#bearded zemo BEARDED ZEMO WHEN

[inna-pooh]

[Pet Psychopath]

#poohart #winterbaron #james bucky barnes #helmut zemo #baron zemo #bucky barnes #bearded zemo BEARDED ZEMO WHEN #murder husbands #winter soldier

[sunflowersoldat]

All is Fair~ Peace & Parallels

Chapter 21: Peace & Parallels

Previous Chapter

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under the pressure?

Series Warning: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: 18+ Only! Emotional trauma, Bad language words, SMUT!

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: 2.8K

A/N: I am fuckinnnnnn tired, but the chapter is finished and it makes me happy to make yall happy sooo here ya go! The Holiday season really fucks me up... as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always welcome! Anyhow, enjoy!💕

Your phone woke you from your dreams, you groaned as you silenced the shrill ringing. You brought the small bright screen to your face, your eyes straining to adjust in the darkness. Several messages littered your screen, some from Zemo, a couple from Loki, but the newest one was from Wade:

‘Need 2 move on targets 2nite b4 its too l8’

You rolled your eyes, you hated when he used shorthand. He was right though, you still needed to meet with him to go over the intel he had found, and make your move before you missed your window of opportunity. 

You respond, letting him know you will meet with him soon, first you need to shower and get dressed. Locking your phone you place it back on your nightstand before turning over to see Steve sleeping peacefully next to you. A content sigh leaves your lips as your fingertips trace lightly along the smooth plains of his face. Rolling over you begin to rise from the bed, but his strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back against him, then under him, forearms caging you. His chiseled torso looming above yours.

“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” His voice is rough from sleep, a playful glint shining in his eyes.

Rolling your eyes, you lean up to peck his lips, “Yes… I have business to attend to and I am in need of a shower–”

His lips seal over yours, cutting you off, your eyes flutter shut, hands slipping to caress his face. You pull away gently, a smile splitting your lips.

Groaning he places his head in the crook of your neck, his beard tickling the sensitive skin as he kisses down your shoulder, then back up your neck. Sighing you stop his ascent, holding his face above yours, “The city is in flames.”

He breaks from your hold, nuzzling your neck, breathing against your skin, “Mmm. Let it burn.”

“Steve…” You warn.

When he pulls away again, his eyes are clouded in thought, his gaze far away. You place your hands on both sides of his face, your forehead pressed against his, “Hey. Come back to me…” he blinks, the fogginess fades. A sad smile lifts your lips,  “there you are… Listen, I have to do this, it's important.”

He shakes his head lightly.

“Please, let me handle this…” you swallow hard, “Let me fix this.” Your eyes meet his, pleading him to understand.

He nods slowly, “The moment this is all over, you are mine.”

A smile plays on your lips, if only it was that easy, you don’t have the heart to break his hope, so you nod in agreement, “After I finish this, I’m all yours.”

His eyes slip shut, his jaw clenching, “Promise me, Angel.”

Your heart feels like lead in your chest, but you agree, “I Promise.”

Rising from the bed, he offers you his hand, pulling you toward your bathroom he begins to shed what little clothing he still wears. His navy sweats hang low on his hips, he pulls you against him. His chest is bare and warm, your fingers splay against the taught muscles as his hands find the hem of your night-shirt, lifting it off your body. The cool air kissing your skin as his eyes rake over you.

Walking the two of you towards your shower, he flicks on the water before hooking his thumbs into your underwear, kneeling as he slips them off you.

Your brows scrunch, “Steve, what are you doing?” 

He stands again, peppering your lips with his, his whispers meeting your ears between kisses, “You said we needed a shower.”

You pull away, raising a brow, “No, I said I need a shower.”

“Same thing.” he shrugs, his eyes softening when they meet yours, they are so vibrant and alive, like the first time you ever met him in the casino elevator. You want to get lost in them, dive beneath the surface, and drown in him. He smirks, tucking your hair behind your ear, his fingers gently grazing the spade tattoo, you shiver. “Besides, you better get used to this, we have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

Damn right you do, but a sinking feeling gnaws at your heart, how much time did you truly have to try and make it up? Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you chuckle as he fumbles to strip himself of his pants, whisking you into the shower, the warm water trickling down your skin. He allows you the time to properly clean your hair and body, but he is oddly quiet. When you finish, you turn to him, your head tilting at his lost expression, stepping closer your hand softly caresses his cheek. 

“Stevie?”

His eyes slowly rake over your body before locking with yours. 

“Forget this city.” there is a resolve in his voice as it meets your ears, a fire in his eyes, your heart squeezing in your chest, your brows knit together.

One of his hands covers yours against his cheek, the other pulling you against him, “I mean it. We can run, right now.” His eyes frantically searched yours, “No one needs to know, we can disappear, just me and you, never look back.” There under his resolve, you hear the brokenness he is fighting to hide. With each passing moment that you don’t agree, you can see the hope fading from his eyes.

Swallowing hard, you shake your head, “I can’t.” you drop his gaze, “I’m sorry, I have to fix this, to ensure you are safe.” you feel the tears prick your eyes, as they settle over his still healing wound, your hand grazes it softly. Guilt slicing through you at the sight, “I’m so sorry...”

He lifts your chin so your eyes meet his again, “Don’t be,” his lips tilt upward, but there is still a great sadness haunting his eyes. “I’m a big target, kinda hard to miss…” his thumb swipes the tears that tumble down your cheeks. 

Biting your lip you shake your head again, “It's my fault… I–”

He silences you, crushing his lips over yours in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, it's all consuming, as if you were the oxygen he needed to survive. His hands fall from your face to slip across your skin, causing goosebumps to break out across your body, one snakes around your thigh, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist, the other on your lower back, pressing you impossibly closer. He spins you, caging you against the wall, the sensation of the icy tile against your back, and his warm chest causes a shudder to ripple through you, a moan slipping past your lips. 

A growl rumbles in his chest as his hardened length slips against your center, your breath catching in your throat. His hand on your thigh slips up into your hair, pulling your head back, so he can watch your face contort in pleasure as he spears into you slowly. Your eyes slip shut as he starts his agonizingly slow pace, you can feel all of him, each little roll of his hips, the way his head rubs just where you need him. He is taking his time with you, being so gentle it’s almost painful, he has you writhing against the wall. Your nails digging into his arms and back, his thrusts hard and slow, like he is learning you all over again. Burning you into his memory, his lips pepper onto your skin, kissing and nipping at the slick flesh of your neck and chest. 

Both of you are slowly descending into madness, he knows what you need as he slips one hand between your bodies, expertly applying pressure as he circles your bud. A particularly harsh thrust has you careening over the edge, vision bursting with white spots as you clench around him, your back arching off the wall. His lips seal around one breast, his thrusts now faster, the rhythm failing as he chases his high. He releases your breast, truly pornographic sounds echo off the tiles as he buries his head in your neck. Both his hands wrap around your waist to steady you as he shoves deeper one last time before he finally stills, warmth spreading inside you, the two of you breathing heavily, he presses his forehead to yours.

“Swear to me, you’ll come back. That we will be together.”

“Yes.” you breathe against his lips.

“Swear it.” His grip on your hips tightens almost painfully, the broken plea leaving his lips.

“I swear.”

—

Wade walked into the downstairs office where you were lounging in the desk chair your feet propped up on the desk. Your gaze locked on Steve in the training area, the sound of punches landing on vinyl echoes as the office door opens. 

Wade’s eyes follow yours as Steve stops his assault on the bag. Wade turns in time to watch Steve’s eyes meet yours. There is a light in his eyes, a happiness that seems out of place given the current circumstances.

The door clicks shut, Wade leans against it, waiting for you to acknowledge him, when you don’t he sighs loudly. Only then do you pull your attention to him, a distant look in your eyes.

He clicks his tongue, “Let me guess. You made a promise you can’t keep.” 

The look you give him tells him all he needs to know, you don’t even try to deny it.

Your brows knit together, “Is it bad to give him hope?”

Wade walks closer, sitting next to your feet on the desk, “False hope can do more damage than an honest truth, no matter how painful.”

Your mouth quirks to the side as you chew your bottom lip, “Who says it’s false?”

Wade shoots you an apathetic look, your name leaving his lips softly, “You know the dead cannot mix with the living.”

Your gaze falls, fingers idly fidgeting as you lift your gaze back out to Steve, “Don’t tell him.”

His heart aches for you, nothing has gone right for you, out of everyone here, you’ve lost the most. As your friend it pains him to watch the sadness roll into your eyes, he nods slowly, “It’s not my place, kid.”

You swallow, and as if he had imagined the past five minutes, you stand from your seat, your normal, terrifying persona is back in place. Calm and collected, as if the man you would die for and life you deserve isn’t just out of reach.

Your eyes slide to his, “You wanted to talk about the intel?”

The change in demeanor gave Wade whiplash, but he would never call attention to it, “Yeah, let’s go upstairs, Zemo has more he wants to inform us on.”

—

The three of you enter Zemo’s office, Steve’s hand rests on your lower back as he ushers you through the doors. Zemo is sitting at his desk, a deep frown creasing his brow as he stares at his phone. In the corner, by the bookshelves sits Loki, his head propped on his hand, deep in thought, he doesn't even acknowledge you as you walk in.

Zemo greets the three of you without looking up, his hand raised, offering a new phone, “Mr. Rogers, I assume your men would like to be informed of your current state.” 

Steve lingers for a moment, his hand sliding to grasp your waist briefly as he moves to accept the phone, thanking him. Steve nods to you and Wade, “I'll only be a moment.”

You give him a soft smile as he heads back out onto the main casino floor, you can already hear one of his men pickup as the door shuts. You turn your attention back to Zemo, who is now leaning back in his chair, loosening his tie, before steepling his hands on the desk in front of him. He sighs heavily, his eyes weary as he takes you and Wade in.

“I have set up a meeting between Steve and your brother at the ‘Lumerian’, a private room has been reserved. I want you there Wraith, we need both of these men to settle this, otherwise none of us will survive what's to come.”

“Yessir.”

“Sweep the building, ensure your brother hasn’t set any traps or brought backup. As of right now your only order is to ensure Rogers stays alive at all costs. Is that understood?”

You exhale, “Yessir.” 

“Good. Желать, (zhelat, obsession.) you are with Laufeyson, his personal security for the time being.”

Wade eyes Loki, whose attention is finally on the three of you. Wade looks to you, then to Zemo, “Sir, permission to brief her?”

Zemo gestures to you, nodding, “You have the floor.”

Wade straightens, “The phone you gave me a few months back happened to be quite fruitful. As it turns out, Francis happens to be half of the four horsemen–”

You scowl, “The four horsemen?” your eyes flicker to Zemo, “They were exiled for their brutality, their methods are downright barbaric! How the hell have they been operating here, under our noses?!”

Zemo nods in agreement, “It would seem they have had help. Laufeyson knows their whereabouts, he will find out where they will be tonight. Then you and Желать (Zhelat) will take care of them.”

Wade clears his throat, “They also happen to be the ones responsible for your museum, and for beating up Steve’s kid. There have been murmurs of one of them being responsible for your parents’ accident…”

Anger flares within you, no wonder Peter had been so brutalized, the Four Horsemen were downright cruel in their punishments, fucking sadists. If they were responsible for your parents death, you were going to rip them apart when you got your hands on them.

Wade places his hand on your shoulder, giving you a knowing look, “Loki and I will contact you with the address, the minute we locate them.”

“It will just be the two of you. Заря and Удача (Zarya/Dawn, Udacha/fortune) are out of town, you won't have any backup.” Zemo gives the two of you a pointed look, “I don’t care how it's done, I want them gone. Then we will make our final move on our mutual friend.” 

You give Wade a vicious grin, “Don’t start without me.”

He gives a grin that matches yours, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Keep him alive Желат (zhelat), you are dismissed.”

Wade nods as he and Loki head for the doors. Loki walks towards you first, the door to the office opens as Steve walks in. Loki grasps your gloved hand, placing a kiss to your knuckles, “Goodluck darling. Give ‘em hell.” He turns toward the door, stopping and turning to you one last time, his eyes meeting yours as Steve stops beside you, you can feel Steve watching the two of you. Loki gives you a camera worthy smile, “Goodbye Death Darling, it was a pleasure doing business with you.”

You couldn’t help but feel like his parting words held a stifling amount of finality—

“Wraith…”

Zemo pulled your attention back to him, “Did you ever receive blood from Steve or Barnes?”

Your brows rose then furrowed, what kind of question was that, “I’m sorry sir? I don't–”

Zemo’s eyes met yours, pursing his lips before letting go of a long breath, “Your blood work came back from the night we pulled you out of the bay.” he paused, you could see him trying to find the right words for what he was about to say. Your stomach dropped, you didn’t like where this was going.

—

When Steve arrives at the Lemurian Star, he arrives alone. You had convinced him to drop you off a block away so you could ensure it was safe for him to arrive. He sat in the driver’s seat in front of the restaurant, he didn’t know what to expect from this meeting. The last time he had seen your brother, he had tried his damndest to kill him, Steve’s hand lightly grazed the wound under his shirt, and Tony damn near succeeded.

Taking a deep breath he centered himself, there were obviously bigger fish, he and Tony would need to set aside their differences, if not for your sake, for the sake of surviving. 

Steve didn’t know who to trust, Loki and his brother felt slimy, he didn’t know if he could trust his own men, Bucky had proven he couldn't. And he didn’t necessarily trust Zemo or the other Aces, but he trusted you. After everything, you had saved his life, risking yours in the process, betraying your own brother, for him. 

He knew Bucky thought he was insane for even considering trusting you, but at this point, if you were to truly be his demise, he would gladly die at your hands… 

No.

Neither of you were going to die, this was going to blow over and then the two of you would leave this damn city behind for good. He would give you the life you deserved, maybe settle down have a few—

Ding

His phone vibrated in his hand, the little notification lighting up his screen:

Angel: Clear. It’s just Tony. Third floor.

Steve leaned his head back against the headrest, taking another deep breath.

Let's get this over with.

—

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @captainson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal @calwitch @buckysteveloki-me @curlyladylazarus111 @talesofadragon

#mafia au #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel au #mob!steve rogers #mob!steve x reader #assassin!reader #all is fair in... #steve rogers x bucky barnes #bucky x steve #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader smut #steve x reader #tony stark #stark!reader #Stark!sister #sam wilson #Howard Stark #the howling commandos #captain america #mob au #marvel #avengers #bucky #yelena belova #mafia!steve rogers #mafia!bucky #loki laufeyson #thor odinson #peter parker

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #284: BATTLEGROUND: OLYMPUS

October, 1987

Assault on Olympus!

Is this an assault on Olympus? Olympus seemed more idyllic gardens and fancy halls and less craggy rock wasteland.

Maybe they found the back lot?

Anyway, Avengers. What’s going on with them?

Well, last times on this book, Baron Zemo Jr concocted this big plan to destroy the Avengers with a new, bigger and better version of the Masters of Evil.

The plan fell apart.

But his Masters did manage to trash the mansion and beat Hercules into a coma.

Which is causing problems for the Avengers.

Zeus is none to happy about his favorite son being in a coma and he’s decided that the Avengers are 110% at fault. He got his other children to capture the Avengers and had them thrown into Hades. He also had Wasp captured despite being on vacation. Is nothing sacred, Zeus?

The Avengers have broken out of Hades and made their way to Olympus where they’ve allied with Venus, Athena, Hephaestus, and Apollo. Y’know, the Zeus children who aren’t assholes.

The plan was to talk to Zeus with some divine advocates, maybe have Apollo and Dr Druid combine their powers and heal Hercules to help chill Zeus out. But Zeus found them and blew them the fuck up.

And now in this book, Wasp is having one of those orbiting head guilt hallucinations.

With the Avengers begging her to save their asses instead of enjoying her vacation.

Also with a smug Artemis cuing her to flashback to what happened to her off-panel.

So, she was on vacation on a deserted Caribbean island, enjoying some time off from being a superhero and a cool Avenger.

When she saw, of all things, a deer! Just a random deer on this island where the largest wildlife are pelicans!

It was weird enough that she shrank to flying size (which at this point is only a foot smaller than her usual size) and flew after the creature but it vanished into the jungle.

Then someone shot an arrow at her. Wasp managed to shrink down to dodge it but it swerves to try to hit her anyway. So she blows it up with her Sting. Only for the arrow to explode into a paralyzing cloud of dust that knocked her the hell out.

She dimly remembers the approach of another woman -- a powerful woman -- who took her... somewhere. And she recalls a huge bearded man shouting at her... but after that, her memories disintegrate into a jumble.

Okay. I know Artemis is the goddess of the hunt and all but. What use does she have for an arrow that explodes into sleep powder?

It reads like sandbox fight. “Ah ha, I dodge the arrow using shrinking!” “But but but my arrow tracks like a missile!” “Okay so I blow up the arrow with my bio-electric Wasp Sting!” “Yeah but the arrow explodes into chloroform so I win.”

Anyway, Wasp wakes up in a cage slash coffin that isn’t very secure. Wasp just shrinks down, uses her Sting to blow a very tiny hole in the glass, and flies out.

But while Wasp is flying around, trying to figure out where in the Caribbean one would find a bunch of Gercian architecture, Hera pops out from around the corner and asks to speak to Wasp.

Wasp realizes, oh, this is Olympus.

And that the shouty man was then Zeus.

Hera is, at least at this point, pretty chill.

Or maybe she’s just contrary because she still doesn’t like Hercules.

Either way, she’s not thrilled with Zeus throwing the Avengers into Hades or that he’s so mad that they escaped, he’d be willing to level Earth.

Meanwhile, the conscious, not horribly injured Avengers (Captain Marvel, Thor, Namor, She-Hulk) go to fight Zeus and his still loyal children (Ares, Dionysus, and Artemis).

Captain Marvel goes right for Zeus but... geez, the man can backhand her even when she’s in light form.

Geez.

Calling himself the Lord of Lightning just aggros Thor, who pops up to get into a lightning contest with Zeus.

Thor: “Mayhap you’ve more respect for the might of another thunder god, red-beard!”

Zeus: “I respect no god who allies himself with mine enemies, Thor!”

Thor: “‘Tis not the Avengers who are your enemies, Zeus... ‘tis your own madness!”

Zeus: “HOW DARE YOU SMITE THE PERSON OF ZEUS!!”

As Thor hammers Zeus into a building, ‘natch.

Captain Marvel nyooms in to back up Thor but Zeus tells Artemis (and Ares and Dionysus) that they deal with the mortals so he can focus on beating the crap out of Thor.

Artemis discovers though that without a sneak attack, the speed of light is much faster than the speed of arrow.

Between panels, Monica even manages to knock out Artemis, although she notes that it took enough voltage to kill several humans to do it.

Meanwhile, Namor fights Ares.

He’s beaten Ares before but that time they were under the sea. So Cap(tain America) tosses his shield to Namor to even the odds.

Captain America is too injured to join the fight anyway. Also, he vanishes as Ares fights Namor. As Doctor Druid vanished while Thor was fighting Zeus.

Better not be the Collector again!

Black Knight comes to his senses just in time to have to dodge Dionysus flying overhead after a She-Hulk punch.

Interestingly, Black Knight is in good shape after the big Zeus explosion and the reason why is that Captain America jumped in front of him to try to shield him.

So now Cap has both legs broken and Black Knight is gaping in confusion at everything happening.

By the way, Hercules (apparently his bed was untouched by the explosion) also vanishes.

And it transpires that Hermes has been super speed snatching people from the fight scene and bringing them to safety so Mysterious Guy (actually Prometheus!) can treat their wounds.

Hermes is actually freaking out at disobeying Zeus to help Prometheus but then Hera arrives with Wasp and tells Hermes that he’s doing what his queen says and she says they’ve got to end Zeus’ madness.

Meanwhile, Wasp sees how badly Captain America is hurt and worries over him but Cap has a good attitude.

Captain America: “They’ll heal, Jan. I’m glad to see you’re all right! Buck up -- we’ll see this through!”

Doctor Druid: “Captain, I’m in awe of your faith!”

Captain America: “We fought our way back from Hades, Druid. Anything is possible!”

Back at the god fight, Captain Marvel has shocked Artemis unconscious, as earlier discussed. She-Hulk has Dionysus in a full nelson. And while Namor is having trouble using Cap’s shield to its full effect, Captain Marvel zaps Ares’ footing, tumbling him into a pool. And Namor has no problem kicking his ass underwater.

Dionysus manages to slip from the full nelson and picks up a big column to whack She-Hulk with. He comments that even though his party lifestyle has softened his body, he’s still plenty strong.

Dionysus: “I may be the god of joy, She-Hulk -- but I can also cause much sorrow!”

Black Knight and Captain Marvel notices that Hephaestus, Venus, Apollo, and Athena are finally rousing. Way after the Avengers who got hit at the same time. Captain Marvel speculates that Zeus hit them harder than he did the mortals which doesn’t make sense but whatever.

Captain Marvel nyooms off to go look for the missing Avengers.

Over with the missing Avengers, Prometheus has decided to try a Dangerous Technique to try and revive Hercules.

He gets all the squishy mortals to move to one corner for safety and then borrows Hermes’ caduceus.

Prometheus: “Hear me, Gaea, mother of us all... grant me the power, the will, and the way to awaken this one’s mind from the sleep of sleeps! Let Hercules again be whole! Let Hercules live!”

Elsewhere on Olympus, Thor continues to fight Zeus, despite his whole ‘no healing, no dying’ curse causing him terrible pain.

Thor: “Though my body be wracked with pain beyond reckoning, I will not die! Will not? Nay, I cannot! Such is the curse of Hela, that no one can slay the son of Odin... not even a god gone mad!”

Zeus: “Mad?! ‘Tis you who must be mad! Why else would you ally yourself with the mortal curs who betrayed my son’s trust? You see in me but the righteous anger of a father wronged! If that be madness -- I WELCOME IT!”

Thor recognizes that Zeus is going into the warrior madness and unless he can be shocked from it, his anger is going to consume all. Which isn’t ideal.

