#me: makes a marvel blog

[obfontri]

the rumbling chatter of the cantina has provided a steady backing to their drinking and gambling for better part of the hour so it’s an immediate cause for concern when the room suddenly falls quiet. an elbow is jammed into oblo’s side to silence his prolonged cackling and someone ( probably tullk ) is saying something that causes geff's next snide comment to croak in his throat — but kraglin is too busy craning his neck towards the door to care, trying to locate the cause for te sudden unease. for his efforts, he’s rewarded with sight of a humanoid figure clad in gleaming silver armor making their way towards the back of the tavern. fuck.

mandos usually meant trouble for men like him. ( wasn’t it a bunch of mandos what got gorian shard not too long ago? ). he tries to recall what bounties might be on their heads in this part of the outer rim and quickly gives up when the number grows too large to count on both hands. fuck it. his blaster is within reach, holstered at his side. he isn’t above shooting his way out — but he keeps his hands above the table, fingers curled carefully around a glass of something blue and bitter. when the mando arrives, kraglin tenses, yet -- instead of an upturned table and an exchange of plasma bolts, as the pirate expected, he places forth a question.

' can we make a deal ? ' / @devoutgun

❝ well, ain't that something. ❞ he knows the suprise must be evident on his face because he can see it mirrored in the faces of his companions before they remember who they're suppose to be and quickly school features into something more intimidating. half nut grumbles besides him and kraglin can feel several pairs of questioning eyes burning a hole in his suit worse than any plasma bolt could, each looking to him for an answer in the absense of their captain. he really should have stayed on the ship. ❝ i don't mean to be insulting but i think you must've got the wrong man, mando. the capt'n ain’t in the market for a head hunter. ❞

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Marvel's Squirrel Girl: The Unbeatable Radio Show! | All of Erik Lehnsherr's Call-In's

Episodes featured: The Fate of My Universe The Sinister Six Are No More Who Would Win In A Fight? Unbeatable

Full Podcast Playlist (Spotify)

Credits below:

Written by: Ryan North

Directed by: Giovanna Sardelli

Voice Cast: Milana Vayntrub - Squirrel Girl/Doreen Green Crystal Lucas Perry - Nancy Whitehead Leo Sheng - Koi Boi/Ken Shiga Davied Morales - Chipmunk Hunk/Tomas Lara-Perez Erica Schroeder - Tippy T. Squirrel Rob Nagle - Erik Lehnsherr

Key Art: "Squirrel Girl Infinity Comic (2022)" by Derek Charm - Doreen, Nancy, Ken, Tomas, Tippy "Magneto (2023)" by Todd Nauck - Erik

[lokis-coconut28]

Sports Bra (Y/N x Loki)

A/N: This is my first time posting a fic and getting used to writing on tumblr - please be gentle with me! Lots of ideas and things to come hopefully. If anybody can help me with dividers and such, please approach!

A/N: I am reposting this here, on a primary blog so I can access and follow you all! Thank you so much for the love on my secondary account on this story.

This has been living in my phone notes for a long time. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Slight voyeurism, Smut, 18+ only, Smut lol

Summary: Training with Loki in a sports bra gets spicy. WC 1.6K

Your hair curled around your face in sweaty whisped tendrils as you wrestled Loki on the mat. Training days were grueling and your body had alerted you to that as you were starting to get fatigued. Your body ached, especially your thighs. 

Loki pinned you to the floor once again and a cheeky smile spread across his face. 

“You are powerful, darling. But not strong enough to beat a god.” He snarled playfully. 

You huffed, breasts heaving up and down with your deep breaths. You bent forward, stretching your hamstring in preparation to attempt, yet again, to take your teammate down. 

You leaned into your frontal stretch, touching your toes with your eyes closed. Loki half-scolded himself for stealing a glance down your sports bra.

Though he would never admit it, since you joined the team he had had more than one fantasy about that body of yours. You curved in all of the right places. Forbidden thoughts raced through his mind more often than not after training with you. Loki would conjure images in his mind after conditioning with you. What it would be like to be intimate together. If the showers were empty, it wasn't uncommon to be found pleasuring himself to the rendering of you in his psyche.

