#venom x avengers

[dontcare77ghj]

Pinterest, Brains and Chocolate Sauce

Team x reader

Bold Italics is Venom speaking in your head.

Bold is Venom speaking aloud.

Italics is the reader's thinking.

A/N: Hello dear friends, I am not dead surprise!

"Ugh, that's disgusting, you two." Clint's lip curled up in disgust. "Seriously, I think I'm gonna be sick." He said, covering his mouth and turning his head.

"Then don't watch," Venom said, licking the chocolate sauce off your finger.

"And if you're gonna throw up, do it away from the food." You told the archer. "What do you think, bud? Need salt?" You asked, spreading the sauce further with a spoon.

"Salt would be good."

"When did you start adding things to your sheep's brains, Vee?" Natasha questioned the symbiote, watching the two of you with interest.

"Yeah, don't you usually just open your gullet and swallow in one go?" Tony questioned, causing Clint to gag.

"I'm not eating this one."

"This is mine." You told the man, eating a section before letting out an appreciative hum. "This is done. The salt was a good choice." You said, grabbing your plate and moving to sit beside Steve.

"Doll, isn't that raw?" Steve wrinkled his nose as he looked at your meal.

"Yeah, it adds to the flavour." You nodded, cutting your meal into sections.

"Oh, I'm really gonna be sick." Clint groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Which one of you did it?" Bruce called as he entered the kitchen with Thor right behind him.

"I didn't do it."

"It was just a joke."

"Not me."

"Did what?" Natasha rolled her eyes at the table's reactions before turning to Bruce with a fond smile.

"I got a medical alert from FRIDAY," Bruce said, cocking his head. "And when any of you are in the kitchen it's not safe."

"Yeah, that was from me," Tony said, raising a hand. "I got FRIDAY to get you. It's this one." He added, pointing at you.

"I'm not injured, Tony." You rolled your eyes, continuing with your meal.

"Physically, maybe not, but something is going on in your head if you think that's a normal meal," Tony said, cringing as you took another bite.

"Vee eats stuff like this all the time, and no one says anything." You scoffed.

"That's different."

"Yeah, Vee's not normal."

"Hey!"

"No offence, big guy." Clint was quick to reassure the symbiote. "But you're an alien. Your normal is still pretty strange to us." He said as Bruce moved towards you and placed his hand on your head.

"Do you feel sick? You don't feel warm." Bruce tsked.

"You know we can't get sick, Brucie." You said, pushing the scientist's hand off your face.

"We eat the germs." Venom grinned, running his tongue over his teeth.

"Why can't I just eat a meal and not be judged?" You sighed, stabbing at your delicious treat.

"Because that's your second brain of the day," Natasha pointed out to the room.

"Second?"

"I can feel my lunch coming up my throat."

"I've never seen you eat one brain before, let alone two."

"Many women experience a change in appetite when with child." Thor shrugged, sitting beside you. "It's perfectly normal." He added, licking a bit of chocolate sauce off your plate, ignoring the looks the rest of the room shot him.

"What?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not pregnant, Thor." You choked on the food in your mouth. "Oh, shit." You coughed, hitting your chest.

"I got it," Venom said, smacking you on the back.

"Okay, okay, thanks, Vee." You brushed his hand away. "Just because you can heal broken ribs, doesn't mean they don't hurt."

"Thor, we're all on some sort of contraceptive, or just can't have children," Natasha said, with Bruce nodding along. "What makes you think Y/N's pregnant?"

"I am the God of fertility." Thor shrugged. "I know these things. Just as I know that it was Steven and my sperm that created the lives of our children."

"Children? More than one?"

"God and super-soldier sperm. That should do it." Tony muttered.

"Vee?" You murmured, the symbiote extending himself towards your uterus.

"Oh. That's what that is." Venom said before retracting and wrapping himself around your womb.

"I know the situation isn't ideal, not being planned and all, but isn't this kind of what we've always talked about?" Steve wondered. "Having a family of our own?"

"I'm not mad about this. I might need some time to adjust, but," Clint shrugged. "I want this. I want to teach our children to shoot. I want them to have better than me or my brother ever did."

"You know I've always wanted children," Natasha admitted, scratching the table before her. "Even when they told me weapons don't deserve children, I wanted one."

"You're not a weapon, Tash."

"I mean, we've already adopted the spider kid and Barton's sidekick." Tony nodded, resting his hand on Natasha's lower back. "Our kids would grow up with older siblings."

"And we were just talking about the possibility of adopting." Bruce agreed.

"Y/N? How are you feeling about this?" Steve asked and all eyes turned towards you.

Your stomach felt heavy as your lunch began to make its way back up your throat. The taste of chocolate sauce and brain, which had tasted so good going down, did not have the same flavour coming back up.

"Bathroom." You muttered, rising to a stand and rushing towards the nearest bathroom.

You'd been in the bathroom for hours. Your partners had found you pretty quickly, FRIDAY being the snitch she was, and had been at the door ever since.

The knocking had stopped around hour two of you ignoring your soulmates, but someone was always at the door, talking to you through it.

As Steve talked you through his latest painting, you were curled up in the bathtub, the curtain hiding you from the empty room.

'How did we let this happen?' You shook your head, pressing your head into your knees. 'How didn't we notice sooner?'

'It didn't seem dangerous. I didn't see the danger.'

'I can't do this again, Vee. They don't even know. We never told them.'

'It never came up.' Venom comforted you, rubbing a tendril down your back. 'We may have to tell them.'

"They're gonna hate us." You whispered aloud, feeling a tear run down your cheek.

'I can eat them.' Venom offered, wiping your cheek.

'That's alright, Vee.' You shook your head as you rose to a stand. 'We can't keep this a secret anymore.'

'No.'

'Are you okay if I tell them?'

'He won't come back because we thought of him. We already knew that.'

"Steve?" You called, causing the soldier to fall silent.

"Yeah, doll?" You heard him stand outside.

"Can you get everyone to go to the bedroom?" You asked, wringing your hands in front of you.

"Of course, doll," Steve said before you heard him walk away.

"Are you ready, bud?" You asked, stepping out of the tub and moving towards the door.

"If you are," Venom said, shifting so his head rested on your shoulder.

Exiting the bathroom, you slowly made your way through the hall before entering the bedroom where your soulmates sat waiting for you.

"How are you feeling?" Natasha asked as you stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Gross." You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Did you throw up?" Tony looked green.

"No." You huffed out a laugh at Tony's germaphobic nature.

"Y/N, we've been talking." Steve started, watching you with serious eyes. "And we shouldn't have started talking about the babies like that without checking you wanted this first."

"So, if you don't want this, Bruce found the names of some good doctors," Tony told you, with the other scientist nodding along.

