#baron zemo x fem!reader

[undercoverpena]

I just saw that zemo isn't in the thunderbolts movie and im devastated and would really love some headcanons when you ask him to massage you to cheer me up🥴

never say never. marvel are sneaky snakes, so we don’t know yet fully if he is/isn’t. i’m holding out hope that they’re just trying to keep us on our toes.

also this got away from me, sorry not sorry.

On Your Back

Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

_________________

“You’ve hurt your neck.”

You paused your movements, fingers falling from your neck as you close your eyes, sighing, as you turn to face him.

The most annoying thing about him being here, is that nothing goes unnoticed. You expect it’s the very reason he was able to commit the crimes he did. He’s detail-orientated, patient, observant.

“You keep rubbing your neck, yes?”

When you open your eyes, your glare must say enough because the corners of his lips twitch upwards. “Am I? I wasn’t aware.”

He places his cup down, the steam swirling upwards as he comes around the kitchen counter. Your throat tightening, thighs pressing together as he does.

Because it’s hard to be around him.

Because you should be wary of him, not attracted to him. You shouldn’t want him near you, instead of constantly thinking about being under him.

It’s gotten worse since Latvia. Since the tension mounted to a height you’re surprised Walker didn’t notice, when he showed up.

And then you’d been free. His great escape providing breathing room, until Bucky picked him up, hid him, and landed him on your doorstep.

Please, just until we can be sure there’s 100% no more serum.

That had been two weeks ago.

Now, it’s getting harder and harder to fight Zemo for the sake of fighting him.

Especially when he looks at you with care, adoration even. When he keeps doing kind things like cooking for you, cleaning, and genuinely not being an asshole like you’d expected him to be when he was plonked under your care.

“I did warn you about moving the chaise alone.”

“I remember, Baron.”

He tuts. “If you can recall it, why didn’t you call for me? Now you’re hurt. I had told you to call for me if you were redesigning that room too.”

There are so many options you could consider.

Pain killers and a heat pad, a sedative for the Baron and a restful evening. Or, saying:

“Are you going to assist me or just keep pointing out hindsight’s? Because while you’re a pain in my side, this actually hurts more.”

He blinks.

You’re usually not short.

You’re sarcastic, and dry. Often purposefully argumentative, but not short. Not with him. You reserve that for Bucky—Bucky who asks you to be around handsome criminals and not expect you to drop to your knees for them.

“Of course.”

“Wh—“

“I’ll help,” he says, a curt nod.

And then he moves past you, beckoning you to follow. While you don’t what to follow his instruction, his outright demand, your reluctance is wearing thin quickly, following him through rooms in your home until you reach the room where the problematic chaise is.

You shoot a glare as he stops at the foot of it, hands rubbing together. “If this is you being an ass—“

“Lie down.”

You don’t move. His eyes narrowing, lips thin as he sighs. A set of expressions you’ve grown used to, usually brought on because of his displeasure at you not directly following one of his orders.

He sighs, turning on his heels, leaving the room. You hear his footsteps until you don’t, all set to berate him when you hear a clatter, and his footsteps getting louder and louder.

In his hands are lotions, ones he must have noticed prior to now to have found them so quickly. His eyes scanning over you as he returns to the place he was.

“Lie down. Please.”

You hesitate, but for different reasons, moving closer to the chaise as you say, “It’s my back too. If… if you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“And what is it that you think I’m about to do?”

You hate his smirk. Even if you don’t. You swallow it all quickly regardless. “I assumed offer me a massage?”

“You assumed correctly.”

“So,” you continue, “It won’t solve all my problems if you get me to lie on the chaise, if that’s your intention.”

He smiles, more deviously than you liked.

Which is why you ended up on your bed. The cool air brushing over your skin, your cheeks warm, almost burning through your duvet as you wait for him to enter the room.

He’d insisted on being outside when you removed your upper clothing. Him placing both a towel down on the bed, and handing you one—as if he was a professional masseuse.

“One is for any mess—“ his comment sparking a raise eyebrow. “The other is to cover yourself, to feel comfortable, until I enter.”

You try to reply in an even tone when he asks if you’re comfortable, because you’re not. How can you be? You’re topless, even face down, with him about to massage your strained muscles.

A barrage of thoughts attacking you, faux snapshots of disapproval from Bucky flashing through your mind accompanying all the ways in which this was bad. Especially when the mattress dips, and you feel his knees either side of your thighs.

Because, you should tell him this is a bad idea. Even if it’ll feel nice, even if will stop the pain from pulsing. This was too far.

Your brain hurriedly trying to assess all the rights and wrongs, wants and needs.

“Be aware, I have attempted to warm my hands, however—“

You gasp.

The decision removed as Zemo’s fingers slide over your shoulders, the coolness of his fingers on your skin both soothing and welcomed. Each digit adding a slightly different pressure, as if knowing exactly which parts are causing you discomfort.

And you should hate it. That his touch is precise, that it’s nice, that you want him to slide his palms down your back and rid the ache from the centre of your spine too.

Your lips even about to ask as much, because you’re already over the line. The two of you having galloped so far over it, you weren’t sure you’d get back on the right side of it.

But a hand moves, instinctively. One focusing on an area between your shoulder and neck, and the other sliding to the part close to the second pain point.

“Is it here, the pain?” he asks, his voice darker even in his low volume as he presses the base of his palm down, your spine curling as he does so. “Ah, it is.”

You clench your eyes shut, the pain loosening, his fingers and palm massaging whatever grievance there was from you. Just as the scent of the lotion he used met your nose.

It’s one you recognise, one you remembered smelling in the store. A treat, you’d mused to yourself. One you hadn’t indulged in until now.

And what a unique treat it was.

Especially when his hands moved from soothing to massaging the untouched parts of your back. Ensuring he rubbed your neck, your shoulders. Dipping fingers into your shoulder blades, likely drawing patterns in lotion on your back.

But he always returns to your neck, to your spine. Every movement so calculated, it relaxes you—actually unlocks the tension from your muscles.

Each slide of his fingers, each motion of his palm, wrist and arm settling it all. Making it almost seem worth it for the hours of discomfort moving the chaise caused for all of this.

Because he’s lighting your skin on fire and soothing it all at once. It’s not enough, him just touching you here, now awakening more of your desire to have his hands elsewhere, realising how purposeful he is.

Knowing it’s likely, although not guaranteed, that while he hasn’t ever been with you, he’d know the exact ways to make your toes curl.

It’s this lulled state and ridiculous thoughts which are the cause for why you moan his name. Not Zemo. Not Baron, as you’ve been teasingly calling him.

“Oh, Helmut.”

Your eyes widen, even against the duvet. Your muscles, all of them, flexing into a tensed state. Even his hands stopping, halting. Neither of you even daring to breathe.

He should move. That’s all you think. He should leave the room and you should avoid seeing him for the remainder of his time here—create a schedule, if you have to. Share and split off the rooms in the house—

“Who knew you could make such sweet sounds, Liebling.”

Your eyes flick to the side, frowning, instinctively wanting to clench your thighs together. Because fuck. Double, almost triple fuck.

Needing, and wanting to turn to look at him. Especially when he places both palms on your back gently, less massaging, and more a reminder he’s there and remaining so.

“It’s important you listen now,” he says, leaning down, mouth closer to your ear.

You’re sure you can feel his heart hammering against your spine, even through his top. Even without him being flat against you.

“I think there’s a high probability that you’re as tired of playing this game, yes?” he whispers, fingers spreading out over your skin. “And while you’re in pain, I don’t believe where my hands are now, is the only place you’d like them.”

If your cheeks weren’t already on fire before, they’re now molten. Threatening to torch your bed, and everything else in the room.

“Now is the time you tell me if I’m wrong, Liebling,” he says, returning to kneeling upright.

And you contemplate.

Briefly.

“My back… it still hurts…” you mumble, your head turning more sideways, trying to gain a view of him. “But, no.”

“No?”

“No. You’re not wrong.”

You’d kill to see if he’s smirking or tilting his head. Half tempted to try and roll, even if it meant displaying yourself to him.

But, you’re unsure if it would inflict more pain, your neck less bothersome but your back still twinging.

Until he moves, your focus shifting, slowly gripping the towel under you as you try to roll, finding him watching you, a curious and lustful look on his face as you meet his eyes.

Likely having waited, wanting you to move to face him.

“Zemo…”

“Helmut,” he corrects. “Helmut is the name I’d prefer when you’re begging me not to stop.”

He smirks, rubbing his hands together before he places a knee on the bed.

“I wouldn’t worry about your back, Liebling,” he says, placing his hand down beside your waist. “I’ll only need you to keep still, and remain on it and nil else. Do you think you’ll be able to do that?”

[lokislittlemidgardian]

Just saw ur Daddy!Zemo and I knew I had to send in a request. Could u please do Zemo x little!reader where they just want cuddles and kisses all the time. I’m sorry if that’s a little vague but I hope u can u something with it. Thank u✨

Cuddly engel

Content - age regression, cg!zemo, cuddles, soft toys, paperwork, fluff, not proofread, don't like don't read.

Summary - when you can’t fight regression one night when zemo is working you desperately need him to help you.

Authors note - there was just something inside me that had to make the reader zemos wife he just gives off such good husband vibes, a bit shorter I was a bit tired, reblogs are greatly appreciated, I hope you enjoy!<3

Translations - my love - meine Liebe, beautiful - schön, darling - liebling,

You knew you shouldn’t have taken a nap this afternoon, you knew you were going to wake up small but you decided to do it anyway.