Speaking of shocked, Zeus hits Thor with a massive lightning bolt.

When Thor gets back up anyway (because of Hela’s curse preventing him from dying), Zeus is aggravated. Thor tries to explain Hela’s curse and tries again to explain that Hercules got his own dumb self injured, Zeus just blasts Thor with more lightning.

Zeus: “You shall suffer for those lies! You shall suffer and you shall die!!”

Thor: ‘Dude, I just said I can’t do that.’

Zeus gives it the ol’ college try though, blasting Thor back and forth and complaining that Thor just won’t die.

Zeus: “Perfidious child! Your very existence sullies the memory of noble Odin! I see now the workings of destiny! I have a sacred duty to rip the life from your bones!”

But Captain Marvel rejoins the fight, letting Zeus have a taste of lightning for a change.

Captain Marvel: “Back off, Zeus -- or I’ll do a lot worse than cut your arm! In the name of the Avengers, I order you to surrender!”

Zeus: “You... order me?”

Man, gods hate being ordered.

Thor tells Monica that this is a god fight and no place for mortals. But she tells him tough. She gonna fight Zeus anyway.

Captain Marvel: “We stand or fall together!”

And, look, if there’s a non-god Avenger that can fight on a god fight level, its definitely Monica. Her power set is pretty bonkers.

Zeus tries to blast her (obviously not game for her demand he surrender) but she’s in hologram form and the lightning goes right through her.

He refuses to bother with her if she’s just going to ghost his attacks so she forces him to take her seriously.

BRAK-KA-TA-KROOM!

Man. Lightning explosions make the best noises in Marvel.

The lightning explosion is so massive that it casts hundreds of yards in blinding light.

Despite being blinded, Prometheus completes his healing of Hercules.

Unfortunately, the first thing the prince of power does after waking up is smack Prometheus away and start yelling “TREACHERY!! ENEMIES... EVERYWHERE!!”

So... maybe double check that his brain is working right.

Double unfortunately, Zeus comes out of the giant lightning explosion still standing.

Zeus: “None can defeat the Lord of Olympus! By mine own will, am I invincible!”

... Didn’t Typhon steal all your tendons once?

Monica used as much energy on that lightning explosion as she’d used to take down the shields of the Sanctuary II when the Avengers were fighting Nebula.

So, yeah, she’s tapped out.

Thor at least whispers to her that she surely hurt Zeus more than any mortal has done before. So that’s worth bragging rights at least.

Namor pops in to rejoin the fight, punching Zeus in the back of the head.

Namor: “As long as one Avenger yet stands, we will prevail!”

Good rejoinder, Zeus.

Zeus: “Mortals have grown stronger and more presumptuous of late! ‘Tis clear I must again make my presence felt upon the Earth... that mankind might learn anew the proper respect for... gods!”

She-Hulk, sneaking up behind for a surprise bear hug: “Is a hug respectful enough, Red?”

He blasts her off his back with electricity and she lands in a heap, smoking.

Oof.

Black Knight watched Namor and She-Hulk get brushed aside by Zeus with little effort and so hesitates to jump in himself. He’s just a dude in armor with an extremely cursed sword, after all.

He also wonders how things could possibly get worse. Because Dane is an idiot who loves to tempt fate.

In fairness though, the immediate response to that question is something that was already ongoing so he can’t really be blamed for it.

Healed from his coma, Hercules has apparently been driven into a berserker rage. Despite Captain America’s fears that Hercules isn’t in his right mind and doesn’t recognize the Avengers, Hercules claims he does know them... AS ENEMIES!

Dammit, Prometheus!

Follow @essential-avengers​ because. Like and reblog also because. Do it for Cap’s shattered femurs.

#essential avengers #avengers #Olympians #Zeus #Captain Marvel #Monica Rambeau #Thor #namor mckenzie #She Hulk #the Wasp #Captain America #Black Knight #Doctor Druid #for some reason #Hercules #Prometheus #essential marvel liveblogging #drat sky father level gods are so hard to punch out

[buckyismybicycle]

cold blade of silver, his eyes they burn so wild (AO3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Helmut Zemo  Rating: Teen+ Tags/Warnings: Bucky’s Metal Arm, Facial Shaving, Unresolved Sexual Tension Summary: Helmut Zemo just wants a fresh shave, and conveniently enough, he happens to be stuck with someone who's very good with blades.

For @buckybarnesbingo​ Y2: "Kink: Arm Kink"

A/N: My first and likely only time writing these two, so I hope I’ve done them some justice! 

“This might be the second dumbest thing you’ve ever done,” Bucky scoffs.

“Is that so?” Zemo’s voice is soft, even, as he finishes tucking the towel into the collar of his shirt while he lays in the reclined chair. “And what exactly do you think is first place then, James?”

“Locking me in a room with you when there’s no one around to stop me from punching you in the face.”

Zemo lifts his head to see the same intense stare the soldier seems to perpetually wear. Likely, it’s meant to scare people, but the coil of power that lies just underneath it is something that thrills Zemo, more than he’d care to admit. Just like the arm is meant to frighten, too – a symbol of unimaginable power.

“If that is your wish, you may do so after,” he answers breezily, knowing just how to get under Bucky’s skin. “But first, it should look presentable.”

There’s a clink of metal on metal as Bucky stops the faucet, sink full of steaming hot water.

“You like living dangerously, don’t you, Zemo?” Bucky taunts, twirling the straight razor in his hand. He handles it with ease, like he does every blade, and Zemo stares for a second too long before he focuses his eyes to the ceiling.

“I like to live luxuriously, James. This is a beautiful escape. Surely, you must know how dearly a man treasures a good, relaxing shave, they did this back in the 30s and 40s didn’t they?”

“The military prohibited beards in the 1930s because the gas masks couldn’t seal properly otherwise,” Bucky informs him flatly.

���... Ah.”

“And there’s nothing relaxing about having a blade to your neck,” Bucky growls, advancing on Zemo. “One wrong move, and I could end your life just like that. That sound luxurious to you?”

“This is why I asked someone who I believe to be quite good with a blade. I have it on good record that you don’t make wrong moves. Not with knives, at least.”

Bucky none too gently takes Zemo’s face in one hand and bores down with stormy blue eyes. “Tread carefully, Zemo. I may have left the killing behind, but I’m starting to think I’d make an exception.”

Zemo lifted his hands in a surrendering motion. “Apologies.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

The former assassin makes no move to actually help, so Zemo wets his fingers the slightest bit before making for the foam. He enjoys the cool, fresh scent of juniper berries and teakwood as lathers it over his face. Wiping his hands off, he looks to Bucky with a slight tilt of his head as if to say ‘well?’

“Fucking hell,” Bucky mumbles under his breath, but dutifully takes his place standing over Zemo. With a deep exhale, he studies the baron peering up at him. He’s never thought of Zemo as fragile per se, but definitely soft. And here, laid beneath him, body pliant and eyes half-lidded like he was halfway to nirvana, it makes Bucky’s jaw loosen. Just a little. “Missed a spot.”

He smears some of the foam from the cheekbone sideways, until it covers the spot just above Zemo’s lip. Maybe if the bathroom wasn’t deadly silent or his hearing wasn’t honed in, he might’ve missed the shuddering of Zemo’s inhale. But he doesn’t and it makes him narrow his eyes at the slighter man. Interesting.

Though he won’t admit it, there is something calming about the way he gets to maneuver a blade that isn’t a weapon.

It is, though, Bucky’s brain supplies (un)helpfully. One cut, an inch and a half deep right over the carotid artery.

Stretching the skin underneath the vibranium fingers, he makes the first swipe, slow and steady along the left side of Zemo’s face, watching as the tuft of white lather gives way for the plump of the man’s cheek. To his credit, Zemo doesn’t move or react to having one of the deadliest men on the planet this close to his neck.

He’d only have five to fifteen seconds. How far would he make it out of this chair? Not far, probably.

Bucky wipes the blade off on a towel and makes the second stroke, completely zeroed in on his task — all methodical movements, one after the next.

Zemo, though, takes the opportunity to admire the soldier, watching his eyes tracking the movements of his hands, focused on the laser-like precision he’s exhibiting.

The fact that he’s yet to have been nicked means there’s some level of safety, right? He wants to keep pressing buttons, to see just how far the limits are. He wants to know what makes Bucky tick, wants to see how deep he can burrow underneath Bucky’s skin. There’s a change in Bucky’s face - the way his eyes get a little dazed and his brow begins to even out as he gets lost in the simplicity of the task at hand. The honed focus of a soldier.

It’s the same look he had at the Princess Bar, the closed off, stoic expression of floating to the back while his body performs all that muscle memory.

The Princess Bar, where Zemo finally witnessed the strength of a super soldier up close.

Zemo, against all odds, relaxes into the chair, his eyes half-shut as he pretends to be looking over James’ shoulder as opposed to studying the colour of the steadfast eyes on him. The strokes continue down his face, the hard, cool vibranium hand warming up against his skin as James pulls his skin taut.

Super soldiers shouldn’t exist, they are unnatural and yet Zemo has always had a soft spot for this one in particular… with his strong jawline and fierce blue eyes. So, yes, James is an exception.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, keeping the movement of his lips to a minimum.

“… What.” Bucky pauses, blade readied for the next swipe. He’s just about halfway down, which leaves one half of Zemo’s face deliciously cool.

“The way you handle the blade,” Zemo clarifies, lying through his teeth. He looks up and it feels a hell of a lot like getting caught.

Bucky’s not an idiot. They’re close enough that Bucky can see Zemo’s pupils widening, close enough that he can hear the rushing of Zemo’s blood as his heart rate picks up. For all that Zemo is cool and collected, he simply can’t hide the physiological response he has to the presence above him. Bucky finishes the stroke, Zemo now feeling fresh, and soft.

“You play a dangerous game, baron,” Bucky says, finally, a little too wickedly. Like he knows he’s won something. Like he’s the cat chasing a mouse.

“What can I say? As you said, I like to live life on the edge,” he responds, finding he doesn’t much care that he’s the mouse in this situation, hands coming up to inspect – no, admire – the handiwork, feeling nothing but smooth skin. He takes the damp towel and cleans off the residue, leaving him pleasantly refreshed.

Bucky walks closer, stopping Zemo’s attempt to get out of the chair. Slow and steady, his hand moves to Zemo’s throat, the black and gold lines mesmerizing as his arm moves. There’s the faintest of squeezes, just barely enough for Zemo to register pressure as the soldier looks down with a hungry gaze, eyes flicking to Zemo’s mouth.

“Watch yourself, Zemo.” Bucky’s voice is low and predatory, leaving Zemo struggling to keep his calm demeanour. “You might regret those words.”

He swallows audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing against that beautiful trap around his throat that is Bucky’s hand. “I think not,” he replies, voice breathless.

💕 Overall Masterpost |  AO3

#winterbaron #winterbaron fanfiction #bucky x zemo #bucky barnes #buckybarnesbingo2022 #bbb2022 #events

[mcbiteypantspresents]

Chapter 14 @spintwinwb's and my collab, When In Brooklyn, is up!

BEARDED ZEMO!

Spoiler image after the jump!

"Again, he felt like he was getting mixed messages from Zemo."

#winterbaron #tfatws #helmut zemo #daniel bruhl #the falcon and the winter soldier #daniel brühl #baron zemo #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #sergeant james barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #creator collaboration #marvel fan art #when in brooklyn #digital art #ao3 fanfic

[mlmxreader]

non-horny thoughts I can't get out of my head for some reason:

Laszlo setting out one of his shirts every morning for you to "borrow", even if he knows he won't get it back for days

Schmidt lying w his head on your stomach, big brown eyes glittering in the light as he talks about science

Zemo letting you sit between his legs when he reads and asking you to turn the page for him

Black Noir rolling cigarettes as a way of giving you an indirect kiss or two

Aldo falling asleep w his head on your lap in the middle of a hot day, muttering quietly as you run your hand through his hair

Wicki blushing and looking away when you say he looks handsome

Donny putting his jacket over your shoulders when you're asleep bc he doesn't want you to get cold

Hugo saying he "hates" cuddling yet every night he always ends up cuddling you

Schultz letting you trim his beard up and chuckling when you kiss him every now and then

horny thoughts I can't get out of my head:

Laszlo insisting that you call him either Daddy or Doctor and ALWAYS using praise

Schmidt fucking you on the floor bc there was no time to get to the bed

Zemo putting his hand around your throat and telling you to cum for him as he smiles

Black Noir grunting and huffing and making all these little sounds as he fucks your ass

Aldo being a LITTLE BIT too much into being called "Lieutenant" as well as Daddy in the bedroom

Wicki being dominant yet still soft and gentle, although not quite so vocal

Donny always being turned on at how fucking good you look beneath him, always going breathless and hard

Hugo being surprisingly tender and soft in the bedroom, whether he's being dominant or submissive

Schultz being a tease, telling you that he won't fuck you until you literally beg him for it

#mlem.txt #anyway have this djfkdjdjsidj

[mslaevateinn]

Laevateinn’s Stucky Bingo Masterpost

My masterpost for the @stuckybingo​

Name: Laevateinn Card number: SB022

It’s a blackout with twenty squares and five adoptables! I made ten moodboards (some with ficlets), used five Round Robin entries and the rest is split between short stories and longer fics!

Square filled: B1: Writing format: Outsider POV Work: Lady's dads are getting married Rating: T Major tags: pov Natasha, Wedding, Canon divergent from Endgame, Set in a universe where Steve didn't go back, Tony is alive, Natasha is alive, Steve and Bucky retired Summary: Finally, it's the big day. Follow Natasha and the boys' dog Lady on this joyful day. Word count: 1.9k

Square filled: B2: First date Work: Stucky Bingo September 2021 Round Robin Rating: G Major tags: AU Coffee shop and cafés, AU No Powers, Meet Cute, Pets, Fluff Summary: Steve's job in a coffee shop is suddenly made better when he meets his new favorite customer, a glowering man who goes by J.B. Word count: 350

Square filled: B3: AU: Set in a different country Work: Once upon a time, in a faraway land... Rating: G Major tags: Mermay, moodboard, mermen Steve and Bucky

Square filled: B4: Writing format: Third person Work: Lazy Morning Rating: T Major tags: pure fluff, Domestic, retired Steve and Bucky, Alpine is a little devil, Inspired by Fanart Summary: After a bad night, all Steve wants is to be able to be there for Bucky. That starts with breakfast. Word count: 1.9k

Square filled: B5: Brock Rumlow Work: Unpleasant encounter Rating: G Major tags: Politics, Modern AU, moodboard Summary: Bucky did not expect his second public outing with Steve to turn out like this.

Square filled: I1: AU: Fantasy setting Work: New York's oldest families Rating: T Major tags: Vampires, AU: Fantasy setting, Masquerade ball, moodboard Summary: Every year, New York's oldest families reunite for a night where rivalries are put aside. Not just any families, however, only the ones with … certain gifts. Word count: 400

Square filled: I2: Visiting the moon Work: We went on the moon! Rating: G Major tags: Moodbard, spaceship, Moon, married and retired Steve and Bucky Summary: Shortly after they come back from their trip to the Moon, Steve and Bucky print some pictures to put in their home.

Square filled: I3: Stark Tower Work: Happy New Year! Rating: T Major tags: Mistletoe, Stucky through the years Summary: It’s the new year, and there’s mistletoe everywhere. Bucky reminisces. Word count: 858

Square filled: I4: Rivalry Work: Captain America vs the Winter Soldier Rating: G Major tags: Hockey AU, Modern AU, Russian Bucky Barnes, Olympics final, moodboard

Square filled: I5: "I can do this all day" Work: Stucky Bingo October 2021 Round Robin Rating: M Major tags: AU: Modern Setting, AU: No Powers, Mechanic Bucky Barnes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Halloween Costumes, Party, Established Relationship Summary: Not even exhaustion from Bucky's job as a mechanic can stop his boyfriend Steve and him from donning a creative couples costume for Tony's Halloween party. Word count: 314 (my part)

Square filled: N1:  Helmut Zemo (replacing Major injuries) Work: Stucky Bingo November 2021 Round Robin Rating: T Major tags: AU: Apocalypse, Established relationship, Minor injuries, Bucky's pov, Steve and Bucky VS the rest of the world Summary:  They’ve been together forever, but now that there are only a few people left in this hellscape of a planet, Bucky’s even more grateful for Steve Rogers. Word count: 300 (my part)

Square filled: N1: Friends with benefits (replacing Depression beard) Work:  What are 'friends with benefits'? Rating: M Major tags:  Flashbacks, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Angst, Hurt No Comfort Summary: A team-bonding moment leads Steve to realise something about his relationship with Bucky during the war. Word count: 1.7k

Square filled: N3: Free Work: The Pianist Rating: G Major tags: Musician AU, Modern Bucky, Pianist Bucky, Political animals inspired Summary: Steve decided to get a drink at a bar to relax… then found himself instantly drawn to the pianist as soon as the man stepped on stage. Word count: Moodboard + 325

Square filled: N4: Kink: Shower sex Work: Valse à trois temps (chapter 2) Pairings: (fic) Steve/Bucky, Steve/Natasha, Bucky/Natasha, Steve/Bucky/Natasha Rating: M Major tags: Presumed dead & Undercover missions, polyamory, canon divergent after CACW, shower sex, oral sex Warnings: discussion of past abuse, and canon level of violence in the fic in general Summary: Bucky, Natasha and Steve transfer to another safehouse. The boys have some alone time, Natasha is sick, they finally talk and get a lead. Word count: 5.9k (chapter)

Square filled: N5: Voyeurism (replacing Legacy) Work: Going swimming was worth it, in the end Rating: M Major tags: Swimming pool, locker room, college AU, voyeurism, Darcy pov Summary: Darcy is on her way home from the swimming pool when she hears something strange coming from the men’s locker room. Word count: 1.3k

Square filled: G1: AU: Mythical creatures (replacing AU: Soulmates) Work: Just spread your wings and fly Rating: M Major tags: Moodboard, Fairies, Villain of the week, crackfic, Steve and Bucky are changed into fairies, they have a lot of fun with the new bodies Summary: “We’re fairies!” “Well, yes. I thought we established that long ago.” Or, In which Steve and Bucky are turned into fairies by some wanna-be sorcerer, the team freaks out, jokes about fairies are made, and the boys discover some fun advantages to their situation. Word count: 1.3k + moodboard

Square filled: G2: Kink: riding Work: A lacey surprise Rating: E Major tags: Bucky's birthday, Fluff and Smut, Lingerie, Plugs, Dom/sub Undertones Summary: Bucky’s day starts slowly. He awakens with the sun on his face, warmth surrounding him. The sheets are soft on his skin and he feels rested. -- Bucky's birthday starts slowly. It continues peacefully with Steve in the morning, then with his friends for lunch and in the afternoon. The evening starts as a relaxing one too, but that was without counting on Steve. Word count: 3.6k

Square filled: G3: Don't do anything stupid until I get back Work: The nicest house around Rating: T Major tags: Christmas Lights, Super soldiers shenanigans Summary: Putting up Christmas lights outside of the house should be easy for two supersoldiers... right? Word count: 462

Square filled: G4: America's ass Work: Stucky Bingo March 2022 Round Robin Rating: T Major tags: Retirement, Missions Gone Wrong, Self-Esteem Issues, Pranks and Practical Jokes Summary: When a mission goes wrong, Bucky takes Steve up on his offer to do something neither were planning. Word count: 350 (my part)

Square filled: G5: Letters Work: Three little letters Rating: G Major tags: Eurovision, Musician AU, Ireland, Romania, meet cute Summary: Steve was nervous. It wasn’t the fault of the competition. No, that… he didn’t mind much. He had already won by being chosen back home. No, what was making him nervous, was another contestant. Word count: Moodboard + 200

Square filled: O1: Natasha Romanov (replacing Spies) Work: Stucky Bingo April 2022 Round Robin Rating: T Major tags: Avengers Family, Battle, Wizards, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack Summary: During a battle against a wizard, Steve turns a little green, and Bucky wonders what's gotten into his man. Word count: 350 (my part)

Square filled: O2: Long distance Work: Only a week and a half? Rating: G Major tags: Pining, Postcards, moodboard, Modern AU Summary: Steve sorts through his mail and finds a letter from Bucky who is visiting family. Word count: Moodboard + 285

Square filled: O3: AU: Cap Bucky Work: Aye Aye Captain Rating: G Major tags: Pirates AU, Captain Bucky, moodboard Summary: The adventures of Captain Barnes and his motley crew

Square filled: O4: Disguises Work: Stucky meets Destiel... sort of Rating: T Major tags: College AU, Halloween parties, Couples Costumes, Stucky meets Destiel, fun and fluff Summary: Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Sam are invited to the Odinsons Halloween party. Shenanigans ensue Word count: 2.2k

Square filled: O5: Kink: nipple play Work: Threefold Pairings: Steve/Bucky, Steve/Natasha, Bucky/Natasha, Steve/Bucky/Natasha Rating: E Major tags: established relationship, polyamory, Dom/sub dynamics, Femdom, service top, impact play, fluff and smut, 2+1 sort of, Nat pov, art, soap art, embedded images Warnings: N/A (but read the tags on AO3 if you have squicks) Summary: Three hits to the heart son And it's poetry in motion Three hits to the heart son And the last one sings in me * * * When people have been and seen as much as Natasha, Bucky and Steve have, their relationship is bound to be special. Follow the trio as their find out how they can take care of each other through kink. Summary lyrics from "Three Hits" by the Indigo Girls. Written by Amy Ray. Word count: 9.5k

#stuckybingo2021 #blackout #Laevateinn #Moodboard #Fanfic #Stucky #MCU #Steve x Bucky x Natasha #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanov #Bucky Barnes

[aggressively-selfships]

Gush Pass delivery! Feel free to gush about whomever, whatever for however long you want! :DD

I got zemo brainrot!!! I just ugh he's such a little shit but he's MY little shit!! Like I love love love seeing his smug fuckin face shatter when I just pull him into my lap and he just melts or like whenever I wear his coat (it drags on the floor if I'm not wearing boots ahdjfhskxn) he just EXPLODES bc he has such a huge soft spot for me he just makes me feel soooo special and loved <333 also AAAAAAA SEEING HIS LITTLE GREY HAIRS IN HIS BEARD!?!?!?!? IT KILLS ME!!!! I just can't with him I wanna bite him and squish his cute cheeks he's just so precious (ignore that he's literally described as "one of the most dangerous people in the world") qnd hes soooo smart!! He loves doing puzzles and teaching me chess (I'm gonna fuckin beat him one day!!) And he always reads his books to me <33333 I love him I wanna cuddle him forever<333

#caged hearts #ask #hes so poor little meow meow #i wanna beat the shit out of him but also bandage him up qnd tuck him in bed #if he doesnt show up or dies in thunderbolts istg #kevin feige square tf up bc im coming for you bitch #just gimme my husbands >:(((( #moonknight season 2 and zemo in thunderbolts kevin!! GIVE IT

[starlightsearches]

(if you aren't taking any more requests from the smut prompt list, ignore this ^_^)

19 + 100 from the smut prompt list with zemo pls and thanks

What I Missed the Most

19 and 100 from the Smut Prompts List

Inspired by this gif

Zemo x femme! reader

Warnings: 18+ Only (Minors DNI), PIV sex, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, virgin! reader, sex work, prostitution, praise kink, soft dom/sub dynamics, creampie. Please be aware of the warnings!