It wasn’t all physical, though. Your quick wit made him genuinely smile. He admired your intelligence and influence being a new Avenger. You had such a beautiful soul. And for the most part, he trusted you. Not once were you judgmental of his past and you were instant to embrace him. You would jest, but did not joke at his expense like the other Avengers would. You were valuable to him. More than a Midgardian sparring partner, to be sure. He could never confess this attraction, fearing to lose his friendship with the closest person to him.

You did one more long stretch beyond your feet, hands splayed on the ground, breasts pushing outward. Loki noticed the periphery of one of your nipples dipping out from the top of the of your bra, almost to the center of it, forming a rose colored peak. 

Seeing such a private part of you caught him off guard. He blushed fiercely and pretended to stretch his arms in front of himself as he briefly looked away.

You softly moaned as you arched you spine into a neutral position and hoisted your bra back up, your breasts jiggling as you secured them in place. 

You peered up at Loki through spent eyes. “Ready?”

Loki was still enchanted having seen a small glimpse of you. He felt guilty for gazing upon you without your knowledge. “Y/N, wait-" he started just as you sprinted full force at him. You knocked him down in his moment of unsteadiness. The pair of you fell back onto the mat in a tackle. You straddled Loki's hips and pinned them to the ground as your forearm held his sternum tight to the floor. You exhaled in relief, finally defeating him in your playful competition, soft eyes - and supple cleavage - mere inches from his face.

Loki gasped hard, admittedly unprepared for the harsh blow to the ground. He gaped at you, restraining him with might between your sore thighs, sweat beading around your collar bones. His eyes flickered to your bosom towering over him, watching your erratic breath from physical exertion. He felt a tightness in his stomach and began to panic as he felt his cock twitch. He hoped you didn’t feel it. 

You did. 

It throbbed again, and you looked at Loki wide-eyed in disbelief. The God of Mischief, your best friend and colleague, pinned beneath you, growing hard. 

Aware of your gaze he scoffed in embarrassment and crimson crept up his cheeks. You fell on your back as he rolled you to the side, off of him. 

Putting his hands on his head, elbows on his knees, he gently spoke. “Y/N… I…” He was at a loss for words. Abashed tears welled in his eyes. “What you felt… it’s just…” he took a moment to compose himself.  “When you bent over, I saw, well, more than you had intended for me to see… I’m so sorry Y/N…” he whispered at the end. His lashes flickered downward, looking anywhere but at you. 

Your heart fluttered at his admission. Withdrawing his hands from his face, you could see his genuine worriment. Biting your lip, you turned his cheek, forcing eye contact. Taking a deep breath, you spoke just as honest and vulnerable as he had been.

“Loki… it’s okay… I would let you see all of me if you wanted to…” 

His mouth parted slightly in anticipation of your next words. Lust filled the air dense as fog. 

You grabbed his hand and gently guided it to your chest. 

“May I?” You lulled, handling his flesh with care.

He nodded, pupils dilating. 

You softly placed Loki’s hand on your breast. You observed as his eyes devoured you. You held a grip on his knuckles, urging him to take over. 

He lifted his other hand, following your lead, and started to caress your mammae, cupping them, and swiftly massaging them in circles, palming your mounds.

You tilted your head back and moaned. It felt glorious. You always did have an attraction toward Loki, but this, having him touch you with the look of adoration in his eyes, was stirring something more inside of you. You looked down at Loki’s obvious arousal. His eyes lingering on your chest - which had been pulling his orbs like a magnet this evening. 

You had an idea. 

“Loki… fuck my tits…” you cautiously offered to him. The situation seemed so taboo, but you wanted this, wanted him, and seeing his eyes glued to you gave you the confidence to propose this in the heat of the moment. 

“What?” His eyes snapped to yours, locking concentratedly.

“Fuck my tits Loki… I want you…please…” you continued. You were nervous now, unable to read his expression.

His brows furrowed. “My darling… I’ve, I have never done that… I..” he trailed off. 

