leaned in with the clear intent of pressing his lips to yours; however, you pushed back against his shoulders, earning you a confused look from the god. "If we do this, the sleeping around stops. Okay? Because I won't share you—"

He silenced you by pulling you towards him, your chests flush against each other, claiming your lips in a kiss that oozed of yearning and ages of repressed love. The moment you opened your mouth to him and your tongues met, you both sighed into each other's mouths in audible contentment. "I am yours, my love," he panted as he pulled away. "All of me. I do not intend to be shared, just as I have no intentions of sharing you if you would be mine."

His. That sounded like a dream. A beautiful fantasy too blissful to be true. "Yours…" You tested the word on your tongue as if it was such a foreign concept. "I'd like that," you said softly as you ran your hands along his shoulders, traveling down to his chest and the bow situated in its center, a loving smile stretching across his face as you did so. "So…if I tug on this it all comes falling off?" 

He placed his hand over yours, placing a tender kiss on your neck before whispering against your skin, "We need not go further if you're not ready to be intimate with me yet. We could stay doing exactly what we were just moments ago for the rest of  and I would be content. Because it's you. I am finally with you." He traced his lips along your jaw and up back to your mouth, claiming it once again in a soft kiss. "Only when you are ready, tell me. Or tug on the end of the bow and—"

"Yeah you can save the speech, Mischief. I'm ready," you cut him off, pulling at the end of the bow and watching the ribbon unravel with a dramatic flourish down to the bed. "I love you, and I want you to make me yours." His smile turned mischievous as he pulled the entirety of the ribbon off and away from him, his hands then returning to your thighs, skimming under the hem of your dress. "You're not pretending anymore," you cooed.

"And yet a fraction of this reality with you is worlds better than any illusion I'd ever conjured." His words sounded so reverent that they alone sent a rush of arousal pooling between your legs, worsening the state of your already drenched panties. His hands inched up slowly, hiking up the bottom of your dress along the way. He looked at you with an uncharacteristically timidity in his eyes, as if he was asking for permission. "May I?"

His hesitation unleashed something you could only describe as desperate in you. Desperate for more of his touch. His kisses. That lust he'd mentioned earlier that he didn't want to risk losing you to. You wanted him to lose himself to that desire now. Craved it, even. Your words from weeks ago echoed in your mind, a wicked grin playing at the corners of your mouth as they came to the forefront of your thoughts.

You wanted to ruin him. For everyone else but you. And vice versa.

As if he hadn't already ruined you the moment you walked in and spotted him all wrapped up like the best Christmas present you'd ever receive for the rest of your days.

You ran your hands down the length of his arms, hooking them under the bunched up hem of your dress and pulling the garment over your head, haphazardly throwing it down to the floor, joining the ribbon. His eyes lit up as his gaze roamed all the newly exposed skin to him, immediately leaning forward and pressing his lips to the skin above your heart and proceeding to trace the outline of your bra with his lips. "No more pretending," he breathed out, the slightly cool air of his exhalation chilling your heated skin by the slightest.

"No more pretending," you echoed with a satisfied grin pulling at your mouth. You brought your hands to his shoulders once more, urging him to look at you. Once he did you pressed a fevered kiss to his lips before groaning against him, "But I want you to fuck me as if you were."

Loki pulled your hips flush against his, both of you letting out an obscene moan as your drenched clothed core made contact with his hardened member. "No," he growled, reaching behind you to undo your bra, the undergarment falling unceremoniously to the ground and joining your dress. "Perhaps another night, my darling." He maneuvered your bodies until you were laying down on the bed, him hovering over you and looking up at you through his lashes. "This is not something that deserves to be over in minutes."

"Minutes?" you huffed in utter shock and disbelief. "What happened, they tap out?"

"Frustration on my part," he answered you simply, beginning to trail kisses across your collarbone and down your chest. "Because despite my greatest efforts my mind could not be deceived. They weren't you. None of them were you." He went on a path down your body, briefly taking each of your nipples into his mouth and laving his tongue over the stiffened peak, down your stomach, and stopping at your mound. "I can tell you now, my love, that this will not last for mere minutes. I intend to take my time with you."