"It is your body, draga." Natasha smiled at you gently. "And ultimately your choice."

"And there's more than a few adoption agencies in New York who are very discreet if that's the way you want to go," Bruce added.

"We're good with whatever you decide," Clint promised, Thor, nodding at his words.

"It's not that I don't want kids with you." You told your soulmates. "It's just, there's something we haven't told you."

"Whatever it is, we can work through it, together," Thor assured you.

"Well, to be honest, we've been telling everyone a bit of a fib for a very long time." You admitted.

"Okay, what kind of a fib are we talking about?"

"Do I need to call the lawyers?"

"Do you have another alien living in you?"

"Pretty big, no, and no." You answered your soulmates' questions. "We didn't actually leave San Francisco right after Drake. We thought maybe we could handle staying and that we could keep our lives there. So we helped Eddie with an interview with Cletus Kasady."

"The serial killer?" Clint raised a brow.

"Yeah. We got left alone with Kasady, and he got weird."

"Y/N?"

"We were under guard, but it was as if he'd researched us before we got there. He knew about my childhood, where I went to school, the name of my first boyfriend, creepy shit like that." You shivered, Kasady's voice still fresh in your mind. "I wanted to leave, but we got too close to the cage, and Kasady grabbed us. He bit us and tore a chunk of our neck out. The guard pulled us away, but it was too late. Kasady ingested a lot of our blood, and that's when it happened." You said, absent-mindedly rubbing the side of your neck.

"What happened?" Steve asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Kasady had our child." You sighed and the room fell into a stunned silence. "Guys?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What?"

"You said nothing like that happened."

"Also, how did that happen?"

"Nothing like that happened." You assured your concerned soulmates. "Venom's species reproduces asexually, and a host's gender doesn't matter. And when our blood mixed with Kasady's DNA,"

"He made Carnage," Venom spoke, lowering his head as he did.

"Where is he?" Tony wondered curiously.

"Carnage wasn't, Carnage didn't," You licked your lips, struggling to find the words. "Kasady ruined Carnage. His DNA, his insanity, and his blood lust ruined Carnage, and there was no other way."

"Carnage was a red one." Venom took over, running a tendril down your arm. "He tried to kill us. He killed people for fun, not food. Carnage had to be put down."

"We tried reasoning with Carnage, we begged, we tried to separate the two, but it didn't work. They weren't symbiotic like us. They were just tangled. We couldn't separate them." You shook your head.

"Oh, Y/N, Vee, why didn't we know?" Natasha asked, standing and pulling you into her arms.

"It was our condition to Fury. We'd meet the team if he kept it off the books." You mumbled into her shoulder.

"And Y/N thought you'd reject us if you knew," Venom added, wrapping around Natasha's waist.

"That's not going to happen." Thor was quick to deny it. The common Earth practice was akin to torture in the blonde's mind. He would never deny one of his chosen.

"It wouldn't have in the beginning, and it won't happen now," Clint agreed, rubbing the Gods' knee.

"So, you think these children will be the same?" Bruce questioned you as you and Natasha pulled apart. The spy wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you towards the bed.

"I don't know. This didn't happen last time." You gestured to your stomach. "We didn't think it could happen."

"It feels strange," Venom spoke up, curling around your waist. "We feel the heartbeat but it's not ours. They think but it's not like us."

"We can feel it." You nodded. "Not just movement, but we can feel them sitting there, stretching themselves out." You said, placing your hand on your stomach.

"Not like our kind."

"Then maybe Venom's genes didn't pass on." Bruce hummed, causing you all to turn to him.

"What do you mean, Bruce?"

"Well, if Venom's species reproduce asexually, then perhaps he didn't pass his DNA onto the children," Bruce said, adjusting his glasses. "Or maybe God and super-soldier DNA is just stronger." He added with a shrug.

"We are strong." Venom huffed. "Do you want to put it to the test?" He challenged, turning to Steve and Thor.

"That's not necessary, Vee," Steve assured just as it looked like Thor was going to agree. "We know you're the strongest here." He said placatingly.

"Yes, we are."

"We want these babies." You said, glancing at your soulmates. "But we can't lose another one."

"Y/N,"

"Carnage was ours. We didn't know him, and we couldn't help him, but he was still ours. He was a part of Venom and when we killed him, we felt his pain. We felt the agony of not being able to merge with Kasady and everything we'd done to him. And we can't do that again." You shook your head. "We can't kill another part of us."

"It's not going to come to that," Tony promised you.

"And if Kasady is what turned Carnage, then if these two are like the two of you, they will be fine," Bruce said assuringly.

"You don't know that."

"Kasady was insane, clinically insane. He was a murderer, a sociopath, that's neither of you. And none of us." Bruce said firmly. "Nurture is just as important as nature."

"That's right." Tony nodded. "These kids are going to grow up with Avengers as their family, literal Gods too. They're gonna be just fine." He added, reaching over to take your hand.

"We're pregnant." You whispered, after a moment, the words loud in the quiet room.

"We're pregnant," Thor repeated as a smile crept onto your face.

"We're gonna have a family."

"We already do, doll. It's just getting a bit bigger is all."

And as you sat surrounded by your family, the weight of the twins in your womb and Venom settled protectively around them, you found thoughts of Kasady and Carnage being pushed to the back of your mind.

For now, everything was as it was supposed to be.

"Okay, Vee only two hours max, remember?" You fussed as the symbiote appeared by Clint's shoulder.

"We remember."

"Because you are not allowed to burn Clint out."

"We will not burn out the bird."

"Babe, we'll be chill." Clint smiled, brushing hair from your face. "Vee and I are buddies. Right, dude?"

"Right, bro."

"Please, never say that again." You sighed as Steve chuckled behind you.

You were just over three months pregnant and a combination of super-solder, God, alien DNA and the fact you were carrying twin, meant you were already showing a lot more than you were supposed to.

It was one thing to know you were pregnant, but to see your body physically changing to accommodate for the two had made it all the more real for you.

As well as your six soulmates.

They were already overprotective, despite Venom's assurances he could take care of the two of you, but when you became four instead of two, it kicked into another drive.

They had begged and pleaded with you for weeks to see reason and stop your patrols with Vee.

At first, you had gently brushed their concern off, but when you woke up one morning with a visible bump, you finally agreed to step back as an Avenger and swing with Vee.

But Venom got bored, and hungry, quickly.

It had been Thor's suggestion to find the symbiote a temporary host and when Clint turned out to be the most compatible after you, the hawkeyed Avenger had quickly agreed to take Venom out on the town.

"No promises," Venom smirked.

"Just breathe, go sit with Stevie and Tasha, eat your brain while I'm not here, and I'll close my eyes real tight while Vee gets his." Clint smiled before a frown quickly took over. "I can't throw up while he's in control, can I?"