Oh did you regret it now.

You knew that you were safe to regress of course you did but it was just a bit tricky today, helmut had been working constantly for the past few weeks and while you knew he would drop everything in a heartbeat to take care of you you didn’t want to bother him.

So for for the next half an hour you lied there on your back staring up at the ceiling trying to get your older mindset back, but nothing would work it was completely pointless.

Eventually you decided to swallow your pride and go and find your husband.

Going over to your wardrobe you pulled down the wooden box that sat on the top shelf, opening it you pulled out a blue soft rabbit and placed it under your arm before moving the box onto the hardwood flooring.

Tiptoeing out of your bedroom you made your way down the oak stairs.

You looked around trying to find helmut knowing he hadn’t been to a meeting so he must be at home.

This was the only problem about your house, there were to many rooms to remember when you were little.

Making your way back up the stairs you wandered over to the only other room you could think of, helmut’s study.

You peaked through the crack in the door making sure he wasn’t on the phone before gently pushing it open making the old hinges creek making you cringe.

Looking up from his paperwork the barons eyes softened when they saw it was you, “hello meine Liebe” he smiled pushing out his rolley chair from his desk “hi papa” you said softly paddeling your way over to him.

“Ahh has my little lamb come out to play?” He chuckled reaching his hand out to reach your own “mhm” you mumbled “I’m not disrupting you am I?” “Of course not schön you could never interrupt me” he said softly knowing you were sensitive to noise in this state of mind.

“Papa can I come up please?” You whispered you gestured to his desk chair “of course you can my darling” he cooed helping guide you into a cradling position in his lap.

After placing a kiss to your forehead he rolled the chair in and went back to his work occasionally looking down to make sure you were sound.

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

After a while of working he looked down to see your head resting on his left shoulder, your hand clutching onto his sleeve struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Is my liebling sleepy?” He chuckled bringing his hand down too stroke your palm.

You were too far gone to speak so you just let out a light grumble and nuzzled your face into his soft chest.

Smiling down at you Zemo brushed away a strand of hair that had called down across your face before placing a kiss to your hairline.

“Go to sleep then my love, I’ve got you”

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

Taglist - @bootlegmothman420 @littlephia @whippedforhongjoong @youngstarfishdinosaur @patchesofwork @buggyateabug @autisticbeauty @friendlyneighborhoodkillerbunny @sparklybuck @2-gay-possums-in-a-trench-coat @hopelesswritergall @stuckysgirl27 @sleepyprinc3ss @chaotic-little-witch @looksthatkilledd @teddybearsgrr

[marvelslittlewhore]

How I think Zemo would teach the reader how to jerk him off.

WARNINGS | 18+MDNI! smut, handjob, praise

NOTE | I also wanna say I'm very gay so I may not get some stuff right. -MaKayla 💜

котенок = kitten

You трахни котенка, если ты не перестанешь, я кончу = fuck kitten if you dont stop im going to cum.

я собираюсь кончить- в кончить- = i'm going to cum- I'm cum-

            ◃◦---------------●--------------◦▹

Zemo definitely sits in a big, luxurious chair. It doesn't matter where he just has one in every room. And in any room and chair, he'll take you in.

He would be spread his arms on the arm rest, scooted to the edge of the seat, and legs spread really wide. He'd make you undo his pants. He wants you to get comfortable with the feeling of taking his cock out.

He'll would slowly instruct you. "OK котенок now take my cock out, it's ok," he'd say it to you softly he doesn't want to scare you away. He looks at you, and you look like a frightened puppy.

First, he jerks himself off to show you what it looks like but he makes sure not to cum yet. Zemo wants you to make him cum. He wants you to work for it.

Zemo grabs your hands and places them on his cock, when he does he hisses and you jerk away.

"Did I do something wrong!?"

"No котенок your hands are just very cold."

"Sorry, Baron."

He'd grab your hands again. This time, he was ready for the coldness.

Oh, might I add Zemo is a very vocal man during anything sexual.

He'd place your left hand on his thigh while the other was wrapped around his cock.

Zemo would put his big hand over yours to slowly start you off.

He showed you to slowly go up and down and when he moaned louder to start going faster. Then he started to show you to twist your hand slightly.

"That's it котенок, good girl, now on your own." He'd put his arms back on the arm rest.

You'd slowly started to jerk him off, going up and down, and a slight wrist flicks here and there.

"Now котенок start playing with my balls with your left hand but keep jerking me off."

You took his balls in your hand, fondling them.

"'M I doing it right?" Your words started to slur the more horny you got from watching your man pant and moan

"котенок you're doing it so right, oh fuck".

You wanted to start going faster so you did.

In the spur of the moment, you put his balls in your mouth. You licked and sucked at them while you used 2 hands on Zemos cock.

"Fu-, oh fuck. Kitten, you've gotta slow down. You're going way too fast."

You wanted to be naughty. You wanted to go faster.

"трахни котенка, если ты не перестанешь, я кончу." He was too lost in his pleasure to speak English.

"я собираюсь кончить- в кончить-"

He is cumming in second all over your hands and on himself.

He had finally come down from his orgasm high.

"Good job котенок you did so good, good girl."

            ◃◦---------------●--------------◦▹

Taglist

@lokigirlszendaya

[morguevampire]

(Un) Fortunate Encounters - Chapter 4

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Masterlist for this fic

summary:  With your body needing rest you fall into a sort of routine at the Baron's mansion. Which doesn't mean you trust him. It's mostly a back and forth between the two of you.

warnings/tags: fluff, smut, angst, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of torture, drinking, mild alcoholism, dark themes, slow build romance, not really Stockholm syndrome but that’s up for interpretation 

chapter: 4/?

word count: 2.121k

pairings: Helmut Zemo x fem!Reader

author’s note: Hey yo, 

there ya go. Chapter 4! 

Honestly not sure about this chapter but let's just blame it on uni being stressful and my brain being fried. I really tried my best, going over it a few times but at last I figured I'd post it because I was afraid that if I didn't keep up the regular updates I would just abandon this story. 

Let me know what you think! I promise to do better for the next one! Comments, kudos etc. are welcome, as well as feedback :) 

Adios

You can also find this work on https://archiveofourown.org/works/43158162/chapters/108965257

It’s almost midday when you wake up the next morning. Your exhaustion completely took over you and you find yourself surprised at having slept soundly through the night. It takes you another good hour of contemplating your life and the current situation until you finally crawl out of the comfort of the warm bed and into the bathroom to freshen up.

Your dreamless slumber and general fatigue didn’t necessarily leave you with much capacity to mull over whether you wanted to accept the invitation of staying with a murderer or strike out on your own and most likely get killed by other murderers but really, perhaps unconsciously you had already made up your mind.

As you head down the stairs towards the living room you find the house quiet and unoccupied. You decide to explore the space, perhaps finding Zemo in the dining room or wherever all the other paths of the mansion led to.

Carefully, almost as if you were an intruder you make your way through the dining room, where just the evening before you had dinner with a god forsaken terrorist. Another door leads into the modern kitchen, fully equipped with appliances you could only afford to dream of and a big island with stools on one side. One wall was lined with full glass, overlooking a lush forest which made you conclude that the house was most likely in the middle of nowhere. You stand in front of the windows, memorized by the scenery when Oeznik quietly enters the room, startling you as he interrupts your daydreaming.

“Would you like a cup of coffee, Miss Y/N?”

You accept eagerly, realizing you haven’t had your coffee fix in almost three days. Oeznik informs you that the Baron was out on an errand. He disappears shortly after handing you your cup and you decide to sit down in the living room once again, staring out of the windows there or roaming through the shelves of books while enjoying your freshly brewed coffee.

You were almost finished when you heard the front door open and close, expecting the Baron to appear shortly after.

“Good morning. I thought I’d get some of your belongings from your apartment so you’d feel more comfortable.”

You stare at the two duffle bags that he hauled onto the couch.

“So, you just assumed I would stay?”

“Aren’t you?”

His condescending tone once again annoying you,´; you challenge him, even though he is right. His whole demeanor oozes arrogance and a know-all attitude which pisses you off, not just on him but on humans in general.

You’re almost too proud to answer him, his face once again wearing a slight smirk.

Most likely with too much force and looking clumsier than you intended it to be, you snatch the two duffle bags and simply mumble a hasty “thanks” before storming off towards your room once again, leaving the Baron to huff out a quiet laugh at your temperament.

In your room you go through the duffle bags. They’re filled to the brim with clothes, surprisingly a lot of your favorites. Toiletries are also neatly packed, which makes you cringe a bit at the thought of this man going through your bathroom. You’re sort of at a loss when you discover your nowadays not so stuffed little plush duck in there. It’s a little greyish thing, used to be white but that was a long time ago, its head not really upright anymore. It’s usually hosted on your bed and you haven’t stopped sleeping with it since you were about five years old. You were oddly sentimental over this thing, holding it in your arms now. It gave you a sort of safety to know you had it with you.

You sort through the rest of the stuff, happy with having a bit of your life back but also unsure as the amount gave you a feeling you’d be staying for longer than you initially hoped.

The only thing that’s really missing in the bags is your phone, or your notebook. You suppose it’s because of the very obvious reason that technical devices would mean communications to the police or the outside world which most likely don’t overlap with the Baron’s plans for you. It still makes you frustrated.