It's strange to stand like this—so stiff and detached, practically naked in the lingerie and robe the madam had picked out for you. You're used to sitting coyly on the edge of a couch until someone makes their approach, skin glittering prettily in the partial darkness of the club. The room looks much too large when it’s flooded with the emergency lighting—used during the daylight hours when the club is closed—and the air is chilled with the lack of bodies.

The mysterious patron, who had everyone in such a fuss this morning, is making his way down the line with the madam at his side—a quiet, thoughtful frown on his lips. It’s difficult not to stare, but your instincts keep your eyes from resting on him for too long. You’ll have to settle for the small details you catch in glimpses.

He's well-dressed—a long coat thrown over his shoulders, and a well-fitted turtle-neck sweater beneath it. It sits snugly over his torso, hinting at a muscular build. The rest of him is unkempt in comparison; his hair just a bit shaggy, a few tendrils curling against his forehead. Most of his face is taken over by a dark beard, and he can't keep his hands away from it, scratching at his jawline beneath or dragging a palm down over his mouth. He must not be used to keeping facial hair.

"And who is this?" He stops before you, his voice low and pleasant, carrying an accent you can't identify. You do your best to look demure, glancing up at him shyly through your lashes as the madam gives him your name.

Dark brown eyes trace over your features carefully, the seconds melting into minutes under the warmth of his gaze. The intensity brings a heat to your cheeks; you find yourself staring at your reflection in his well-shined shoes.

“How much?”

The madam clears her throat awkwardly, but it's all part of her act. She could smell money on a man like blood in the water, and she always knew which veins to open first.

"You wouldn't want her, Baron," she says, trying unsuccessfully to usher him down to the next girl, "we're charging quite a price for her first time. Why don't I introduce you to Cassandra here—"

He stops her with a raised hand, tilting his head curiously. "Her first time?”

"Oh yes," the madam confides. She leans in, whispering up against the shell of his ear, so close it’s incredible she doesn’t leave traces of her bright red lipstick smudged against his skin. "I have a few loyal customers who are quite eager to, let's say, take her innocence."

She pets her bony fingers down the side of your face, and you purse your lips, trying hard not to roll your eyes. You'd hardly call yourself innocent.

“How much?”

The madam's lips stretch open over her too-white teeth, and she whispers again in his ear. He doesn't pause to think on it.

“I’ll take her.”

Your eyes grow wide, jaw clenched tight. No doubt the number she named was outrageous, preparing for his attempts to bargain. Accepting the very first offer would be insane.

"Perfect." Her voice is dripping with glee when she addresses you, "why don't you show our guest to one of our private rooms?"

You nod, taking him by the hand. The main floor of The Elysian is a veritable minefield of chintz cushions and plump couches, and you weave with him between the empty furniture, hoping he doesn't notice the growing layer of perspiration coating your palm.

The silence between you grows more noticeable as you shut the door to the sound-proofed room, the plush carpet crackling with every step.

You glance around. You haven't spent much time here, but you’re glad to see that the private rooms are a little more tasteful than what you’re used to. There's a leather couch up against the wall, and a large, low bed with silk sheets, a few multi-colored lanterns hanging from the ceiling, throwing specks of light across the bed.

He busies himself near the couch, oblivious to your presence—removing his coat and draping over the back, taking the watch from his wrist and placing it in the pocket. He pushes the sleeves of his sweater out of the way next, revealing toned forearms dusted with bronzed hair.

You clear your throat, brushing the top of one foot over the back of your calf, unsure if you're meant to be doing something.

This is your first time, after all. You were hoping for some direction.

"You may take a seat," he says, nodding towards the bed, and you do as you're told immediately, perching on the end of it, hands folded in your lap.

"I am Baron Helmut Zemo," he says, coming to a stop beside you and dropping to one knee, "but you may call me sir."

His fingers wrap around your bare thigh, hand shifting back and forth as he caresses your skin, acclimating you to his touch. He has nice hands—long, thick fingers and clean nails, and his palm is warm and soft.

"Thank you, sir," you say, addressing his hand.

"Look at me," the command is gentle, but it is still a command. You tilt your chin up just far enough that you can meet his eyes. "Is it true that you're a virgin?"

Your mouth is dry. "Yes, sir."

His fingers flex subtly, hand shifting higher. You try not to squirm.

“You don’t need to lie to me.”

Given how much he probably paid, it would be in your best interest to lie to him. If you weren’t already telling the truth.

"I am a virgin—" you confirm, and he quirks one brow, waiting for you to remember, "—sir."

The baron hums, deep in his throat. "That is good news. You see, I had selfish reasons for my choice. It has been a long time since I have been with a woman. I did not want to embarrass myself."

That’s a surprise. A man as handsome as him shouldn't have any trouble finding someone willing.

You chance some contact, stroking your fingers lightly over his shoulder, hoping you’ve found the correct balance between sympathy and flirtation. "Why so long?"

"I've been in prison for many years. A high-security facility called The Raft, for only the most dangerous of criminals."

Your hand stops.

He watches you, waiting for a reaction—surprise, or fear. You certainly feel a bit of both.

But which does he want? Some men certainly liked to feel you shiver, liked to murmur violent stories low in your ear as you perched on their laps. The feeling of their hands never left you, phantom limbs still gripping at your waist, ensuring that you couldn’t pull away, laughing at the way you squirmed. Fear sated better than sex ever could for men like that.

The baron doesn’t seem that way.

"Really?" you ask, sounding a little more naive than you feel. He seems to like it, moving his hand to the back of the neck, thick fingers wrapping around it, hot and tight against your skin.

His eyes bore into yours; with the way he's holding you, you can't drop his gaze. "Do you know what I missed the most while I was there?"

You manage the slightest shake of your head. His skin is dotted with freckles where the beard doesn’t reach, and there are dark shadows like fingerprints beneath his eyes.

“This.”

He breathes the word, breath warm with the scent of money and men, and then he's kissing you, mouthing gently at your parted lips.

Oh. It's not like you'd never done this before—you hadn't gotten such a dedicated customer base batting your eyelashes—but he is leagues better at it than the others, his beard a little rough against your cheeks, the cashmere of his sweater soft beneath your fingers.

He groans faintly, pressing closer, the tip of his nose digging in against your cheek as his tongue finds its way between your parted lips. His hand shifts from your neck, cupping your jaw, and he uses that leverage to his advantage—adjusting your movements to his liking, controlling the pace. Your fingers encircle his wrist, hoping to keep him there.

It’s not like you to get so caught up in something like this, but you find the more you touch him, the more you want to feel—a warmth like whiskey blossoming in your stomach at the thought of the full press of his body against yours.

He shifts off his knees, pulling away from your lips despite your attempts to keep him close. His thick fingers are at the buckle of his belt, unlatching the metal and pulling the leather strap free. Your thighs press tighter of their own accord, an unfamiliar anticipation enveloping your core.

“You may be a virgin, but given the circumstances I'm sure you're not completely ignorant,” he says over the metallic jingle of his belt buckle and the rumble of his zipper, “show me what you know.”

The baron steps forward, looming, coming closer and closer until your eyes are level with his waist, your line of sight filled completely by the thin sliver of skin and coarse, shining hair that stretches up from the band of his dark black boxers. Your gaze trails lower—slowly—examining him like a fine work of art, lips parting in surprise when you spy the thick bulge straining against the expensive fabric. He’s bigger than you expected.

He must notice your apprehension, a smirk on his lips staining the words he speaks next.

“Go on,” he encourages, taking your hand delicately in his own, leading you where he wants, pressing your palm against the hard length, the rush of blood and heavy weight of his cock solid beneath your fingers.

Your lips part with a pop, mouth flooded with saliva that coats your tongue. You press it between your teeth, wetting your lips, picking up the latent taste of him. It’s irresistible. You want more.

He exhales sharply through his teeth, bracing himself with a hand in your hair as you pull his cock from its confines.

Jesus, he’s thick. Even half-hard, he’s bigger than most—the tips of your fingers just barely brushing your thumb when you stroke him experimentally. You’re not sure how much of him you’ll be able to take, throat aching at the thought. The air in the room is heavy in your lungs.

“Don’t tease me, hase,” he admonishes, pulling you forward until your mouth brushes against the tip of his dick, painting your lips with sticky pre-cum. “I have no desire to be patient right now.”

Swallowing, you pull closer, taking the tip into the warm center of your mouth, tonguing softly at the slit, sealing your lips and pulling your cheeks in tight. He sighs, shifting his hips forward, filling your mouth and stretching your jaw, pressing down until your lips meet your curled fingers. Spit pools against his skin, and you spread it with your hand, stroking in the space where your mouth can’t reach.

You can feel him growing thicker, the muscles in his fingers tensing against your scalp as you begin to bob your head, sucking your cheeks in tighter.

“Oh, you’re a very good girl, aren’t you? Just like that, hase.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, it’s brightness echoed in the warmth at your core. It’s easy to imagine how he must look, those broad shoulders dropping lower, neck stretched long and tense, his molten eyes leaving cigarette burns on the backs of his eyelids and his lips parted in prayer.

As soon as you’ve pictured it, your body screams for more—desperate to watch him fall apart in your mind’s eye, addicted to the idea of undoing such an enigmatic, powerful man. Your fist tightens around his dick, and you stretch yourself farther, taking more and more until the head of his cock nudges your soft palate, eliciting a quiet gagging sound with each press. Stinging tears pool at the corners of your eyes.

His fist tightens in your hair, urging you away from him with a few whispered curses, pouring from his lips in a language you don’t understand. You do as he asks, pulling back until you’re only connected to his cock by a few strings of saliva.

“God, schatz—” he strokes his thumb over your wet and swollen lips, “you are beautiful.”

Your nails press crescent moons against your thighs. He’s breathing heavily, standing before you like a god, or an emperor. He’s the kind of man who could have you willingly on your knees.

“Thank you, sir.”

He strokes his hand down over your shoulder, eyeing the delicate lace that covers your body. “Lay down.”

You shift back against the pillows as the baron stands at the end of the bed, stripping off his sweater. He’s well-toned, but not bulky—arms corded with muscle he’s clearly put to use for more than just vanity, broad chest peppered with ruddy hair, and constellations of freckles on both his shoulders.

“Do you like what you see, hase?” he asks once he’s fully naked, standing before you without shame. He observes you closely, noticing the way your eyes travel over the ruddy skin of his neck, the gentle swell of his stomach, his cock hard and thick and ready for you. Your cunt aches at the sight of him.

“Yes, sir.” You’re unable to control the shift of your hips, the way your body yearns. You want him on top of you, want his hands at your waist, want his lips against every inch of your body.

You want him inside you.

He climbs onto the bed, stradling your body, and you support your weight on your arms in an attempt to bring your face in closer proximity to his own. His eyes wander over your features, lingering against your lips. You resist the urge to close the gap, despite the overwhelming strength of your desire. You're here to meet his needs.

But maybe your needs align in this moment—or maybe he likes the hint of desperation in your features—because he cups your jaw in his warm palm, eyes exploring the recesses of your soul as he pulls you in.

You kiss him back eagerly, letting your hands caress his neck, stroking your ankle against his calf until he grants you the contact you've been hungry for, his chest and hips against yours, forcing your body further into the mattress. You relish the wandering burn of his hands, the wildfire path from your hips to your waist to your breasts. His touch lingers there, and your skin grows warm with a rush of blood as he pinches at the stiffened peaks of your nipples.

The air punches out of your chest, and the sound it makes is embarrassingly close to a whine, your hips canting off the sheets. He leans back, watching your lips tremble as he continues his ministrations.

"I think it's time for this to come off," he whispers, leaning in towards your thudding pulse as his hands reach for the clasp of your bra. The lace tickles at your skin, stripped forward until you're bare. He tosses the garment to the side, pressing firm kisses across your jaw, down your neck.

"I may have lied before, hase," he says, and the air is filled with quiet reverence as he stares at your naked breasts. "This is what I truly missed the most."

There’s no space for you to reply before his lips are on you, lavishing the tender skin of your chest with hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses, the gentle bites in direct contrast to the sharp burn of his beard. He's fully engrossed in the task, ignorant of the way you watch him partake in this thorough worship, nibbling meticulously at the surrounding area before closing his lips around your aching nipple, sucking it between his teeth. Your back arches harshly, head thrown back, and you let his strong arms support your weight as he turns his attention to the other breast.

You dig your nails into his skin, gripping the back of his neck, hard enough to make him bleed. Maybe if you peeled the skin from his bones, he'd finally feel close enough.

“Oh god, please,” you grind against him, your voice going shrill when the tip of his cock nudges haphazardly at your cunt, “please, sir. I want you inside me.”

He pauses his assault, stills his hips which had been rocking against yours with the same unchecked desire. He stays still enough for you to catch the gold flecks in his eyes, the wet shine of spit coating the dark hairs at the corners of his mouth.

There’s a tremor in his throat, a subtle shift as he adjusts his hands, pulling one arm tighter at your waist to give the other range of motion. His fingers tremble in the corner of your vision, and whatever it is he plans to do, he hesitates.

“Of course, schatz. Whatever you want,” he whispers, committing to the movement, stroking the tips of his fingers down the curve of your cheek, and you finally understand. Tenderness like that doesn’t belong in a place like this, between people like you.

He cups the back of your neck as your spine meets the cool sheets, his other hand at your hip, sliding the lace of your underwear down off your thighs and tossing them to the side.

“God . . . you’re so wet for me.” He strokes one thick finger between your thighs, just enough pressure to part your lips and gather your slick on the tip of his finger. “Are you always this wet, hase? Do you get like this when you're fucking yourself?"

You shake your head, although you can tell based on his tone that he already knows. He adjusts, shifting the bulk of his weight onto his thighs, removing his hips from yours and you stifle a whine at the loss. It breaks through your parted lips moments later as he presses the head of his dick against your swollen entrance.

He lingers there for a moment, stroking gently between your folds; there's not enough force behind the movement for him to slip inside you—only enough contact to make you squirm.

“Do you think you’re ready for me?”

You’ve never felt more ready for anything.

You can feel the pressure of his eyes, and so you know he must see the way your brows crease as your cunt stretches to accommodate that first, thick inch, must notice the rhythmic tensing in your core, the tremors in your thighs. You know he hears the strange cry that bursts from you—an intoxicating mixture of pleasure and pain—because he stops, petting a hand over your hair.

“You can take me, hase. I know you can. Relax.” His breath is hot against your neck, and there’s a hand at your hip, holding you in place. “Relax.”

He mouths at your neck, tracing a meandering path to your lips. He moves closer, and closer, the tension draining from your body, putting a slight shift in your hips.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he warns, but the message is lost on both of you, his mouth fully on yours in a messy, desperate kiss. His thrusts grow more fervent, a little chorus of moans echoing in the space between you—his deep with attempted restraint, yours high and aching. You can feel the thrum of his heartbeat under your hand.

"You’re doing so well, hase,” he says, once he’s finally fully seated inside you, “tell me how it feels.”

You manage a breathy moan. The world is dark on the inside of your eyelids.

He gives you a moment to adjust, and you need it—overcome with a fullness you can’t quite comprehend. Your cunt bears down on his cock, muscles clenching like you’re trying to find the edges of him in the dark, like you’re trying to keep him in place.

You close your eyes tightly, hard enough that white spots appear in your vision, jaw open wide. You can’t imagine how devastating it will feel to be empty again.

His hands are harsh at your cheeks, biting against your skin. “No, hase. Keep your eyes open. Look at me.”

You don’t dare disobey, not that he gives you the opportunity to do so, his grip on your jaw tightening, the full force of his eyes on yours. He doesn’t let go, thrusting in and out of your dripping cunt, filling the room with the measured sound of skin against skin. His hips never stutter, his pace never fails, pounding you into the mattress as the friction builds into a white hot heat in your core.

He’s absolutely relentless.

He stares openly, intent on cataloging your every expression—from the slightest twitch in your temple to the wide stretch of your lips. You watch his eyes roam your face, watch the thin sheen of pride and sweat bead across his forehead with every successful moan he loosens from your throat. You’re only getting wetter—each thrust echoing with the wet splash of your cunt. You can feel it dripping down the curve of your ass, pooling beneath you.

He grunts, the first hints of his restraint fracturing, his jaw tight. “God, schatz. You are a miracle.”

His body moves against yours, adjusting your position, posing your body like a marionette with his free hand, his other never leaving your jaw. Your knee presses higher towards your chest under the weight of his palm, and you feel the burn of the stretch at the mouth of your pussy, every sensation heightened as he thrusts into you at this new angle.

Your neck stretches back, forcing your head against the pillow, and you can’t decide if there’s a ringing in your ears or if those noises are coming from you, in time with every thrust. The borders of your body grow blurry, dissolving as more and more of you is consumed by the feeling of him. Every muscle in your body goes tight. He’s so deep you can feel the head of his dick nudging at your soul.

“Are you close, hase?” he asks, and you nod into his palm, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes.

His whisper reaches you through the oceans of your pleasure. “You can cum, schatz. Go on. Let go for me.”

The light inside you breaks once he’s given permission, pouring out in jagged shards, leaving no part of you untouched. Chill air brushes against sweaty skin, your back arching from off the sticky sheets, cunt clenched tight around his cock, holding him deep inside you. You feel remade, taken apart and put back together by his steady hands, forged anew under his warm, soft lips.

Your body fizzles, the result of some chemical transformation you don’t understand, only partially aware of his continued thrusts, the warm spill of his cum as he’s buried tight in your pussy, chest heaving against yours and his hand at your neck.

Puffs of hot air from his lungs dissipate against your collar bone, cooling the thin sheen of sweat that coats your skin, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you over him like a blanket holding you close until long after it dries. His fingers trace soft patterns over skin, tapping a melody only he can hear.

You give up on keeping your eyes open. His chest makes a comfortable pillow, with the untroubled beat of his heart and the safe harbor of his arms. It’s tempting to allow yourself to drift off; your heart twinges at the idea that you could fall asleep and wake up in his arms.

Like every other man, he must be able to sense the thoughts of commitment, because he sits up, shifting you from his lap—gently, at least. You can’t help the whine you let out when he slips his cock from inside you; your body left emptier than it had been before.

He smirks, sitting at the edge of the bed with his eyes directed between your thighs. Your skin grows flushed—feeling the slow drip of his cum slide out of your aching cunt. Your legs move to close, a sick feeling crawling over your skin. It feels wrong to have him look at you now that he’s gotten what he paid for.

He slips his fingers in the space between just before your thighs meet, catching the dripping spend on his thumb, spreading it across your tender opening, just barely brushing your clit. Your lips part with an unbidden moan.

"Still so needy, even after i just fucked you, hase?” he asks, the corner of his mouth turned up proudly, “that's good. I like my women insatiable."

He stands, all business as he grabs his clothing from the floor, reassembling his wardrobe. “We should be going,” he says, “there are places to be; I can have someone collect your things.”

He doesn’t notice your confusion, shrugging his coat over his shoulders, only turning back to you once he’s reached the door.

“Aren’t you coming, hase?”

“Coming? With you?”

“Of course, if you’d like,” he says. “You’d be taken care of, for as long as you choose to stay.”

There’s a warmth in your bones at the thought of it, even if it doesn’t make sense.

“Why me?”

“Schatz,” he walks back to you, petting a finger under your chin, “when I find something I like, I must have it.”

Tagging a few people who seemed interested: @reiaux, @valquiria3000

#hemut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo #helmut zemo fanfiction #baron zemo #baron zemo fanfiction #daniel brühl #helmut zemo smut #baron zemo smut #mcu fanfiction #tfatws #requests #my writing

[mrsmaxwelllord]

a zemo fiction

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: no actual sex, but... explicit (18+ MINORS DNI)

A/N: 7 days in entebbe is daniel's hottest look and i cannot stop thinking about it.

...

 Because you knew the thing you wished could happen wouldn't have a happy ending, you didn’t like what you saw in Zemo’s eyes every time he looked in your direction — and you looked back at him.

 When you first met him in that damn garage in Germany, you only felt curious. It wasn’t always you got the chance to meet The Man that Broke the Avengers apart in person. Then you were too cautious to speak to him, it was only in Madripoor that you actually got to see the real Baron Zemo.

 While playing Smiling Tiger’s eye candy, you had enough time to observe Zemo. Unfortunately, you were forced to conclude, quite fast, that his mannerism was undesirably attractive.