"You know, there's a first time for everything." You sighed, pressing a kiss to Clint's cheek and then Venom's when he took over. "I'll see you soon, hon."

"You will," Venom promised, licking your cheek before he, and Clint, were gone.

"Don't think you're going to be staring out the window all night," Natasha said, causing you to look over your shoulder. "Because you picked out the movie and you won't be able to see it from there."

"Nat is right, doll. You need to sit." Steve said, jumping up and moving you towards the couch.

"We're, I'm not an invalid you know." You reminded the two as you settled between the two.

"We know."

"But stress isn't good for you, or the babies," Natasha said, resting her hand on your bump and her head on your shoulder.

"So for the next few hours, you're going to breathe, watch a movie with us, and enjoy your food," Steve added, grabbing your plate from the side table, with only a slight shudder.

"Clint will be fine, Med. He and Venom will look after each other."

"I hope so."

It was almost four hours later when Venom finally slipped back through the window, a smile on his face even as he reduced himself to a mere head on Clint's shoulder.

"I'm gonna kill the pair of you." You shook your head, struggling to sit upright. "What happened to two hours?"

"Sorry sweetheart, got a bit sidetracked there." Clint had the decency to look apologetic. "In my defence, you were right. The flying part is fun."

You let out a long sigh as you fondly shook your head.

"So what was it? Chickens or a bad guy tonight?"

"He had to make do with a few of my feathered friends." Clint joked. "But he'll survive another day."

"Did you at least have fun, bud?" You asked as your symbiote transferred back to you.

"Clint took me to a rave." Venom grinned as Clint groaned.

"What?"

"Barton,"

"That was supposed to be our secret dude." Clint shook his head. "Look before anyone freaks out it was a costume rave, everyone was really chill and thought Vee was just an elaborate costume."

"More like really high." Natasha glared at the archer.

"Clint, that was irresponsible and you know it," Steve started.

"Ooh is daddy mad? Are you going to put me across your lap?"

"Why are we having children again? There's two right here." You sighed, leaning back. "I need a nap."

"Bunsen burners down." You demanded, striding into the lab as you pulled your hair into a ponytail.

"Y/N, we're a bit busy," Bruce started even as Tony did as you said.

"Don't care. Burners down, pants off." You ordered, ripping your shirt off. "We're pregnant,"

"You're pregnant."

"We're horny."

"You're horny."

"And you two are going to fix it."

"That is true."

"Y/N,"

"Bruce we are six months pregnant with your children. We feel fat, we feel starving and we are horny." You said, narrowing your eyes at the man. "Is your experiment more important than your pregnant mate?"

"Of course not."

"Then take your pants off and join us and Tony on the couch before I start crying about how we can't just do it on the counter anymore." You demanded, grabbing Tony by the hand and dragging him to the couch.

"Yes, dear."

"Tony, why are you walking like that?" Clint snickered from his seat "Did you fall out of the elevator?"

"You're the only one who has ever done that, Clint," Thor spoke, patting Clint's shoulder.

"I'm pretty sure my pelvis is broken." Tony groaned, collapsing into a chair. "I need ice. Someone, please. Ice me."

"Your pelvis is not broken." You said, helping Bruce into his own chair.

"Thank you, love." Bruce sighed, weakly patting your hand. "But it all likely very well could be."

"Just what are you two up to in that lab?" Natasha tutted as she moved to the freezer.

"Might want to make that two orders of ice, Nat." You told her, sitting between the boys.

"Just science. Science stuff." Tony sighed, taking your hand in his. "Gotta test things to prove things, you know?"

"We had sex in the lab." Venom grinned as his head appeared on your shoulder. "A table broke."

"That, that tracks." Clint nodded, shooting a sympathetic look at the two scientists. "They got me in the training room a couple of days ago. Broke one of the balance beams."

"Movie room." Steve nodded. "Though I do want to talk logistics on the balance beam." He told Clint.

"I got them in the showers last night," Natasha smirked, dropping a bag of ice each on Bruce and Tony's laps.

"If we weren't already married, itsy bitsy." Tony sighed.

"Well the three of us thoroughly defiled the kitchen just this morning." Thor grinned.

"I knew that was jizz on the counter!"

"Hey!" You interrupted your partners with a couple snaps of your fingers. "You all got us pregnant you can all suffer the consequences. Consequences include high libido and extra high libido from the symbiote." You told the six.

"Not exactly a consequence." Tony chuckled before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

"Damn right."

"Get that out of here."

"You heard the symbiote. Can't come in here." You said from your spot on the floor.

"Vee, Coulson had this made for us. He's going to be upset if he doesn't see it in here." Natasha said, taking the onsie from Thor.

"Smells bad. Not going near spawns." Venom shook his head.

"What do you think of this, bud?" You held up the 'My godfather's the coolest' onesie from Rhodey.

"Smells good." Venom nodded, taking the outfit and putting it in one of the many overfilling drawers. "The colonel has good taste."

"Someone had to influence Tony."

"What if we have it washed? Would that appease you?" Natasha asked, holding up Coulson's gift.

"Maybe."

"I need help, please. Our hips are locking." You said, holding a hand up.

"Elsking, are you sure you are up to this today?" Thor asked as he helped you to your feet. "The twins are very close."

"That's why we have to do this." You reminded the God. "This will be the twin's room for a long time and they need to know their parents made this nest for them thinking only of their safety and comfort. Everything has to be just right."

"You take nesting far too literally." Natasha rolled her eyes as Thor pushed you to sit in a rocking chair. "The twins are hardly going to notice if the paint is chipping."

"Where?" Venom demanded, pulling you to your feet.

"Perhaps not the best joke, darling." Thor smiled at Natasha as he placed his hands on your shoulders. "My loves there is no chipped paint."

"Forgot who I was dealing with for a second." Natasha chuckled, patting the blonde on the arm. "The nest is fine. The twins will love it."

"I hope so." You sighed, still looking over each of the walls. "I just. I want them to know how loved they are. That we want them, even if they were a surprise."

"They will know. We will make them know each day they breathe." Thor swore, his large hand cupping your face.

"How about we go find a couple things of ours to add to here? Would that make the two of you happy?" Natasha asked.

"Yes."

"Very."

"Alright. Thor, keep them off the floor, please. I'll start raiding closets." Natasha said, kissing both you and the God before leaving the room.

"It is not just the twins you think of today, is it?" Thor asked softly, resting his hand on your cheek. "Carnage?"

"He wouldn't have been a baby, but he still would have been ours." You murmured, leaning into his hand.

"He would have been safe with us." Venom huffed.

"Safer than any other in the universe." Thor agreed, smiling at the symbiote. "Often I find myself wondering if I could have done more for Loki." He mentioned, the smile falling from his face.