Once you descend the stairs again you find the man who just an hour ago went through your private belongings sitting on the kitchen island, a laptop in front of him.

“I want my phone.”

He looks at you somewhat surprised that you would even dare to ask such a stupid question.

“Not possible.” He scoffs. “At least for now.”

You roll your eyes, once again annoyed and already regretting your decision to even come down here.

When you inquire about the duration of your more or less forced stay, or the progress in his strategy to get his enemies off your back he gives you cryptic, monotone answers. None the wiser and feeling defeated you sit down on one of the high barstools furthest away from him. Once again absently staring out of the window. Out of the corner of your eye you see him shuffling around the kitchen but you completely zoom out and don’t really take in anything he’s saying until a plate with food on it is placed in front of you.

“You should eat.” Is all he says before picking up his laptop, leaving you alone once more.

********

A few uneventful days fly by. In a weird, twisted sort of way your life found a routine. With your body still being in the healing process you spent most of your days sleeping, or dozing in your room. You couldn’t remember the last time in your life you actually had the time to just do nothing. No distractions, no guilty feelings about being unproductive. Even if you wanted to, there was nothing to do. The times you did wander downstairs to pass over the time, you usually found yourself drawn to the book shelves in the living room. Browsing through the titles and mostly being too afraid to touch vintage looking ones.

You were never a crazy reader, but you did go through your phases and always wished for more time for the activity. Often work or general adult-duties kept you from it and the forced technology detox helped you appreciate books more.

The Baron wasn’t around too much. Usually in the morning or rather midday Oeznik would offer coffee and breakfast to you and quickly disappeared out of sight once you sat down on the kitchen counter, staring out at the woods. You’d encounter Zemo randomly throughout the day, never saying too much and mostly trying to be out of his way as much as possible. Your trust in him was still uncertain and he didn’t seem to try to make much of an effort in gaining it. The only consonant was your shared dinner, usually something hearty, the two of you on the large dining table. It felt awkward, the only conversation usually being him checking up on your general wellbeing and health condition.

He’d always seem so unbothered by the tension in the room, while you were constantly in flight mode. Even though he had more or less shown you hospitality, always been polite and tried to stay out of your business, he still made you uncomfortable. He seemed so sure of everything, his position, your position while not really giving you any answers to your questions, yet still underneath concerned about you. You couldn’t figure him out.  

You were relieved once these dinners would end and you could go curl up in bed once again – just to have a deep dreamless sleep.

It surprised you how easy sleep came to you, considering you were usually an overthinker with insomniac tendencies whenever your mind was occupied with personal struggles.

You should have seen it coming, there was only so many hours of rest your injured body would need before your unconscious mind decided to plague you with nightmares.

It comes on the fourth night at the mansion.

You jolt up chocking. Your lungs desperately grasping for air. It takes you a moment to realize where you are. The room, your room. Your head isn’t underwater. You aren’t back in the warehouse. You’re safe now, he said.

You drag your forearm across the top of your head, realizing just how much you sweated. Still not fully awake and back to reality you slump back down, breathing hard and trying to control your emotions. You’ve been rescued, your wounds are healing, the bruises are fading, you’re safe. But you’re also still locked up. Forced to stay in a safe house of a man who killed innocent lives. 

You toss and turn for an hour or so, slipping in and out of consciousness, that feeling of fear, torture and pain always coming back. The clock on the little bedside table reads 3:38 a.m. when you decide to give up. You wouldn’t fall back asleep anytime soon and the room suddenly feels too claustrophobic, the chocking feeling in your throat becoming more intense as the minutes tick by.

You decide to head downstairs into the living area, selecting the book you started to read days prior. Only it didn’t quite manage to distract you from the night’s terrors.

Curled up under a cashmere blanket on the big leather couch your body was still tense and you couldn’t concentrate on any of the words in the book. You don’t know how much time has passed when a low voice interrupts your blank staring at the letters.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

The Baron entered, a steaming cup of tea in his hand, heading towards you.

You only shake your head, feeling uncomfortable in being called out.

He doesn’t ask you, just holds the steaming cup of what you smelled to be chamomile tea in front of you. Hesitantly you take it from him, not trusting his intentions.

It seems as if he’s giving you space to talk on your own, even though he sits down right next to you, close enough to make your body tense up again.

After a few sips in heavy silence you slowly begin to speak.

“Why are you up?”

He was still dressed in his street wear. Black trousers and a gray knitted sweater.

“Insomnia.” He answers with a shrug, turning his head to look in your direction, focusing his brown eyes on you and pursing his lips before he continues. “Let me guess… nightmares?”

You nod.

“It’s the natural reaction of your brain and body to all the horrors you’ve experienced in the past week.”

A nod again, this time faintly annoyed at his smart talking and prying into your personal matters.

“I am sorry for your pain. This might not help, but I do empathize with what you’re going through. I have had my fair share of nightmares and PTSD.”

“We’re not the same.”

You mumble and break eye contact, not being able to take his soft, pitying look anymore. You don’t want his empathy and you certainly don’t want to empathize with him. If he wants to open up about his past or his struggles he should see a therapist, not load it onto the woman he kidnapped.

You fumble around with the handle of the tea cup for a bit, wishing to just be on your own again.

“What are you reading?”

You show him the cover of the book. Walden by Henry David Thoreau.

“Can’t really concentrate on the words though.”

“Would you like me to read to you?”

You most likely don’t hide your surprise well but he only chuckles and motions for you to had him the book, still lying open in your lab. You do and not soon after find yourself half lain down on your spot, feet curled up and eyes fluttering shut as Zemo’s low, accented voice carried you into a solidary life in the woods.

You’re not sure at what point you fell asleep but as you drift in and out of a calm slumber his voice is always there, a consonant that your unconsciousness latches onto for distraction. A guide into a numb sleep.

********

You awake in your bed the next morning. Hazily trying to remember if you’ve only dreamed of the Baron reading to you and trying to figure out how you ended up in your room. It must have really happened as you faintly remember being pulled out of sleep for a second as he lifted you in his arm and carried you upstairs, brushing the hair out of your face softly, before leaving your room, letting your tired mind rest.

And you felt safe. And cared for.

[frostironfudge]

I Need You To Listen - Steve Rogers

Summary: For @the-slumberparty 's Week 3 Something New Challenge, I went with the medium mode - sex pollen but with exes to lovers. This took alot of work I ended up rewriting it entirely, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 7.4k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, smut, fluff, sex pollen, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, love bites, steve rogers dirty talking (this man), swearing, nipple play, past is in italics, sort of a post civil war rewrite so we're going completely off canon

Main Masterlist || AO3

Fate works in the most hilarious of ways, a stubbed toe over here and a broken heart still being nursed over there. 

Tony Stark stands in front of your cell, staring at you through the glass. You don’t hold back your tears from him. Disappointment colours his features. 

Broken pieces of trust lay scattered on the floor. The damage by him was done. Leaving you to bear the brunt. Leaving you to walk on the jagged edges of the broken family. 

A family that shared jokes, laughed, drank and protected each other. 

Won together. 

Lost together. 

In the past few days died together. 

“How are you holding up?” His arc reactor gleams as he takes a seat on the stool. Unzipping the jacket he wears his arm in a sling. You close your eyes, more tears fall at the memory of the fight. An involuntary shiver as the chiling bite of the cold manifests itself from your memory. 

The cell isn’t uncomfortable. There is a cot in the corner, the bathroom has a door. The sterile scent of the cleaning agent stopped giving you a headache hours ago. 

“Why are you asking me?” You look at him, he should be mad, he should yell, call you a traitor. 

“Contrary to what you all think and did to me, I trust you.” He shrugs, left eye twitching, he rolls his shoulder. 

“How is the arm?” Your gaze falls to it. 

“Seen better days. You know, heart troubles.” He looks at Wanda’s cell, “Kid, Vis is asking about you.” 

She looks up at him, “Is Rhodes alright?” 

Tony presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head. 

Wanda looks down at her hands. 

“He tore us apart. That Baron Zemo. I know you have a lot to learn, alot to grieve. The accords may be dissolved. I’m working on it. At SI we’re  preparing the bail documents.” He informs you all. 

Sam scoffs, “What about Cap and Barnes?” 

“James is in recovery as per my last conversation with T’Challa. Where Cap and Nat are I do not know nor does he.” Tony gazes back at you. 

“I trusted him.” Is all you can say to him. You stare at your palms, you couldn’t get the blood off. 

“I know, I did too.” 

“Tony.” Your lips quiver another sob at the heartbreak Steve left you with to deal. All alone. 

Bucky fights Tony, you don’t want to see your best friend hurt. The man who took you under his wing when you joined in, your steps halted by the blonde haired man who harbours your heart. 

“Sign the accords.” Steve orders, you gape at him. 

“Steve, do you fucking realise? We’re here because I didn’t sign them because I am siding with you?” You almost yell. The tempreture drops as the snow cascades into the facility from the now broken windows. 

Bucky lands on the floor, a pained groan, his arm blasted off. He kneels, eyes widened at the implication. At the man he hurt irreparablely being the one to take away one of the curses HYDRA bestowed upon him. 

“Shit!” Your eyes move to Tony, slowly he rises from the floor. The suit broken in several places. 

“Y/N, you need to listen. You cannot go rogue with me.” 

“Steve,” You push his arm away you had to intervene. 

“It was good while it lasted.” He says and everything turns to static. 

“Wh-what?” 

“Look, I, we had a good run but I know your stance on the accords you’re just with me for the sole reason we’re together.” Steve says to you. 

