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mentacti · 3 years
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What if They’re Like Me?
   Summary: Reader is with child and Loki is worried that his child is bound to be like him, a Frost Giant. Loki is constantly having second thoughts about their life together and Reader has to reassure him that she will love him regardless. 
   Warnings: coarse language/mentions of pregnancy/self-doubt/sad Loki
   Word Count: 1615
*NOT MY GIF*
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   “Thor?” you called out to your brother-in-law, “Thor? Are you in here?”
   “Y/N? That you?” you heard Thor’s gruff voice as you walked into the corridor. 
   “There you are,” you sighed upon seeing your brother-in-law stuffing his face with grapes, nuts, and ale. 
   “Why’re you looking for me?” he asked as he sipped his cup, “And where’s Loki? Shouldn’t he be hovering over you?”
   “I was just going to ask you the same thing,” you explained, “I can’t find him anywhere” 
   “Well I’m sure he couldn’t have gone far,” Thor shrugged, “Especially with your,” he gestured to your extremely swollen belly, “condition.” He awkwardly cleared his throat.
  You chuckled, “You know it’s not a crime to say the word pregnant. It’s certainly no secret either.” Your hands cradling your bump. 
   Thor laughed as he finished off a bundle of grapes, “I suppose not.” 
   “I’m worried about him,” Thor gave you a puzzled look, “Loki,” he nodded, “He’s been so distant since I’ve started my third trimester. I thought maybe it was just the nerves but he’s hardly ever around anymore. And every time I try to bring up the baby, he’s so quick to change the subject. He isn’t having second thoughts, is he? Thor, has he told you anything?” 
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mentacti · 3 years
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“I’m not afraid of you. Know that.” + Loki showing the female reader his true form for the first time. I know it's very clichĂ© but I'd like to read it on your writing
maybe it’s clichĂ© but hey it’s an intriguing scenario to think of! here’s my take on how it could go down. thank you for the request!
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You can tell Loki is hiding something from you.
His touches have always been reluctant, and he normally avoids certain topics of conversation, so it’s fairly obvious that there’s something he’s not telling you. You’ve given him countless opportunities to talk to you, always trying to convince him that he can tell you anything, but he just gives you a tight-lipped smile and kisses your forehead, busying his lips with you rather than with talking.
But tonight it all boils over.
You’d kissed him goodnight and pulled the covers to your chin, and as most nights go, had been tugged back against his chest within minutes of the lights being out. Nothing out of the ordinary; you can’t remember the last time you didn’t fall asleep with Loki’s face buried against your neck or tucked securely under his chin.
Tonight, you’re wrapped snugly in his arms and he throws a leg over yours in his sleep, effectively trapping you in his hold. He’s holding you a little tighter than normal, not that you’re complaining, and he spreads his fingers flat against your stomach to press you against him.
His breath is cool against your neck and so steady it starts to finally lull you to sleep, but it suddenly gets colder and you can’t stop the shiver that wracks your body. The blankets can’t give any more warmth and you try to squirm out of his grip, but he’s holding on to you for dear life, fast asleep.
Your teeth are chattering now and you wonder if you had left the window open; it had been raining lately and temperatures were dropping lower than usual at night. But the soft pattering of the rain on the window panes tells you the window is closed, that the chill you’re feeling is coming from inside.
It’s Loki’s hand. His hand on your stomach is pure ice, cutting through your shirt and freezing your skin, and if he wasn’t sleeping so soundly you would have woken him up to move. You try to gently lift his arm off you, but that only results in him holding you tighter, his fingers curling and digging into your skin.
The steady breathing in your ear turns short and strangled, and you know it’s got to be a nightmare. You’ve helped him through many nightmares before, but this time he’s in such a deep sleep that he might not be able to wake himself up as he usually does.
“L-Loki,” you whisper, nudging him in the stomach with your elbow. “Wake up.”
His arm is somehow getting heavier over you, his nails starting to scratch through the thin fabric of your shirt. That’s not what’s scaring you though; why is he so cold??
Now his chest is just as icy, burning your back and you fight against his grip, desperately trying to get away from him. “Loki! You gotta wake up, babe!” You raise your voice and grab his arm to give him a good shake, but yank your hand away with a gasp at the coldness of his skin. “Fuck, please wake up,” you plead, moving as far away from him as his hold will allow.