As soon as he said those words, you let out a sharp gasp as he so effortlessly snapped apart the sides of your panties and pulled the fabric off of your body, proceeding to place your thighs on his shoulders and lift you off the bed. Just enough that your shoulders and upper back were still laying flat, but also enough that it would take great effort for you to find the leverage to squirm away from him if you wanted to.

You twisted your body in his hold so much that he seemingly casually laid his forearm across your lower stomach as he continued to subject you to wave after wave of relentless pleasure, steadily ramping you up to an orgasm that threatened to leave you boneless. "Oh my darling," he groaned against your skin, the vibrations from his voice sending a delicious thrill throughout your entire body. "I could devour you for hours."

The whimper that escaped your mouth felt so uncharacteristic for you. Then again everything about tonight felt unfamiliar to some degree. "Loki," you whined, prompting him to close his lips around your clit and flick his tongue mercilessly against the overly sensitive bundle of nerves, and letting out a scandalous moan against the desperately over-sensitized nub that send you over the edge. You screamed his name as your back arched off the bed, the haze of your climax making you only vaguely aware of how he held you still as you rode out your release on his tongue.

He set your legs back down on the bed and you were thankful for the reprieve, allowing you a few moments to catch your breath; however, the rest was short lived, as he gripped your hips and pulled you toward him until your ass sat atop his thighs, and he placed a hand under your back to prop you up and face him, pulling you in for a kiss so deliciously carnal as your tongues tangled together and you could taste yourself on him.

"I love you," he panted once he pulled away, bringing his hand down between you and lining his cock up at your entrance. He wrapped his other arm around you and held you close, pressing his lips softly along your neck and shoulder as you eased yourself onto him inch by inch, biting your lip as you felt the mixture of pain and pleasure as your walls stretched to accommodate him.

He moaned against your neck once you'd fully sheathed him inside of you, the backs of your thighs resting deliciously on the tops of his. You laid your hand on his chest as the other wrapped around the back of his neck, doing your best to move and set a pace for you both but even the slightest shift sent rippling shocks of pleasure all over your body that all you could do was rest your head against his shoulder and desperately whimper his name time and time again.

Those whimpers quickly became moans as he held your hips firmly and began to guide your body up and down along his length, capturing your lips in a desperate, nearly harsh kiss that proved effective in muffling the tell-tale screams of pleasure being elicited from both of you.

What started as a tender, sensual pace quickly turned frenzied as you both began to chase each other's pleasure, your hips finally moving of their own accord and allowing his hands to roam your body, his lips doing much of the same. When your paces grew staggered he moved you to lie back on the bed, your back once again flat against the mattress, and he hooked your legs around his waist as he drove into you mercilessly.

"Please," you cried out, feeling the coil tightening in your lower stomach once again. "I don't think--"

"Oh you can, my love," he countered you as he pressed his lips to your shoulder in a sloppy open mouthed kiss, your brain fogging once more as you felt him flicking his tongue against your skin, and his hand moving between you to start rubbing tight circles on the swollen bud. "Come with me," he coaxed as he proceeded to kiss along the shell of your ear, your moans echoing around your bedroom as his thrusts became slower, but harder.

Your legs shook with how hard your climax hit you, not even thinking you could manage it since you'd never done it before, but it truly didn't take you by surprise that Loki had managed to do just that as he somehow hit every sweet spot inside of you with every move. He reached his own peak as your walls clenched around him, his hips jerking against yours as he finally reached his release inside of you.

"You know, if I'm gonna be honest, I would've thought that you would've gone for the gold ribbon," you told Loki as you two were sat at the little kitchen island in your apartment, both of you nursing your own mug of hot cocoa as the god held your calf in his free hand, his thumb gently stroking your skin. "I know we had some in the stock room last I checked."

"Well, my darling, you would be correct. But when I arrived at the stock room earlier today someone else had already taken the gold. That was when I knew I had to hasten my steps, make it here before…" he trailed off.

"Before what?" you asked with a chuckle.

He took a deep breath before placing his mug down and reaching over to take yours from your hand, setting it down as well, before he pulled you back onto his lap and captured your lips in a kiss that felt both possessive and desperate all at once. "This does mean that you are mine now, dear Y/N. Yes?" he asked when he pulled away, shock flooding your system when you saw the vulnerability in his eyes as he said the words.

"Of course," you breathed out, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "You're stuck with me now, Mischief."