“Are you serious right now?” Anger courses through you, your grip on your pistol tightens. 

“It's not even the accords. I, I didn’t think we would make it beyond this month. Look, I have to think about Bucky. Its all of this, it doesn’t, priorities.” He lunges over to defend Bucky leaving you defenceless. Your ears ringing, you watch as they fight, you can’t hear any of the clangs the groans. 

You stand there dumbfounded. 

As Steve throws Tony down the beam reflects off of his shield and hits you on the shoulder you’re thrown against the wall. Bucky meets your eyes, at least he seems apologetic.  

Tony tries to get up to help you, “Rogers, she’s hurt—,” The shield slams against the arc reactor. 

“I don’t care.” He says so easily.

You pant as the pain increases, both the burn and sting of his words as well as the physical injuries manifesting across you. 

Steve helps Bucky up, you try to push yourself to your knees, crawling to Tony while keeping your arm close to your body. 

Bucky looks back at you, his eyes convey his remorse. Tony breathes hard, you blink back tears at the glance Steve doesn’t spare towards you. 

Eight months down the drain.

The morning kisses, cuddles, the random sketches of you he left as gifts all lose their importance. Remembrance only causes pain. 

“Mr. Stark, you need to leave.” 

Tony sighs, “I’ll visit, or I’ll have you guys out before that. Work some arrangement.” 

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You look at his arm and back at his face. 

He gives you one of those sad smiles of his, the one where he pretends it's just another day, another common thing. 

“Aren’t you foolish to trust us again?” Sam questions him as Tony passes by his cell. 

“I just have to do my job. It’s the people who have to trust us.” Tony turns to face Sam. 

“So the people trust the missile maker millionaire Stark?” Sam knows the jab is stinging, Tony hated 

that about the company’s past. 

The rift was ever present, your friend looks towards you. 

“Y/N, let him know not to insult me, I’m a billionaire.” He grabs his glasses and moves away. 

You resist the urge to laugh, everyone would resort to their coping mechanisms. You’d have to bide your time here. Usually getting black out drunk was how you solved your own problems. 

True to his word Tony has you all released on various conditions. You, Scott and Wanda are released together. 

When you reach the tower it isn’t surprising that there was a break in, you’d scoff that Steve didn’t come to break you out but he made his decision in Siberia. 

The faint scent of his cologne lingers in your room. Hints of Patchouli and Bergamot. You stare at the box on your bed. 

Opening it reveals a burner phone. 

“I got a burner too, one number loaded upon it.” Tony stands at the door holding a glass of scotch for himself and your favourite Vodka in a bottle. 

“Surprised he bothered.” You open the phone and it chimes an unread text upon it. 

“I didn’t get that.” He observes, you take the bottle from him. 

Opening the text. 

SGR: I want to talk to you. Please let me explain. 

You laugh bitterly, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. At least you can blame these tears on the alcohol. 

“Are you going to? Call him I mean.” Tony settles on your desk chair. 

“Nope.” You set your bottle down after three more sips, grabbing the edges of the opened flip phone you press. The phone snaps from its hinges and you place it back down in the box, “Did you track it?” 

“Fake return address.” He twirls the ice in his drink. 

The two of you bask in the silence. Drinking in tandem and out of sync. 

“Were you going to sign the Accords?” You ask after a while staring at the setting sun. 

“Nope,” He reaches for your bottle, pouring himself a peg, “I was having them redrafted. Steve only had to agree for them to shut up. My draft would have gotten approved.” 

“So confident.” You raise your brows. 

“Comes with the job title.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Do you think anyone will trust anyone?” You tap the bottle neck. 

Steve’s laughter reverberates against your chest. He reaches up to cup your face. 

“Why is it so amusing?” You ask, not meeting his eyes. 

“Because it is, Poppet. I wouldn’t break your heart.” He assures yet again. 

You gnaw at your bottom lip trust was difficult to come by for you. 

“You want to know why?” He whispers, making you meet his gaze. His nose brushing against your own. 

“Because I have your heart and it's what is keeping me alive.” 

You lean closer, pressing your lips to his, Steve kisses you back. Hands pulling you closer. You feel his smile between the kisses and you begin to retract knowing what he was upto but it’s too late. 

Steve tickles your sides and laughter blubbers from your chest. He grins, cheeks flushed as you press against him. The thin sheet hides nothing from the way you feel. 

“I love you.” He says, you stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“I loved him with everything in me.” You blubber out, tears falling down. 

Tony sits next to you, your head rests on his good shoulder, “I know you did. It's a hard road ahead, kid. Not an undoable one.” 

“I hate him.” You declare, “I hate him, he just, how could he be so selfish?” 

“Sometimes we all are, he is in the wrong. He didn’t exactly reciprocate the trust.” Tony sighs, you look up at him. 

“I’m sorry about your parents.” You watch him give you those sad smiles, he flexes and extends the fingers of his left hand. 

“He could have told me, I trusted him enough that he could.” He whispers then shakes his head. 

“Steve Rogers is an asshole.” You declare raising your bottle to his assholery. Then you giggle. 

“You just thought of the word assholery didn’t you?” Tony giggles as well. 

Both of you burst out laughing. 

“Hey Tone?” You ask mid laughter. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for being here, also can I get a box?”

“Sure.” He stands, FRIDAY has the box led by one of his tinkered bots to the room. 

“I need to check on Rhodey.” He says, “I’m a call away okay?” 

You nod, he leaves. The box stays on your bed and then you stare at the sketches hung around your room. With a delicateness that Steve didn’t spare towards you, you pack up the papers. Sealing the box with plastic wrap and head down to the safety deposit lockers. 

Your steps are misjudged and you drop your box of trinkets several times. The stupid ceramic mug from that couples pottery class probably shattered. 

You giggle thinking how it resembles your heart. 

Locking the box leaves you in silence. Your room is void of all things Steve except the one shirt he gave you on your first mission together where the two of you fell into the muddled waters that left the two of you in need to change out of clothes. 

The shirt smells like him, you curl up with it on your pillow. 

“This is the last time you gave your heart away.” You tell yourself. 

“This is the last time you cry over him.” You promise yourself. 

Eight months pass and you all sit in the conference room. The accords are abolished. They reinstate Natasha, Sharon, James, Sam and him. Tony holds his flip phone. Resorting to texting rather than speaking to him. 

A reply comes when you all are back at the tower. They’d be there tomorrow. Rooms are prepared with favourite foods stocked up. You had requested your room be shifted away to another level. 

Heart ache didn’t manifest beyond those few nights. 

Your walls that Steve Rogers broke down were built back stronger. Impenetrable. His shirt was placed in his room by you a month into getting over him. 

You don’t pass by the floor, you’re a level above. Thankfully the elevators divide the levels they service and you won’t ever be on the same floor as him. 

The night is restless despite your indifference to all of them. They were the family you chose and yet you were abandoned by them. 

Dreams are but a loop of memories you have buried. 

After your morning laps you head to Tony’s lab. 

“They will be dropping in at SHIELD first. Fury wants to discuss some things and then they come back here.” He stifles a yawn. 

“You need caffeine my friend.” You hold up the coffees, “Luckily I come bearing gifts.”

“I love you.” He whispers gingerly while taking the cup. 

“Are you talking to the coffee or me?” You ask, taking a sip of your own. 

“I can love both.” He defends, whispering to the coffee he loves it more. 

You throw one of his discarded paper balls on him. It doesn’t phase him. 

“Are you sure you want to come along?” He asks for the umpteenth time on the drive to SHIELD. 

“Tony, I will leave you behind if you ask me again.” You glare at him. 

“I think you will be fine.” Vision assures a gentle smile on his face and he laces his fingers with Wanda. She smiles at him, her own mind filled with thoughts. 

“See we’ll be okay.” You declare. 

Minutes later you’re seated on one side of the conference room. Tony on the first seat, you on the second. Vision opts to stand behind Wanda as she sits. 

Fury sits at the head of the table. The door opens and Natasha, Sam and Steve step into the room. A thick silence settles over. You look at each of them and then back at Fury. 

Natasha’s hair is shorter and blond, Sam seems to have gotten leaner. Steve was sporting a beard and longer hair. 

You wondered if the post break up look was something you should have gone for, maybe dyed your hair blue.

“Well, as you know you all have been reinstated. The Avengers operate without any Accords binding them but they must be mindful of their poweress and the possible damage they may cause. A country has full discretion to forbid the Avengers from subduing threats that may lead them there and you must honour that no matter the cost.” Fury gazes at you all. 

“What if they need help?” Steve questions, you scoff. 

Cold blues flash to you. You roll your eyes. 

“The dissolution of the Accords was done keeping this one rule in mind. I suggest you make peace with it. You will not be able to save everyone from damage and hurt, it is better than causing it.” Tony adds. 

Steve’s jaw tightens. He nods. 

“Now since this is done and dusted. Official missions may resume.” Fury places down a manila folder. 

“Official?” Sam questions, raising a brow. 

“Agent Y/L/N here was liasoning with us for recon purposes. Kept under wraps. We have identified HYRA bases. Once the plans are sanctioned you all will be back on duty.” Nick sighs, “I suggest you all train together to get a sense of your skill sets and moves again.” 

No one nods. 

Nick shakes his head leaving the room. 

“Your old rooms have been cleaned at the tower. Access is via FRIDAY, food is stocked. Layout’s almost the same. Few changes here and there. Oh and there are new succulents in the living room.” Tony fiddles with the folder. 