His body is so cold it feels like a corpse, frozen solid and trapping you shivering in his dead grip.
You manage to free one arm from under him and reach for the lamp by your bedside, and when the dim light falls over the two of you, you can’t stop your terrified scream.
Planting your foot against his frozen thigh, you kick him as hard as you can and positively rip yourself from his arms, tumbling off the edge of the bed.
That finally wakes him up and he shoots straight up, squinting against the light in the room and searching frantically around the room, chest heaving.
It’s
not him. This, this thing in your bed is blue, frozen blue. But it is him, the more you look, it’s his face, his hair, his eyes—oh hell, those are not his eyes.
These eyes are burning a crimson deeper than blood, and they’re looking for you.
You scramble across the floor to shove yourself in the corner furthest from it, unsure if you should call out to it or not. Something inside you wants to run, but the door is so far away and this thing in your bed looks ready to eat you alive, so you just seal your mouth shut and try to shrink behind the bed stand, your teeth chattering loud enough that it can probably hear you.
But those scorching red eyes find you anyways and it throws the blankets off it’s waist, revealing a bare torso just as icy blue, covered in strange markings that look scarily like scars. “Why are you hiding?” It asks hoarsely.
It’s Loki’s voice.
You can’t speak, teeth still clattering together from the air in the room that must be well below freezing. The thing stands up and walks towards you, and you crawl away even further. It reaches a hand towards you and you let out a terrified whimper, flinching away from it.
Then it freezes, red eyes falling on its own hand, the marks and ridges and black nails reaching for you.
It’s gone within an instant and Loki is back standing in its place, his eyes blown wide with horror. His gaze travels from his hand to you, shivering in the corner flinching away from him, and he falls to his knees.
He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, words failing as he realises what’s just happened, and he crawls towards your shaking body, pulling you into his arms. You can’t help but fight against his arms, furiously shaking your head at his advances and pushing him away.
If he’s in any way as cold as he had been, you’re convinced one more touch might kill you.
“Cold,” you gasp, kicking a leg out and he falls backwards, stunned.
“Did I
did I hurt you?” He asks frantically, reaching for you again but stopping himself when he sees the terror in your eyes.
You inch along the wall to the bed, staying as far away from him as possible, and grab the blanket to wrap around your shoulders. “What the hell was that?” You hiss instead of answering, scrambling onto the bed and far against the headboard.
He stares at you from his place on the floor, his eyes quickly becoming bloodshot and glistening. He pulls himself back to his knees and kneels at the edge of the bed, pleading with you. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, I’m sorry—”
“That was you?!”
He can’t stop the tears threatening to spill and he hesitantly reaches for you again, not wanting to let himself touch you. “Yes,” he whispers. “Let me warm you. Please, my love.”
“You-you’re not cold anymore?”
“Never again.”
He pulls himself onto the mattress and sits in front of you, hating the way you are staring at him in horror, holding out a hand to you. You hesitantly place your hand in his, flinching away from his touch just in case.
But he’s delightfully warm to the touch. Your hand melts into his, your fingers interlocking and you quickly throw yourself into his lap, needing that same warmth across your whole frozen body. He wraps his arms around you, rubbing his hands up your arms and under your shirt, over your back and anywhere else he can touch.
He’s whispering apologies over and over in your ear, disgusted with himself.
“Just
just tell me what that was,” you tell him, grabbing his hand and planting it firmly over your heart, needing to warm your freezing chest.
His thankfully normal green eyes fall back on his hand, feeling your heart pounding under his touch. “You won’t like what I tell you,” he says, sending as much heat through his fingers as he can possibly pull from his frozen body.
You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m listening.”
He sighs and moves his hand to your neck, not meeting your gaze. “That was my
my true form. Well, other form, I suppose. I’m not sure which is my true form.”
“And why have you never mentioned that?!”
“Because,” he says, “this would happen. You’re terrified, you couldn’t even bear to look at me.”
You stare at him, shocked. “Can you blame me?? I wake up and you’re blue, your eyes were fucking red, and I’m pretty sure I got frostbite just from touching you!”
That shuts him up nicely.
“I’m sorry, Loki, but how was I supposed to not be scared by that?” You reach up and cradle his face in your hands, wiping away a stray tear with your thumb.
“You weren’t supposed to find out about that.” He sounds angry, angry with himself. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have ever seen that.”