"I would have it no other way, my love." He wrapped his arms around you, one of his hands reaching up to weave his fingers through your hair. "Y/N before I made it to your apartment, I'd heard that one of the men on our team was trying to find a way into your apartment to follow the advice you'd given us weeks ago as well."

That reveal had taken you aback, your eyes widening as your brain tried to process the new information. "I'll be honest, Loki. If I walked in here and found someone else ribbon-clad in my bed I would've kicked them out. Walk of shame style. Tonight wouldn't have ended the way it did if it wasn't you."

Those words made him pull you in for another kiss, sighing into your mouth as he pulled you even closer to him, your bodies completely flush against each other.

"I'm glad you got the red, though," you said, a wicked smile pulling at the corners of your mouth as he looked at you with confusion rife in his icy stare. "I liked the candy cane look on you." You struggled to move away from him as he trapped you in his arms, proceeding to tickle your sides and render you into a giggling mess.

"My beautiful little menace," he chuckled as his onslaught ceased, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Do you not even wish to know who it was that would have walked in shame out of your apartment had you found him instead?"

"You know what…I kinda am…mostly because I want to picture their walk of shame in gold ribbon. Who was it?"

You broke out into another fit of laughter, your body shaking uncontrollably as he held you against him as soon as he uttered the name. "Barnes."

A/N: Omg I'm so happy to finally finish this story and finish off the idea that's been running around my brain since Monday 😂 "Candy Cane Dick" story is finally done. SAS, if you know you know 😏

Everything tag list: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @kats72 @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @creationsbyme @coldnique

[mcuthoraction]

Thor Gotcha for Gaza

For every donation of $5 USD to any verified Palestinian fundraiser, donators can receive a Thor, Loki, or Hela fanwork (either fanfic/fanart) based on their prompt.

COMPLETED FANWORKS

ART

Thor and Loki childhood shenanigans (art) by @/moopzies

Loki as a hogwarts 5th year student ( in Slytherin ), playing quidditich (art) by @/cephalore

long hair Thor wearing cute little reading glasses (art) by @/twinkkurt

Loki as a kingsmen agent (art) by anonymous

Loki having rlly good cold tolerance in Norway winter, Thor looks like a marshmallow from all the insulating clothing layers (art) by @/cephalore

from an old post of my brodinsons sickfic ideas, 'Thor always being warm and Loki seeking him out when he's got chills cause it's as good as an electric blanket (that also gives you hugs) (art) by anonymous

Thor/Loki, one-sided unrequited - Thor has been slowly dying of hanahaki for centuries. By the time it's impossible to hide and he confesses, it's too late… (art) by anonymous

"When i ask my boyfriend to come cuddle me but i forget how muscular he is" meme but it's Thor asking What If!Jotun!Loki as his brother to cuddle and getting squished underneath (art) by anonymous

demon Loki flustering fairy Thor. would be nice if they danced together (art) by anonymous

hela AND brodinsons fluff (art) by anonymous

Loki likes to admire Hela while she gets ready. Loki thinks his big sister is so cool and loves the way she does her hair and makeup. Hela applies black lipstick on her kid brother after he confesses he wants to look pretty like her. (art) by @/strawberrysnakez

I'd love to see Hela having a day for her self of self care. Perhaps preparing a bath, candles, a stunning robe, some wine…. but prefer color scheme of the bath and such to be with black roses, some skull motifs, maybe random blood stain here or there, overall a hellish or underworld toned bath and setting for Hela but still beautiful for her. (art) by anonymous

FIC

Loki and Sylvie go on a date (fic) by @/Griselda_Gimpel

thinking about odin turning into sparkles when he died and then thought. okay what if asgardians just turned into glitter when they died. like just. poof. sparkles everywhere. like the avengers find Thor after Loki's just died again and he's sobbing and covered in glitter (fic) by @/Lost_Sanctuary

Loki looks at his reflection for the first time as a Jotun. Thor is there to comfort. Hela is there to jeer. (Maybe in the beginning of Ragnarok, they all fall from the Bifrost to Jotunheim? And they have to stick together?) (Internalised Fantastic Racism) (fic) by @/worstloki

baby loki and frigga fluff (fic) by @/WhisperingMischief

Human AU in Thor’s POV involving a very dysfunctional odinfamily. Prompt can be taken in any direction the author wants, but primarily focused on Thor. (fic) by @/Cail_Jei