“We can conduct a meeting about these missions tonight or tomorrow. You all settle in, there is a car outside and your vehicles are in pristine condition at the garage.” He informs them further. 

“No welcome back party?” Nat muses, you laugh. 

“I drank all the liquor so unfortunately no parties.” You deadpan. 

Nat and Sam stare at you. 

“It has been a difficult few months. I understand everyone will take time to return to a semblance of previous normalcy.” Vision’s words are both reassuring but also farfetched. 

Wanda grasps his hand and gives it a squeeze. 

Steve’s brows furrow in worry. He observes you trying to find any hints but you give him none. You learned to school yourself. An agent well versed in hiding her intent, emotions and aim. Your skillset is what brought you to the team and it is what you have. It's what you could trust. 

Sam nods, “Well best we head back.” 

“Yes we could use some sleep.” Natasha says, you flash her a smile. 

“Yep, well I have a few things to discuss with Fury.” You push away from the table first. Tony follows your lead. 

“Should you not include us in the conversation?” Steve says in his authoritative baritone. 

“Unfortunately, Captain, it isn’t an Avengers matter but a personal one. Which you aren’t entitled to know.” You spit back. 

His mouth opens again to speak. 

Tony beats him to it, “Where’s our Manchurian candidate?” 

“Bucky’s in the UK for a bit, after Wakanda we were there for a while. He stayed back for personal reasons.” Steve explains and you slip out. 

Steve stares at your room door, knocking on it yet again. Two weeks since his return and you had avoided him in every capacity.

He had worked up the courage to knock on your door today. But there was no response as it was over the past fifteen minutes. He requests FRIDAY to check in and all the AI says is that you’re fine.

You had gotten back from a mission yesterday morning. You had to have been resting. 

“Why won’t she open her door then?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to your door, “Poppet, I just want to speak to you. Please.”

“Captain.” Vision greets floating out of Wanda’s room.

“Vision.” He acknowledges.

“Why are you knocking on an empty room’s door?” Vision tilts his head. 

Steve blinks at him, “This is Y/N’s room.” he states as if obvious.

“It isn’t, she switched rooms about three months ago.” Vision says

Before Steve can ask anything further, Wanda opens her door, “Vis.” She gestures with her hand for him to return.

“Wanda.” He walks to her this time.

“FRIDAY, where is Y/N’s new room?” Steve questions walking to the elevators. 

“She’s on the twenty-fifth floor.” The AI responds, he switches to the other elevator. 

“Captain, you will have to go to the ground floor to switch elevators.” FRIDAY informs him. 

Steve sighs moving back in front of the original elevator. It stops at every single floor; he almost misses the elevator as you’re getting on, luckily a Stark Industries employee holds the door for him. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. Looking away. 

“I want to talk.” He says over the all too silent but crowded elevator. 

Everyone looks at him except you. They follow his gaze to you. 

“I don’t.” You answer while staring at the numbers. 

“Poppet.” He says and you shoot him a glare before looking away again. 

People trickle in and out. 

Steve’s gaze is trained upon you. He nods politely at those greeting him but his gaze nerver strays from you. 

You look into your phone pulling up a forgotten game loaded into the device. Anything. Any stupid thing to avoid him. 

Finally it's just the two of you. 

The automated air freshener hisses filling the space with the scent of lavender. 

“Poppet I just want to explain—,” Steve steps closer, his hand outstretched. 

“No. I don’t fucking want to hear a word.” You seethe, you move forward pressing the button to your floor if it makes you reach quicker. 

“Poppet.” He grabs your hand, turning you towards him. 

“Y/N. Use my damn name.” You spit out, finally meeting his eyes. 

There is a tick in his jaw, he nods, “Y/N. Just five minutes. I know I don’t deserve it—,”

“You don’t deserve to even ask for a minute of my time. You never saw us work beyond that month correct? Well guess what? We don’t.” You push at his chest, he doesn’t budge. 

“I lied. I said those things so you wouldn’t follow. I could not have you living rogue with me.” Steve admits, you stare at him. 

“You lied?” You repeat. 

“I didn’t want to break things off but that was the only way I could ensure you wouldn’t follow behind me. It was dangerous. Poppet—Y/N,” he corrects, “I told you your heart kept me alive, I love you—,” 

Steve’s head snaps to the side, cheek turning red at the impact of your slap. You breathe hard, eyes tearing up. 

“That was not for you to fucking decide, you do not get to come back here and make your sorry excuses for being a horrible human being. Betraying my trust. Leaving me and your friend injured. You picked Bucky over us. You picked Bucky over me and I understand I would pick him too if I were you. But I would not fucking lie or leave my girlfriend and best friend behind injured horribly. You’re welcome back to the compound Steve. Even back to your glorious Captain America title. However,” 

The doors open to your floor, you step out. 

“I don’t know how you say you’re alive because I took my fucking heart back from your undeserving self. I don’t care if you lied, I don’t care if it was all fun and games. I don't care about you. I don’t want to care about you. You are a teammate because I am forced to consider you one. I don’t need to listen to you to provide you closure or a second chance. You fucking liar!” 

“Poppet,” Steve reaches for you again, you take off running to your door. 

“FRIDAY, deny access. Override only with Tony.” You order, the locks on your doors bolt and Steve keeps knocking and pleading. 

He sinks to his knees outside your door apologising over and over. 

Natasha is pinned to the floor by Wanda as the latter grins triumphantly. Natasha praises her and they break apart. You take Wanda’s place and Sam takes Natasha’s place. 

Mixed training was now mandatory. 

You had almost burned Nick Fury with your glare. Steve hadn’t shown up to any, in fact he hardly was in the same room as you. 

Sam goes full offence, you block the blows. Defending yourself you had worked hard over the time away from official duties. 

Minutes pass by, neither of you yields. Panting you stare at Sam waiting for an opening to take him down. 

“Come on, that's all you got, little spy?” Sam teases, you laugh. 

“You wish birdy.” You stick your tongue out childishly. Wanda and Nat laugh. 

“Come on Wilson.” Nat prompts, “We’re bored here.” 

“Alright,” Sam moves, pulling a fake. You catch it a moment too late, as he’s about to tackle you to the ground you turn. Tugging on his arm as Sam’s eyes widen. 

The momentum thrown off both of you land on your sides, recovering swiftly he’s pinned to the ground by you. 

You grin at him. 

“How's that birdy?” You laugh at his irritation. Sam rolls his eyes. 

“Y/N.” 

Everyone’s heads snap to the door, Steve and Tony stand there. 

You help Sam up. Sam keeps an arm around your shoulder. Steve’s eyes linger and his fists clench. 

Sam takes his arm away. 

You roll your eyes, they land on Tony as he bites his cheek, oh this can’t be good you deem. 

“Wheels up in an hour for Rogers and you.” He delivers the news. 

“Sam, Nat, Vis and Wanda are needed to take on a bigger base with Tony.” Steve looks at you, “Fury’s orders before you try to whine your way out if it.” 

You glare at him, “Alright.” 

An hour later you’re on the jet with Steve. He doesn’t talk. The last conversation between the two of you was enough. 

“We won’t be splitting up.” Steve informs you. You nod, studying the layout. 

You frown in recognition. 

“I was here on recon. This is supposed to be a dead base.” You look up at him. 

“Fury said they detected activity.” He looks back ahead. 

“Hopefully it's just random people looking for shelter.” You look back at the plans. 

Steve hums, observing you again. Wishing it would be like before where the two of you would be holding hands. 

Cobwebs litter the walls, plaster cracked. The scent of something decaying permeates through the space. 

Walking into the HYDRA base is carefully crafted, Steve leads with his shield. You keep a double check on the back trail. Something was not sitting right with you. 

The hallway diverges, you stand next to Steve, “Left side first then we can go right.” You whisper. 

He nods, “Stay close, I don’t know why something feels wrong.”

You don’t verbalise your own feelings, following in his footsteps. 

The hallway leads to an abandoned lab, the computers torn down and broken apart. Steve relaxes his defensive stance looking around the area. 

You move carefully through the edge of the room, “Something should be of value here.” 

“I don’t think there is anything.” Steve declares, “Let's clear the other pathway.”

You give another once over and then follow him back down the path. 

Your boot catches on the uneven flooring, “Shit!” You whisper yell as you fall forward. 

Steve turns, breaking your fall. You land against his chest and his arm encircles your waist. For a moment that echoes a broken promise of eternity he holds you close to him. 

Steve sneaks a moment he lost over a stupid decision. He takes what crumbs he’s given by fate. 

Your palm is against his chest, your head tucked against the crook of his neck. 

Why can't you move away?

Why do you want more of him? 

Why do you miss him? 

He hurt you. 

He lied. 

He hurt you. 

You break the eternity Steve was living as you pull away, silence stretches between the two of you as you head down the other hallway. 

It's empty yet again, you shake your head at the waste of time. Steve steps closer to the vials on the shelf. The liquid in them gleams a certain way. 

You hear a pneumatic hiss from your left. You turn quietly making your way to the wall. 

Steve studies the shelf again. There was no dust on it. No pattern on it. These were fresh vials. Then his eyes widened, “Y/N don’t!” 

You turn to face him when the hiss is louder and the slits of the vent open. A dust like substance pours over floating around you. 

A coughing fit grips you, you place your hand against the wall to steady yourself the gun falls as you clutch your chest wheezing. 