“I will help you, Loki. If you want this?”

He nodded. “I want this. I want you more than anything in the realms”.

You laid back on the mat and instructed Loki to put his legs on both sides of you. You carefully pulled down his sweats to release his cock, already glistening at the tip. 

You wrapped your hand around his heated shaft and lifted the underside of your brassiere. You slid his head in and aligned him perfectly center between your mounds. You grabbed his ass and nudged him to move. 

Loki let out a stifled moan as his dick glided between your supple breasts. He rhythmically started driving into the crevice, watching his prick come out of the apex of your bra, bouncing your bountiful cleavage. 

He started thrusting faster now, hesitantly eyeing the training observation window. You took note and reassured him.

“Nobody will see, Lokes. I wouldn’t care even if they did. Keep going, Prince.” You sung gently to him.

He hissed and spasmed from his core at your words. Prince. Your soft skin enveloped his manhood so well.

You flipped your bra up on to your collarbones, exposing your entire chest. You pushed your boobs together as tight as you could, nipples hardening as you felt Loki’s shaft pulsate. His eyes darkened, eagerly taking in this new scene. 

“Let me taste you Loki…” The words rolled off of your lips.

You opened your mouth offering an “o” shape for his tip to enter. He slid between your tits, gliding his end into your mouth. 

“Ah Norns, Y/N…” Loki growled in a low timbre.

He rubbed against you quicker now, a fury inside of his veins and heart, quickening his oncoming orgasm. 

His eyes met yours as his knob slid in once again. This was more than just lust, he acknowledged in his mind. He loved you. He was madly in love with you, his best friend. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m close… Where.. where can I release…” he panted as he gyrated into your breasts. Your tongue flicked the tip of his penis as to offer a place for him to cum. 

“Y/N…” he hissed multiple times in silence before letting out an involuntary mewl, orgasm washing over him. He came in your mouth, bucking and convulsing. Loki pulled out with one more spurt shooting across the nipple he had stolen a glance at earlier. He watched as you swallowed with glee in your eyes.

“How was that?” You questioned from underneath him. 

He tenderly handled you, supporting your neck as you arose and settled next to him in a seated position on the mat.

“If that’s how good your breasts feel I can’t imagine how divine the rest of you feels, my darling.” 

Your hand touched his softly, rubbing a circle on his knuckle. 

“Why don’t you find out?” You purred into his ear.

Loki pulled you on to his lap, searching your eyes for deception. He saw many things in your eyes, but deception was not present.

Gracefully, he laid a most loving kiss on your lips. Securing your legs around his hips, he stood and maneuvered your back to rest against the glass. Pinning your hands above your head with one hand, he used the other to strip away both of your remaining clothing with a flash of emerald. Your ass pressed against the training window as Loki prepared to enter you. You clutched the nape of his neck, raven curls slick with sweat, holding him with an unspoken devotion. This was your favorite day of training.

****************************************************************

A/N: Thank you for going on that journey with me. Writing is hard! Please forgive any errors!

Special thank you to @mochie85 for encouraging me to write and publish. (On my @Kitrgator blog, I promised I would tag you if I ever did post!)

[selinas]

DAKOTA JOHNSON Madame Web | 2024

[thecyancat]

look, i do not interact with marvel fandom, or x-men, or any superhero stuff whatsoever, but

why this imax ad for the deadpool wolverine movie them about to hold hands?

[clowningcrows]

takes agathario in my mouth and shakes them like a dog

[yj-98]

While the Captain may not always win, he may not always save the day, he is always kind. And that's a reputation to be proud of.

Billy Batson — Shazam! #1 (2023)

[annabelle--cane]

they should make a [redacted] that is easier

[spiderman2-99]

Imma be a snitch

There's another spider [technically an anon but im cannoning us all as creepy crawly spiders] and Lyla who are gonna babyproof your office when you're gone

You didn't hear this from me

Baby-proof?? From what?

Someone better actually give me a straight answer.