Thor/Loki - some sort of consort!Thor AU (fic) by @/thot-son-of-odin and @/thortwenty151

tesseroki AU with human loki & vampire tess (fic) by @/worstloki

Thor in a Timeloop (maybe in the Dark World, or the Infinity War, trying to fix everything) (fic) by @/worstloki

Gamora and Nebula talk about death and mercy while Loki is unconscious (fic) by @/worstloki

Hurt/comfort: Thor does something to trigger loki's flashbacks to when he was being tortured by the black order. This turns into a panic attack and it takes multiple attempts for Thor to properly calm him down. It's also eye-opening for Thor, realizing he really doesn't know how much lokis been through. (fic) by @/mayonaisie

Loki & Thor or Hela & Loki & Thor brotherhood/siblinghood (fic) by @/Cail_Jei

This list will update as more fanworks are completed.

[gelu-the-babosa-multiversal]

About the TFRB x AEMH crossover, what do you think the Avengers would think of Priscilla? (Maybe also what they think of her being with Cody?)

Sorry I had to do some quick doodles for this ask. TAKE THEM, THEIR HORRIBLE!

If I'm allowed to use my hc that Simon is Priss dad, then this will be angsty. And if I don't use that idea, then it would still be angsty as Madeline could work as an antagonist for Tony because they work in similar fields but Madeline steals the products to claim them as hers..

I really don't know in which place of the timeline we would set this up if between seasons 2-3 or on season 4 after Madeline is arrested. But well 😋

-Cap is the type of guy who likes all types of children no matter how destructive or arrogant they are. Though Priscilla is hard to open. I think that Priss would remind Cap of another woman who is hard to open up to, but is nice deep down (I'm referring to Madame Viper. And who knows, maybe Madame Viper worked once for Madeline too)

-Tony might not like Priscilla at first. He is a very busy man and has no time for bratty children, more if they're the kids of his competition. However, after getting numerous propositions from Pynch Industries he ended up desecrating, for then purchasing Simon Innovations. An angry Priscilla comes at his door screaming how he has ruined his family even more... so yea, it wasn't a really good first impression, but they warm up with time.

-Thor as the god of thunder and prince of Asgard would be the most interesting Avenger to Priscilla, and Thor would hate it. The Asgardian knew that humans could be perseverant and an unstoppable force, something Priss proved to be. The girl is 11 and she already had levels of Enchantress manipulation, though Thor knew that she was still a kid who grew up with a mother worse than Enchantress herself. But it still made Thor tremble every time Priss showed up in front of him with a wide smile to ask ¨can I brush your hair?¨

-Banner and Hulk have come to the agreement that Priss is not the worst thing that has happened to them... and even when Priss is annoying at times, is a bit nice to have someone yell at you because you are not a monster but because you are annoying to her as well. Priss doesn't see Hulk as a monster which is surprising for many.

-Hank and Jannet are worried for Priscilla, mostly Hank who after a deep investigation found out what Madeline was doing in the shadows and what was planning if she killed made an alliance with Tony.

-T´challa is impressive as to how obstinate Pricilla is, how cold, and how calculator she could be all thanks to the teachings of her mother. But Priscilla was still innocent, a little kid who didn't know better and was never put a stop as a conscious decision to keep her as an obedient brat. It made T'challa that things were never as black and white as some pointed out. Priscilla has the chance to be the bad guy or the good guy, and T´challa hopes that maybe some of his teaching shows Priss that one route will be better than the other. The route may take away a lot of things/people that Priss loves, but is the best path to live.

-Hawkeye won't stand for Priss shenanigans and will ping her with one of his arrows to a wall just to annoy her and make him leave him alone. But Priss just like Cody is a force to fear, more if you ruin one of her prettiest dresses. Clint learned that with a bomb of glitter exploding on his face...

To summarize, everyone on the team has different views on Priscilla, but they all mostly agree that Madeline played (or well didn't?) a part in Priscilla's education and teaching her how to act. Everyone and Cap would be a bit worried that Cody has a secret crush on her, but the kid has proven capable enough to deal with this (or so they think ashdkjahd)

Wasp is a shipper like Dani so a lot of chaos suffers with this...