Steve pads over to you, trying to rub your back to ease the coughing fit. He asks FRIDAY to scan the micro dust to see if it is anything dangerous. 

The coughing fit subsides over a few minutes, your breathing shallow. You look up at Steve blinking away the tears. He cups your cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you feel anything?” He questions, gaze running over every aspect of you. Glove clad large palms moving over your form. You nod, but then your stomach cramps. 

“What is it?” Steve takes not of your discomfort. 

“I, it's my stomach—,” Your words are cut off by a whimper as the cramp gains severity. You lean more against the wall as the cramp travels across. 

Steve rummages through his mind to know what this substance could be, he had been to HYDRA bases before. He spoke to Bucky all about them, their experiments which he knew. 

He watches as your skin flushes, you squirm in his grasp. He steps closer to support you. 

“Poppet?” Steve makes you look up at him, your eyes have a dazed look almost glazed over. You feel his warmth through your tactical suit. His thigh between your legs and the ache the needy ache is all you know and you need to get rid of it. 

“Please,” You plead to him gazing at his slightly blurred blue eyes, your hips moving out of their own accord against his thigh you moan as your core makes contact with him. 

Steve pushes your hips away, “Poppet what—,” 

“Steve, it hurts so badly. Please,” You cry out wiggling against his hold. His fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place. 

Your palms cover his, you look up at him. 

You lean up, he shifts back. You use the distraction to guide his palm to grind down on it. Your choked moan has his cock harden further. He can’t help but watch as you use him. 

Logic hits him then when he feels just how wet you’ve gotten, before he can pull away there is a prick in the side of his neck. You begin to blur from his view. 

“Poppet, something is wrong.” 

You look up at him, why did his words sound garbled? 

Why was he falling to his knees? 

You look behind him, people standing and watching. 

The need clouding your mind clears in the slightest, “Steve,” you kneel next to him. 

“It’s okay,” he assures you, reaching for the shield. 

The cramp hits you again harder; you cry out in pain, doubling over and sinking against the wall to curl up. 

“FRIDAY, dis-distress signal.” Steve orders as his vision begins to blacken, he reaches for you with the last of his strength covering your curled up form with his body. 

Steve keeps his eyes closed. 

Enhanced hearing picking up the dripping pipes from the left. To his right he hears your pained whimpers. 

How long was he out?

Chains bind his arms above him, the uneven concrete digs into his knees and shins. He would search for the shield in the aftermath. 

He counts four people by their rhythmic footfall. They were in the same facility. It couldn’t have been easy to move them. 

Lolling his head to right he watches you through hooded eyes, chained like him kept on your knees but you’re struggling. Squirming on the ground trying to find respite and crying out of frustration. 

“Sex pollen.” Bucky spoke, with a shake of his head in disgust.

“Sex pollen?” Steve repeated as if to confirm. 

Bucky gives him a look, Steve’s eyebrows shot up higher. 

“What does that do? Did they use it on you?” Steve questioned his best friend. 

Bucky shook his head, “It basically sets the libido up to the maximum, forces the person in contact to orgasm but basically they need to have sex, self pleasure seldom works. The intensity is higher to combat the inevitable effect.” 

A dark expression crossed Bucky’s features, he sighed sadly. Looking out at the view from his home in Wakanda. The house, though borrowed, was Bucky’s own. 

Steve had placed a few sketches of Brooklyn around. The place he used to consider home now changed. Steve stares at the more recent sketch of his home city. 

Two men out of time in a place decades ahead of the world outside. 

“How long?” Steve clutches his charcoal tighter as he forms the curve of soft lips on the paper. A stray tendril of hair. 

Bucky looks down at the half done sketch of your face. His heart aches for Steve and you. 

“Two hours, it gets progressively maddening. At first one can try to speak or answer what is asked. After that it is variable how long it takes for the need to become the sole focus. If nothing is done in two hours then its too far gone and well...” 

He had limited time, he could not gamble any further. Steve opens his eyes, tugging at the restraints to catch the attention of the captors. 

You hear the rattling, you look up at Steve another pang through your core. 

“Steve—,” 

“Ah, Captain. Welcome to the land of the waking, you were out for just under an hour. Now who is this sweet little needy thing with you?” The man asks, stepping closer to you. 

Steve growls, “Stay away from her.” he warns. 

The man raises his hands in defence, “She’s a little needy Captain,” he walks back toward Steve away from you, “Why so possessive?” 

Steve bites his tongue, “She’s mine.” he grits out. 

“I see and why is she yours?” 

He can’t tell them, they would exploit you but his will is crumbling swiftly and his mind is compelling him to speak, “I love her.” 

“Hm, it seems she needs you, Captain.” The man grins, walking back to you. His palm touches your scalp as he pulls your hair back. You want to recoil but the touch is soothing some of the ache. You look at Steve, pleading.  

“I could fill in.” He says suggestively.

You try to shuffle away but the grip on your hair tightens. 

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her!” Steve bellows as his thumb approaches your lips, “What the fuck do you want?” He pulls against the restraints, almost snarling. 

“I want to know where my Soldat is, tell me.” The man demands, leaving you. The words register as does the scent of cigarettes you recoil. You feel your mind working again, clearing the need to be fucked. 

“Steve don’t,” you warn him, he couldn’t sell out Bucky whatever this was, it wasn't worth ruining his life again, “I’ll deal with this…” you bite back the pained whimper. 

Steve stares at you, eyes wide and with an emotion you can’t place. 

“Oh but you know what is wrong with her don’t you Captain?” The man demands and you look to Steve, “Tell her the truth that burns your veins, Captain.” 

Steve wants to lie, wants to cushion you, “Truth serum?” He looks at the man who nods.

“Brilliant isn’t it? You’re compelled to tell me whether or not she chooses to be saved. You’re on a time limit.” The man taps his watch. 

“It’s a sex pollen.” Steve informs you, you stare at him. 

“That, that's why I need?” Your insides churn and your clit pulses as you watch Steve lick his dry lips before he continues to speak. The small insignificant action has your body wanting to be devoured. 

“Yes, and if you don’t get release, it’s fatal.” 

Silence stretches on the footfall of the three others has stopped, they watch the show play out. The consequences and the outcomes weighed. 

“Fight it, don’t tell them. It's not worth it.” You whisper. 

“Poppet you cannot say that. I am not risking your life!” Steve yells, pulling at the restraints again. 

“You can’t have him at risk again!” 

“I won’t let you die!” 

“You already left me for the dead once! You chose him once. Just fucking do it again!” You seethe, your skin clammy and you just want this suit gone. The material irritates you. 

Steve gapes at you, “I, I didn’t—,”

“Save it.” 

“As much as I enjoy a lover’s quarrel. Where is Soldat?” The man interrupts. 

“Gone.” Steve answers, “Poppet, please,” 

“Don’t fucking tell them!” You demand, “Consider it my last wish! Fight the damn truth serum.” 

“You are not dying.” Steve grits out. 

“Where is he, where is Bucky Barnes?” The man lands a punch to Steve’s face. His hair falls forward, slowly Steve looks up at the man. Rage colouring all his features. 

“I will let you help her. Just tell me where Bucky is, Captain.” The man promises. Steve considers, you begin to yell no at him. 

“He’s in the United Kingdom.” 

“Are you insane?!” You slump to the ground, “Do you have any fucking idea what have you done?” 

The man walks over and slaps you, “Shut the fuck up! You want a cock so fucking bad you fucking bitch in heat, I’ll give you one!” 

Steve snarls, wrapping the chain around his own palm and tugging hard until it breaks away from the wall. The man turns, gun cocked and ready, it's grabbed out of his hand by Steve. He looks at the man dead in his eyes before delivering the fatal shot.

You look up at Steve, as the man drops to the floor between the two of you. 

Steve watches the other three scramble about, he quickly fires the shots, he keeps one person alive. 

He grabs the other chain, yanking it with all his strength. It gives way. 

“Where is the shield?” He walks over to the man on the ground, pleading in pain. 

A shaking hand rises, pointing to the vault. 

“Access code?” Steve picks him up and takes him to the keypad. 

The man enters it crying when Steve presses on the open wound, “Don’t fucking pull any stunts.” 

You watch as the doors part and the shield stays there as a momento. 

You blink when everything goes out of focus. You blink again. Heat spreads over your body goosebumps raise across. 

Your thighs clench and you squirm trying to get some friction to release the ache. Tugging at the restraints is maddening. They don’t relent when you try to manoeuvre but no position provides any respite and you sob out as the frustration grows. 

“Poppet.” A warm voice calls out, you whimper. The hold on your right arm loosens and your hand reaches for the tactical suit. You had to get it off. You needed to get it off. 

You blink and watch as Steve’s hand stops yours, you push at him. 

“Please,” you whimper as another cramp takes over. 

“You smell so sweet baby.” He groans, the sound urges you on, you guide his hand to where you need him. 

His warm palm cups you the fabric of your suit soaked Steve hears your sigh of relief. 

“Going to take care of you Poppet, but you need to hold on for me okay?” Steve assures, breaking out your left arm as well. 

“Steve please,” you beg again, your mind screaming at your body, your hips move making you grind onto his palm. Your smaller palm wrapped around his wrist not letting him pull away. 

“Fuck,” He groans, pushing you against the corner and undoing your suit’s zipper, you don’t face him palms braced against the wall. Steve’s warm calloused palm is as though cold respite to your heated skin. 