"You love Loki. They know that." You assured your God.

"Aye, but if I had more care with my words, if I had been as mature as they, I wonder how our paths may have been altered." Thor nodded, his thumb drawing circles on your cheek.

"You may have never come to Earth." Venom pointed out. "We never would have met."

"My point. If we dwell on the past, on what we may have done, we will miss our future and may even sour our present." Thor spoke. "I wish more than anything Loki did not have to spend all those years feeling alone or unworthy, but we cannot change the past."

"We couldn't have fixed Carnage, we couldn't have saved him, we know that. And these babies are not him, but if the worse were to happen it would be our fault this time." You shook your head. "Nothing to do with psychopaths or failed symbiosis,"

"It would be us." Venom agreed. "We have to do the best from the beginning. We have to keep the spawn safe in our nest."

"And we will keep them safe," Thor promised. "Our children will be safe with us."

"I hope so."

"Now, you heard our widow, I am to keep you from the floor. How do you propose I achieve this?" Thor smiled, his hands sliding down to hold your substantial bump.

You let out a sound, a cross between a sigh and a groan, as your eyes rolled back in your head and your hands anchored themselves on Thor's shoulders.

"Take us to bed, feed us brains, and scroll through Pinterest with us?" You suggested and the God smiled.

"Of course, my loves."

"Don't forget the sprinkles."

"We're going to give birth today," Venom announced as the two of you stood in the doorway of the bathroom.

"What?"

"Oh shit! Get the emergency bag!"

"Doll, you need to be sitting down."

"Do you see what happens when we announce things like this?" You groaned at the symbiote. "Everyone calm down, our water hasn't broken yet." You held up your hands placatingly.

"Your water."

"Our water. If I'm pregnant then we're pregnant."

"We are pregnant. You are giving birth."

"You're not gonna just sit there silently watching. You're doing shit too."

"You're going to shit. Bruce told me."

"Do you two need a moment or can we take you two down to the med bay?" Natasha clicked her fingers, drawing your attention back to your confused and amused partners.

"I guess so. We've got everyone on standby just in case this turns into some Cuthulu shit?" You breathed heavily, holding onto your enlarged stomach.

"About twelve, doll," Steve said, wrapping his arm around your waist. "Clint, Tony, can you two grab the bags? Tash, you want to call ahead?"

"Already on it."

"Are we fully packed? Because I coulda swore the list wasn't all checked off."

"You got it, daddy."

"Clint!"

"Oh, I hate you! I hate you all!"

"You're real close, love."

"Why the fuck couldn't we just have a c-section?"

"That's my fault."

"It's all good, Vee, it's an alien thing. She knows."

"I don't know! I hate you all! Oh, fuck, I'm gonna die."

"Elskan, you will not die."

"Time to push, you two."

"Oh fuck!"

"Oh fuck!"

"They look like potatoes." You hummed, smiling as one of your daughters suckled at your breast.

"Don't say that. You're gonna give them a complex." Tony shook his head.

"They're an hour old. Give them another hour and they won't even remember I said that." Clint chuckled, trying to get the girl in his arms to burp.

"They most likely cannot understand a single thing we are saying," Bruce said, holding the baby in Clint's arms hand.

"They smell funny," Venom commented, tasting the air as if he were a snake.

"I wouldn't smell them too much big guy. You might smell something that's a bit more disgusting." Steve joked.

"Alright, I think this little girl is done." You announced as the girl in your arms popped off your boob.

"Ooo, gimmie." Natasha grinned, holding her hands out towards you.

"All yours, love." You smiled as Natasha began to murmur to the baby in Russian. "Vee, what are you doing?" You asked as the symbiote leaned closer to the baby.

"They smell strange."

"It's baby smell, Venom. All newborns have it." Thor explained, but the symbiote continued to sniff at the babies.

Venom's face gently rubbed against the newborn in Natasha's arms. The baby let out a snuffle as it shifted in Natasha's hold, leaning into Venom's touch before letting out a cry of discomfort.

"Don't worry sweetheart. Mama's got you." Natasha hummed, beginning to try to burp the baby.

With her sister crying, baby girl two wasn't far behind. Venom let out a whine at the loud noise, retreating back to your side.

"Scared of the babies, Vee?" Tony teased.

But before Venom could respond, the eight of you watched as the babies in Natasha and Clint's arms both seemingly flickered. Their still pink skin turned shades of purple and black disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

"They're like us," Venom announced with pride. "We have strong DNA!" He boasted.

"They sure are, bud." You smiled, wrapping your arm around the symbiote.

"What does the purple mean?" Bruce wondered.

"Besides being awesome!" Clint grinned, kissing the baby in his arms cheek.

"They're strong," Venom responded simply. "We have made strong children."

"Well, what do you expect? With God, supersoldier, and symbiote DNA, we're gonna have a hard time finding a daycare." You sighed, leaning back in the bed, watching your soulmates, your symbiote and your children with a smile firmly on your face.

This was your family.

Remember, all Taglists are open, as are requests. Taglists include the main taglist, individual characters, all male/female, and venom stories.

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[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Receiving a Dirty Picture from You in Public

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

God, I love Marvel Comics...

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

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

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

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

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

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

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

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

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

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

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

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

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

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

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

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

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

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

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

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

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

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

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

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

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

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

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

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

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

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

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

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

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

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

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

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

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

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

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

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

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

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

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

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

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

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

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

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

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

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

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

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

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

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

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

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

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

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

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

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

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

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

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

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

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

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

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

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

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

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

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

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

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

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

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

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

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

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

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

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

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

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

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

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

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

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

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

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

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

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

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

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

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

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

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

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

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

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

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

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

[monsieuroverlord]

19 of Peach Momoko's Kimono Variant Covers

Source here

(Note: the article says "all 19 of the covers" but I'm not seeing the Spirits of Violence one, so I think there might be more than 19 -- I specifically checked for potential Akihiro, so maybe soon! It's still up for pre-order ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

[fandomnerd9602]

Home on the Run (Prologue)

Yelena Belova x Venom!Reader

Set during Thunderbolts*

You woke up surrounded by darkness. The crushing weight of rocks and dirt all around you. The air was thick with dust. The sound of distant screams and wailing filled your ears. It was too much to bear.

You tried to gasp for air. Nothing helped.

“Yelena?!” You coughed as you began trying to claw your way out. “Venom?!”

No response. Venom wasn’t within you. You were truly alone. A rock scraped your hands as you continued trying to crawl out.

“Bob?!” You called out for anyone. No one answered.

So this was the Void. An absence of any and everything. A feeling of absolute isolation and loneliness.

You had your wife Yelena. Your best friend Venom. Your amazing children Natalie and Alex. A home. And here…you had nothing.