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

Since its loki we are talking here, can we have loki lusting for his half sister, reader who is the goddess of lust and love. He does magic on her so he could do on her

Courtyard Shenanigans

Damn what a gorgeous evening tonight turned out to be. Its just what the fuck I need after the most grueling day of coming second to Thor in everything. Plus there's nothing more peaceful then enjoying the beauty of Asgard as the day settles out. Dusk makes the orange stained sky unsually gorgeous, infused with dusty pink clouds that cast the prettiest of shadows over the Royal Palace of Valaskjalf. The crisp clear breeze seems fresher than any air I've experienced on any planet.

But trying to enjoy the phenomal view, as I step out into the courtyard, is short lived. Sus muffled grunts sound off from a few feet away, seemingly near the statue my worrysome mother insisted be created in my image. What or who the hell is that moaning in terrible pain?

Crouching low, I creep along the edge of the full shrubbery leading in that direction. I can't help my eyes transforming into saucers as I peek through the multi-colored rose bushes. Utter disbelief smacks me like a speeding freight train at the scene unfolding right before my eyes: my slutty half sister riding the fuck outta one of my guards face.

The lucky bastard is horizontal on the cemented circular bench that surrounds my stone doppelganger. His hand is flying at the speed of light on the pathetic member that sticks out through the guard uniform as you grind your clearly soakin wet pussy on his mouth; transparent rivelts drip from your oozing center down his chin to his neck. I'm not shocked that his lips are so damn red and raw from your treatment but from the way he moans into your core and fucks his fist is a clear indication of satisfaction. Piercing moans of approval get louder before you begin to speak out loud.

"Fuck, riiiiight there! Come on, cause you-ah!- finished allova yourselfself twice but haven't made me cum once. Haaaah, fuuuuu- mmm.. Shame on you soldier, maybe you need a little incentive."

I watch intently as you throw your head back on a moan with closed eyes and roll your neck counterclockwise. I rather soak you in your every move, purposely ignoring the wad of cum pooled around his balls. Your freshly done braids swing widly; cute, jet black nails grip his shoulder tight in your pleasure. The breeze gets stronger for a moment, swirling around the two of you in a glittery sheer sky blue mist before dissipating within seconds. When your lids reopen, eyes matchin the color of the sky, you stare upwards with an open mouth. The man beneath you seems to go insane, licking and sucking at your hungry little cunt like a starved man in the woods.

"Gods yes, so much better. Good boy, jus needed a little push huh? Thats it, aaaaah, lemmeuseyouuuuu!"

Fuck, your skin is radiate, glistens with perspiration from all your hard work. The humping of your hips makes your perfect soft flesh jiggle erratically. How I'd be perfectly happy to die right at this moment without making my way to Valhalla if it meant trading places with that insignificant bug. He has no idea how lucky he is to have the gift of YOU sliding what's gotta to be the the universe's most perfect pussy on his undeserving mouth.

The shocking incredulity surging through me at the scene seems very understandable, the raging boner however makes me pause. It's not the first one the little vixen has caused me but the guilt that comes with lustin after you is gut wrenchin.

Probably doesn't help that you appear to have strict orders to never come near asgardian clothing. Your fuckin itty bitty knitted baby blue top and salmon tinted scrap of cloth wrapped around your waist like a snug skirt damn nearhad me drooling. You are and always will be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

Shouldn't be hard to guess why I'm relentlessly having to secretly grip my dick at the base almost every time I'm in your fuckin presence. I live in a life of hopelessly attempting to not nut in my royal robes because of you.

Damn, it's impossible not to witness how this plays out since I've yearned to be in the place of this unworthy fucker for years.. How I desperately wish it was my mouth you dragged your quivering quim allover like that. I'm entranced at the way you grip his medium length blonde locks and drag across his face even faster as you degrade him.

"Gonnacuuuuum! Oh God, finally! No thanks to youuuu, had to u-use my gifts jus to get the pleasure I yearn. Yeeeeees, stay right there! Ohfuckohfuckohfuuuuuuk!"

My hands flies to grip my clothed dick firmly, this time to aid the nut trying to spray outta me instead of stifling it. It only takes a couple squeezes, along with the image of you leaning forward as the scum sucks your little clit vigorously; the flutter of your vacate gummy walls paralyzing me as my cream sprays 5 abundant globs into my mother's rose bushes. I thank the gods for your booming whine that helps to covers my perverted groan.