[katebishopsbaefy]

Soup and Sniffles

natasha romanoff x reader

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚༘

summary: you're sick and dont want natasha to find out. she finds out, fluff ensues.

word count: 961

notes: hey everyone this is the first fic im posting pls no hate 😄😘

You practically fall through your open window onto the floor of your bedroom, knees almost buckling underneath you. You’re able to catch yourself in just enough time to stop your face from slamming into the ground. The impact from your sort of fall is still loud, though, and you pray Natasha couldn’t hear it.

You realized you were sick two days ago, but only today had you really started to feel the full effects of your illness. School was a nightmare with a stuffy nose and constant headache, and with no time in between classes and patrol, you were absolutely miserable. But, not wanting to worry Natasha or risk being labeled as “useless”, you kept it to yourself and stuck it out. One fight in particular left you stumbling and sneezing, the guy’s ice powers making you feel even more sick. You’d managed to make your way to your shared apartment with Natasha. You couldn’t wait to take a much needed nap.

A knock on the door makes you jump up from your spot on the floor, which you happened to be very comfortable in. Natasha’s voice is muffled by the door.

“Y/N? What the hell was that?” she asks. Shit.

You panic. Clear your throat as quietly as you can, hoping to sound much less congested than you are. “Nothing! I’m ok, I swear.”

“I’m coming in,” she states, and she’s next to you before you can even begin to protest. She notices the carpet moved out of place under your feet and smirks. “Did you fall through the window?” 

“Maybe,” you reply. She quirks an eyebrow at you. “Rough ni-” you start, but a cough racks through your body and you’re forced to double over. You recover as quickly as possible, shooting back up with a sniffle and a smile. “Rough night,” you finish. You break eye contact with her once you see the concern laced in her green eyes. 

“I can tell. Did you get hit?” she asks, looking up and down your body looking for an injury that could be the source of your cough. She takes your face into her hands and studies the cuts littering it until your own hands push hers away.

“No, I’m fine. Well, I did get hit, but I’m fine. No problem.” You smile at her. It doesn’t reach your eyes.

The back of Natasha’s hand finds your forehead before you can react. Your mind tells you to pull away, but your body leans into the contact in search of comfort. She frowns as you sniff again. “You’re sick.”

“No I’m not,” you argue, finally finding the strength to pull her hand away from you. It drops to her side and her eyes search yours.

“Yes, you are. How long have you been sick for?”

“I haven’t been sick because I’m not sick.”

“Then why do you sound so gross?”

“I’m not gross.”

“You’re pretty gross.”

“I’m not sick, Nat! Jesus,” you swipe your hand under your nose and sniffle miserably. Her fingers find your face once more and she turns your chin to look at her, thumb swiping away a tear you didn’t know had fallen. Natasha looks at you, really looks at you. You’re shivering under her touch, just slightly, but enough for her to notice. Your eyes are sunken and red, as well as the tip of your nose and your cheeks. She looks back into your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asks softly, barely above a whisper. 

Tears fill your eyes and you let them. “I don’t feel good,” you tell her, and the wall breaks. She pulls you into her and kisses the top of your head. You're very aware of the grossness you're getting on her shirt, but she doesn’t care. 

“I got you,” she whispers over and over into your hair, rubbing circles on your back as you sob. Eventually your legs simply give out, but she’s there to hold you up. Drags you over to your bed and pulls away, forcing you to look at her. She hands you a tissue to blow your nose into.

“Gross,” she comments. You giggle tearily and she smiles at you. “I’ll make you soup if you wanna go shower.”

“Mkay. C’n you do tha’ thing where you put m’ clothes in the dryer so they’re all warm?” you look up at her with the best puppy eyes you can muster. This time she giggles at you.

“I guess so. Try not to take twelve hours in the shower, I want hot water too.”

You know she really wouldn’t care if you took forever, as long as it made you feel better.

You jump in the shower, and when you’re out (45 minutes later), there’s fresh clothes sitting on the toilet for you, plus a fluffy towel. You throw on the clothes and ring out your hair, walking towards the kitchen to the smell of soup. 