You continued trying to claw your way out. You didn’t have Venom to help you with the weight. You were utterly alone.

How did it end up this way?

How did you end up so…alone?

For you, it all started when Yelena felt alone.

To Be Continued…

Tags @supercorpdanbeau @deafeningsharkslimeempath @scarletquake-n7 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @marveldcfandom @marvelflame2010 @multi-fandom-enjoyer @ma1egamer @iamnicodemus @revanshand @russianredassassin

[totallytracted]

the excitement for venom 3 and deadpool 3 just proves one thing:

the mcu went down after end game bc of the lack of gay. ok so no more captain america and winter soldier? we don’t care anymore. what is the point of cinema if not for homoerotic tension ??

[weyirn]

Marvel men with a bf that's bigger and taller than them and likes to carry them in a bridal style or likes to pick them up randomly

Marvel x Male!Reader

Taller/Bigger Boyfriend That Likes Picking Them Up

----------------------------------------------

☆Steve becomes flustered at first, and it takes him a little while to get used to it (not that he doesn't enjoy it or anything). Nowadays, he just relaxes in your arms, liking to be vulnerable and letting go once in a while. It shows how much he trusts you, allowing you to show this side of him. But picking him up randomly will result in him scolding you.

❄️Bucky likes it way more than he thinks he should...At first, he was surprised by it and stiffened up in your arms, but slowly relaxed and leaned into your chest, because he knows he can be vulnerable with you. He feels safe with you. But when it comes to being picked up randomly, he doesn't enjoy it. He would rather have a heads up before you do it instead.

💲Secretly fanboying Tony doesn't admit that he enjoys it and makes snark comments about it, but then he starts to complain when you would put him down. It's fun to use this to your advantage and tease him about much he likes being carried by you, watching him roll his eyes and get flustered by it.

🕸Peter blushes and shyly clings to you, not wanting you to put him down. He feels a little secure being in your arms. There are times where he just wants to be in your arms, so he'll just sit in your lap and you'll have your arms wrapped around him. Just anything to feel your touch.

⌲If you're randomly picking him up, Sam would kind of take it as a challenge, as he would try and catch you right before you can put your hands on him. If he fails to catch you, then he'll be like, "you're not going to put me down anytime soon, aren't you?"

🐜Scott feels his heart flutter whenever you pick him up, and immediately clings to you. Sometimes, he holds his arms in the air, hinting that you should pick him up and carry him. He will have fun if you pick him up randomly, being both surprised but also laughing it off.

💚The only time Bruce will let you pick him up is when he's exhausted and you're carrying him to bed. He doesn't feel comfortable being picked up randomly (cuz it might make his nerves bad).

⚡️Thor is...actually surprised that you can pick him up, but that doesn't mean it's not a pleasant surprise for him. He's always clinging to you and smiling, liking how easy it is for you to carry him. He'll always laugh along with you when you would pick him up randomly, enjoying the pleasant surprise.

🐍It always makes Loki grumpy that you pick him up; he thinks you're doing it to tease him, or to rub it in his face of how bigger and stronger you are of him. He will never admit that he may enjoy it, considering the fact that he doesn't even try to get out of your arms when you hold him.

🖤Eddie actually thinks this is much better than him walking on his own (and Venom telling him how much of a slow walker he is). He just doesn't let you do it in public unless he's exhausted. But you're not picking up Venom any time soon (cuz he won't let you, and he's way bigger than you anyway, lol).

[saikyo78]

[tomhardymyking]

These specific moments from one of the 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 interviews have caught my attention, apart from 𝗧𝗼𝗺's handsomeness, because of what they say 💖:

𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 and 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗸 can travel through the multiverse (𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓-𝑴𝒂𝒏 4, 𝑨𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔? 😮), 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 realises he loves 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 and cares about him, they will have their happy ending (at some point) 🙏🏻, and that 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 won't go back to his home planet because he's already home was 🥹

And can someone tell me what's so funny about 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 and 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲's ending and why 𝗞𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆 laughs so much? 😕...

⠀⠀⠀⠀

Estos momentos en concreto de una de las entrevistas de 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎: 𝑬𝒍 Ú𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒐 𝑩𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒆 me han llamado tanto la atención, aparte de por la belleza de 𝗧𝗼𝗺, por lo que cuentan 💖:

𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 y 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝗰𝗸 pueden viajar por el multiverso (¿𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓-𝑴𝒂𝒏 4, 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔? 😮), 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 se da cuenta de que ama a 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 y de que le importa, ellos tendrán su final feliz (en algún momento) 🙏🏻, y que 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 no volverá a su planeta natal porque él ya está en casa fue 🥹

Y, ¿alguien me puede decir dónde está la gracia del final de 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗼𝗺 y 𝗘𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 y por qué se ríe tanto 𝗞𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆? 😕...

⠀⠀

[mischievous-thunder]

[brw]

Please explain your answer!

*"Normal" in this context can mean a variety of things, from being somewhat normal about women and minorities, to being capable of basic reading comprehension, to not harassing comic creators at comic cons, to not saying a disabled comic character is magically not disabled just because they're like, rich or have powers, etc.

I omitted certain teams such as the Defenders and New Warriors because after a certain point these communities get so small it's really not worth adding them because of course they will comparatively look more normal compared to a community as large as Spider-Man fans. "Why is Alpha Flight here then?" for fun.

I also omitted certain characters who, while having their own subfandoms within those subfandoms that could justify giving them their own list (Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, etc), are also absolutely under the umbrella of a larger one. I'm aware there are different sects in all of these communities, this is mostly just for funsies.

[stucky4evayall]

Eddie Brock x GN Reader (Who has A Symbiote)

When you told him, he genuinely thought you were bullshiting him.

But when you showed him your little friend he was shocked yet not.

I mean he himself has seen several Symbiotes and has his own! But the fact you had one was unimaginable!

“Okay, you have one too….”

“This is cool, all cool, all is cool..”

After a while he’s just super chill with it!

If your Symbiote likes him then he most definitely talks to them, gives them snacks, greets them. Their pals! No matter how Venom may feel out them!

Venom: Eddie I don’t like Symbiote/name.

Eddie: Do you want Yn to stay?

Venom:*yells* of course I do!

Eddie: Then suck it up.

If your Symbiote doesn’t like him however, he keeps his distance (try’s) and try’s to be as friendly as possible. (Again, tries.)

Tries to get Venom and your Symbiote to coexist with one another as peacefully and non-chaotically as possible. (How well all depends on your Symbiote my friend, good luck😂🫡)

Sees you in full fledged symbiotic form and he’s turned on (I’m kidding, well he thinks it’s attractive and is impressed)

I’m sorry I haven’t posted I have been so busy and this is the my main account, it is where I visit.