 His confidence and boldness was captivating. And that damned beard of his. You thought he would shave it once he got hands in a razor, but he only trimmed it, leaving a kinda dishevelled look to it.

 One could easily say you were mesmerised by his charm. You thanked God that Sam and Bucky were worried about the mission enough to not notice the looks you gave Zemo.

 But you could tell that he observed you as well.

 You just didn’t know if he was aware of the influence he had over you.

 The day you arrived in Latvia, after Bucky decided to go for a walk, Sam left you in charge of Zemo and went to his room. You knew he was exhausted and you could tell he was going to drop unconscious the moment he hit bed, you were tired too but there was something you wished to do before sleeping. But contrary to what Sam planned, you had no plan of being someone’s babysitter.

 As soon as you heard Sam locking his door, you went to the bathroom for a very deserving bath and Alone Time. You knew Zemo wasn’t an idiot, he probably had realised already you have been followed. You guess it was the Wakadans, but you had no clue how many people he made unhappy in his life. If he was interested in his well being, he would stay in the house.

 So he did.

 When you walked away from the bathroom, steam all around you, feeling the most relaxed you had been in weeks, he offered you cherry blossom tea. Who would have thought?

 You accepted it and he poured you an expensive-looking cup. You turned in your seat to watch him. His coat you like so much was set in the chair beside yours, and he was only in a cashmere sweater.

 You took your time with the tea, eyes never leaving the baron. 

 “Did you like it?” he asked, still not setting down or facing you.

 You shrugged.

 “It is okay” was your answer, just as suggestively as his question.

 “Well. At least you trust I won’t run away”

 You made sure to put the teacup down and turn around before properly answering him. “You know that I don’t. I just know you're not stupid enough to leave the security of your two guardian angels’ wings without a good reason.”

 That made him face you. A displeased expression.

 “James and Sam would soon shoot each other before willingly protecting me, draga.”

 You gigled.

 “That is not the point, is it?”

 “It is not” he murmured, calmer. Then, after a moment of thought, he stretched out his hand to place it on your face.

 You gulped. Then allowed him to do as he pleased.

 However, the Baron didn’t do anything else. He held your face with both hands, caressing your cheekbones and jaw. Running his finger on the skin of your neck. Grabbing the hair in the back of your head. Touching your parted lips with his fingertips, his own mouth agape, humming a wantonly moan.

 “My eyes haven't left you since I first saw you” he whispered, then he looked away from your mouth to your eyes. “I’ve been dying to kiss you.”

 This was enough to make you melt under his cares, you had to hold back a cry. Instead, you parted your legs, making room for him, and he immediately took the place against you. You grabbed his wrist and the soft material of the sweater above his heart, urging him to keep going.

 “Helmut” you called, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue. But you were not able to formulate a sentence, so  you simply pulled him to you.

 When his mouth first met yours, it wast with a sigh. You were desperate for it and you could tell he was as well, but he didn’t rush anything: he was calm, testing. His kiss was slowly taking you in, tasting you and savouring the moment.

 He flexed the hand on your hair, managing to arch your neck so he could deepen the kiss. You could only whimper against him. Helmut used the opportunity to use his tongue on you.

 His hand ran down your neck, pulling away the collar of the robe, exposing your shoulder. You were slowly losing your mind to the emotions. Wherever he touched goosebumps erupted, guiding your focus to where he wanted.

 Helmut interrupted the kiss for a fraction of seconds, just so he could take a good look at your discomposed face — hair out of place, glassy dreamy eyes and slightly open, flushed and wet mouth — and resumed kissing you with a new intensity to it. Neither of you could hold back the moans.

 Especially not when he reached to your thin pajama top and groped your breast. You managed to arch your back even more and accidentally break the kiss with a whimper, when he found your niple and meanly squeezed it.

 “Hulmut, please” you cried, begging for him to… stop it, keep going? You couldn’t tell what you were asking for. 

 He chuckled darkly and began a trail of kisses from your cheek to your neck. Then, grabbed your hips tightly and pulled you flush against him and his hardening dick.

 The feel of his teeth against the soft skin of your neck was driving you insane with lust, you could only hold onto him for dear life. You weren't even remembering Sam in a room somewhere or the explanation you’d have to give the boys for the lovebites on your neck and shoulders. You could only feel Helmut’s lips and the way they made you pulse with desire. You never felt so vulnerable under one's ministration before, so eager to receive whatever one gives you; you usually are more… active.

 Helmut lips were on the cleavage of our top, so close yet so distant to where you desperately wanted and needed him, aware of your needs and thoroughly teasing you. Your back was just as arched as it could be, your eyes rolling, and you just grasped his hair to guide his lips where you wanted them.

 You were almost succeeding in your task. Almost. When the main door was opened by Bucky.

 In record time you and Helmut walked away, each to the opposite side. You managed to lock the door of your room in time to hear Bucky ask about Sam and tell Helmut about the Dora Milaje.

#helmut zemo smut #baron zemo fanfiction #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #zemo x you #daniel brühl x you #daniel brül x reader

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 II || professor!helmut zemo x reader

{𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 I} 

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : your illicit relationship with your (former) professor forces both of you to consider if the risk is worth the reward.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 9k (jeeeesus)

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (oral f and m receiving, rough sex, creampie, massive amount of dirty talk), zemo being super cocky, smoking (just zemo, not the reader), alcohol consumption (zemo and reader although the latter is moreso implied), angst (not a ton but yeah), strip chess (does this require a warning?), zemo’s friends being sorta sleazy, one mention of/implied anal, brief violence? (one punch)

part 3 coming asap!

                              You watched his eyes slowly scan the board, darting from his pieces to yours and back again.

“You’re stalling,” you accused, breaking the silence.

“I’m thinking,” he mumbled back right away, never looking away from the board as he rested his chin in his hand.

“Think faster,” you instructed with a groan, leaning back in your chair and looking out the window instead.  When you saw movement in the corner of your eye, you looked back again, but he just sighed and moved his hand back into his lap without doing anything.  “Oh my god!” you exclaimed, rolling your eyes.

“Wait, wait, I’ve got it,” he grinned, finally grabbing his knight and moving it forward.  “Check.”

You looked around the board to confirm he was right, and he cleared his throat expectantly.

“I said, ‘check’,” he reminded you.  “Stand up.”

“You’re really going to make me do this?” you pressed with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I’m not going to make you,” he smirked, “but you’re going to do it because your only alternative is to forfeit.”

With a sigh and a little smile of your own, you stood up and unbuttoned your shorts, sliding them down your legs and stepping out of them quickly.  His face was irritatingly neutral as he watched you strip, only your bra and underwear left now, but his eyes gave everything away as they examined you with even more care than they had the chess board.  

“You know, this whole ‘strip chess’ idea isn’t exactly going according to plan,” you frowned, sitting back down in the chair and crossing your legs.

“What do you mean?  Of course it is,” he grinned.  “Oh, you mean, your plan… yes, I hope my suit coat is keeping your entire outfit good company over there in the pile.”

You scoffed defensively.  “If you wanted to get me naked, you could’ve just asked.”

“I know, darling.  This was just to get you to slow down for once.”

You coughed a little, shocked by his brutal honesty.  “Damn, shots fired,” you mumbled to yourself, and he laughed.  

“Now, it’s your turn to see if you can get this tie off,” he smirked.  “And do hurry it up, so I can show you what happens when I get a checkmate.”

His apartment was, unshockingly, so much nicer than your dorm; so it wasn’t so odd that you spent most nights here each week.  Well, perhaps it was a little odd since you had practically moved in and you’d only been seeing him for a few months… but you were happy, and he was happy, and you were trying desperately not to overthink it.

Your schedule was carefully crafted so as not to include any Friday classes, but obviously as a professor his itinerary was a much more traditional 8-to-5 no matter the day of the week.  As a result, it was typical for you to lay around his place through most of the day, working on your laptop or occasionally mooching off of his HBO Max account.

You were doing just that when you heard the key in the front door, and you scrambled to turn the TV off so he wouldn’t think you were being lazy… but when he entered, you were still laying on the couch wrapped up in a blanket, so you didn’t exactly look productive either.

“Hey,” you greeted, sitting up and resting your arms on the back of the couch as he took his bag off his shoulder and hung up his jacket.

“Hey,” he mumbled in return, sounding a bit distracted and not even looking back at you.  You furrowed your brow as he sat down on the couch beside you, letting out a heavy breath and staring up at the ceiling.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, pouting as you moved closer to straddle his lap and run your hands over his chest through his button-up.

“Well, the thing is,” he sighed, taking off his glasses with one hand to rub his eyes with the other, “tomorrow is my birthday.”

“Wh— that’s a good thing!” you scoffed.  “Let’s do something!”

“My fortieth birthday,” he clarified.  “Tomorrow, I will officially be twice your age.”

You sighed a bit.  “That really bothers you, doesn’t it…”

“Does it not bother you?  It should,” he snapped, deflating you instantly, and his tone softened.  “I’m sorry.  That was harsh… I just feel guilty, sometimes.  I wouldn’t want to take advantage—”

“I’m a grown adult, Helmut, I know I’m younger than you but I’m not a child and I can make my own choices.”

He nodded.  “You’re right.”

“So then what’s the problem?”

“I…” he paused for a moment, chewing his lip slightly as he gathered his thoughts.  “I would just hate to see you regret this.  And I think, when you’re older, you will.”

“Let me worry about that,” you frowned.  “The future can be dealt with later, we should enjoy the present while we can.”

He laughed softly.  “I think I have an idea of what you consider ‘enjoying the present’...”

You smiled as you leaned in closer, holding his face to press your lips against his.  It was pretty innocent at first, until his hands began to rest at your waist and you sighed slightly, feeling your hips shift above him.  He grinned, teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip.

“What do you know?  I was right,” he whispered.  “You’re turned on already.”

It made your cheeks burn when he called you out like that, like he was mocking you for how easily he could make you desperate, and you looked away in embarrassment.  “I can’t help it!” you defended in a pout.

“I know,” he cooed, kissing your cheek and neck softly.  “I think it’s sweet, really.”

That made your cheeks burn even more, and you looked back at him again to find his brown eyes sparkling.  “Really?”

“Really.”

You trailed your fingers over his cheeks, scratching his beard a little bit which made him scrunch up his nose.  “Well, I think you’re sweet,” you giggled.  “And you know something else?”

He raised an eyebrow and you leaned in to speak closer to his ear.

“I think it’s sexy that you’re twice my age,” you whispered.  “Well, that tomorrow you’ll be twice my age.”

“Yeah?” he pressed, fingers just barely grazing over your skin as they trailed down your legs.

“Yeah,” you nodded, moving your hands to his chest where you started to slowly unbutton his shirt as he sighed.

“That explains why you can’t seem to keep your hands off of me,” he chuckled, looking down to watch your fingers brush over the patch of hair on his chest and toy briefly with the necklace he wore.  

“Well, that’s more just because I know how good you can fuck me, and I’ll never be satisfied by anything else,” you admitted, biting your lip.

“Darling, I don’t think you’re even satisfied by me… I already made you come this morning, don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, but that was different,” you pouted, “that was your fingers and it was right before you had to leave and I was still half-asleep…”

“Whatever it is that you want, draga, just say it,” he ordered in a whisper, holding the back of your neck and pulling you closer so you had to look back at him.

It was a lot harder to say with him staring right at you, but you swallowed and did your best.  “Need you to fuck me.  Wanna feel you inside me, please.”

His only answer was a quick nod before he kissed you, rough and dominating, letting you cling onto him while he stood up and carried you to the bedroom, falling with you onto the mattress.

He made a big show of kissing his way down your body, tearing your clothes out of the way on his path, eventually leaving you in only your panties which he examined with a grin as he held your legs open.

A shiver ran up your spine when he caught the lace in his teeth and used only a playful bite to pull them down your legs.  

Once the panties were off your ankles and he had tossed them aside with a flick of his head, he held your thighs as he dove right in, lapping at you hungrily while you moaned and your back arched.

He purred against you when your fingers wove into his hair and tugged slightly, but you honestly didn’t even mean to do it: you just needed to hold onto something to keep yourself from falling back into oblivion, and it seemed like a more attractive option than the bedsheets.

His lips attaching onto you and sucking your clit hard was already overwhelming in its own rite, but then two thick fingers began to push into you and it was impossible not to cry out, your bottom lip falling from where it had been caught between your teeth.

“Fuck!” you yelped, hips shaking and trying to rock up against his face as he curled the tips of his fingers against your spot right away.

“Close already, draga?” he cooed, words muffled since he didn’t fully pull his mouth away from your body before he spoke.  “I’ve only just started.”

You could only nod and feel your face heat up even more; at this point you had no right to be embarrassed by how sensitive you were when he’d already proven to you over and over that he could bring you to the edge in minutes.  But still, apparently some little shred of shame was still left in you, and you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was determined to train it out of you.

“If you’re close then now would be the time to start begging,” he reminded you as he moved his fingers faster and teased your clit with the tip of his tongue.

"Please, Helmut," you sobbed as you writhed uncontrollably, "I'm so close— fuck me, please, I want your cock."

"So you don't want to come on my fingers, then?  You don't want me to make you come with my mouth?"

"No, I want you to fuck me, please… you know I need to come around you."

Not one to let you down when you pleaded like that, he pulled his fingers out and suddenly flipped you onto your hands and knees, chuckling when you gasped.

“This is how you want it, isn’t it?” he presumed as you heard him finishing the undressing process behind you until you finally felt the head of his cock pressing against your soaking entrance.

“Yes,” you breathed, “just fuck me, please—”

You cut yourself off with a high-pitched noise when he shoved into you, this angle giving you no relief from how deep he was filling you.  One of his hands was beside yours, keeping him balanced upright above you, and you watched it tighten into a fist while the other slid up to hold your neck in a way that was simultaneously intimidating and soothing.

When he started to move, each stroke rubbed against your swollen spot and you struggled not to fall apart right there and then.

“So perfect,” he breathed right against your ear, almost like he was saying it to himself more than you, “you feel so fucking perfect, draga.”

Of course that would make your back arch even more, pushing him deeper into you in search of not only more friction within you but more of his praise whispered to you.

Soon it was you pushing back against him more than him fucking into you, and you felt his proud smile press against the curve of your neck.  “You need it that badly, darling?”

“Need you,” you whined back, not really capable of a full sentence at this point. 

“I know,” he whispered, soothing you with kisses all over your cheek and neck and shoulder.  “I know, poor thing, you just need to come, yes?”

Your mouth fell slack as you nodded, rocking back into him faster and more desperately than ever.

“You need me to make you come?”

“Yes, fuck, please!” you cried, hoping he wouldn’t get irritated with you becoming so demanding, but thankfully he obliged and held your body tight as he really fucked you then, hard and fast and completely unforgiving— exactly how you needed it.

Every part of your body seemed to tense up in time with each other: your toes curled, your hands gripped the sheets beneath you in fists, your walls fluttered and tightened around him.  

When you opened your mouth to speak, you genuinely didn’t know if you should expect a scream or a whisper.  What came out was somewhere in the middle, slightly choked and completely fucked-out.  “Please, don’t stop…”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to, draga,” he groaned, his fingers rubbing your clit roughly as he fucked you even harder, slamming into the deepest parts of you until you were choking on your own sobs.

"I— hng, Helmut, I'm—" you tried to warn him, but you couldn't even put a few words together.

"I know, darling," he cooed, "shh, just come, go ahead and come for me."

He sucked hard on your pulse as your legs quivered and your body gave out; if it weren’t for him holding you tight against him, you would’ve fallen on your face onto the bed (and you may not have even noticed if you did, since you were suddenly going numb and tingly everywhere).

Just past the ringing in your ears you could hear him muttering curses against your skin, in a few languages you didn’t speak, before switching back to English to praise you in a growl.  “I love feeling you come around me, draga, keep going— you’re squeezing me so tight that I can barely keep it together.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks from the force of it, and his hand reached up to wipe them away— a gesture much too tender considering the way he was pounding into you like he was out for revenge.

"Fuck, I'm close, so close," he breathed, grunting with every thrust into you.

"Come in me, I want it so bad, I need it…"

His teeth sunk into your neck, his lips sealing and sucking on the delicate skin, as he let out a muffled moan and began to fill you.  The warmth of it was always indescribable, but perfect; a heavy exhale of relief sunk from your chest out your lips.

You were able to stay like that for a long moment before he let you go and you inevitably fell limply onto the bed, just barely beginning to catch your breath and come back down to reality.

“Fuck, that’ll leave a mark,” you groaned as you rubbed where he’d bitten you, but you were smiling, too.

You watched him get up and stretch briefly; you were pretty impressed he was still energetic enough to do anything but collapse onto the bed beside you, though you certainly didn’t mind the view as he walked to the window and acquired a cigarette and his lighter.

“Isn’t smoking after sex a little stereotypical?” you chuckled softly.

He smirked back at you as he placed the end between his lips.  “It’s the only time I smoke, so I’m going to blame you for how many packs I’ve been going through,” he countered, words slightly muffled from holding the cigarette.  He struck his lighter and carefully lit the end, taking a slow inhale before letting the smoke out through his nose.

“Believe it or not, I didn’t have such an… appetite, before you,” you admitted.

“You’d never had anything worth craving before,” he shrugged; how dare he be so casually cocky like that?  How dare he be so accurate?

Deciding you definitely needed a shower (though you would’ve loved to lay there catatonic for a while longer), you managed to sit up and get off the bed.  The only problem was that you severely overestimated the awakeness of your legs, and when you tried to stand on them, they buckled right away.

He dashed across the room to catch you, concerned at first but then smirking around his cigarette as he looked down at you in his arms.  "Are you alright, darling?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you nodded breathlessly, balancing on his arms as you found your footing.  "Thanks."

“You don’t need my help in the shower?” he pressed.

You rolled your eyes as you laughed, letting go of his hands.  “We both know your ‘help’ isn’t going to get me clean.”

“You’ve got me there,” he admitted, raising his hands in relent as he returned to the window while you finished your delicate trek to the bathroom and reached into the shower to turn on the stream of hot water.

Though the shower thankfully did get the sweat off of you and (most of) the come out of you, it could never wash away the feeling of his touch, the little bruises in the shape of his lips or fingertips, and thank god that it couldn’t— your heart might break if they ever faded.

Of course, that made you start wondering which made you start overthinking (a common shower pastime for you) and suddenly a pang of fearful guilt started to throb in your gut as you wondered if your feelings were becoming too strong.  

You pushed the thought away and finished up your shower, deciding now was not the time to worry where this affair was going.  Didn’t you deserve to do something fun and crazy and a little bit dangerous for once?  At least you weren’t in his class anymore so what you were doing was less ‘wrong’ and more just ‘probably a bad idea.’

But this bad idea had been going on for a few months now and sometimes it felt like you were barreling towards an inevitable breaking point.  Could any relationship that began in the way yours had find longevity?  Is that even what you wanted?

Okay, so maybe you didn’t really manage to successfully stop worrying about it, and you sighed absent-mindedly as you dried off with a borrowed towel.  If anything could soothe your racing mind, it was coming back to the bedroom to find Helmut in bed, his cigarette finished and replaced with a book and his reading glasses.

The way he smiled when he saw you was infectious, and he extended his arm out in invitation for you to join him and, well, that offer was irresistible.

You beamed as you jumped onto the mattress, which had settled from its bouncing by the time you found a comfortable spot on his shoulder and lifted your leg to drape over his.  

Your head found a place on his chest while your fingers traced over it, trailing down at one point to his stomach where you delicately traced over the scars there— the ones you’d been too afraid to ask about before now.

“What happened?” you asked softly.  “The scars…”

“A dog mauled me when I was little,” he remembered flatly as he turned a page in his book.  

“Oh no!”

“Not as bad as it sounds, I can’t even remember it now,” he shrugged.

“Anything interesting?” you asked, motioning to the book and looking up at his profile as he returned to his thoughtful reading.

“Something horrifically boring,” he answered flatly, looking over at the bedside table when his phone vibrated on top of it.  Setting the book down and grabbing the phone instead, he squinted as he looked at the bright screen.

“What is it?” you asked after a brief struggle not to be nosy.

"Another professor in the department is offering to take me out for drinks, for my birthday," he explained as he examined the message.

"That's sweet of him," you smiled.  "You should go!"

"Well, actually it's a 'her,'" he corrected.

Oh no, there it was, stirring in your stomach: jealousy, for no good reason, with no right to start stirring in your chest.  Of course in your mind, this female professor was sexy and sophisticated in a way you couldn't be, someone who could keep up with his discussions about history and politics that you barely understood, someone who could do all those things you couldn’t do. 

Including, you know, going to bars… like the one she was inviting him to now, on the night of his birthday.

“Well that’s… nice,” you mumbled.  “Is it just you and her, or…?”

He paused as he processed the question, before suddenly smirking and setting his phone down to stare back at you.  “Do you think she’s asking me on a date?”

You couldn’t parse at first if he was asking you because he thought you were being ridiculous for thinking it, or because he genuinely wanted your perspective— as if he would be happy if she was.  It made a lump form in your throat that you couldn’t quite swallow down.  “I… I don’t know, maybe?” you shrugged.  “How old is she?” you, morbid curiosity getting the better of you.

“I don’t know, 30-something?  Like I will be for the next—” he paused to puff his cheeks with a sigh and glance at his watch— “5 hours or so.”

You tried to hide your disappointment that he didn’t give a number like 60 or more.  “I don’t think you’re allowed to say 30 ‘something’ when the ‘something’ is 9,” you snorted.

“Okay, she’s in her late 30s then,” he decided.

“Well, that’s…” you trailed off. 

“What?” he pressed.

“I guess it’s probably a date, then,” you decided.

“It’s definitely not,” he shook his head.

“Does she know that?” you shot back, regretting it once you said it.

“Seriously?” he laughed.  “Do you think something is going to… happen between her and I, at this bar?”

“Well, maybe not at the bar, she’ll probably drive you to her place in her BMW or whatever,” you scoffed.