Natasha watches you and shoots you a small smile. “Better?” she asks.

“Yeah. Less gross,” you reply honestly. Your nose is a lot less congested and your shivering stopped for the most part. You plop yourself down in your spot on the couch and Liho, Nat’s cat, jumps up with you. You pull her into your arms and lay down on a pillow given to you by some distant relative, paying little attention to the sitcom running on the tv.

Nat turns to bring you a bowl of soup, but sees you passed out on the couch, snoring quietly. She walks over and grabs your favorite blanket from over the top of the couch, draping it over you and kissing your forehead. Notices you’re a lot less warm than before, smiles down at you. The soup could wait for later.

[abuglikecreature]

thinkin abt absolute scatterbrain Wade & very particular little wolvie. like wolvie will play all day out in the mud & sticks but as soon as hes given a super processed food (old little boy) he cries. wade learned that lesson from dino nuggets and heroically made sure they didn’t go to waste (om nom) while wolvie got a carrot or something (sweet treat to him).

another thought. wade tells wolvie to wait for walkies or a book or playing or something, & gives wolvie a guestimate on what time they’ll get around to it. So wolvie plops his butt down in front of a clock (maybe with a roughed up teddy in hand) and waits. the clock tic tic tics past that time wade gave him, and wolvie is confused. he trails after wade, poking and pawing and grumbling at wade, who had genuinely constantly been thinking about what hed promised wolvie but just kept getting distracted. & then they live happily ever after yay yay yippee

[lilydvoratrelundar]

At the heart of that magic was a question -- carried like an ember in a clamshell from creation's highest point. We are told what is possible for us. What is allowable. Who we are, who we can be, who we shall be. The stories have their patterns. The Gods have their Ragnarok. Even Thor has a Black Winter hanging over him. But... what if spring could come again? What if green shoots grew where nothing could? What if the future was unwritten, the present uncontained? What if we could go anywhere, do anything, be anyone? What if we were free? All of us. Gods and mortals. Me and you. What couldn't we do, on the day all our cages open? What would that look like? Tell me, if you can. What does the bridge to anywhere look like?

Immortal Thor (2023-) #1 by Al Ewing and Martín Cóccolo: 'All Weather Turns To Storm'

[phantomhivestims]

⊱ ─────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Scott Summers Stimboard

Req by myself

Note ; lowkey he's such a loser I love him

🏍-🕶️-🏍

🚘-🖤-🚘

🏍-🕶️-🏍

⊱ ─────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

[xxplastic-cubexx]

this cliff took more lives than i could on my own im losing it

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Peggy Carter + text posts

[foolsocracy]

I can't get the idea out of my head, so please consider; MJ invites Peter out along with some of her friends for dancing. Results may vary

ok this has been SITTING in my inbox. I was thinking about drawing something but ive caved and im just gonna talk.

YES. That girl can DANCE and she loves it!! I feel in the 19th and 20th century everyone could do a bit of social dancing because thats just what people did for fun. I think the Parkers and the Watsons both taught their kids to dance 'older' stuff they would have done when they were younger, like a solid waltz, quadrille, two-step, polka, what have you. MJ learned them all with fervor. Pete... learned some of them.

I think MJ and Pete would probably do (east coast) swing most often. Because they are hip and of the times. I think Pete probably would have had MJ and Robbie get to know each other through dance, actually. Like Robbie was around the welfare center when MJ was and Pete immediately was like Yes, now MJ can practice with him and not me (ultimate backfire because how he's got 2 partners)! Harlem is definitely the hot spot for swing, with black Americans engineering the whole thing. MJ was totally ecstatic to have a friend over there to run into who was a ready and willing partner!

I do have to say that MJ is a total back lead when it comes to Peter. They will ARGUE on the floor (in good fun). She'll be like 'do that one move I just taught you!' or 'If you fumble this texas tommy i'll kill you' or 'ok on this next backstep we're doing Charleston... aaand triple step, back step.' And Peter will snark back. Whenever she really wants to piss him off she'll make him practice Balboa (he thinks it looks stupid).