“And what exactly was that?”
“That was the form,” he spits, “of a frost giant.”
Boy, that doesn’t sound menacing at all.
“And
and can you control it?” You ask, shame starting to creep it’s way into your heart. You do love him, after all, and you’ve just convinced him you’re disgusted by him. Scared of him.
Shame on you.
He nods and you lean against his chest, trying to show him you’re not scared of him anymore. “Most of the time,” he answers, grateful to be closer to you. “Obviously it can take over my mind when I’m in a vulnerable position—asleep with you—but I promise you, my love, I will never let that happen again.”
“No
Loki, can you show me?” You’re not sure why, but you want to see him again. If that’s his true form, then you have to love that too. Maybe if you’re expecting it it won’t be so terrifying.
“Absolutely not,” Loki says, staring at you in shock. “You’ll never have to see that part of me again, I promise.”
You slip a hand behind his neck and pull him down to press your lips gently against his, trying to ease the guilt you feel for your reaction. “Please, show me. I want to see you.”
He shakes his head again, involuntarily leaning towards your retreating lips.
“Loki. Please.”
If you’re begging, he can’t refuse.
He backs away from you, sitting on the far edge of the bed and closing his eyes, and you watch in awe as that same blue crawls up his skin. He sits in front of you, completely exposed to your gaze, and he slowly looks up, crimson eyes meeting yours again.
This time it’s not as cold. You move towards him and he watches your every movement, waiting to see what you do next. You inspect every inch of him with your gaze, carefully picking up his hand when you finish.
His nails are black against the blue skin, and there’s an intricate pattern of ridges almost like arrows going across the back of his hand.
You trace your fingers along each mark, working your way up his arm and familiarising yourself with the ridges up the underside of his wrist. You want to memorise every inch of him, so you take your time to scour his body with curious touches and loving caresses when you reach his face.
Three lines curve across his forehead, and tiny dots adorn his cheekbones and jawline, cut through by two more lines that strike through the side of his face and extend down his neck.
“You’re
Loki, you’re—”
“Disgusting? Monstrous? Revolting? Believe me, darling,” he spits, “I know.”
You frown and trail a gentle hand over another line of markings that lead down the plane of his chest, across his stomach and down to the waistband of his pants. His entire torso is covered in these strange markings, his body a canvas these ridges and lines have chosen to decorate.
“I was going to say beautiful,” you murmur, unable to look away from his stomach. “Cold, different, and beautiful.”
He laughs bitterly, grabbing your wandering hand. “Don’t waste your breath lying to me.”
“I mean it!”
You lean forward to kiss him again, but he turns his head and your lips land on his cheek instead.
“I’m sorry,” you tell him, putting a hand to the other side of his face and pressing your lips to his cheek. “I’m sorry for reacting so badly. For being scared of you.” You kiss him over and over and his eyes fall closed, still not letting you reach his lips. “I’m sorry, Loki, I’m so sorry.”
“Please don’t apologise.” He puts his hand over yours and sighs, sinking into your touch. “You don’t have to pretend to like it. This isn’t the form you say you love, and I don’t expect you to.”
His words are so quiet and yet so harsh, ripping your heart to shreds. You move to straddle his lap, dragging your fingertips up his stomach and draping your arms around his neck, pulling him tight against your chest.
“I’m so sorry for being scared, Loki, I really am. I’m not afraid of you. Please, you have to know that. You are beautiful, and I love you.” You tangle your hands in his hair, pressing your lips to his forehead. Thankfully you feel his hands begin to trail up your back and he melts into you, arms wrapped around your waist.
“I get to love you and I intend to do just that,” you promise him, and he finally looks at you, red eyes meeting yours. You smile at him, mesmerised; in this light, knowing that it’s still Loki in this form, he’s utterly enchanting.
Cradling the back of his head, you pull him towards you to place your lips firmly on his delightfully blue ones.
They’re freezing cold, naturally, but you’re determined not to pull away. Thankfully he does after a moment, just barely pulling his lips from your to catch his breath, keeping his forehead against yours and letting your breath fall over his icy lips.
“Oh
my love, you are so warm,” he says softly, dragging his mouth down the heated skin of your neck.
You try your best not to shiver under his frozen kiss, running your hands over the patterns on his back. It may take some time, but you know you can get used to this cold.