“Draga, she’s a history professor, she can’t afford a BMW,” he smirked, kissing your forehead.  

“Okay, but she has a car, and an apartment, and a job— you know, maybe she’s more ‘in your league’,” you proposed.

He laughed again.  “Yes, maybe she is.  And maybe you’re out of my league.  So I think we’ve established that it would be entirely uneconomic for me to be with her instead of you.”

You noticed the way he said ‘being with’ and not ‘date’ in reference to this.  Because you two weren’t, technically, dating, even if he did take you on what could be considered dates by most of the population.  “People do uneconomic things all the time,” you mumbled back, and he let out a little sigh as he looked down at you.

“Darling, I am entirely disinterested in pursuing another woman… as well as physically incapable.  I can barely keep up with you, how do you expect me to entertain somebody else?”

You swallowed, feeling a bit guilty for bringing it up at all.  “I’m sorry, it’s really none of my business,” you sighed, “I didn’t mean to ask you for anything, you can make your own decisions and I know we said this wasn’t—”

“Shh,” he interrupted to hug you tighter, “you’re overthinking again.  I’m not going to sleep with someone else—”

“But I’m saying you could, if you wanted to, I’d just want you to tell me since we aren’t using condoms and we would probably just call it off—”

“Baby,” he smiled, making you look up at him as he reached down to hold your face in his hand, “I just want you.”

You choked on nothing in particular, feeling so vulnerable so suddenly.  “O-okay…”

He held your head close to his chest and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, while you were still reeling from that statement; you didn’t know exactly what it meant— it certainly implied exclusivity, but not necessarily any romantic contexts, right?  To ‘want’ someone can mean a lot of things… sexual, mainly, which is what you assumed he was referring to.

And you were definitely not disappointed if he only wanted you in only that way, but you couldn’t swallow down the longing stirring inside you, the unforgettable knowledge that you wanted him in every way that could be meant.  Best of all, you wanted him all to yourself, but you were too self-conscious to bring up the exclusivity talk and you were too happy now to risk messing it all up with pesky emotions.  It was just amazing sex, between two people who thankfully managed to get along well outside the bedroom as well, and there was absolutely wrong with that.

If nothing else, you knew a lot more about history than you did a few months ago, so if it all ended tomorrow, at least you would have some fun facts about Sokovia to show for it.

When your friend Kacey told you there was a house party this weekend, you were originally going to say no… but the house in question was actually just down the block from Helmut’s apartment, so you knew if you hated it you could leave easily.  Maybe getting out would do you some good, and it was the same night that Helmut was going out with his friends for his birthday so the timing was convenient.  He encouraged you not to wait for him alone and bored all night; this seemed like the perfect way to avoid that.

And maybe if you were getting dressed up all sexy to go out to a party at the same time he was supposed to leave for the bar, you could convince him to ditch them and spend his birthday fucking you senseless.

When he caught a glimpse of you while he walked past the bathroom, he stopped suddenly and you grinned as you turned to face him.  "Whaddya think?" you asked proudly, letting him get an eyeful of your outfit.

“You look…” he trailed off, scanning the skin-tight dress with wide eyes.  “Do you always dress this way for parties?”

You shrugged.  “Most of the time, yeah.”

“Remind me to take you out more,” he nodded.  “Or never let you go out without me again.”

“You don’t think it’s too revealing, do you?” you teased, stepping closer.

“Oh no, don’t play that game with me,” he laughed.  “Don’t try to make me jealous just so I’ll get rough with you.”

You frowned, crossing your arms.  

“Does that tactic usually work on whatever boys you were seeing before me?” he smirked, and something about the way he called them boys made you feel all tingly and suddenly you were not the one in control anymore.  You nodded shyly and he stepped up to you, pulling you into a soft kiss.  You tried to deepen it but he moved back too soon, leaving you wanting more like he could do so effortlessly.  “I’ll see you tonight, have fun at your party.”

He left you with one more kiss, to your forehead this time, and you were almost more impressed than irritated at how he managed to make sure you’d be thinking only of him all night long.

Not too much later after he’d driven off, you left on foot for the party— though you definitely considered cancelling last minute and just moping around his apartment, staring forlornly out the window wondering when your husband former professor turned not-exactly boyfriend would return from the war bar.

But you had a point to prove to yourself, as well as Helmut and Kacey, and so you finished primping and found the walk rather pleasant in terms of scenery (if irritating in terms of fashion).

As far as house parties go, it wasn't quite a rager but not exactly a casual hangout either; you could hear the music from across the block, though faintly, as bass reverberated through the ground and into your platforms while your friend waved you down from the porch, calling your name.

She met you at the sidewalk just in front of the house, pulling you into a tight hug; you had been worried at first that you were overdressed (or, in a certain sense, underdressed), but her outfit was significantly more revealing than yours; a two-piece with her stomach and belly button piercing exposed.  

“You look hot,” Kacey beamed when she pulled back from the hug.

“You think so?  I’m a bit out of practice,” you admitted.

“Glad you could dust off the heels and join us,” she winked.

“Us?”

She glanced back towards the house.  “Yeah, Pia’s here— somewhere…”

Another junior in your major; as the most social girls in the computer science undergraduate stratosphere, the three of you were sort of forced to be friends, but thankfully it wasn’t for naught and you got along well.  Sometimes Kacey could be a bit… effervescent for your taste, in the sense that she was one of those bubbly outgoing types and had more energy than you knew what to do with.  Pia was more reserved but acquiescent, which meant she ended up pulled along on whatever adventures Kacey got herself into you.  And then there was you, who had been blowing them off every weekend with a list of increasingly-absurd excuses: sick dog, sick cousin, sick self (both migraines and menstrual cramps), heavy homework load— you know, the usual suspects— all in the name of hanging out with Helmut.

You considered yourself lucky that they still wanted to hang out with you, after you’d been AWOL this long, and you feared that they would understandably want an explanation.

Following Kacey inside the house, you tried not to wince at the volume of the music— a live band, it turns out, and not a very good one— and grabbed a stray drink from a table on your way to wherever you were being guided.

Pia was sitting on the arm of a couch, listening to a very stoned young man talk about the meaning of life and the universe, but she smiled when she saw you and Kacey, getting up to greet you.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you in forever!” she frowned playfully, hugging you quickly.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you mumbled.  

“We should catch up!  How have you been?” she pressed, tilting her head.

“You’re sure you don’t wanna miss this TED talk?” you snorted, glancing over at the guy who had changed topics slightly and seemed to have confused string beans with string theory.

“I’ve heard better philosophy from the back of cereal boxes,” she laughed, but right as she said it the band finished their song and everyone glanced in your direction, including the heartbroken hippy himself.  “Uh, sorry,” she winced, and Kacey laughed as she guided the three of you away.

“I’m gonna get us some drinks, wait here,” Kacey decided once she found a new corner to lounge in, but Pia abandoned you soon afterward in search of a bathroom, leaving you to do what you did best at parties: stand around and avoid everyone’s attention.

You were surprised to hear your name from behind you, and when you whipped your head around you saw a tall guy with a wide smile looking down at you.

“Professor Zemo, right?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, and you nearly choked on your drink.

“Wh— what about him?” you stammered out.

“We had his class together,” he explained.  “I sat behind you.”

“Oh!” you smiled, relieved.  “Right, um, yeah…”

“Trey,” he finished for you.

“Trey!” you repeated, nodding.  “I knew that… hi, Trey, good to see you.”

“How’s life been treating you since you set the curve in that class?” he grinned.

“I don’t think he even graded on a curve,” you mumbled.  “But, um, good.  Just… livin’ it up,” you decided, cringing internally at your own wording.

“Yeah?  I haven’t seen you in any other history classes,” he noticed.

“Oh, I’m not a history major,” you explained quickly.  “Computer science.”

He chuckled incredulously, wrinkling his eyebrows.  “What were you doing in a history seminar?”

Fucking the professor.  “Elective,” you shrugged.  

“So you’re just a hobby history buff then?” he presumed.

“No, I actually kinda hate history, I prefer to live in the present,” you decided, “but, y’know, underwater basket-weaving didn’t have any seats left…”

He snorted out a laugh, a little too hard for the quality of the joke, and you realized this was probably flirting.  You’d never really seen it up this close, so you couldn’t be sure… and considering how he looked in his jeans with the shirt half-unbuttoned, you weren’t exactly mad about it…

But it made you feel sort of sick to your stomach.  It made you feel guilty, on behalf of Helmut but even moreso for Trey who was totally sweet and smart and deserved to be spending this energy on somebody who could appreciate it.

“Want another drink?  Looks like yours is almost empty,” he motioned to your red plastic cup.  

“Oh, um, I would but… I think my friends are coming over here,” you dismissed, hoping he would take the hint without taking it too hard.  He seemed to understand, giving you a nod and a wave before he disappeared into the crowd right as Pia grabbed your arm.

“Who was that?” she asked right away, giving you a look that you chose to ignore.

“Trey, he sat behind me in my history class last semester.”

“He’s cute,” Pia winked, leaning against the wall beside you.  “And definitely into you.”

“Well, that’s… good for him, I suppose,” you stammered.

“Are you gonna go for it?  Get his number?” she pressed.

“Uh, probably not,” you decided, “I’m gonna get another drink—”

Before you could walk away, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you back.  “Hey, what’s the deal?  You seem kinda out of it.”

“Oh, well, I just— I guess I’m not as much into the party scene as I used to be.”

“I’m using my psychology major mind-reading powers,” she warned, waving her fingers at you like she was casting some mystical spell while you leaned back and squinted.

“Um, that’s definitely not how that works—”

“You’re acting weird becaaauuuusee… you’re totally hung up on somebody else and feel guilty flirting with guys here even though you know you shouldn’t,” she announced, crossing her arms proudly when your dumbfounded expression gave away her accuracy.

“How did you—?”

“Lucky guess.  So who is it?!” she grinned.

“Uh—”

Kacey, summoned by the smell of gossip, seemed to appear from thin air at your other side.  “Who is who?” she smirked.

You glanced around at the crowded room of students and decided this was definitely not the place to talk about such an illicit affair, taking them by the hand and dragging them into a more private room of the house.  Finding a seat on a chair as the girls gathered around you (oddly reminiscent of a childhood storytime, except this story was going to be a lot more mature than those), you prepared to answer as many of their questions as you could.

As a European, Zemo was quite well-practiced at going out to bars with friends, but in America it was a very different experience.  It took him twice the alcohol to get half as drunk as his colleagues, meaning by the time he was feeling a decent buzz, everyone else had foolishly tried to keep up and ended up totally sloshed.

The person who had initially suggested this event (as well as the one you had foolishly felt some sort of jealousy for), Dr. Josten, had actually respected her own limits and left first while she was still good to drive, meaning Zemo was left only with men who couldn’t hold their liquor or their tongues.

Case in point, a bunch of his fellow professors were now trying to convince him to go up to the bar and flirt with a woman in a red dress.

“No, no way,” Zemo shook his head, “I’m not doing that.”

“You could totally take her home, just tell her it’s your birthday!” Professor Bram, from the English department, suggested with an elbow digging a bit too hard into Zemo’s side.

“Does that normally work?” he asked bewilderedly.

"I mean, not for me… but it could work for you!  Ladies love an accent."

“You’ve been teaching stateside for over a year now, Zemo, it’s time for you to experience American women,” one of them laughed.

“Who says I haven’t?” he mumbled to himself before another sip of his vodka, but unfortunately some of the others heard him as well and he got a playful punch to the shoulder.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!  Was it just a hook-up or what?”

“No, I… well, I’m seeing someone, I suppose is the way to put it,” he clarified.

“How long?” Kacey asked you first, right away, as she leaned in excitedly.

“Um, a few months now,” you realized.

“No, I mean how long,” she smirked, gesturing with her hands to indicate length, and you snorted.

“Jesus, I’m not telling you that!”

“Buzzkill,” she rolled her eyes.

“Plenty long enough, that’s all I’ll say,” you laughed.

“How’d you meet her?” Professor Carpenter (another history department veteran) asked.  “I mean, you’re never anywhere but work… is it someone you work with?”

“In a sense…” Zemo trailed off.

“So, is he in one of your classes?” Pia wondered aloud.

“Um, he was, last semester,” you agreed.  It wasn’t false, by any means, but definitely not the entire truth, either.

"So, another lecturer,” Professor Chen (Zemo was about 80% sure he was in the political science department) nodded thoughtfully.  

“Gotta be somebody from the Women’s Studies department,” Bram smirked proudly, despite it not being a statement to be proud of at all.

“Or is it that woman here on the visiting scholar program, the temporary lecturer in neurology?” Carpenter jumped in.

“No, he said she was American, c’mon, keep up,” Bram frowned as he slapped Carpenter on the padded shoulder.

“Delta or Sigma?” Kacey squinted, like it was an interrogation.

“Not a frat guy, some of us have standards Kace,” you scoffed.

“Hey!” Pia gasped, offended on Kacey’s behalf.

“Nah, she’s right,” Kacey soothed.

“She’s not a lecturer, okay?” Zemo hissed, tired of having basically every department of the university listed to him (including some he didn’t realize existed).  “She’s not faculty.”

“...staff?” Chen posited.

“What, you mean like the janitor?  No, not staff,” Zemo rolled his eyes.  “I shouldn’t have said anything.  It’s none of your business.”

“It doesn’t matter!  What’s with the secrecy?”

“I haven’t told anyone about it yet, and I don’t think I’ve had enough alcohol to start now,” he frowned.

“Which of your classes was he in, then?” Pia asked, shifting her line of questioning (and unfortunately looking in the right direction).

“Um, that history thing I took last semester,” you answered.

“That guy from before was in your history class!  Should we just ask him who it is?” Pia grinned mischievously.

You cursed yourself for giving away too much.

“I’ll go find him and see if he’s going to give us more to work with you than you,” Kacey decided, already standing up to walk out of the room.

“No, wait!” you yelped, pulling her back; you didn’t want to tell them anymore, but you couldn’t afford if someone like Trey found out.  Telling Kacey and Pia wasn’t ideal, but at least they could be trusted with a secret.  “I’ll tell you, okay?  Fuck, I don’t even know how to say this…”

Chen tossed up his hands in defeat.  “Alright, the only reason you could be so weird about this is if it’s somebody totally forbidden—”

Zemo’s chest tightened as he worried they would figure it out.

“Like, I don’t know, an adjunct or something.”

“An adjunct?  Are you out of your mind?” Zemo spat.

“Hey, no judgment in brainstorming,” Carpenter defended.

“You think I would be this protective about it if it was an adjunct?” Zemo continued.

“Listen, we’re not gonna think less of you, whatever it is— and we’re not gonna tattle on you,” Bram assured.  “Just get it off your chest while the liquor’s flowing, half of us aren’t even gonna remember it tomorrow anyways.”

“I’m dating a professor,” you blurted out.

“She’s a student,” he finally interjected, the entire table suddenly going dead silent.

“...a grad student?” one of them pressed, making Zemo swallow uncomfortably.

“Um, no… she’s actually… twenty,” he admitted.

“Holy shit,” Pia gasped.  “You actually did it…”

“We bow to your hoe powers,” Kacey spoke reverently, clasping her hands as if in prayer.  “We’ve all dreamed of bagging a hot professor and now you made it a reality.  Please, O Queen, teach us in your ways.”

“It’s not like that,” you defended.

“Is she at least getting a better grade out of you for it?” Carpenter joked.

“No, it’s not like that,” he dismissed, “she passed my class with flying colors quite some time ago.”

“Okay, but was that before or after you slept with her?”

“It was irrelevant to the fact that I slept with her.”

“So, after,” Chen assumed with a smirk.

“Yes, after,” Zemo finally admitted, “but she’s not my student anymore.”

“Is she your girlfriend then?”

You gnawed on the inside of your cheek.  “We… haven’t really had that conversation yet.  I keep meaning to, but then… one thing always seems to lead to another…”

“Oh really?” Pia grinned.  “So what’s he like?”

“Sensitive…” you mumbled right away, “patient, weirdly funny though I don’t think he realizes it.”

“I know I’m going to sound like every creep who ever preyed on young women, but she’s very mature for her age,” Zemo explained.  “Incredibly thoughtful.  Wise beyond her years.”

“No, no,” Johnston shook his head, “what’s she like.”

"It's nothing like how it is with guys our age,” you gushed, clutching your blanket tighter to your chest.  “He's so attentive, and sensual, and he can go for hours," you explained as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip at the memories playing on repeat in your mind.

"You must understand that she's nothing like women our age, at least not any that I've met," he nodded as his friends set down their drinks to lean in close.  He was sure this was more attention than he'd ever gotten for one of his lectures.  "She's… insatiable.  She wants to go again and again and I'm just trying to keep her from getting injured or something, poor thing."

"So she likes it rough?" one of them presumed with a toothy grin.

"She's so inexperienced she doesn't really know what she likes yet.  She's learning with me.  So we try everything."

"Everything?" one of the girls repeated as she widened her eyes.

Your face warmed up as you cleared your throat.  "I mean… yeah…"

"So, anal?"

You choked on nothing, which said more than any answer could.

"I shouldn’t talk about this with you,” he decided, shaking his head.

“Come on, you don’t have to tell us everything, just give us something to work with here,” Carpenter pleaded.  

“I don’t want to know what you mean by work with,” Zemo shuddered.

“At least tell us how you got her to sleep with you,” Chen compromised.

“Or let us do a guest lecture in your class so we can try to find our own undersexed sorority girls,” Bram added.

“Jesus, how many times do I have to say it’s not like that?” you frowned.  “I’m not turning this into some fucked up teacher-student dating service.”

“You keep saying what it isn’t like but you won’t tell us what it is,” Kacey noted.  “I mean, is it serious?”

“All I can say for sure is that I feel pretty serious about it,” Zemo tried to explain.  

“...are you in love with her?”

He cleared his throat, suddenly deciding now was the perfect time to finish his drink.

“Love?” you repeated, voice cracking.  “I don’t… know about that,” you stammered.

But the really upsetting thing was that you did know, and you hadn’t let yourself think about it until now.  It hadn’t been long enough to justify feelings like that, and the last thing you wanted to be was the naïve girl who caught feelings when all the guy was looking for was sex.

“It’s not just sex,” he announced.  “It’s something really real.   I didn’t know that I could—”

He stopped himself.

“I haven’t felt this way since—” he began, but stopped again.  “I don’t know.  Just, be careful how you talk about her.”

“Oh, you’re really whipped,” Bram chuckled.

“She’s incredible; you’d understand if you met her.”

“Then let us meet her!”

For a moment, he actually considered it; he wasn’t sure if you thought that you were at the ‘meeting friends’ stage, and considering the cultural difference it was going to be a unique one for sure.  Would you ask him to hang out with your friends?  He didn’t even know what that would look like.

“She seems like someone worth getting to know,” Bram agreed, and Zemo grimaced at the predatory look in his eyes.

“Fuck off,” he sneered, and Chen patted him on the back.

“Good move.  I’d be keeping her to myself, too… otherwise she might end up upgrading to a tenured professor like myself,” he beamed.

“Better watch out before Chen here steals your girl, Zemo,” Carpenter warned.

“She can’t be stolen,” Zemo assured.

“Yeah, you say that now…” Bram trailed off.

“Care to finish that sentence?” Zemo snarled.

“Well, think of it this way.  Most students wouldn’t fuck their professor,” Bram explained.  “But those that would, usually wouldn’t only fuck one.”

He didn’t punch him in the face because it was crude.  Sure, that was a factor, but it wasn’t the real reason.  He punched him in the face because it sounded like it actually made sense.

He punched him in the face because he couldn’t understand why it made him so angry; so what if he was just one of your exploits?  What difference did it make?  After all, you’d just said the night before that he was free to pursue others, and he couldn’t quite appreciate yet why that didn’t feel like freedom at all.

From a certain point of view, he knew he should just appreciate that you were with him at all, irrelevant to whoever else you might be with or would potentially be with in the future.  But from another, and much more salient, point of view, he wanted you all to himself.  And he hated that.

Like all good anger, his anger in that moment was born of fear, and he’d never been so afraid that he was just the lucky target of your promiscuous phase.  As selfish as it was, he wanted to think of himself as more than that.

And now that he was getting thrown out of a bar on his own birthday, contemplating the paperwork he would have to fill out tomorrow after punching a coworker tonight, he’d never thought of himself as less.

Much to your delight, he returned relatively early for a guy coming back from a bar on his birthday— 11:57 p.m., specifically— but it made sense for him being a responsible professor and all.

Well, mostly responsible.  After all, he still had his former student waiting for him when he got back, perched on the couch expectantly.  As fun as the third degree had been with Kacey and Pia, you wanted to be here when he got back— and now that they finally understood the real reason you were leaving early, they were more than supportive (perhaps a little too supportive, with their rather graphic suggestions and… hand gestures).

You didn’t stay on his couch for long, though; you got up and met him at the door as he slipped off his coat and hung it up nearby.

“How was your night out?” you asked softly, reaching up to rub his chest through his shirt.

“Um, it was good,” he nodded, “I missed you though.”

“I missed you, too,” you sighed.  “I was here all by myself thinking about the present I want to give you.”

“I told you not to get anything for me,” he remembered, gasping slightly when you pushed him back against the door.

“Just be gracious and accept your gift, okay?” you whispered, starting to kneel down and open his belt.

“O-oh,” he breathed.

You palmed his cock through his trousers, biting your lip as you felt it swelling already.  “I didn’t wrap this gift… and I forgot to get you a card to go with it.”

“Somehow I think I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you,” he chuckled, though his smile dropped when you pulled his cock out and stroked it slowly.  You had meant to tease him a bit but you found yourself sucking on the head already, too desperate for even your own plans; not that he had any issue with it, you could hear his breathing quicken as you bobbed your head slowly and stroked what your lips couldn’t reach.

He was still getting harder and the feeling of it on your tongue was so hot it was almost distracting, it made you want to reach down under your dress but you knew you were going to need your full attention on him if you were going to do this properly.