Long stories short, I’m sorry and I hope you enjoy!❤️🥀🖤

[yeaiamme2]

His thrusts started off slow, then proceeded to go faster. You moan as he hits your spot that make you go crazy "I'm gonna cum" you moan out in pleasure. "You gonna cum for me baby?" You nod in pleasure. "Cum for me." You shake as your orgasm is released. You sigh in pleasure, expecting for him to stop but his thrusts contiue "wait-" You moan out in overstimulation trying to push him away

My first time writing btw😔

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

You Protect The Marvel Comics Characters By Punching Someone Who Speaks Badly About Them

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

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

- Peter Parker has been insulted more times than he can count. He’s been called a menace, a failure, a joke. He’s used to it, laughs it off even when it cuts deep. But when he hears the sharp crack of your fist connecting with someone’s jaw—when he realizes that you did that for him—his world tilts on its axis.

- “Oh no. Oh no no no.” His first instinct is to grab you, to get you out of there before this turns into something worse. You just punched someone for him. He’s supposed to be the one protecting you, not the other way around. His heart is hammering—part fear, part something softer, warmer.

- He rushes to your side, hands hovering, unsure if he should scold you or kiss you right there in the street. The person you hit is groaning, cradling their face, and Peter is torn between feeling bad for them and wanting to tell them they deserved it. (Because they did. They did.)

- “Okay, that was… something,” he says, eyes darting between you and the stunned crowd. “Not that I don’t appreciate the backup, but—y’know, punching people usually gets me into trouble.” His voice is light, joking, but there’s something else in his gaze—awe, affection, something deeper than words.

- Later, when he’s patching up your knuckles with the gentlest hands, he murmurs, “No one’s ever fought for me like that.” And when he finally meets your gaze, soft and unguarded, you see it—the way he’s looking at you like you’re the most incredible thing in the universe.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

- Tony Stark has heard it all. The insults, the backhanded compliments, the jealous jabs from people who will never be him. Normally, he drowns it out with charm and a drink in hand. But then—then—your fist connects with someone’s face, and the world stops.

- For a moment, he just stares. Blinking. Processing. Did you really just punch someone for him? Then, slowly—a slow-spreading, wicked smirk. Because holy hell, that was the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

- “Well, well, well.” He steps forward, slipping an arm around your shoulders like you’re some kind of victorious gladiator. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.” He’s eating this up, reveling in it, in the way you didn’t hesitate, in the way you stood up for him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

- The guy on the ground groans, and Tony glances down, unimpressed. “Next time, try using words, buddy. Or, y’know, just accept that I’m better than you.” Then he turns back to you, tilting his head. “Not that I’m complaining, but—what was that? You got a thing for defending handsome billionaires, or am I just lucky?”

- Later, when the adrenaline fades, he brushes a knuckle over your bruised hand, voice quieter. “No one ever does that for me.” And it’s not teasing anymore, not deflection—just something real. Something raw. And for once, Tony Stark is at a loss for words.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

- Steve Rogers has always fought his own battles. From the alleys of Brooklyn to the battlefields of war, he’s used to standing his ground—used to taking the hits for the people he loves. But this? This is something else entirely.

- One second, he’s turning the other cheek, trying to walk away from the insult. The next, there’s the sharp, unmistakable sound of impact—your fist driving straight into the jaw of the person who dared speak ill of him.

- “Hey—!” His hands are on you immediately, pulling you back before things escalate, before this turns into something worse. But his heart—his heart is a drumbeat against his ribs, because you fought for him. He should tell you it was reckless, that you didn’t have to, but all he can do is stare at you, his throat tight with something he can’t name.

- “That wasn’t necessary,” he says, but there’s no scolding in his voice, only something soft, something incredibly fond. Because no one ever fights for him. Not like that. Not without hesitation.

- Later, when you’re sitting together, nursing your sore hand, he finally murmurs, “Thank you.” And when he looks at you, there’s a warmth in his blue eyes that says more than words ever could—a depth of feeling that leaves you breathless.

Thor aka. God of Thunder

- Thor is used to insults. They roll off his back like rain on a battlefield, drowned out by the thunder in his veins. But when he hears the crack of your fist colliding with flesh— when he realizes you have struck someone in his name— he does not laugh. He is in awe.

- “By the gods!” His voice is both a boom of delight and a whisper of reverence. He steps toward you, eyes shining with something almost worshipful. You are fire, you are fury, you are glorious.

- And then he throws his head back and laughs, loud and full of joy. “A mighty warrior indeed! You honor me, my lady.” He clasps your hand, ignoring the bruises blooming on your knuckles, lifting it as though you have just won a great battle.

- The fool who insulted him scrambles away, but Thor does not spare them a glance. No, his attention is entirely on you. On this magnificent, fearless mortal who would strike in his name. And suddenly, the air around you feels different. Charged. Alive.

- Later, when the revelry has died down, he turns to you, voice softer. “You are… remarkable.” And when he looks at you, it is with the kind of devotion that only gods can give.

Loki aka. God of Mischief

- Loki is no stranger to cruelty. Words have been his weapons, his shields, his burdens. But when someone speaks ill of him— when they dare to drag his name through the dirt—he expects only one thing: to be alone in the aftermath.

- And then you hit them. Hard.

- He blinks. Once. Twice. Shock flickers across his face, unreadable and raw. He watches as you stand, fists clenched, gaze burning with something primal, something protective. And for the first time in centuries, Loki does not know what to say.

- “You—” His voice is different. Lower. There is no mockery, no amusement, only a sharp, jagged edge of something he does not let himself feel. You have fought for him. Him. And the realization shakes him.

- Later, when you’re alone, he traces the bruises on your knuckles with something dangerously close to reverence. “You are a fool,” he whispers, but his fingers linger, his breath unsteady. “A reckless, maddening fool.” And then, softer—so quiet you almost don’t hear it—“And I think I am doomed to love you for it.”

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

- Clint Barton is used to being underestimated. People see the bow, the lack of powers, and assume he’s less. They talk about him like he’s a joke, like he doesn’t belong among gods and super-soldiers. He lets it roll off his back—until you don’t.

- The sound of your fist cracking against a jaw cuts through the noise of the bar, and suddenly, the air is electric. You did that for him. Not because he asked, not because you had to—but because someone insulted him, and that was unacceptable to you.

- “Whoa—hey, hey, hold up!” Clint is beside you in an instant, half-laughing, half-terrified. His hands hover near yours, concern flickering in his sharp blue eyes. You’re pissed. It’s kind of the best thing he’s ever seen.

- The guy on the floor is groaning, but Clint isn’t paying attention to them anymore. No, his focus is on you—on your clenched fists, the fire still burning in your gaze. You’re beautiful like this, fierce and unwavering, and he’s absolutely, irreversibly doomed.