Your hips swivel a few more times before you drop her head back down and gracefully slip off his face. Taking a few steps back, you watch my soon to be fired guard gasp for breath; his hazel eyes are unseeing and dazed as fuck. So memorized by her orgasm, I'm estatic to notice I missed the small peckered fucker cum for a third time. It seems my little sister has also noticed, the way narrowed eyes trail to his dick and your cute little nose wrinkles in disgust.

"Leave us." She demands to him curtly before looking right into my soul through the thick bush.

As confused as he seems to be, head ducking left to right quizzically, the guard scrambles away as he hastily tucks his dick away. It would almost be funny if it werent for the sinking feeling in my gut. Nothing else to do except sheathe my still hard cock and reveal myself, I stand awkwardly and watch you fix your clothing to hide your drippy little slit.

"Come, brother." Y/n demands, finger crooked at me.

You step one leg over the bench and sit with it between your smooth chocolate thighs. Back straight with your nose in the air, you sit like a queen where that coward laid just a moment before. I walk over on stiff legs and do the same a few inches away, avoiding eye contact at all costs. The smell of your pussy lingering in the air entices my rock hard dick that taps impatiently underneath my clothing. Your stare on the side of my face almost burns but my guilt keeps me focused on the ground as you speak confidently.

"Why do you spy on me in my most private of moments, Loki? You must know it isn't proper of a brother to watch his sister do such things."

I swallowly visibly before answering.

"I'm- I'm sorry. It was not my intention. I came for air after a long day and heard noises of which I assumed were pain. Well, I thought.." I trail off uncomfortably.

"But you did not leave once you realized." You counter back.

My mouth open and closes as I fumble my response, cheeks feeling like they've been god damn torched.

"Well you- you knew of my presence and still concluded such distasteful acts, out in the open may I add." I shoot back, finally looking into your pretty, dark, almond shaped eyes.

"You didn't seem to mind as you stroked your fat cock to completion while starin in between my legs."

That stumps me as I sit gazing at your beautiful frame, mouth slightly agape. But you only giggle at me as you stand and prepare to exit the courtyard.

"Next time be more inconspicuous; my father wouldn't like to see you do such things. In fact I think mother would be amused even less." She teases me and turns to leave.

A snap of my fingers brings my statue to life. The stone scrapes loudly as it moves and grabs each of your wrists, locking them in place into the air. The way you stand there helpless and shocked does soothe my ego a bit, I can readily admit.

"You blame me as if you weren't gyrating allover that man's face like a common whore. Yes I lust after you, dear sister. But I know you do for me as well. Yet you charade around the castle flamboyantly, refusing to wear our royal attire. Instead insisting on donning tiny earthly garments and then bending in front of me every chance you get. You want me y/n and I'm sick of you pretending you fuckin don't." I say leaning in close, lips just half an inch from your own.

Already a bit agreeable, I sense how much our close proximity affects your state of mind. As tense as your flawless frame is, your gorgeous eyes shut and you lean in to try to kiss me. Before you can I raise my right hand, swiftly drawing a circle in the air with the tip of my finger, watching as glittery emerald green smoke forms a thin circle. I gently blow it into your face and you unknowingly inhale as I press my lips to yours lightly for a few seconds before pulling back. You try to follow, lips pouting as I deny your request.

"Lokiiiii. Kiss meeeeee." You whine, arms pulling at the stone hold on your wrists.

"Hmmm.." I pretend to think dramatically. "Beg me, sweetheart."

Your response is instantaneous.

"Please, big brother, pleeeeease! I want you, no NEED you so bad. Can I have your lips? No wait!Your cock? Pretty please? Promised to always take care of me right? Need you to take care of me now, Lokiiiii."

"Ok, Ok y/n. I'll give you what you want, but only if you answer a question. If you lie, you don't get my cock. Understand?"

"Yeeeees big brother." You slur back at me, lookin a bit dazed from my little homemade concoction.

"How many of my personal guard have you fucked?"

"Just the one you seen me with today. It was awful: he came with a quickness I couldn't have imagined. He's the only man I've ever been with." You answer honestly.