He doesn’t waste time, fingers running over your folds, palm pressing against your clit. Your head tilts back resting against his shoulder, mouth parted moans leaving you. 

Steve presses his fingers into you, two thick digits and your walls clench around him he almost wishes he’d fuck you right there. 

“Fuck this pussy remembers who she belongs to doesn’t she?” Fingers curve finding the spot he very well could have placed. Stars line your vision as he hits the spot over and over, fingers curving.

“Right there Steve!” You cry out your ass rocking against him, pressing onto his cock. He keeps his thrusts hard and fast, palm rubbing your clit in the most delicious of ways. His grunts fill your senses.

Pleasure thrums from his touch to your body, your back arching as his fingers drive deeper and deeper into you. Your walls are gripping them back in not wanting him to stop. 

“I know sweet Poppet. I know what makes her weep for me. I’m going to taste you. But first you’re going to make a mess on my hand alright?” He instructs filthy words offset by the sweet kisses placed against your forehead and cheek. 

His other hand cups your breast playing with your nipple. Your hands fall from the wall, gripping onto his nails leaving indents on his skin. Steve watches your chest constrict, your voice choke off, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashes into you. 

His fingers keep moving, riding your orgasm out, your walls quivering around him the sensitivity of your clit as it pulses. Some of the haze clears but the need just returns tenfold.

“Steve, please, I can’t, can’t wait—,” 

His lips are on yours, cutting you off, your suit pushed down further without breaking away from the kiss.

The shield clatters to the floor, his suit haphazardly discarded. Steve’s hands explore your body, remembering the planes he explored before. The love he whispered across your skin. Marking you with his touch, his lips, his seed.

“Wanna see you,” You want to turn, he grabs your hands pinning them to the wall. 

“No one gets to see you this way but me.” He growls, you feel his hard cock move between your thighs. His larger body covers yours, shielding you, watching over you. 

When your thighs clench around him,  Steve hisses, “Going to fill you up, sweet girl.” he coos. 

Inch by inch Steve’s length stretches you, your back arches. The relief the stretch of his cock brings is unlike anything else you’ve felt before. 

“You can take it, made for my cock aren't you?” He stills inside you, throbbing as your walls clench around him. He moans biting down on your shoulder the feel of you decadent, unable to be given justice by his mind.

“Heaven. Pussy feels so good, baby. Missed you so much.” He grunts, you push back against him needing him to move, “hands around my neck.” He orders, leaving your hands.

You wrap them around him, holding onto his now longer hair, soft between your fingers. Your mind remains you of the soft moments when he laid in your lap and your fingers combed through these locks.

Steve pulls you out of your thoughts with the snap of his hips. His palms gripping your waist anchoring you to him. Skin slapping against skin, his cock feels so good you could sob, the need turns into embers, your thirst being quenched. 

Each delicious, deep stroke moves you towards sweet bliss. You hear your name in an echo of his name. Steve watches the wall you mould against him, as countless times before. Your heart may have put up walls but your body left no space.

The way he sees the telltale signs of your orgasm he brings his right hand towards your apex, timing his rough circles on your clit to his thrusts. The sensations blooming become too much, your body alit with flames of pleasure, Steve moans as your walls begin to milk him just as your orgasm shatters through you.

He keeps his thrusts going, pumping into you. The arousal that spills onto your thighs, the mix of you and him. 

“One more.” He demands, fingers coated with the mix of the two of you, his marked fingers brought back to your clit, you cry out in ecstasy. 

The blissful haze clears, everything returning to you. The mission, the power, you can’t, you can’t, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve–,

“Right here my sweet poppet, you will give me one more. You know I'm greedy.” He reasons, only increasing his pace, you thrash in his hold. Lips find the sweet spot of your neck.

It’s your undoing, you cum around him yet again. Crying out his name, tugging on his hair. Aftershocks moving through you. He holds you up, pressing kisses to your forehead, temple, cheek, jaw and shoulders. 

Grounding you, palms moving over you after he brings his coated fingers to taste them. Your head lols against his shoulder, you reach for his jaw, placing a soft kiss. Steve smiles at the familiar gesture. 

Helping you get dressed he follows as well. You’re lifted into his arms and carried to the quinjet.

As it had turned out Bucky wasn’t in UK it was a precautionary measure they came up with to secure Bucky from any life threatening attempts. The guilt you had harboured lessened.

Steve had stayed away from you, once Tony and Bruce cleared you of any remnant pollen he took his leave. Avoiding you as he had after the elevator confrontation. It left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

As much as you felt as if you were an emotional fool for considering the thought of wanting to approach him, you missed him. Terribly. 

You knew your walls were useless against the one man who you had given your jagged heart to, the blue eyes you had drowned yourself in multiple times. Whether it was when he found your gaze across the room or when you were pressed against him.

Your feet carried you after three days to his door. Your hand shook when you knocked. Thoughts swirling through your mind insecurities gaining fleet. 

The door opens, Steve’s eyes widen then his brows furrowed with worry, then fall to the still fading love bite that  he placed on your collarbone. You shift your weight to either side. Hands fiddling with the hem of your top.

You look down at your feet, Steve’s palm cups your cheek. 

Your eyes meet their old home of blue.

“I want to listen.” You manage to say, his pink lips stretch into a familiar smile.

He steps to the side inviting you further into his room.

-x-x-x-x-

[fandomnerd9602]

Visits

Fem!Baron Zemo x Male Reader

For @wildcardjgambit

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You had gotten your daughter out of the blast zone that was the Battle of Sokovia. And yet with all the loss, it wasn’t enough for your wife Baroness Helga Zemo. Her heart had turned cold, cold enough to commit atrocities in the name of your home country. She wasn’t always this way.

She was your light, a loving wife and mother. And now you hardly recognize the woman that stands before you behind several inches of bulletproof glass, bound in a straight jacket.

“Why?” is all you can ask.

“I did it for our home, the people we lost.” she answers back, tears streaming down her face. “Where’s my baby?”

“S-she couldn’t make it” you lied. The truth was that when little Marie saw her mother’s image up on the news screen with the words terrorist written across it. It broke her little heart, “that’s not my mommy” she cried.

You didn’t have much else to say to Helga, you just slipped her the papers you were dreading to deliver. You hoped it would never come to this but it wasn’t much left for a marriage nor was it the best life for your daughter.

Helga sighed and signed them. “I don’t regret what i did” she whispered as she slid them through the opening to you. “they took everything from us”

“And I tried to rebuild it for you. I don’t blame the Avengers. I just wish you had thought of Marie and I.”

And with that, you turned and left. The microphone allowing you to communicate with Zemo was shut off. And a good thing too, because if it was still on, you would’ve heard her cries of anguish.

The helicopter left the Raft, with you aboard. It dropped you off not far from the border of Sokovia. You found yourself feeling empty but you were ready to rebuild.

You found yourself at a nearby coffee shop, just trying to plan out yours and Marie’s next step. Your thoughts ran rampant when suddenly someone spoke up.

“Excuse me” a young Sokovian woman asked you, “is this seat taken? Everywhere else is full”

“Sure” you gave her a gentle smile, “I’m just planning things out”

“I know the feeling” the redhead smiled back

“Sorry I’m (Y/N)” you offered your hand. She took ahold of your hand and shook it gently.

“Wanda. Wanda Maximoff”

You felt something jump within you when your hand shook hers. You’re not sure if it was the spark of something or maybe rather just finding solace with a fellow survivor. Maybe that’s all it had to be.

Fan Cast: Marion Cotillard as Baroness Helga Zemo

[quigonswife8]

Unexpected visitor: Namor x fem reader

While staying at Zemo's place with Sam and Bucky temporarily, an unexpected person shows up after years.

@namorslit I hope you like this!! I'm sorry it took longer than it should have to get out, but I still do hope you like this. Thank you again for request :)

I checked this over but if there are still mistakes and stuff and I messed up somewhere with the Yucatec Maya, just let me know. Also it's been a while since I've seen The falcon and the winter soldier, and this episode, so it may be a bit different.

-----

When Bucky had broken Zemo out of prison, you had helped.

After moving to New York you had become friends with Bucky pretty quickly. He knows almost everything about you...except for the part about Namor. When Bucky had asked for your help, you had agreed pretty quickly. He trusts you a lot, and you didn't want to let him down.

"Turkish delight?"

Zemo stands in the kitchen, standing in front of the jug. Mixtures of different tea sit in a container near the jug, and you would be lying if you said you didn't want to test out all the different teas.

It's only you, Sam, and Helmut, in the apartment at the moment. Buck is running an errand. Baron looks at Sam, but he shakes his head, so he looks at you. A smile creeps onto your lips, and as you raise your right hand, you reply with:

"I'd love one." He grins at you, before tossing you the chocolate.

"Thank you."

He nods, before turning in the other direction to finishing making yours and his tea, as Sam didn't want one. 'You're missing out' you had joked. Unwrapping the chocolate you toss the wrapper into a nearby bin, popping the treat into your mouth, and leaning back to get more comfortable in the chair.

It may not have been the best option to break Baron out, but he knows a lot about the super soldier serum, and that's your best bet to tracking the remaining vials down. While tracking down the flag smasher's too and more specifically, Karli Morgenthau.

To be honest you don't mind working with Zemo. Despite what other people think, you don't think he's a bad person. Has he made decisions that go against the law? Yes. He was in prison for those reasons. Did he do it for a valid reason? You believe so.