“I
I didn’t know you would be this warm against this form.” He’s back on your lips and holding your body against him, desperately trying to feel every inch of you.
“Well, you’re pretty damn cold,” you chuckle, undeniably shivering as his hands slip under your shirt.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry
” He quickly pulls away from you and wraps the blanket around your shoulders, a faint almost purple blush tainting his blue face, but you laugh and grab his wrist, tugging him back towards you.
“Don’t you dare stop now. I’ll get used to it one way or another.” You run your hands over his cold skin and press your lips to his again.
“
snowflake.”
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hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!
loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @sciluvcatz @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong
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mentacti · 3 years
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As Midgardians Do (Loki x Reader)
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|main masterlist|
summary: Loki and Asgardian!y/n celebrate a holiday together
word count: 1703
warnings: swearing? I think that’s it
a/n: Happy Valentine’s day (it’s currently 11:30 PM where I live so the day’s almost over 💀)
         It all began when Loki, y/n’s lifelong friend, proposed the idea of spending a day as Midgardians do. He told her he was bored and that he wanted to experiment with different Midgardian customs—holidays, to be specific—and that he wanted to celebrate them with his fellow Asgardian, y/n.
         Of course, the girl knew nothing of Midgardian holidays either. She spent most of her days on Midgard wandering around the Avengers Compound while attempting to make sense of the technology surrounding her.
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mentacti · 3 years
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Lucky - l. laufeyson
a/n; i just want to say a huge thank you to everyone for the likes/comments/reblogs on my first piece posted yesterday! I’m so grateful to each and every one of you! here’s my next work from a work of mine called ‘Serpentine’ found on ao3 & wattpad.
pairing; married! loki x wife! reader
reblogs/feedback/likes are appreciated & encouraged. DO NOT repost/steal any of my works.
warnings; n/a
word count; 642
prompt based; “I knew there was a reason I married you”.
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mentacti · 3 years
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Loki: I bet you my crown that you can't fit your hand into any space of my choosing
Y/N: okay sure what's the space
Loki: I bet you can't fit your hand in mine
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mentacti · 3 years
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IMAGINE having a mental breakdown and Loki is comforting you
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"OH Y/N, you're my Goddess. And my Goddess isn't supposed to cry. Tell me what happened so I can destroy the one's who are responsible."
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mentacti · 3 years
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Instagram Imagine
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Liked by zacharylevi,yournamehiddleston and 378,472 others
twhiddleston peace. yournamehiddleston
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yournamehiddleston i’m batman
twhiddleston that’s what I thought yournamehiddleston
joshbrolin wrong universe. yournamehiddleston
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mentacti · 3 years
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Instagram Imagine
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Liked by chriscapevans,evangelinelillyofficial and 87,588 others
yournamehiddleston daddy’s curls 🙄
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twhiddleston oh yeah😍
chriscapevans sooo cuuutee
zendaya and mommy’s eyelashes😊😍
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mentacti · 3 years
Video
youtube
Erik’s daughter’s sass
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mentacti · 3 years
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That’s My Girl- Cable x Reader
Summary: Cable is proud of his girlfriend.
a/n- so glad I finally had some Cable inspiration. Let me know what you think, comments and reblogs help me out a lot.
-
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mentacti · 4 years
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Dating and living with Tom Hiddleston?
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Living with Tom Hiddleston would include:
Cooking together
Lying tangled together on the couch as you both read
Long, long periods where he wasn’t home
Deciding if you are just going to follow him around the world while he works, or just be home alone a lot
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Adding to his library
Drinking both tea and coffee all day long
An excessive amount of sugar being kept in the house
Morning and afternoon teas as well as pudding after dinner
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Visiting him on set
Him grabbing you and dancing with you randomly, even when there was no music
Touches as you pass each other in the hall
Hugs that just last forever
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Talking Shakespeare
Marathon sex sessions
Talking about things you’re going to show your future kids
Going for country drives in the Jaguar
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Random acts of silliness
Hanging out in groups with his friends
His hands tangled in your hair when you kiss, or even just sit with him
Scissors, paper, rock over who has to stack the dishwasher
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mentacti · 4 years
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A: Nathan
B: Eira
C: Wade
OTP Prompt #12
Person A & B: *cuddling on the couch happily like cute beans*
Person C: *snuggles in between them* Ahh, this is nice
Person A: the fuck
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mentacti · 4 years
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DYSFUNCTIONAL HEARTS - KLAUS MIKAELSON (ORIGINALS)
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Prompts: “The heart wants what it wants.”