Closing your eyes, you kept taking him deeper and deeper until your lips met the base of his cock while his tip was lodged deep down your throat.

“Fffuck,” he hissed, “where did you learn how to do that?”

You pulled back and took a breath, stroking his cock as you responded.  “I’ve been practicing, all for you.”

It made his cock flex in your hand to imagine you gagging on your fingers or a toy in hopes of learning how to deepthroat him, let alone to know that it worked.

You took him in your mouth again, swirling your tongue around his slit until he reached down to grab your hair— not hard enough to guide your movements, he was still letting you set your own pace, but hard enough to tug at the roots and make you moan around him.  Slowly, you sunk down again, humming and swallowing around him, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“You’re too fucking perfect,” he sighed, watching closely as you pulled off of him even slower, running your lips and tongue over every part of him.  “You— fuck, you really don’t need to do this.”

“I want to,” you breathed, darting your tongue out to give a wide lick to his head.  “I’m already so wet just from this, Helmut… I want you to fuck my face.”

“Shit,” he cursed, gripping your hair tighter.  “You’re sure?”

You smiled and nodded.

“Then open your mouth."

Never one to turn down an instruction like that, you let your mouth fall slack and hummed a bit as he pushed his cock forward past your waiting lips.  After that it was just a matter of letting your throat relax and focusing on your limited chances to breath as he held your head and guided you.  

Whatever discomfort came from having your throat filled so deep was heavily outweighed by the incredible feeling of being used— it sounds debasing, but the way he stammered out praises made you feel anything but degraded.

“So good,” he grunted, “look up at me, darling, show me how good you look choking on me— fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

You were trying to be sexy, here on your knees in this tight dress and heels, but he had you feeling small and delicate saying things like that.

“Such a good girl,” he breathed; you had to shut your eyes then because you couldn’t hear that and look up at him or you were going to end up having to throw these panties out.

The volume of his moans was one thing, but the desperation in them was another; and both of them made it clear he was close, and you wanted to finish him off like this more than anything.

“Fuck— I’ll come,” he warned, “is that what you want?  To swallow it?”

You hummed in appreciation, hoping that would get your message across well; and it certainly seemed to, considering he bucked up into your throat more erratically than ever, moaning loudly with each thrust.

Hot come painted the back of your throat, so deep you never really got a chance to consider the taste although you imagined a night of drinking wouldn’t have done him any favors there.  Not that you minded; it was him and that was enough to make you moan with delight as he filled your mouth.

“Fuck,” he sighed, pumps of come slowing down to a stop as he relaxed against the door and caught his breath.  The moment of calm didn’t last as you started to gently suckle on his softening cock, making him tense up and suck in a sharp breath through his teeth.  “Nonono,” he chuckled breathlessly, pulling you off of him as you smiled mischievously, “it’d be a shame if I died on my birthday.”

“But what a way to go, hm?” you laughed as he helped you up from the floor.  “Not your birthday anymore anyways,” you noted, tapping on his watch, “it’s 12:02.”

“I hope you don’t think that means the party’s over,” he smirked, picking you up suddenly, making you laugh in surprise as he started to carry you to the bedroom.  “I’m officially a man in his forties with something to prove, so we’ll be going all night, draga.”

#taglists coming later im too busy to do it right now #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #professor!zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #baron zemo smut

[sergeantxrogers]

| missed you |

Summary: When Bucky finally got home, you realized you had missed each other more than you thought. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (post TFATWS)

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Smut!!!, swearing, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, y’all), spit kink maybe?, praise, dog tags- they deserve a warning all on their own

___________________________

The clock always seemed to go twice as slow if you were waiting for something. Or someone. Each minute felt like 10, and each hour felt like 5. 

You glanced at your phone, waiting for any new messages, but all you saw was the one you had gotten a couple hours ago.

Bucky: I just landed. On my way back.

6:38 p.m.

The clock above your TV in the living room read 8:40, and a frustrated sigh left your body. Bucky had been away too long, in your completely humble opinion, and New York had never seemed farther from Chicago than tonight. 

The growing anxiety you felt when he was in Europe, with Zemo, had reached it’s peak when you watched the events in New York happen live on the news. All your worries melted from your mind and body when he finally answered his phone and you heard his voice telling you he was alright. 

When Bucky had first told you he was moving to Chicago, claiming “the people were better” (or whatever bullshit reason he had pulled out of his ass), you thought it would be easier on your nervous heart. You were wrong, obviously. The whole ordeal just gave you more reasons to be worried and afraid.

Lost in your thoughts, with your legs kicked up on the coffee table, you hadn’t heard the front door open and shut, and hadn’t noticed the heavy footsteps walking down the hall, and hadn’t recognized the dark figure at the doorway, until he called your name. 

Your eyes widened when you saw him, your body immediately jumping up from the couch. He dropped his duffle bag on the ground by his feet and opened his arms, and you ran into them like your life depended on it.

Bucky’s arms tightened around your waist and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning your skin. Your arms made their way around his neck, and he lifted you off the floor a few inches, squeezing you.

“Okay, okay, Buck!” you said through a strained laugh.

“You’re gonna kill me,” you breathed.

He hummed into your neck, placing a kiss to it before pulling his head back. His hands held your cheeks, and a smile played on his lips. His eyes were tired. Tired, but relieved.

“I missed you,” he whispered, as if it was a secret.

Your hands gripped his wrists and held on, squeezing once as you said:

“I missed you more."

“I highly doubt that, baby,” he insisted, “Ya know how annoying it is to be surrounded by men all the time?”

Your smile dropped and you gave him a pointed look, and he laughed at your incredulous face.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But Bucky, I’m always surrounded by men- I get it,” he chuckled. You shook your head, trying to keep the smile that was threatening to appear from showing. 

Bucky let out a happy sigh and his eyes took in every inch of your body standing before him. 

“I could kiss you right now,” he said quietly.

You lifted your hands to his jaw, angling his head up to make eye contact with him.

“Then why don’t you?”

And that was all it took for him to surge forward, soft lips meeting yours, and you sighed into the kiss. Your hands went up to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth to let him in, almost ritually. His hands travelled from your face to your waist, then to your hips, pulling you closer to him, if that was even possible. 

His lips left yours and started leaving wet, heavy kisses on your jaw, then down your neck, and your eyes closed. You let out a short sigh when you felt his lips meet the skin above your collarbone, biting at the skin and claiming your body as his own. One of his hands left your hip, but quickly came down in a short, light slap on your ass, and you knew him well enough to know what that meant. Jump.

So you did, trusting him to catch your legs when they wrapped around his waist, and he did, holding you against him with a strong hold on your thighs. 

Your hands held you steady, gripping onto his shoulders. Bucky moved his kisses from your collarbone to the base of your throat, and you threw your head back, fingers digging into his jacket. He placed three sweet kisses up the column of your throat, before meeting your own lips again. 

“Buck,” you breathed into the kiss, hands tugging at his hair. He just hummed, hands rubbing the back of your thighs, and your legs tightened reflexively around him. 

“Couch,” you managed to get out before his metal hand came up to hold the back of your head, and before you knew it, you were on your back on the large couch you had decided to splurge on a while back exactly for this reason. 

Bucky hovered above you, in between your legs, the hand that was on the back of your head now resting against your neck. No pressure, it was just enough for you to be aware it was there, and your heart started racing faster. 

Bucky straightened himself, on his knees in front of you, and you watched him take his jacket off, pulling his shirt over his head too.

Your hand reflexively reached out to touch him, but he grabbed your wrist and pushed it back, into the couch next to your head. You felt the familiar heat growing deep in your stomach when he dropped his head down to kiss you again, the metal of his dog tags cold against your neck. 

Your brows furrowed and your hips pressed higher into his, but he moved away from you as soon as you made contact. You couldn’t help the whine that escaped your lips when he pulled his lips away, the air around you feeling colder without him on top of you. An amused smile tugged the corners of his lips and he raised his eyebrows at you. 

“You know, babe, I don’t think this is fair,” he teased, and you gave him a confused look, to which he answered by giving a slight tug on your cotton shorts.

“You still have all your clothes on,” he stated simply, and as soon as the words left his mouth, he pulled the shorts down your legs as fast as humanly possible. A chill ran down your spine and another wave of heat washed over the pit of your stomach when he pulled his body back, dropping lower so his head was level with your clothed pussy. You lifted your head to get a better look at him, heavily breathing dangerously close to where you needed him and you groaned inwardly, tangling your fingers in his hair in an attempt to bring his face closer. Keeping his head in place, Bucky faked a pout at you, hands running along the insides of your thighs. You tried closing them, out of habit, but he kept them in place.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he cooed, tracing his nose along your thigh, lips teasing the edge of your panties. 

You whimpered as your hips writhed underneath him, his eyes watching you intently.

“Use your words, honey, c’mon,” he said softly, tracing a finger down your slit, still covered in your panties, and your eyes almost popped out of their sockets at the sudden contact. 

“Wanna tell Bucky what’s got your panties so wet, baby?” he teased, and you met his eyes again right in the moment when he pressed a kiss to where he knew your clit was. Your hips bucked into his touch, but his metal arm held you in place.

“Bucky, please-,” you let out breathlessly, eyes screwed shut at the feeling of him running his nose up and down your pussy, so close yet so far from where you were burning for him. 

“Please what? All you gotta do is ask, baby,” he spoke against your core, and you pulled even tighter on his hair.

“Please, please touch me, please,” you begged through a desperate whine, and as soon as you did, he hummed against you and pulled your soaked panties to the side, the cool air meeting your hot pussy sending goosebumps down your legs.

Your back arched and a moan left your lips when Bucky swiped a long, slow lick from your entrance to your clit. He took his sweet time, watching you throw your head back into the couch when he sucked on your clit. You felt him smile against you and you panted slightly, opening your eyes to see him buried between your folds, eating you out like he was starved. You supposed he was, after spending that much time away from you. He quickened the pace of his licks, alternating between lapping at your entrance and teasing your clit, and you preened when his fingers gripped your hips. You knew they would leave bruises, dangerously pressed into your skin and bones, but all you could focus on and care about now was Bucky humming against your pussy and his beard scratching your inner thighs. 

His hands went up from your hips to your waist, and your hand found one of his, gripping it tightly. Your legs wound tightly around his head, he felt his jeans getting tighter by the minute, and it took everything in him not to grind into the couch with every whine and plead that left your lips. 

You felt the familiar coil tighten in your belly, and you dug your nails into Bucky’s hand.

“B-Buck-,” you breathed, and he nodded in between your legs. The hand that you weren’t holding disappeared from your waist, and you didn’t have time to miss the warm contact before you felt one of his thick fingers draw slowly into you. He pulled it out and back in once, before you fell apart. You arched your back and moaned his name out, hands shooting down to push his head closer to you. You writhed underneath him as your orgasm washed over you, and he placed soft kisses on your clit as you rode it out, eventually your legs falling limp on his shoulders and back. 

“Baby...,” you called for him, too spent to open your eyes just yet, and you felt him come up to you again, kissing you. You groaned softly at the taste of yourself on his swollen lips, your hands running across his shoulders and back. 

A deep breath left his lips when they left yours, eyes meeting yours, and you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.

Bucky’s head dropped down to press a long kiss on your neck, his hands pushing your shirt up your stomach and over your breasts. His lips made their way from your neck to your boob, kissing the area right above your bra softly before nipping at it, eliciting a yelp from you. You felt him smirk against your skin and he kissed further down your stomach, cold metal of his dog tags trailing down your torso, before he pulled your panties down your legs completely. 

“God,” he muttered, lips pressed to your right hip.

“I fucking missed-” a kiss to your stomach.

“This fucking body-” a kiss to your ribcage.

“So much-” a kiss to your chest. 

You were at a loss for words, instead focused on the hard outline in his jeans, pressing insistently at your inner thigh. Kitten-licks to your neck, fingers tracing your sides, he wanted to take his sweet time with you.

You, on the other hand, weren’t as patient, hands making their way down his bare stomach and fumbling with his belt buckle. Finally unbuckling it, and unbuttoning his pants, you teased your fingers under the hem of his boxer briefs, bringing them around to his sides, raking your nails up his back and soon your hands came back to his messy hair. 

“Bucky please,” you moaned, hips pushing up to his to find any sort of relief, and he chuckled.

“What is it, baby? What do you need?” he quipped, almost sarcastically, and you bit your bottom lip.

His thumb came up to pull it from your teeth, tracing it over your lip then down your chin, pulling your mouth open. You watched with desperate eyes as a strand of spit left from between his lips, falling onto your tongue, and a needy whine sounded from the back of your throat when he forced your mouth closed again. 

“Swallow,” he demanded quietly with furrowed brows, leaving no room to argue, so you did. 

In the blink of an eye, Bucky grabbed your hips and flipped you over on your stomach, pulling them so you were ass-up in front of him. Your heart jumped at the fast action and you arched your back, pushing your butt towards him. His hard cock, still in his tight boxers, met your pussy and you knew there would be a wet spot on them. A low groan left Bucky’s lips, and you felt his hand wrap itself around your throat, pulling you up against his torso. 

“You think it’s funny to tease me, baby?” he muttered into your ear, and you gave no answer.

The hand around your throat tightened its hold and his other hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, and your head was pulled down to rest on his shoulder 

“I asked you something,” he whispered, lips moving against your ear in close proximity. 

“I do,” you answered simply, and you felt him tense behind you. Gotcha.

Without saying anything else, Bucky let go of your neck and your hair, and your body dropped in front of him to the position it was in before. You heard a shuffle behind you and before you even realized he took his boxers off, you felt him. 

Teasing you with the head of his cock, Bucky leaned over your body, and from where your head was laying on the end of the couch you saw his metal hand next to you, holding himself steady. You couldn’t help pushing your ass into him more, but he pushed it back and gave you a low chuckle. 

“No, no baby, we’re doin’ it my way.”

Without warning, his flesh hand landed in a sharp spank on your ass, and a greedy whine escaped your lips. He massaged the area that was already starting to burn deliciously, and he leaned down to press a kiss between your shoulder blades.

“Please, Bucky-,” you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut when he pushed the tip of his cock inside you. 

“What? Please what?” he asked lowly. Letting out a frustrated huff, your hand reached forward, searching for anything to hold onto, and wrapped around his vibranium wrist next to your head. 

“C’mon, princess, use your words,” he teased. You hated how unaffected he seemed, and hated how little it took for you to turn into putty in his hands.

“Buck- Bucky, please fuck me,” sighing out the last few words when he pushed himself into you slow and steady as soon as you said his name. 

You felt him bottom out, and buried your face in the couch cushion under you, never being able to get used to the size of him. Your pussy clenched around him involuntarily, and he groaned deeply when you whimpered.

“Please,” you wanted to say, but it came out no louder than a soft whisper, “Please move.”

Bucky let out a low fuck at your begging, pushing the side of your head into the couch and pulling out, before pushing himself back in. A moan left your body at the burning stretch in your lower abdomen, and he took that a sign to move faster. So he did. 

Sometimes, when Bucky fucked you, he fucked you hard, and fast, leaving bruises on your hips, hand prints on your ass and hickeys on your thighs where only he could see them. Other times, he fucked you deep and slow, whispering words of affection in your ears that sent you over the edge. He knew how to send you spiraling, knew what buttons to push and how to push them. This time, Bucky fucked you like he missed you, because he did. With every hard, steady thrust of his hips, a soft, whiney moan escaped your parted lips, and you couldn’t form words. 

His hand on your head kept it from moving, and you couldn’t form a coherent thought as you stared, eyes heavy lidded and mouth open, at his hand next to your head. Your fingers tightened their grip around his wrist, moving up slightly to grab his arm, and you gasped when the hand on your head moved to push your back down even more than you thought was possible, causing it to arch more and him to hit new angles. 

“B... ,” you couldn’t even call out his name as he drilled into you, whispering into your ear words that you just barely registered, something along the lines of “my baby’s doing so good” and “pussy made just for me”. 

A wave of something hot washed over your body, and all of a sudden you were hyperaware of the slight sheen of sweat that covered your body, underneath your shirt, and the heavy breaths leaving Bucky’s mouth.

He pressed your back even harder, ruthlessly pumping into your pussy like it would run away from him. 

“My sweet baby,” he groaned through his thrusts, dropping to place a kiss to the back of your neck, and you whined at the simple touch.

“So- so good, Bucky,” you managed to stutter, and he hummed in affirmation against your neck.

You felt your stomach tighten, signaling the wave that was about to wash over you. After hearing the urgent, desperate moan that came from you, Bucky’s hand moved to your hip, gripping it harshly. 

“Buck, I’m gonna-,” you warned him, and he reached his hand around under you. All it took was three rubs to your clit for you to fall apart underneath him. 

Letting out his name in a prolonged, loud, almost embarrassingly pornographic moan, the coil in your stomach snapped and your legs went numb. You arched your back, pushing your ass hard against his hips, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your hand gripping his arm went limp, dropping to hang over the side of the couch. A few tears fell over your lashline, without you realizing you had even teared up, and then your whole body relaxed in his hold. 

Bucky’s thrusts, in the meantime, had slowed, becoming sloppier, and the heat from his cum pouring into you was almost comforting in a way, spreading warmth through your already sore lower abdomen. 

“Shit, doll,” he hissed through clenched teeth, letting out a deep sigh as he dropped his body onto yours, and you let out a small grunt accompanied by a lazy giggle when he started peppering the side of your face with kisses, moving strands of hair from your sweaty forehead. 

“You were so good for me, baby...” he whispered into your ear between kisses, and all you could do was nod, eyes drooping tiredly.

Eventually, he pulled himself out of you carefully, and you whimpered at the sore burn between your legs from your thighs being stretched so much for so long, not to mention his hips snapping into yours at a bruising rate. You laid face down on the couch, spent and tired with your eyes closed, hearing Bucky walk away behind you. He came back after a few moments, floor creaking underneath him, and you slightly jerked with a start when you felt something cool against your legs, before realizing he was wiping the aftermath between them, presumably with a towel. You honestly couldn’t tell, you were too tired to focus on anything but the sound of Bucky’s steady breathing behind you. 

He walked away again, coming back quicker this time, and you cracked one eye open just enough to see him walking towards you in his boxers again, carrying a pair of your panties in his hand. A tired, dopey smile graced your face when you felt his hands pull your panties up your legs softly, and you pushed your hips up slightly to help him put them on. Goosebumps attacked your bare skin when he pressed his lips to the tender skin of your ass where it had been slapped, and you sighed.

“Buck,” you muttered, half of your face smushed against the couch, muffling your voice. 

“Yes, bubba?” he asked behind you, thumbs rubbing the backs of your thighs.

“Lay with me a bit?” you asked.

And you had asked him so prettily, so sweetly, he couldn’t bear to say no. So he laid beside you, pulling you into him by your waist, carting his fingers through your hair. 

“That was great,” you muffled against the couch sleepily, “Missed you.”

Bucky chuckled at your tone and buried his nose into your neck. 

“I missed you more.”

“Not possible,” you drawled, but you were too drained to pull any sort of sarcasm or playfulness through the remark. You felt his soft lips on your neck, hot air blowing through his nose against your jaw, and you let out a yawn.

“Sleep.”

You whined softly, not wanting to fall asleep when he had just gotten home, wanting to spend as much time as you could with him, but you felt his fingers smooth out the crease above your furrowed brows, relaxing your face.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up, I promise.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfiction #winter soldier #winter soldier fanfiction

[babybluebex]

laszlo kreizler nsfw alphabet

so yeah this... Happened. the zemo version is coming soon, stay tuned! (probably tomorrow morning bc a bitch is tired lmao)

(gif credit to @lindir)

A = Aftercare.

Laszlo is such an aftercare king. He’s checking on you in every way he can think of: asking you if you feel alright, maybe massaging your hips if he had you in a weird position, offering you dinner or wine, maybe even a hot bath, if you’d like (and the bath would have special perfumed oils he had sent from Paris because Laszlo is SUCH a self care whore, he’s got soaps and perfumes out the wazoo).

B = Body Part.

His favorite part of yours are your breasts. No questions, hands down. He likes using your breasts as a pillow at night— just settling himself between your legs and resting his head on your tits is a dream he indulges in frequently. He also really loves seeing you in the new French-style of dresses that have a lower neckline, and, if you wear one of those dresses to dinner without telling him beforehand, he’s as good as gone. He’s staring the whole time and can only manage simple sentences.

C = Cum.

I think Laszlo likes to cum inside you, but he also wouldn’t mind cumming on your tits. If you’re on your knees, sucking him off, he’ll pull himself out of your mouth and almost rip your blouse in his haste to set your tits free before his orgasm rips through him. He only chooses to cum inside you if he can’t cum on your tits (for example, if you’re having slow, kissy sex and he can’t bear to leave your wet heat).

D = Dirty Secret.

Laszlo. Loves. To. Be. Degraded. From a psychological standpoint, he understands that his desire to be brought down and ridiculed is born from some sort of childhood trauma that DEFINITELY involves his father, but he just can’t help himself from getting so ridiculously turned on when you call him a dog for humping your leg while you try to sleep. Bonus points if you use his title while you do it: “Just like a little bitch in heat, aren’t you, Doctor Kreizler? You’re so aroused, you can hardly handle yourself. Are you too dumb to touch your own cock? Do you need me to do it? Oh, Doctor, what a dumb little thing you are.”

E = Experience.

Even Daniel himself has said that Laszlo has like NO experience. Laszlo got ZERO bitches (which I find hard to believe but ok whatever you say, writers of The Alienist), so, the first time y’all have sex, he’s more likely than not losing his virginity (let’s not get into the debate of “virginity is a social construct” because a.) IT IS and b.) Laszlo would lecture for hours about this). HOWEVER, these things come naturally to him. He is just Good In Bed. He figures it out very quickly, so, while you make fun of him for going a little stupid when he’s aroused, he makes up for it by bruising your cervix and apologizing later.

F = Favourite Positions.