"Glad to hear I needn't murder my entire guard then. Alrighty, honey sit up a bit."

You do as I ask and I slide underneath your restrained body, taking out my leaking dick. I wiggle the shaft back and forth, smacking it against your plump soft brown ass cheeks. Fuck, your moans are like music to my ears and I curse myself inwardly as a feel a tautness in my groin from the way you frantically hump back at me.

"Please Loki, you promised me. One question and I answered. Gimme my dick. I've earned it, have I not big brother?"

That filthy fuckin mouth spurs me to lift you by your hips and rapidly poke my fat cock tip into your snug little hole. (Although he should fear my wrath, I am suddenly semi grateful for the foreplay my guard provided for how fuckin drenched you are now.) It feels so fuckin good.

The way you squeal and tremble has me mandhandling you with a tight grip, keepin you in place as I dig into the tightest pussy I've ever felt. It's so warm, so wet, just the most perfect little slit to ease into. I can't cease the breathless way I repeatedly grunt your name into the air of the courtyard loudly.

The tense sensation bubbling in my balls and pelvis quadruple and its my turn to whimper loudly. It's barbaric the way I fuck into you for the first time, carelessly crying my pleasure into the wind. Your wails are even more unhinged and it's a miracle that nobody has come by to see who's out here groaning like a wounded animal.

"Haaaaaah! OhmygodsLoki! Ohgodsohgods, so very good big brother! Just like my dreeeeams- aaaaahhhfuu-Loki!!!"

You've hit feral and I've only just got in all the way. Our chests heave simultaneously as I reach up to flick your little top out the way, watchin your breast flop out and shake uncontrollably at your attempts to fuck onto my cock. If not for my hold on your hips you'd most definitely would be successful in milking me within seconds. It shouldn't be this hard not to breed you but it's taking all my will power not to creampie my little sisters pussy.

"Y/n s-stop it, lemme-FUCK! Darling, please just lemme handle it. C-can't hold back if you don't keep still. Haaah, ohgods! Please sweetheart!"

The swiveling of your hips is gonna be my demise. All I can do is match your frenzied pace, pulling out only half way before slamming in each time. I know I'm giving my princess what she deserves as continuous praises for me spill over your plump lips.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyoubigbrother! Your cocks the best! I'm yours Loki, only your yours tohavetoholdtofuck! Ohgods! You'resofuckinamazing!"

The whiny dirty words, plus the way your soaking wet pussy puts my spasming dick inna chokehold makes me lose all concentration. The stone statue releases its grip on you and falls back into place as if it never moved and inch.

Your quick to lean forward on my chest, one hand slipping down to rub at your sticky little clit as your hips never miss a beat in their delicious torture. Its almost pathetic when you cum on the first stroke of that throbbing button, except im grateful because there was no way I could hold out for much longer.

"I'mcummingLoki! Yesyesyes, cumming on your cock big brother! Feelssogood! Ah ah ah! Mmm yeeeees Loooki!"

Warmth spreads throughout me as you put your pretty face in my neck and fuck the shit outta me. Fuck the tables have turned, high pitched moans flowing from me as I stare into the sky blankly as you force me to creampie your tiny little cunt. I'm gasping through my groans as I try to breath through this intense fucking orgasm.

"Y/n haaaah oh Gods, y/n! Suchabrat for thiiisss. Gonna make you pay little girl. Ohfuuuuck, big brothers gonna get you back.."

Gush after thick gush pours into you as my arms drop limply to the ground. My hips quiver and I can't control the small humps they give as I fuck my heavy load into you. I don't notice how the last of the sunlight slips behind the castle, dimming the courtyard. It's hard to observe anything other than my cock becoming overstimulated from cumming twice so powerfully within just a few minutes.

"Ah, ah, ah y/n! Waaaaait darling, gimmeasecondplease! 's too fuckin good, haaaah! Please pretty girl, need a moment." I beg unashamed, head thrashing from left to right.

Thankfully your hips circle to a slow halt, but you dont immediately release me as you did the guard. I can admit I am less than pleased at the way you sit up and look down at me sinisterly while I suck in air desperately.

"No fair big brother, you used your powers on me.." You say in-between heaving breaths as I look at you in shock. I had no idea you knew..