“Yeah, and if could get your brother’s to stop wanting to rip others out of their rib cages, that would be great.”
IDEA: Someone in the Quarter disrespects you so Klaus makes a spectacle of them. Talking to Elijah
Birds were singing, children were playing, and Klaus was screaming at some Vampires. Nothing out of the usual. However, Klaus’ anger was directed at only one Vampire in particular. This Vampire had decided to use some perverted pick-up line on you in the hopes of scoring a date. Instead, it scored him public humiliation as Klaus had overheard him.
“That is my girlfriend and you will treat her the utmost respect! If you even dare hit on her again, you will find yourself without a head!” Klaus boomed, his voice carrying around his empire.
To add fuel to the fire, the Vampire didn’t even look scared. He looked cocky.
“Well, she didn’t exactly say no. Did she?” He said smugly.
Turning to face the Vampire, Klaus’ face has morphed into his Hybrid features and the Vampire visibly gulped.
“What is wrong with your brother? Yeah, it was a disgusting comment but does he have to be so protective?” You asked Elijah as the pair of you stood at the top of the staircase, looking down at the scene below.
“He does it because he loves you.”
“And he needs to kill people because of it?”
“What can I say? The heart wants what it wants.” Elijah smirked, noting your frustration at his brother.
“Yeah, and if you could get your brother’s to stop wanting to rip others out of their rib cages, that would be great.” You muttered as Klaus charged at the Vampire, pulling his heart from his chest and tossing it out on the floor, letting the body floor and glaring at everyone else. “Great. That’ll need to be cleaned up.”
Elijah chuckled as you marched down the stairs to tell Klaus off for the mess he made. The pair of you made a great, albeit dysfunctional, couple.
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mentacti · 4 years
Photo
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mentacti · 4 years
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Merchant of Death
One-Shot
Description: Mob!Thanos is a collector of the most precious things in the world. But what happens when his eyes upon you?
Warning - Mentions of violence and beheading
Words- 5400~
This one-shot is my entry for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork ’s writing challenge. I used the following image prompt. Check out this link to participate in the challenge!
My Main Masterlist
I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.


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Nobody knew his real name. Nobody cared. Named after the Greek God of death himself, Thanos was modern day’s omen of slaughter. Being the leader of one of the oldest mob families in New York, Thanos commanded a certain level of respect amongst his peers. It wasn’t just that his heritage was daunting. His towering height, broad shoulders, vast expanse of muscled torso and legs were enough to intimidate even the toughest of the fighters. Always dressed in an impeccably crisp suit, his bald head, sharp eyes and a strong, set jaw easily gave the impression that he was the owner of a multi-billionaire corporation.
It wouldn’t be wrong to call his drugs and weapons empire a well-oiled corporation. His 10 fingers were dipped in blood in multiple countries throughout the seven continents, yes even in Antarctica. 
Thanos was a well-known figure. Everybody knew who he was, knew what he did, but nobody, not even the law authorities, could ever connect him with any illegal activity, be it harbouring and selling of illegal guns and drugs, or smuggling goods to his centres across the globe.
For all his wrongdoings, Thanos did donate 10% of his revenue to the poor, the homeless, the downtrodden. Almost like a twisted version of Robinhood, where he ripped off the rich with highly priced drugs and paid a part of the amount to the poor.
For this reason, there were two sides of him which were portrayed in the media, those who earned his favour called him Messiah of the Poor, while the others who had witnessed his ire addressed him as the Merchant of Death. But in both the iterations, it had been made ample clear that nobody could make Thanos bleed.
That’s why it came as a shock when the Chief of Police, Steve Rogers, had managed to shoot Thanos in an encounter. Looking at their leader fall to the ground, Thanos’ men commenced their feral attack on the protectors of the law, driving them back. 
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mentacti · 4 years
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Promotion
Donald Pierce x female reader (established relationship)
Summary: Direct follow up to For The Pain but can also be read independently. Donald pays you a surprise visit at work, and he wants to clarify something. He’s being a whiney, sexy little bitch again.