Laszlo loves that soft, slow, kissy sex, so he’s into whatever position makes it possible for him to be inside you and to kiss you at the same time. Missionary is a go to, but sometimes he’ll have you sit on his desk and kiss your neck as he hikes your skirts up and fucks you all slow and nice.

G = Goofy.

Hardly ever? Laszlo is pretty serious most of the time, and the only time we ever see him Not Serious in the show is when he’s wasted after John’s bachelor party in season 2. So, maybe y’all went to dinner at Delmonico’s, then a ball for members of high society, and he had a little too much champagne and schnapps. He’s not like giggling and all, but his cheeks are red and he’s smiling more than usual, and calling you sweet names “Oh, mein Kätzchen” and “Meine kleine Prinzessin”. That’s Laszlo’s version of goofy.

H = Hair.

OK, my train of thought here is: LOOK AT THIS MAN’S BEARD. HIS BEARD IS NICE AS SHIT. If he treats his facial hair that good— regular trims, the beard oils we all know he uses, even if it isn't strictly canon— then his downstairs hair is nice too. Definitely soft, if maybe a little wiry sometimes (but tbh whose isn’t), and it’s a nice little cropping at the base of his cock. He also has a thin happy trail up his soft tummy, and a good amount on his chest (as we see in the show lol that much is canon).

I = Intimacy.

Laszlo is ALL ABOUT intimacy. You’ll know he’s in a ~mood~ because you’ll ask what’s being served at Delmonico’s that night, and Laszlo is like “I thought we might stay in tonight. John gave me his grandmother’s recipe for chicken soup”. He’ll light candles and pour you wine and play nice music on his gramophone, and he’ll romance you throughout dinner with little hand touches and sly smiles, until he’s kneeling in front of you and slowly kissing up your leg.

J = Jack-Off.

Honestly, he hardly does it. Of course, I’m sure he did it A LOT before he met you, but now he doesn’t need to pleasure himself anymore. He’s got you to do that. The only exception is if he has to travel for work and you can’t go with him. Even then, he’ll hold off until he absolutely can’t stand it, and then he’ll like read a letter you sent him or look at a sketch that John did of you while he whacks off; sometimes, he’ll just hold your letter to his face, and the faint trace of your perfume is enough to do the job.

K = Kink.

He likes impact play a lot (and perhaps a little roleplay wrapped up in it). On the rare occasion that his fucking is anything but soft and lovely, he’s gonna be hitting your ass and the backs of your thighs as you cling to him while he rails you stupid. Laszlo would try to hit your cheek, but he feels too bad when you wince at the pain of it. Spanking your tits is good to him too. His favorite though (and here’s where the roleplay comes in), is caning your ass. He’ll bend you over the desk in his home office and pull your skirts up past your hips, and he’ll make you count the amount of times his thick wooden cane connects with your soft asscheeks. The roleplay is, more often than not, you were his assistant who did something wrong and needed to be punished. If you miss one or forget to thank him accordingly “Thank you, sir”, he’ll focus the next hit on your thighs.

L = Location.

Either the bed or his desk. Laszlo is a little older (I don’t think we ever get an explicit age? But if we say he’s the same age as Daniel, then he’s 40 to 42-ish) so he can’t do it against a wall or anywhere too crazy (not to mention his right arm can hardly support much weight, so if he needs to hold you up, it’s probably not gonna happen). The bed is a special time for you two because of his arm; he’ll hold himself up with his left arm and rest his hand on your hip or wherever to give himself at least a little leverage. But the desk is usually easier because you can sit, or you can bend over and he can grab your hip.

M = Motivation.

He loves you and wants to worship you. It’s truly as simple as that. He loves you and thinks that you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen, and he wants to show his reverence for you by making love to you.

N = No.

He can’t get into the role of “daddy”, nor can he call you “mommy”. Childhood trauma aside, he will be goddamned if Sigmund fucking Freud is correct about his bullshit Oedipus complex or whatever, so he just eliminates that whole thing entirely.

O = Oral.

He’s very good at it. He’s just… His lips are soft and his beard is good, and he’s not afraid to get a little messy with it. He’ll eat you out until he absolutely has to come up for air, and he’ll have a little bit of your wetness clinging to his mustache, but then he’s right back in it. His medical degree is also put to good use here because he remembers his female anatomy and he’s locked onto your clit the entire time. The first time you ever squirted, it was because Laszlo was nipping at your clit and sucking your wet little hole and pressing his thick fingers into you, and it was A Lot To Process, but you squirted and Laszlo came in his pants instantly because he’s like “I didn’t think women could actually do that… I thought that was a thing that penny novels made up”

P = Pace.

Again, he’s a little older, so he doesn’t fuck like some wild boy. He takes his time with you, touching you and caressing you and kissing you, and his pace is the same way. He’s slow and gentle, but has the capacity to go faster and harder if you ask for it.

Q = Quickie.

Hates them. Never. Never ever ever. If he can’t properly romance you and take his time with you, then what’s the point??

R = Risk.

Surprisingly, Laszlo is a little schemer, and he loves running a risk. He’s already looked down upon by other society members, so what’s the harm in squeezing your ass at a party? PERHAPS it’s inappropriate to get caught in a dark corner with your hand down his trousers and him kissing your neck, but it’s easy to blame it on the alcohol.

S = Stamina.

Once more, he is firmly middle aged, so he can do one round— maybe two, if he’s feeling particularly frisky. Usually, though, one is more than enough for both of you.

T = Toy.

HAVE YALL SEEN SEX TOYS FROM THE 1890S?? SHITS ARE SCARY. Laszlo does not like toys, but he understands their need for existing, so he may not like them but he tolerates them. That being said, he likes to watch you use them. LIke, he’ll sit in a chair by the bed and request you “put on a good show”, and he’ll watch you fall apart, and he’ll only come and touch you if you beg and plead for him to.

U = Unfair.

Mhm, so, in Laszlo’s mind, sex and pleasure are not just a give and take, it’s a two way street. They can (and often need to) coexist. He doesn’t like to initiate something if you won’t be able to reciprocate, so he’s not too into teasing or things. At the aforementioned parties, he’ll only goose your ass if he knows you’re 100% down for it.

V = Volume.

He’s fairly quiet. His mouth is usually really close to your ear, and you’re the only one who gets to hear his pretty little noises. The loudest he’ll be is when he’s come home after traveling and it’s felt like ages since he’s made love to you, he’s gonna come inside you, and his little gasp and moan are louder than usual.

W = Wild Card.

He is down to be tied up. He doesn’t like to tie you up, but if he’s the one being restrained, he’s all over it. It’s nothing too intense, just using a ribbon for your hair to tie his left hand to the headboard, not super tight but enough to make his fingers a little tingly, but he loves it. He loves the switch of the dynamic, how he’s fully at your mercy and you can use him however you please; usually, you just suck him off and ride him, but the endless possibilities get him hard as soon as you pull out the ribbon.

X = X-Ray.

Laszlo has Big Dick Energy, so he has to have a big dick. The best example of this sort of energy is in the very first episode after he goes and interviews Wolf, and comes to speak to Teddy, and Teddy is like “you interviewed the suspect? On whose authority??” and laszlo is like “Mine” like OH HIS DICK IS BIG I KNOW IT. He’s got an above average length and girth, but we know our man likes to eat, so some of his weight goes to his dick, so it’s like,,, He’s got a fat cock, sorry, I don’t make the rules

Y = Yearning.

Constantly. Neverending. He’s at work and he’ll catch a glimpse of a pastel drawing that you commissioned from John for Laszlo’s birthday that sits in a frame on his desk, and his heart starts to hurt from missing you. When he comes home, he’ll embrace you and kiss you like he hasn’t seen you in years, and he’ll want to hear all about your day. You have your doctor so whipped for you, and it’s a different kind of whipped than being pussy whipped. He’s, like, feelings whipped.

Z = ZZZ.

He’s a sleepy little baby after you guys finish. His eyes will be a little heavy and sticky as he’s cleaning up and caring for you (and you definitely coo at him “Oh, Las, you’re so sleepy!”) but when you’re both back in bed, our little man is circling his arm around your waist and nuzzling his cheek into your shoulder. He’s so soft and affectionate, and he’s out like a light when you kiss his forehead and tell him you love him.

#laszlo kreizler #the alienist #laszlo kreizler smut #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel bruhl smut #daniel brühl x reader #daniel brühl smut #laszlo kreizler x reader #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl

[f1yogurt]

hiiiie! prompt/request time

I think this would be interesting to see how a bunch of different characters would react/act in this scenario (ex. Niki, Laszlo, Zemo etc.)

Their reaction to a partner commenting/prasing their facial hair choice (if that makes sense) ex. reader suggests they grow out a beard/shave clean

ok so this one is kinda confusing but I just love facial hair {or lack of in some cases} its such a neat feature and this first gif made me think things

Cat you are literally the only person requesting things from me right now and I love you for it, keep it coming queen.

HCs: The Danny Bunch and Facial Hair

Zemo:

Zemo is definitely more clean-shaven, but like we saw with prison Zemo, he can still have a bit of scruff at times. He'd love it if you praised his clean-shaven look or ran your hands along his smooth cheeks, because I feel like he's the one most likely to put a lot of time and effort into his appearance. He'd not only groom his facial hair, but he'd also put on one of his fancy colognes and use some yummy smelling aftershave. He'd immediately be in love if you complimented how nice he looked or how good he smelled. At times, though, when he's been on a mission or just hasn't had access to a proper razor and mirror, he'll grow some scruff. Maybe even a full on beard. I think it might make him feel a bit unkempt if it goes on too long, but if you say something about liking his beard/scruff, he'd preen and enjoy it.

Laszlo:

Laszlo is a beard king. He keeps it very nice, well-groomed, in the fashionably acceptable way that society had at the time. He would loove to have his beard stroked, to have you run your fingers through it. Any kind of facial touches and he melts right into a puddle of love, wanting to stay there and have you touch him for as long as you want. If you praise his facial hair at all, and I mean like at all, he will maybe blush at first and get kinda shy, but then he'd want to use it as an excuse for you to hold him and pet his cheeks for hours. Laszlo's so touch-starved and will do anything for you to touch and praise him. Not to mention he loves having his beard stroked during kisses as you draw him in closer.

Niki:

Niki is definitely clean shaven. If he ever had any kind of scruff, he'd want to shave it right off. Especially if someone mentioned that he was growing even the smallest bit of facial hair, he'd cut it off. I just see him being very pristine in that way and liking to keep his appearance nice. It also must feel better to not have sweaty nastiness in a beard after racing on a long, hot day. But if you gave him even the smallest compliment on his appearance, especially on a facial feature other than his overbite, he'd internally be a flustered mess because no one really tells him he looks good.

Andrea:

Andrea is a clean-shaven baby. He'd blush when you coo about how you want to pinch his cheeks, or smoosh his cute little face. Honestly I think Andrea blushes really prettily, and his pink cheeks are so adorable. He likes any kind of facial touches or when you stroke the side of his cheek with your thumb. Any praises to his appearance and he'll be an excited a little puppy begging you for attention.

Ernst:

I feel like Ernst has a range and could go either go full beard, scruff, or clean-shaven. Scruff probably most of the time, because he likes to keep himself looking nice and tidy but he usually gets caught up in his work and forgets to shave some days. You would have to remind him to shave. Like during the day, he'd be working on some part of the ship, all focused, and then you'd just pull him in for a quick kiss and smile and say "you need a shave," as you hold his cheeks. He'd blink in a sort of daze and nod, but probably would forget again.

Alex Garel:

Oh Alex is a facial hair king. This Spanish boy knows how to do beards right. Alex has fluffy, unkempt hair. It's always mussed from him (or you) running hands through it while he's working. It gives him a very soft look. He keeps up with his beard and also enjoys your hands running through it, especially when you're kissing or cuddling. 10/10 kissable scruff. Very soft. If you compliment him on it, he'll smile and work to keep it nice for you.

Sebastian Zollner:

Ah yes, Sebastian. He's a chaotic mess and his facial hair would be the same. Most of the time, it's untamed scruff. He really tries to keep it clean shaven, but fails. I feel like he'd think the scruff looks sexy, which is true, but he usually doesn't keep up with it. If you compliment his beard, he'll smirk and wink all saucy like "oh, I bet you like it," but then you'll remind him that you hope he doesn't keep the unkempt druggie look for too long.

Alex Kerner:

Alex is very much like Andrea. Squish his cheeks, tell him his face looks cute, and he's a happy boy. Nothing more to say.

David Kern:

Like Alex and Andrea, David is a baby boy with no facial hair. David doesn't really do this for style or anything, it's just how he's always kept his hair. Plus, he loves it when you put your hands on his cheeks and he can feel the warmth of your palms. He likes that and will never grow a beard.

Konrad Koch:

Konrad has some of the most epic facial hair I've ever seen. That man can pull off any beard, goatee, moustache, etc. and still look good. He'd be really playful and silly and would enjoy you giving him new ideas to try for facial hair. He loves compliments from anyone, especially if it's you.

#daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #my headcanons #danny headcanons #helmut zemo #laszlo kreizler #andrea morowski #ernst schmidt #sebastian zöllner #alex kerner #david kern #konrad koch #alex garel #i love this prompt #thanks for the ask! #fanficion #andrea marowski #my fanfic

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Four’s A Party | Dysfunctional Quartet | TFATWS post series P.1

Set after the events of TFATWS

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Vigilante!reader (platonic/flirtatious), Bucky Barnes x Vigilante!reader (platonic/flirtatious), Helmut Zemo x Vigilante!reader (platonic/flirtatious) slight Everett Ross x Vigilante!reader (platonic/flirtatious)

Warnings: profanity, mentions of violence, past criminal behavior, banter. Flirting but it’s platonic. Gender-neutral reader (they/them pronouns, sorry if they are any she/her I will edit this and fix it at some point) | roughly 1k-3k+ words unedited.

Four’s A Party Premise: After taking deals and agreeing to partake in a secret operation against Hydra, a team consisting of two Avengers and two high skilled criminals are teamed up and tasked to take down the terrorist instillation and operatives. The mission is simple, but with a quartet this dysfunctional mishaps and drama are expected to happen. Can they survive their ordeal? Maybe, if they don’t kill each other first.

_________

“This is not a good idea,” Bucky grumble beside Sam. The two were walking through a CIA base to meet Agent Everett Ross for a briefing on the mission the CIA was giving them. Although they were all for tracking down Hydra, neither were very pleased when they were told two ‘former’ criminals would be joining them on their endeavor.

One of which they were very familiar with.

But seeing as the CIA and other government agencies were willing to look past the fact they broke out Helmut Zemo from a German prison months prior, they were going to do whatever they told them.

“You’ve been saying that all week, Buck.”

The super soldier glared at him, “Can you blame me, Sam? We are basically being blackmailed to help these people—only doing this so we don’t end up in prison.”

“Yes,” Sam agreed then tried to reason with the man. “I don’t like the terms of us doing this, but it’s for the best. We can’t let Hydra get control— and the Power Broker if they are working together. It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

“I don’t remember us having to babysit criminals—.”

“Well actually—.”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Sam scoffed but let out a chuckle. With that being said, here they were at the CIA. And although Sam wasn’t too happy with the circumstances, he wasn’t going to brood about it the entire time like bionic staring machine beside him. The two arrived at the end of the corridor where two guards were, they both stood to the side allowing them to pass and enter the room.

The space was large and open, resembling a garage. Which turned out to be true when the hangar door opened revealing three dark SUVs piling in and parking to the side. Agent Ross steps out of the first one, smiling at the men and walking over. “Ah Sam! James! It’s good to see you again.”

Sam shook his outstretched hand, “Good to see you too, man.” Ross then moved over to Bucky, who shook his hand as well but didn’t respond and only nodded.

“Well, glad to see you two found your way nice and easy. Before we get started why don’t you two meet the rest of your team—although one you already know well as you know.” Bucky made a noise of distrust, but Ross ignored it. He motioned to the officer of the second vehicle, who opened the back door and stepping to the side so an Agent could exist with Zemo following behind him.

The Baron was cuffed both on his hands and ankles, still wearing his raft prison uniform and a slight beard adorned his face. He’s pulled over to the group, his face consorting a smirk. “Hello, Sam,” he greets, “James. It’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough,” Bucky grumbles causing Sam to nudge his side.

“What’s up, El Chapo.” The man nods, not missing the way Zemo’s lips had curled up at the nickname. Ross is quick to cut their attention back to them.

“Y’all can play catch up tomorrow on the plane to your first location, now lets get you acquainted with your other complaining for this little adventure you’ll be going on.” Another nod from the Agent has the man beside the second car moving to the third SUV. The door opens with another agent stepping out with a very annoyed expression painted on his face. There’s mumbling behind him and soon a figure—also cuffed like Zemo—steps out with the help of the agent.

“Finally. I thought we’d never arrive with that driving homeboy was doing.” The person in a grey and white inmate jumpsuit dramatically moaned, chains clinking with every move. “Although you boys were some great company, too bad it’s over now.” The agent looked more than pleased to finally be rid of the criminal, his face look at Ross with a ‘don’t ever have me assigned to them again.’

Finally the person was in everyone’s view, and they all recognized the criminal hacker/cyberterrorist—Y/N L/N aka Hotwire. Their demeanor was different from someone they’d assume would be physically and mentally exhausted from being in prison—the Vault nonetheless—but Y/N was acting like their usual self. The same way they did in their interview with Ross.

Seeing their attention on them, Y/N immediately grinned—their eyes going to Everett. “Agent Rossi!” The man groaned at the nickname they failed to let go. “Good to see you again handsome, how long has it been? Almost a week? Man time sure does fly when you’re locked up.” They raise their cuffed hands, shaking them a little to emphasis their words. Their eyes then move to the men around Ross.

“Gentlemen, this is Y/N L/N. I assume you already read their file and know everything there is to know,” Y/N laughs sarcastically at his words as to say ‘as if’. “—They’re gonna be your eyes and ears on everything inside the deep dark web.” The hacker looks between the trio, falling their glance on the two heroes.

“Well lookey here, we got the famous Captain America and his trusty side kick The Winter Soldier—oh excuse me, former Winter Soldier.” They let out a giggle at Sam and Bucky’s glare. “I knew you two would be my little guards on this adventure we’re going on, but man the photos do not do you justice. You both look way better in person.”

The two Avengers didn’t know whether to be offended or flattered by the comment, so they both decided to stay quiet—still processing the info. Y/Ns eyes slowly travel to their fellow cuffed companion. “And if it isn’t Baron Zemo! Oh it’s great to finally meet you—I must say I was quite impressed when I found out you managed to decrypt the Hydra files Black Widow leaked. Although….,” Y/Ns turns to a more condescending expression. “I could’ve gotten you what you wanted had you came to me first. Didn’t have to go through all that trouble with the U.N and Grandpa Terminator here if you did.”

The Baron was simply speechless, but eventually finds his voice. “If I had known you existed at the time, legendary Hotwire,” he nearly smirked when Y/N cringed and groaned at the nickname. “—I would have. But unfortunately desperate times called for desperate measures. I’m surprised to see you’d been captured, Y/N. When I read your file last week I saw you were rather good at staying under the radar.”

They rolled their eyes, not offended by the hidden insult. “Don’t get drunk and play triple dog, hacking while under the influence can get rather messy—throw in a dude who enables bad decisions while also under the influence and you might find yourself playing your cards wrong. But I wish they sent me to where you’re at. Your uniform is much better than this ugly ass get up they got me in,” they look down at the jumpsuit with a disgusted look. “The Vault sure knows how to kill fashion.”

“Okayyy,” Ross cuts in before Zemo could reply. “Now that we got introductions out of the let’s get down to business shall we? Go ahead and uncuff them, but get the monitors.” Agents on either side of the criminals began uncuffing the two. Y/N let out a breath of relief, soothing their hands over their wrists.

“Ahh freedom at last—hey!” Their joy is stopped short when an agent takes their ankle, securing a device around it and putting in a code to lock it. “What the hell is this?” They see agents doing the same on Zemo. “Agent Rossi you didn’t say anything about leashing us!”

The Agent motions for them to follow when he starts walking to a table in the middle of the room. “It’s part of the terms for your temporal release, L/N. You’re now under government supervision, and as long as you stick to your role then you won’t have to worry about us tacking you down to throw you back in prison. And don’t think you can get out of it, Mr. Murdock already agreed to the deal.”

The hacker couldn’t help but glare, “Damned Devil.” They noticed Zemo was also displeased by the info. “Wish they could’ve warned us when we signed the contract,” they mutter next to him, and the man nodded.

They formed around the table, Ross placing several folders onto the surface while two agents were behind Y/N and Zemo respectively. Sam and Bucky were in between them and all attention was on Ross. “You all were informed in your interviews for this assignment what we’re up against. It’s suspected Hydra is on the rise and we don’t know what they want, who they’re working with, and if it has connection to other suspicious activity. The job is simple: Find out what Hydra is up to and any associates possibly in contact with them.

“Everyone in this room has had either direct contact with Hydra—,” Ross makes eye contact with Sam, Bucky, and Zemo before settling on Y/N. “—or possess the necessary skills needed to draw them out. The U.N and federal government agencies are counting on you to complete this mission, and find any evidence of Hydra’s underground dealings. We don’t know how long this has been going on for, but if it’s anything like how they managed to stay under the guise of Shield for several decades then we know what we’re up against.”

Ross takes a moment to pause and scatter through the files. “I don’t feel the need to assign you all roles—as with all your experience, both legal and illegal—I hope you four manage whatever you decide to do in order to complete the goal. L/N, your main objective on this mission is to break the firewalls and hack whatever you see fit to uncover what secrets may lie.” The man ignores the mock salute the vigilante sent him.

“—sir, yes sir—.”

“Zemo,” the Baron straightens his posture, “You have a lot of resources and can even maybe land L/N a hand or two if needed—but both of you please try to stay out of trouble and not give Bucky and Sam here a reason to kill you.” The criminals share a look, smirking but the man lightheartedly replies ‘fair.’