- Later, when he’s wrapping your bruised knuckles in an old bandana, he grins, soft and lopsided. “You know, I usually do the whole reckless, getting-into-fights thing. But I gotta say—kinda nice having someone in my corner for once.” And the way he looks at you then? Like you hung the goddamn stars.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

- Natasha Romanoff has been called a monster, a traitor, a woman who can never be trusted. She’s lived a life of whispers behind her back, of sideways glances and careful distance. She’s learned to endure it. But she never expected you to lash out in her defense.

- The impact of your punch is sharp, decisive— a clean, perfect strike that she would have been proud of. And yet, it startles her. Not because you hit them, but because you lost control for her.

- “You didn’t have to do that.” Her voice is smooth, but there’s something unreadable in her expression—something unfamiliar. She’s used to people fighting beside her, but no one has ever fought for her. Not like this.

- She grips your wrist before you can throw another punch, thumb grazing the pulse point there. “Look at me,” she murmurs. And when you do, she sees it—the fire in you, the defiance, the unwavering loyalty. And it does something to her, something she can’t quite name.

- Later, in the quiet of a dimly lit room, she traces the bruise on your knuckles with the barest touch. “You’re dangerous,” she murmurs, lips curving slightly. And for the first time in a long time, she thinks—maybe she wants to be protected, too.

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

- Bucky Barnes knows what people say about him. A killer. A weapon. A man who should have died decades ago. He doesn’t argue. He knows what he’s done. He doesn’t expect anyone to defend him.

- But then—you do. And not with words. With fists.

- The moment your knuckles connect with skin, he’s there. He’s fast, instinctive, grabbing you by the wrist before you can swing again. His heart is pounding. Not out of fear—but something deeper, something he can’t afford to name.

- “Why did you do that?” His voice is rough, almost accusing. But you don’t waver. You stand your ground, breathing heavy, eyes blazing with defiance. It hits him then—no one has ever done this for him. Not Steve, not anyone.

- Later, he sits beside you in the quiet, his metal fingers ghosting over your bruised knuckles. “You don’t have to fight for me,” he murmurs, voice almost broken. And when you reply—“Then who will?”—he feels something shift in his chest, something old and aching and terrifyingly new.

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

- Matt Murdock hears the insult before it’s even fully formed—the venom in the voice, the disdain dripping from every syllable. He’s heard it before, about his blindness, about his law career, about the devil that lurks beneath the surface. He expects to ignore it.

- What he doesn’t expect is the sharp, sudden sound of your fist connecting with someone’s jaw.

- His head tilts slightly, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He felt you coil before the strike, heard your heartbeat spike. You didn’t hesitate. And God help him, that does something to him.

- “That wasn’t very lawyerly of you.” He steps close, voice low and teasing, but there’s something else there too—something reverent. His fingers brush against yours, light as a whisper, like he’s memorizing the shape of your defiance.

- Later, in the sanctity of his apartment, he takes your injured hand in his own, running careful fingertips over bruised skin. “I don’t need saving,” he murmurs, though the way his breath hitches when you squeeze his hand says otherwise. And when you reply—“Too bad. You’ve got me anyway.”—his world tilts, just a little.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

- Frank Castle is a ghost, a monster, a cautionary tale. He’s used to people spitting his name like it’s a curse. He doesn’t care. He’s beyond caring.

- But then you punch someone in the face for speaking ill of him—and everything stops.

- The guy drops like a stone, groaning, and Frank… laughs. It’s not a soft sound. It’s dark, rough, something almost dangerous. He steps forward, crowding into your space, looking down at you like you’re something holy and terrible and his.

- “You got a mean right hook, sweetheart.” His voice is low, amused, but there’s something else there—something molten, something raw. He doesn’t say it, but he’s never had someone do this for him. Never had someone choose him so recklessly, so violently.

- Later, when you’re both alone, he leans against the counter, arms crossed, eyes dark. “You don’t fight my battles.” His voice is a growl, but there’s no real anger behind it. And when you meet his gaze, unyielding, he exhales sharply. Because if anyone in this world deserved someone like you fighting for them—he knows it sure as hell ain’t him. But he wants it anyway.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

- Marc Spector is used to being called insane. A broken mind, a fractured man, a violent, unhinged vigilante. The whispers follow him everywhere, behind his back and to his face. He doesn’t defend himself—because what would be the point?

- But then, you do. And not just with words. With your fists. The impact is sharp, the sound of bone on bone cutting through the murmur of the street like a gunshot. The moment is frozen. And Marc? He stares.

- He should pull you away, should tell you not to waste your breath, should laugh it off like it doesn’t matter. But he can’t. Because no one has ever done this for him. Not for Marc Spector. Not for the man beneath the mask.

- “You really shouldn’t have done that.” His voice is low, but there’s something almost reverent in the way he says it. His gloved fingers graze your bruised knuckles, and the moonlight catches in his dark eyes—like he’s seeing something holy.

- Later, he watches you from across the room, arms crossed, jaw tight. You stood up for him. You fought for him. And now, all he can think about is how much he wants to fight for you.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

- Johnny Storm is used to the attention. The praise, the criticism, the headlines that reduce him to nothing more than a pretty face and a flame. He shrugs it off. Pretends it doesn’t sting.

- But then, he hears your voice—furious, unwavering, like a flame catching oxygen. And before he can turn, you swing. The guy stumbles back, clutching their jaw, and the entire room erupts.

- “Oh. My. God.” Johnny is somehow both horrified and absolutely delighted. He stares at you like you just set the whole world on fire. Because you did. And you did it for him.

- “I didn’t know you had that in you,” he grins, stepping closer. There’s something in his voice—something deep, awed, almost breathless. Because no one has ever burned quite like you.

- Later, when the adrenaline wears off, he’s grinning like an idiot, watching you ice your knuckles. And when you catch him staring, he just shrugs. “What? It’s kinda hot when you punch people for me.”

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

- Reed Richards has heard every insult in the book. Detached. Cold. Unfeeling. They don’t understand how his mind works, how his thoughts stretch beyond the present moment, beyond normal comprehension. He’s used to it.

- But you? You aren’t. The second someone spits out something vile, dismissive, cruel, your fist is already flying before Reed can even process what’s happening.

- “Oh.” That’s all he says at first, blinking as if recalibrating. He hadn’t expected—this. You. Your anger, your unwavering defense, the fire in your eyes. It’s an equation he hadn’t considered. And now, he can’t stop solving for it.

- “Violence isn’t necessary,” he murmurs, but he’s already taking your hand, stretching his fingers around your bruised knuckles, memorizing the shape of your loyalty.