Warnings: 18+ Smut, fingering, sex, biting, hair pulling, swearing, dirty talk.
tagging - @lackofhonor​ @sleepwithacommunist​ @woman-with-no-name​
@untamedsoutherncharm​
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“There’s a Mr Pierce in your office.” the receptionist, Tom announces when you return from lunch.
You stare at him. “Pierce?”
“Yes. He says he’s from head office and you’re expecting him.” Tom stammers. “He’s scary.”
“Oh right. Mr Pierce.” you nod. “He’s new to the company. I forgot to put it in the diary.”
Really, it was worrying the ease with which you lied these days.
“He’s scary.” Tom repeats, looking in the direction of your office.
“I’m sure he isn’t. Er, no calls while he’s here. Don’t disturb us, please.”
“Sure.”
You’d had the afternoon mapped out; some figures to submit, a few e-mails composed and a plan to sneak off early. What could he possibly want, turning up at your workplace unannounced? Still, your heartbeat kicked up and tummy flipped at the thought of seeing him.
Donald’s reclining in your chair, long legs crossed at the ankle and boots propped up on your desk.
“Mr Pierce!” you greet loudly, slowly closing the door. “Nice to meet you at last!”
“Hey baby!” he grins.
“What are you doing?” you whisper urgently, locking the door.
“You need better security in here.” he states, flexing his bionic hand. “They let just anyone in.”
“No shit.”
“You don’t seem happy to see me, darlin’” he pouts.
“I’d be happier to see you at my place. How’s your arm, by the way?”
"As good as new.” he smiles. “And I was passing, so I thought I’d drop in and er
.clarify some things.”
"Clarify?” you repeat. Fuck, what now?
“That guy out there, the jumpy one?”
“Tom? What about him?”
“Yeah, Tom.” he goes over to the window and peers through the blinds at your co-workers. “You ever fuck him?”
“No. What’s going on? Are you checking up on me or something?”
Donald takes a step back, hands in the air and chuckles. “You got me. Sorry.”
“I’m an adult woman, I don’t need to be checked on.” You can feel your face growing hot with anger.
“Hmm, I’ll say.” he murmurs, looking you up and down. “Is this what you usually wear to work?”
Self-consciously you pull at the plain black dress that you’re wearing. It’s been washed so often it’s faded and threadbare. You wear it all the time to work and don’t give any thought to it. 
“Yeah, why?”
He doesn’t answer, instead going back to your desk and running his hand over the wood. “This is a nice desk. Big. You been fucked on it before?”
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mentacti · 4 years
Text
Marked
Donald Pierce x reader (established relationship)
Summary: All you want to do is put a traumatic event behind you, which means keeping it from Donald - no such luck.
Warnings: 18+ Descriptions of assault and sexual harrassment, swearing, smut, sex and blood.
Author’s Note: I do not condone Mr Pierce’s actions! I was inspired by @lackofhonor​ - I hope that you like it.
Tagging - @sleepwithacommunist @woman-with-no-name @untamedsoutherncharm​  @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @oldstuffnewstuff​
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“What the fuck is that?” Donald asks sharply, behind you.
You cringe inwardly as you wrap a towel around your freshly showered form.
“What?” you ask, as lightly as possible.
He comes up to you and gently pulls at the towel.
“Bruises, on your back. And this.” he holds up your wrist and examines the bruise on the soft flesh of the inside of your arm. “Looks about the size of a thumb to me.”
You shake free of him and pull the towel tighter. “I had an accident, that’s all.”
“What kind of accident?” he enquires, folding his arms.
“I was drunk, I fell down some stairs. It’s stupid.” you sigh, pushing passed him.
“What’s stupid is that you’re obviously lying.” he says, following you to the bedroom.
You throw your robe on before he sees anything else. You had taken the opportunity to shower while Donald was sleeping, or you thought he was.
He had turned up unexpectedly and sooner than you thought. Last time you spoke he had mentioned that he’d be on the road for a while, so when ‘the incident’ occurred last weekend, you had figured there would be time for the marks to fade. You hadn’t even prepared a lie, hence the silly drunken stairs story.
“You fell downstairs?” he raises an eyebrow at you.
“Yes, I’m a clumsy idiot when I’m drunk ok?’ you say, breezily and eager to change topic. “Are you hungry?”
“Yep, starving.” he murmurs, eyeing you as he heads for the kitchen.
You know he won’t let it go.
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