The agent finally turns to the Avengers. “Sam, Bucky, I know you guys have a way that works best for you on missions and I trust whatever plan you decide to enact. However, you both are responsible for making sure these two—,” he points to the Zemo and Y/N, “do not step over the line and do whatever you ask them to. Are we all clear on what is expected of us?” he looks between them like a teacher would on schoolchildren.

“We’re clear.” “Whatever.” “Duly noted, Agent Ross.” “Clear as the sunshine on a warm summer day.”

The agent wanted to drop his head at the rage of replies he received from the group. Part of him thinking, ‘this is not going to work out well.’ He nods firmly, passing them each folders with all the necessary info they were going to need on their first target. “Good. Here’s your first order of business and my men will escort you to the jet when you’re ready.”

“Jet?” Y/N asked with curiosity, eyes scanning the front page on the folder. “Where are we going, Rossi? And why so soon?”

“There was activity detected from a location just outside of Bucharest,” Ross eyes briefly met Bucky’s, who looked like he wanted to punch a wall with how tense his forehead was creasing. “We think it could be linked to the stolen tech from an old base they operated. So we want you to go to Bucharest and see what it’s about. Now remember this is a track and report operation for the most part—so we don’t want you guys going in guns a blazing or having to get to that level, but we know things never turn out how we expect so you will be equipped to handle anything thrown at you.”

“Wonderful,” Bucky closes the folder. “When do we leave.”

Ross checks his watch, “Whenever you feel the need—though we’d like it to be before nightfall so you can get started first thing in the morning. I take it you two would want to change before your departure.” The agent looks to Zemo and Y/N, still decked out in their prison attire, and the hacker made a mock offense expression.

“What you don’t like my style?” They give a little spin with their arms out. “Does it scream too much ‘the only company I get is gray walls and a rock hard pillow?’” Zemo lets out a snort, but is quick to cover it up and Y/N smirks. “C’mon Rossi, it’s been my signature look for months now.”

The Agent isn’t humored by Y/Ns behavior. “Theirs a change of clothes in the lockers over there and the bathrooms are to the back. Take as much time as you need and inform when you’re heading out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to inform the head of the department of what just took place so the U.N is informed this operation is now set in motion.” Everett picks up his files and moves to the door without a second look, another agent following behind him.

Once he’s gone, the silence is interrupted by a loud ‘phew’ by Y/N. “Glad that’s over. I can’t wait to get out of this fit,” they look back down at the jumpsuit. “I haven’t felt the nice touch of a leather jacket in so long—It’s calling my name.”

Sam glances around, noticing how the agents still in the room were talking amongst themselves. “Well I guess we’re just supposed to do whatever now. He said to let him know when we leave. What do you say we do first, Buck.”

“Don’t look at me,” the super soldier grumbles. “I’m not looking forward going back to Bucharest. Things didn’t turn out so great last time I was there,” his hard gaze went to Zemo, thinking back to when he was falsely accused of the bombing and forced out of his hiding. The Baron doesn’t react to his glare, fully used to the menacing stare Bucky always gave him.

“Apologies again, James.”

“Whatever,” the man responds, turning back to Sam. “Let’s just hurry up and get started. The quicker we get through this then the quicker we get to go home and have these two off our hands.”

Y/N snorts at his words. “Oh man I was looking forward to becoming friends with you, Sargent blue eyes.” Bucky already knew he was gonna get tired of the nicknames. “Don’t look too sad, I promise to behave—I can be great company once you get to know me.” When no one responds Y/N rolls their eyes, tone taking a more serious approach. “God, lighten up. We might as well try to break the ice if we’re gonna be working together. I don’t know about you three, but I can’t work well if there’s tension and animosity. I know y’all read my file and all ready have an idea to what I’m like, but there’s more to me than just be a petty criminal I know you self-righteous heroes see me to be.”

They don’t wait for the men to reply, leaving them in silence while they moved to the lockers to grab whatever random clothes were hanging before making their way to the bathroom. When they returned minutes later, they were dressed in a black cotton tee with jeans and—much to their pleasure—a black leather jacket. They also managed to snag a pair of sunglasses from the lucky, the accessory laying on top of their head.

“So you boys ready to get this show on the road,” Y/N ask, as if the last ten minutes and their little outburst hadn’t happened. Sam blinked a few times, a little surprised their demeanor had switched so quick. He looks over the files once more before turning his gaze to Zemo, brow raised. “You’re not gonna change?”

The Baron shakes his head, “I’d rather prefer to wait until I could get my hands on something a little more…” he trails off glancing at Y/Ns clothes, “my style if you can understand.”

The hacker lets out a scoff. “Suit yourself, rich boy.” They then look between the three, tucking the file underneath their armpit. “So did you guys come up with a fancy cool nickname for our little super secret heist we got going on? You know how like you boys have the avengers and Hell’s Kitchen has the defenders—which I’m still upset they wouldn’t let me join after I found out that m—.”

“We’re not naming ourselves,” Bucky is quick to reject.

“Oh c’mon,” they pout. “It would make this so much more fun.”

“We got better things to worry about, Y/N,” Sam says and then adds, “Can I call you Y/N or do you prefer something else?” The hacker just looks at him like ‘really dude?’

“What the hell else are you gonna call me?”

“Well Ross kept saying your last name and you didn’t correct him.”

“Cause he’s the government’s guard dog who doesn’t like criminals—of course he’s gonna call me by my last name.” They let out a groan of annoyance, “I don’t care what you call me—as long as it’s not Hotwire please God—.”

Zemo finally starts to speak after being silent for most of the hour making Y/N hold thier tongue back from what they were about to say. “You know what just came to mind?” The group waits for him to continue. “They say two’s company, and three’s a crowd. What would you say to four—cause there’s four of us here you know.”

The smirk returns on Y/N’s face. “Four,” they test it on their lips, the smirk widening. “Four’s a party. So let’s go get our party on fellas. Time to bring some chaos to those Hydra scum.”

#dysfunctional quartet #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier #bucky barnes #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #captain america #baron zemo imagine #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo imagine #helmut zemo #everett ross x reader #everett ross #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #avengers #avengers imagine #hacker!reader

[theconstantsidekick]

Power Broker (2) | b.b

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader, Past Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, OC x Stark!Reader (brief)

Genre: Fluff with a touch of angst

Summary: Bucky breaks out Zemo. Sam suggests they need help handling him, seeing as he can push Bucky's buttons unlike anyone else. So they go to the only person who can handle both Bucky and Zemo, the only Stark left in the Superhero business... well kind of. Only problem is, she seems reluctant.

Warnings: A little nakedness? Pretty sfw tho. That's all I can think of.

a/n: Alright, this is me trying something out. This is my first y/n fanfic, that too on tumblr. I write a bit on ao3, Destiel stuff, you can check it out if you like, link in bio. But this is just a shot in the dark. If this gets enough notes, let say... 100? I might write the whole thing, cause I have a lot of ideas. The reader is enhanced and has a pretty deep backstory that I wouldn't mind revealing if this interests anyone. So let me know what you all think, I guess? And oh, the og character? Yeah, it's Ben Barnes. :) But dw, Bucky gets the girl.

sidenote: y/f/n is your full name. y/n is a shortened version which you prefer to go by.

Power Broker (1) | Power Broker (3) | Series Masterlist

The door opens and the first thing Bucky sees is a tall, bearded man with messy hair, who is… shirtless, with low hanging sweatpants… with marks all over his body… And he can hear his stomach fall. Sam next to him is completely frozen as well. Until—

“You’re not the pizza,” The man speaks with an accent. British, Bucky ventures, but there’s some other influences, he can’t quite recount.

“And you’re sure as shit not Y/n,” Sam counters.

A smile breaks onto the man’s face.

He turns away from both men and faces off to his right, behind the door. “Darling,” he calls out, voice laced with pure seduction, “I think this might be for you.” He turns back to them, smile still in place, looking somewhat malicious.

There are footsteps followed by a confused voice, “What do you mean it’s f—”

Bucky’s eyes fall right on her. Y/n Stark, standing there in front of him… in a random man’s shirt… this random man’s shirt and black lacy underwear. Well, consider Bucky un—fucking—comfortable.

“—fuck” she finishes.

There’s a long painfully discomforting pause, where everyone stares at each other and then—

“You’re going to do some Avengers shit,” The man states, excited. He’s the only one who’s been smiling since the whole thing started, while the other three were trying to get their jaws off the floor.

Y/n exhales heavily then, turning back to the man on her right, looking up she replies, “No, I am not going to do any Avengers shit, seeing as whatever they’re here for,” she turns back to Bucky and Sam, “the answer's no.”

“You haven’t even heard us out yet,” Sam objects.

Y/n opens her mouth but is immediately cut off, “You haven’t even heard them out yet!” The man interjects.

She turns back to him, and Bucky can see her eyes are nothing but fury. He speaks from experience when he says that he would never want to be on the receiving end of that glare. Last time he was, she dropped a building on him. Which, Bucky thinks, was quite fair seeing as she had just found out he was responsible for the assassination of her former best friend, Howard Stark and was in that moment tag teaming her current best friend, Tony Stark, with her then boyfriend, Steve Rogers. Yeah, pretty damn fair.

“I don’t need to,” She replies, determined. “I am not—”

“Come on, darling! They worked quite hard to track you down all the way here. The least you could do is hear them out.” He cuts her off again, and Bucky has to give this man props because wow, he’s got some balls, “Look, I’ll go run up and get your…” his eyes roam over her body before he continues, “jacket. Meanwhile, you can hear what they have to say.”

She glares at him, and yet the man doesn’t even flinch. Which, again, balls.

Realizing he isn’t going to give up, she sighs, “Fine.”

“Good girl,” the man coos.

Bucky stuns at the words, while Sam lets out an ungodly squeak. Y/n however, remains absolutely calm, seeming quite used to the man’s antics.

She turns around, making her way over to the navy-blue couch that sits in the middle of the spacious room facing giant ceiling high black book shelves, and sit down on the arm rest. He and Sam walk in behind her, while the man begins making his way over to the round staircase in the corner of the room, next to the floor to ceiling length window and the kitechen.

“Please don’t pretend to forget my pants. Just 'cause I'm fond of your balls, doesn't mean I won't kick 'em,” she calls out.

“Of course, darling.” Bucky can hear the smile in his voice, as he makes his way up the stairs.

“So, what do you want?” she asks.

Sam steps forward from where he was leaning next to the shelves. He looks over at Bucky who’s standing on the opposite side of the room, leaning on the kitchen island.

When Bucky nods, Sam begins, “There’s an organization, insurgent group… They’re pissed at the government for going back to functioning the way they were before the blip. They preferred the way it was before; a world without borders. But they’re going about it all wrong, hurting people in the process that have no business being involved. They function online mostly; they’re calling themselves the—”

“Flag smashers.” Y/n finishes.

“You know?” Sam perks up.

“Yeah,” Y/n shrugs.

“Well, then help us take them down. Their leader—” Sam’s cut off again.

“—Karli Morgenthau, she’s just a kid.” She adds.

“So, you know why we have to step in. We can talk to her… explain—” Sam’s cut off again.

“No.” She replies with finality that kinda throws Bucky off.

Sam apparently feels the same, “N—No?” he asks.

She nods, “No.”

“No, we can’t stop her? Or no, you won’t help?” Sam asks.

“Yes.” She answers.

“What?” Sam balks.

She just shrugs again.

Sam exhales heavily, “This is serious shit, Y/n. We have to help, we have to step in, before this becomes something bigger. Before she does something that she can’t take back… People are getting hurt, Y/n.” His voice is higher by the end.

And she notices too, her voice matches his as she gets off the couch and steps up to him and replies, “People are always getting hurt, Sam. There’s always some more serious shit! That’s the damn job, it never ends.”

“So what, you just won’t help?” Sam asks, confounded. Bucky knows he’s shocked at the refusal. He can hear it in the strain of his voice.

“Nope,” She replies, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “Seeing as I’m retired and oh, you know? In hiding. Which, by the way, who told you where I was? And why was it Maria Hill?” She asks arms flailing.

Sam falters, only for a second. Recovering quickly, he says, “So you’ll just give up? Come on, Y/n. This… It’s our second chance…”

Y/n smiles then, an awful, painfully broken thing and Bucky doesn’t quite know why but he can hear his own heart crack. He wants to fight whoever put that expression on her face. But then she says, “That’s exactly what Steve said to Tony to drag him back into this life.” And he knows he can’t even begin to fight that battle. She continues, smile leaving her lips, eyes watering, “And you know what that got him? It got him dead.” She pauses, “And what did it get me? It got me the world’s most adorable 3-year-old niece who can’t really comprehend what that means.”

If Bucky’s heart was cracking before, it’s fucking broken now.

“I’m sorry,” She concedes. Her head falls, and though Bucky hasn’t known her very long, he doesn’t think it’s normal. Fuck it’s unsettling, seeing her this… shattered. He doesn’t know why, but it hurts. “He gave up his life for ours, f—for mine… The least I c—can do is live it.” She looks up and levels Sam with a determined stare, “I owe him that.”

Bucky can see Sam process this, can see him break for her as well. Silence falls over the room. Thick, palpable, so much so he feels like he can taste it. Bucky wishes he could say something, but he hasn’t been good with words in—well fuck, in over seventy years.

But the silence is broken.

“There you go, darling.” The man prods back with her clothes and shoes in one hand, and her watch and glasses in the other. He drops the shoes in front of her, and extends his arm.

She graciously takes the pants from him, putting them on, right there in front of all three of them and two of them look away; you guessed it, it's Bucky and Sam. But she doesn’t seem concerned as the third watches on as she says, “Look, if you need help, or resources, I’ve got contacts I can reach out to, people who could meet you on the field,” she zips up her light wash blue jeans, and takes the watch from the man’s other hand, before continuing, “But that’s the best I’ve got.” She locks the watch in place over her left hand. She reaches over for her glasses, shining golden and puts them on as well, and finally accepts the leather jacket.

She puts on the jacket in one swift motion, and Bucky has to tell himself that he does not find it hot. She fixes her hair in small swift motions and then she looks over at him, and his breath catches. If he weren’t leaning over the kitchen island, he would be a little weak in the knees, because her eyes are striking, filled with emotion he isn’t sure he can read. He’s not sure if he’s meant to.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, still looking at him. Before he can process that, she looks back at Sam, “I really am.”

Sam remains speechless.

She then turns over to the man, who walks over to the couch she was previously on, and falls onto it dramatically. Kicking up his legs, resting them on the glass coffee table in front of him, while looking back at her. He’s wearing a painfully smug smile on his face and Bucky isn’t sure why but he hates it.

“Thank you.” She says softly.

“Anything for you.” He dismisses easily.

“I got the coffee started, if you want,” She offers.

“An angel,” He replies.

She settles herself back on the arm rest, putting on her black converse, she adds, “And I’m keeping the shirt.”

“Of course, darling,” he coos. And the softness of it… well, Bucky would even think the interaction means more than whatever it seems on the surface, but then, “Looks better on you anyway,” the man adds with a wink.

She gets to her feet, having put on her shoes. Hands rubbing down her face in frustration, “Ass kisser,” she chides.

“You’ll miss it,” he says, taking her other hand into his and dropping a small kiss on the back. Something in Bucky makes him look away.

“No, I won’t,” she reprimands.

He lets go of her hand, as she turns giving a look to Sam, indicating that their time is up. Bucky begins to follow them as well.

“Come on, darling. You’re breaking my heart. After last nights… events,” his smile more charming now, than smug, “least you could do, is pretend you’d miss me.”

She turns opens the door, letting both Bucky and Sam pass her before turning back, “Oh, I’ll miss you… just not in the way you want.” She smirks.

He matches her smirk right back, “I’ll take whatever I can get.”

She lets out a laugh, “I’ll see you next week.”

She closes the door before she can hear him respond, in a knowing tone, “No. No, you won't, darling.” But Bucky can… and man, ain’t super hearing a bitch?

She pushes the elevator button and it opens right up. She walks in and stands right in the middle.

Both Bucky and Sam look at each other at a loss for what to do. It’s awkward for a second and then—

“Come on!” She urges, “You waiting for an invite?”

Both men shuffle in, settling on either side of her.

She presses the button and the elevator begins descending.

Bucky’s mouth is using words before his brain can comprehend, “You cut your hair…”

She looks at him, and he thinks he’s going to choke.

“Needed a change,” she shrugs. Turning her gaze back to the front.

Urged on by the lack of murder in her gaze and knowing exactly how that feels, he adds, “It suits you.”

She doesn’t look back at him this time as she says, “I’d say the same about you, but you have a habit of looking devilishly handsome, most of the time.”

Bucky thinks he might be having a heart attack. Or maybe it’s just his heart trying to crawl it’s way out of his chest, finally, tired of the overuse over decades and decades.

“So… boyfriend?” Sam asks, saving Bucky. But is he really? This feels more like, what did they call it? 'Out of the pot, into the grill' or whatever kinda situation.

“Don’t have one,” She replies curtly. That makes Bucky breathe a little easier, but if he ignores it, it never happened.

“He seemed interested… so why not?” Sam asks.

“Cause it’s none of your business,” She retorts.

He lets out an exasperated breath, “I’m just trying to ask you about your life, something normal. You know, like friends do?” Sam pauses, with a tinge of anticipation he adds, “We still are friends… right?”

She exhales heavily, letting the tension fall from your shoulders, finally relaxing. “He wants to be, but I’m not interested.”

“Why not?” Again, Bucky’s mouth needs to get it’s shit together ‘cause he didn’t mean to say that. But… now that he has, he’d love to know.

She doesn’t look at either of them, instead her eyes flint up to the top of the door, staring at the number ticking by on the sign, they’re unfocused, lost. Her voice is a soft whisper when she says, “Everyone I loved is either dead or gone…” The door dings open as she pauses. And the light of the sun seeping in from the open doors seems to bring her back as she turns back at Bucky while stepping out and says, “So, abandonment issues, I guess.” Her voice sounds jovial, a sharp contrast to the whisper before.

Both men follow her out as they make their way into the parking lot.

“Y/n,” Sam tries.

She turns around but her eyes, Bucky notices, are looking around, over their shoulder, almost… casing the joint. “I can’t, Sam. I really can’t. I am so, very sorry.” She sounds desperate and very genuine.

Bucky would believe her that this is what she wants, to walk away… if she wasn’t looking over Bucky’s shoulder like someone was about to jump out.

She turns around and begins to walk away.

“We broke Zemo out,” Bucky calls out and is met with whispered yelling from Sam as to why would you tell her that? “Cause she already knew,” Bucky answers softly, with a painfully small knowing smile as he watches you turn and meet his gaze head on, “Didn’t you?” He challenges.

And her lack of response is answer enough.

“And you two bright gentlemen left him in the car? Did you even lock it, or did you leave the keys in the ignition?” She chides.

“We locked it. We’re not idiots, you know?” Sam argues.

She rolls her eyes in response. “Yes, because all smart people leave a criminal mastermind alone with a car, after breaking them out from high security prisons!”

“Will you keep your voice down, for Christ’s sake?” Sam whisper yells again, looking around for camera, and realizes there aren’t any. He looks back at her, his eyes narrow.

She shrugs, “In hiding, remember?” Is her only answer, and then, “On that note, I’ll get going.”

Before she can make a move to walk away, “All you’ll have to do is make sure I don’t lose it and kill him. That’ll be your only job. We need you to come along and keep an eye on me…” Bucky proposes. He adds, voice softer, “just… help, me.”

He watches her close her eyes. Her head falls back and the last thing he hears is a soft for fuck's sake, escape your lips and then she’s walking over to them, passing them by.

“Wait, where you going?” Sam asks, following her, Bucky in tow.

“To your damn car to see if our mastermind escaped, Sam. Where else?” She retorts.

“Wait! Our mastermind? Means you’ll help us out?” Sam asks, smile already forming on his face.

“I’ll keep an eye on grumpy over there. That’s all I’ll do,” She answers, nodding at Bucky. “And the criminal mastermind, cause you both clearly suck at it.”

“I’ll have to agree with the lovely lady,” a voice cuts in and Bucky’s gun is out and pointing at the man within the second.

Zemo however, doesn’t seem bothered by it, he just looks at Y/n and smiles.

“It’s been a while since we last met, Y/F/N,” Zemo says with a smile.

She brings her hands over Bucky’s, urging him to lower his gun. He does. “Not long enough, Helmut,” and the sheer resentment in the way she spits out his name, even Zemo falters.

She turns to Sam, significantly satisfied with her blow, back to her usual snarky self, all resentment vanishing, “No idiots here, are there?”

“Don’t be so smug about it. He’s still here, isn’t he?” Sam chides, making his way over to the SUV, opening the door an getting in. "Grumpy's the one that broke him out, why am I getting flack about it?" He grumbles almost to himself.

Zemo follows him and takes the seat behind Sam’s driver seat.

Bucky and Y/n walk over to the other side. He urges her to take the passenger seat, opening the door for her. But then she looks at him, her eyes brimming with… he wants to say a softness but he isn’t entirely sure because there is also a shit tonne of determination. She nods her head, urging him to do take the seat instead. He looks back at her but relents. Because he knows he isn’t winning this one.

So, he settles in the passenger seat and she sits behind him, next to Zemo and it should not make his skin crawl as badly as it does. She’s more than capable of beating his ass six ways to sunday, he is not even remotely worried about that. But he’d rather she didn’t have to sit next to a constant reminder of what she’s lost. But then again, he is one himself…

“So where to?” She asks.

Everyone looks over to Zemo, who just smiles, and after a pause, “Madripoor.”

“Mothefucker!” Y/n cries out.

Read part 3 here. 

Read how Static met this mysterious man.

Find series masterlist here.

#bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n angst #bucky barns x y/n angst #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x stark!reader #past steve rogers x stark!reader #stark!reader #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x stark reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes x original female character #sam wilson #past!steve rogers x reader