- Later, he watches you—studying, calculating, analyzing. But for once, the question isn’t why. It’s how he ever lived without you.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

- Felicia Hardy doesn’t need protecting. She’s spent her life clawing her way out of trouble, slipping through shadows, dodging every snare. She laughs in the face of danger, purrs at the edge of chaos.

- But then—you hit someone. For her. And everything stops.

- She should be amused. Should smirk and tease and call you reckless. But instead—she just stares. Because no one, not once in her life, has ever thrown a punch for her. Not like this.

- “Darling, you really are full of surprises.” She steps close, a slow, predatory movement, her fingers tilting your chin up. There’s something wicked in her smirk—but her eyes? Her eyes are soft.

- Later, she finds herself watching you more than she should. Running a gloved hand over your bruised knuckles, feeling something dangerously close to devotion. And for the first time, Felicia Hardy wonders what it would be like to be caught.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

- Stephen Strange is used to arrogance. His own, and the world’s. He’s used to people whispering behind his back, questioning, doubting, scoffing. He doesn’t care. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

- But when someone speaks ill of him in front of you? You react before he does. The crack of your fist against their jaw is startlingly satisfying. And suddenly, the entire universe shifts.

- “You—” He stops himself. Adjusts his cloak. Exhales sharply. He should be chastising you, telling you to hold your temper, to rise above it. But instead, he’s looking at you like you just rewrote the laws of reality.

- “You didn’t have to do that.” His voice is careful, but his fingers are gentle when they brush against your bruised knuckles. He’s spent a lifetime mastering control—so why does it slip when you’re around?

- Later, he finds himself summoning bandages with magic, hands lingering longer than necessary. And when you smirk, teasing—“Was that a thank you, Doctor?”—he only hums, a small, knowing smile playing at his lips. Because maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind needing you.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

- Namor is used to disrespect. The surface world dares to look down on him, on Atlantis, on the very ocean that sustains their miserable existence. He tolerates it only because he must. But when someone speaks ill of him in your presence, they are met with something he does not expect—your fist.

- The blow lands sharply, flesh against bone, a declaration of war in its own right. Namor watches, silver eyes narrowing, his body rigid with something unnameable. It is not anger. No, anger is familiar. This? This is something else.

- “You strike for me?” His voice is velvet over steel, laced with the kind of dangerous curiosity that comes before a storm. His people have fought wars in his name. But this? This is different. This is you.

- He moves toward you, slow, deliberate, fingers tilting your chin up. There is no hesitation when he speaks next. “You are worthy of a crown.” And the way he says it—it is not a compliment. It is a fact.

- Later, the sea sings your name. And though he will not say it outright, he watches you differently now—like a king who has found the one thing worth more than his throne.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

- Johnny Blaze has been called many things. Freak. Monster. Hellspawn. He doesn’t care—not anymore. He’s spent too long carrying his curse, dragging his soul behind him like a dying star.

- But then you hit someone. For him. Your knuckles split skin, the sound echoing in the dim light of the bar, and for the first time in a long time, Johnny forgets how to breathe.

- “Shit.” The word is barely a breath. You turn to him, fist still clenched, shoulders tight with fury, and Johnny? Johnny just stares. Because no one, not in his entire damn life, has ever thrown a punch in his name.

- “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters, but there’s something dangerous behind his voice—something that flickers like an ember waiting to catch. He should stop this, should tell you he’s not worth it. But instead, his fingers brush over your bruised knuckles like a prayer.

- Later, he watches you from his bike, the engine growling beneath him, his heart doing the same. And when he finally speaks, voice rough, almost shy, it’s only to say: “Next time, lemme do the hitting.”

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

- Eddie Brock has heard it all before. Loser. Washed-up. Parasite. He grits his teeth and lets it slide, because what else is new? Venom, on the other hand, is far less patient.

- But before either of them can react—you do. Your fist cracks against the jaw of the one who dared to insult him, and suddenly, everything goes still.

- “Did you just—?” Eddie’s eyes go wide. Venom, however, purrs with delight.

- “They are ours,” the symbiote rumbles, voice sliding through Eddie’s skull like liquid night. “They fight for us.” Eddie wants to argue, to tell Venom to shut up, but he can’t, because he’s too busy watching you, heart pounding, something terrifying and warm curling in his chest.

- Later, he doesn’t bring it up—but Venom does. “We like them,” the voice whispers, thick with amusement. Eddie doesn’t respond. He just glances at you, hands tightening into fists, and thinks: Yeah. We do.

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

- T’Challa has faced enemies greater than words. He has fought battles with his hands, his mind, his heart. He does not concern himself with petty insults.

- But you do. The second you hear someone speak his name with disrespect, your body moves before your mind does. The punch lands with precision, trained and true—a warrior’s strike.

- He should chastise you. Should remind you that his reputation needs no defense. But when he looks at you—fire in your eyes, your breath sharp, your hands still clenched—he feels something stir beneath his ribs.

- “Impressive,” he murmurs, stepping closer. He does not touch you, not yet, but the space between you hums with electricity. He sees you differently now—not just as an ally. As something more.

- Later, as he watches you spar in the Wakandan training grounds, his mind drifts back to that moment. You fought for him. And T’Challa? T’Challa is not used to losing battles—but he is certain he is about to lose this one.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

- Elektra is used to being hated. She does not care. She exists between life and death, between shadow and steel. She does not need protection.

- But then, you hit someone. For her. And Elektra? She does not know what to do with that.

- She watches as the body crumples to the floor, watches as you shake out your fist, anger still radiating from every inch of you. Something slow and dark unfurls in her chest.

- “Foolish,” she murmurs, stepping forward. But her voice is soft. Her fingers graze your wrist, her eyes searching yours for something she refuses to name. “But… admirable.”

- Later, she finds herself lingering near you more than usual, watching, waiting. You fought for her. And Elektra Natchios has spent her entire life surviving—but now, she wonders what it would be like to be worth saving.

[castielsprostate]

you know what i'm thinking about? the promotion for venom 3. and how, in like silly videos where eddie and v are breaking into headquarters of the UFC or the recording studio, they all reference things that happen IN the movie, like the casino scene, which would imply that everything that happened at area 55 never happened! there, canonically, isn't any time for those things TO happen!! so they're still together!!!! on the run!!!!!!! on their way to new york!!!!!!!!!!

[fandomnerd9602]

Alexei: so you, Lena and Venom are Avengers yes?

Y/N and Venom look to each other…

Venom: my host and I are honorary Avengers

Alexei: do you think…umm…maybe I could-

Y/N knights Alexei…

Y/N: poof! You’re an Avenger now

Alexei: yes!! I get to be on Wheaties box!!!

[themarvelproject]

Hasbro is celebrating the 40th anniversary (2024) of the iconic Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars storyline (1984) with a new wave of Marvel Legends Series figures paying homage to the classic Mattel action figures from the 1980s.