Your hypnotizing eyes swirl with that tantalizing sunset color as the shimmering blue mist appears again but this time surrounding the two of us thickly.

"Now I wanna use mine on you."

OH. FUCK.

[tonystarktogo]

PLEASE continue As Subtle As Cognitive Recalibration. I’m missing 2012 avengers with 2023 shenanigans so bad

Natasha would like to say that she notices something is off immediately—and if anyone asks that is what she will claim and good luck trying to prove otherwise—but the truth is it’s not until a good five minutes after Clint has woken up, heavily concussed and beat up but himself, in the back of their not-quite-stolen getaway car that she realizes it.

Which is a solid two hours after Stark catches on. Stark.

Granted, Natasha has had other things on her mind. Like the alien capable of mind-control getting a hold of the one person she might actually one day admit to count as a real friend without lying, should the stars align and the confession suit her purpose. Or the invading army that followed on said alien’s heels.

But that is no excuse to discard the many, many inconsistencies she’s observed but ignored or brushed off instead of questioned like her instincts have insisted with increasing alarm ever since she has watched Rogers and Banner hover over Stark like he might disappear the second they take their eyes off of him.

There’d been speculation in Rogers file that he might be positively inclined towards Stark on the grounds of his familiarity with Howard Stark but even if SHIELD’s attempt to discourage a connection with such a volatile asset had failed that still wouldn’t explain the depth of Roger’s emotional reaction to Stark.

Don’t even get her started on Banner.

Stark stands for everything Bruce Banner has done his best to avoid since he got his monstrous green personality addition. The way he has actively sought Tony Stark at his most sarcastic out makes no sense whatsoever. Nor does the tension between Banner and Rogers, that screams of frustration born out of long-held disagreements stretched out over years, not a twenty minutes long acquaintance.

And all that doesn’t touch on the fact that the Asgardian crown prince Thor has treated all of them—Stark and Natasha included—like long lost friends.

Not just in the way he’s greeted Stark with an actual hug either. Big, boisterous statements are easier to fake, though what aim such a pretense would serve Natasha doesn’t know, but it’s the little things that made her pause, almost succeeded in distracting her from her primary goal of getting Clint back.

The loaded glances. The unfinished sentences that were understood nonetheless. They way they stepped into formation reflexively the moment the explosion shook the helicarrier, like they knew where everyone else would stand. Like they’d been in that position before.

She set it aside because she needed to focus on Clint. So that is what she did.

Natasha doesn’t regret that because Clint needed her and now he’s alright. Bloodied and fucked-up but himself.

But she does regret letting all those hints go, just a little, because Clint may be himself but it only takes her five minutes in his company to know for sure that he’s not the same.

He tackles her in a hug that almost gets them killed the moment he regains consciousness—which is actually the most in-character thing she has seen him do so far—but he doesn’t tap their agreed upon all-clear signal out against her shoulder. He doesn’t flinch or tense when he catches sight of Loki—and yeah, the guy might be a victim too, but how would Clint know that? And even if he does, that still doesn’t mean no reaction to his presence at all.

Most damning though is that moment in Stark’s elevator, just before the doors open and they step out onto the roof and it’s a lightening quick motion someone else might have missed but Natasha is watching for it and she knows exactly what she’s seeing. Mere seconds before stepping into a potentially life-threatening situation, Clint doesn’t look to her. Instead his gaze flicks to Rogers, to Banner, to Thor, and he takes his cue from them.

He’s subtle about it and he does clock her and Stark too, as is only expected, but that first reflex doesn’t lie.

So while it might have taken Natasha longer to catch on than she’d prefer, she knows. The question now is what she’s going to do with that knowledge.

Natasha leans back in her seat, a position that reinforces the relaxed air she’s been so carefully feigning ever since they’ve stepped into this slightly run-down local restaurant whose staff has been handling their unexpected and strange customers surprisingly well so far, lets her gaze roam over their curious group—takes in the way Thor pushes more food onto Loki’s plate every time their wannabe conqueror finishes, how Clint keeps shooting looks at her, not so much like he’s trying to communicate and more like he’s checking if she’s still there, while Rogers and Banner throw unexpectedly cutting barbs at each other when they aren’t trying to pull Stark into a conversation—and does what she does best: she plots.

Let's be real, nothing good can come from this.