You see where he was coming from, why he did what he did, as you would have done the same for K'uk'ulkan. You would have moved mountains for him if you had the ability to. That's why you are able to work with him, even though a lot of people can't or don't want to.

"Is it good?"

Helmut is approaching holding your tea in his right hand, and his in his left. Swallowing the piece of chocolate, you give him a thumbs up,

"Here."

"Thank you."

You take the cherry blossom tea, while Zemo takes a seat in front of you and gets comfortable. He nods again, and replies with "you're welcome" before taking a sip of his tea.

-A few hours later-

"And then I-"

The sound of knocking stops you mid-sentence. Confused you look at the other's, but they seem to have no clue who this could be. It's not Ayo, and it can't possibly be the flag-smashers, plus Walker has no clue where you are. No one comes to mind, which worries you.

"...I can..."

"I'll get it." reaching for your gun you tuck it away, and as you stand, you look from each of them "...just stay here."

Keeping a hand on your gun you approach the door. Slowly. Whoever is out there may be a threat. The knocking continues, until you get to the door, pressing a hand to it, and taking a deep breath.

"...who's there?"

...silence. Gripping your gun tight you remain there, not daring to open the door until you get something in response. Anything.

"Hello?"

It feels like forever when they finally reply. Though, finally, as in a few seconds later. Their voice is slightly muffled but you still can make it out...you can make him out.

"(y/n)..." and you feel like something hits you in the chest, and you suddenly can't breathe.

It can't be him. No, you had parted ways with him years ago. You had cried over him, had mourned the relationship you had. He may have been the one to end the relationship, but you still feel the blame as to why he had ended it.

Now he stands there. Why is he there though? Shouldn't he be ruling his kingdom? Looking after his people?

"Please open up."

How did he find me?

Sighing you tuck away your gun knowing that you have no use for it. Though you don't open the door, not for a minute. You need a minute to ready yourself to see him again.

Does he look different? He's over 500 years old and ages slowly, he probably looks the same. Is he even there for you, though? He could be there to see the other's which is unlikely but, hey, anything is possible.

Okay

You finally open the door: sliding your hand down to grab the doorhandle, you compose yourself for a few more seconds.

Taking a deep breath, and then opening the door, your eyes fall on him. On your love, and he looks exactly how you remember him: from his soft brown eyes, to his ears that point to the sky, to the way he holds himself.

Three years have passed and he still looks how you remember him. Unable to stop the feeling you still harbor from him slowly come to the surface, you look away from him.

"K'uk'ulkan? What...what are you doing here..?"

"I need you to come with me."

So it was you he wanted to see, and obviously it's important enough to warrant him leaving his kingdom to come all this way. Looking at him again.

"Kin wa'alik ti' teech ba'ax ku yúuchul ts'o'okole', ba'ale' súutuka' k'a'abéet a taal wéetel (I will tell you what's happening after, but right now I need you to come with me)."

You sigh softly.

"Namor..." dragging a hand over your face, you lean a hand on the door.

"I..."

"Is everything alright?"

Bucky

Looking away from him for a moment, you look at Bucky. He looks protective- and if looks could kill. Though you seem to notice how Namor seems to stiffen- how he notices that Bucky is a little too close than he likes. Jealousy, that's it. He has no reason to be jealous, you are no longer together, but that doesn't mean the feelings have disappeared.

"Buck..." you bring a hand to rest one of his arms. "...everything is fine. This is my...this is an old friend." it shouldn't hurt as much as it does when Namor hears you call him just an old friend, but it does.

"What's your friends name?" now he's looking at you again. You sigh softly, forcing a smile to fall on your lips.

"...Namor. His name is Namor." turning back to look at him.

"Namor, this is Bucky. Bucky, Namor."

Neither men are trusting of eachother and you understand that: K'uk'ulkan is the love of your love. Despite everything he's still the love of your life, the person you care for most, and the person you think about most often. Bucky? Bucky is one of your closest friends, and you consider him to be like a brother.

"Okay..." you continue, taking your hand away, and stepping forward a little.

"Now that the introductions are out of the way. Let's just talk first."

"(y/n)." he steps forward, which warrants Bucky to step closer. You look at him, however, letting him know with your eyes that Namor isn't a threat. He never could be.

"I am sorry, ba'ale' le ba'ala' jach páaybe'en (but this is important)." putting emphasis on the 'important'. That may be, but what you are doing, with the whole super soldier thing and tracking down the flag smashers, is important too.

"yéetel le ba'ax táan in meentik xan jach páaybe'en (and what I am doing is important too)." a pause. A soft sigh, and you continue.

"So please let's just talk first. That's all I'll ask of you...please."

-

3 years ago

"Please don't do this.."

You are near tears, on the verge of breaking down hearing his words.

"I'm sorry in yakunaj (my love), but I have to."

Have to? No. More like he wants to. He wants to end the relationship, because he believes you deserve to be with someone better. Someone human, like you. You deserve to grow old with that person, not with someone who's can live as long as he can. No you deserve to be able to live out the rest of your days with someone better.

"I'm sorry but it is better this way-"

"That's a lie." anger seething through your words, but the sadness breaks through more, and you quickly wipe away the tears.

"...just...please. Please think this over."

He has. He's thought this over many times. You deserve better, and he can't give you that better. As heartbreaking as that is, it's true.

"I have..."

Namor doesn't cry. Even though he wants to. He needs to remain strong, he has to make this quick or he'll change his mind. As he turns back to look at you, you can see in his eyes that he's made his mind up. It hurts like hell, and you cover your mouth to stop the sobs.

Taking a step back, you shake your head.

"No."

He steps forward, but you shake your head again, making him to stop.

"If..." you begin, looking at him again. "...if you think this is best, then I'll just go."

Praying that he'll say 'no' .you get your answer when he looks away. Heart breaking you fall into a step past him, brushing your shoulder against his, and walking to the door. You need to wrap your head around everything and the best place to do it is your home that you rarely live, up on the surface.

You try and find the words to say but end up falling short. Instead you just open the door and leave.

-

"Okay..."

Namor speaks before thinking. You're right, though. You deserve to hear what he has to say. Especially after...

"Can we talk in private?"

You nod, "we can talk somewhere. I know a place." though, before you leave, you turn back to Bucky. He looks...different. He doesn't look as defensive as before, or protective, but he has a look of something in his eyes that you can't quite place. He looks at Namor, then back to you, and it's now that you realise.

"I'll be inside (n/n)."

He places a hand on your shoulder, a hint of a smile on his lips, and then he leaves you and Namor to be alone again. Clearing your throat you walk down the stairs, soon falling into a step,

"This way." and he follows after you.

----

It's silent when you get to where you had been meaning to take him.

A small hut by the sea that you had stumbled across not that long ago. K'uk'ulkan sits in front of you, while you listen to what he has to say. It's nice, you have to admit. To be able to see him after all these years. To be able to listen to him, reminds you of the past.

He comes to a stop, wanting to hear what you have to say. The distant sound of waves crashing brings you back to reality, and as you look up from your hands, you finally decide to say something.

"So what you're saying is. If I don't return to Talokan with you to be your queen, they will...kill me?"

It makes no sense. Why would they need to kill you? They, as in enimes of K'uk'u'lkan. They had demanded he bring you to Talokan or they would go to the surface world and kill you themselves. Is this some sort of sick game?

"Je'el (yes)."

well, great.

"I did not want to come here and put this burden on your shoulders, but I needed to come here and tell you as soon as possible" so that's why he couldn't say it in front of Bucky, or in front of you, or other people may have heard.

"Well what...what do I..."

You want to help Bucky and the other's with the serum and searching for the flagsmashers, but if your life is on the line, staying isn't the best choice. Not that you're not panicking because you are, you are just doing a good job at hiding it.

"I am sorry. Ma'atech ka'ach dejado ba'ax le ba'ala' sucediera, ba'ale' táan a le máako'ob peligrosas yéetel in woojel ba'ax ma' táan u tuus (I would never have let this happen, but these are dangerous people and I know they are not lying)."

Sucking in a sharp breath, you fight back the tears. So I just leave, then? leave the life you have made for yourself. Leave your friends, leave Bucky? It's hard to process and even harder to think about what your goodbye's are going to be like.

"There are no other options?"

With a head shake, you get your answer.

"...okay..."

The only word you can properly get out at the moment without breaking down. Namor stands up, offering you a hand, to which you find yourself taking.

"I am sorry in ya..." he catches himself before he can call you that term of endearment he used to call you, and instead calls you by your actual name "(y/n)."

"I know..." you blink away the tears. "...but thank you."

-

You stare blankly at the building in front of you. You have said your goodbyes, though now you can't help but just stare forward. Everything is still processing in your mind, but you haven't broken down and that's a start.

You are about to leave to start your new life in Talokan as the queen of the person you broke up with years ago. It's hard but you need to go because you really do not want to die.

"Are you ready...?"

He is understanding, of course. You look at him, noticing a small smile on his lips: the memories of seeing that smile flash in your mind, but you soon focus back on what you have been.

"Not really..."

You stand there for another minute, then you turn to look at him.

"..but I have to go..." with one last look at the building, you look back at him. "...so let's go."

The two of you soon leaving to go to Talokan.

[undercoverpena]

Interesting (ii)

interesting (i)

Baron/Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader | 1.5k | Smut, you’re warned — not promising it’s the best, but I’m rusty with smut.

[gif not mine]

+++++++++++++

You should leave the room.

Cheeks warm, thighs pressing together. All signs you shouldn’t have even replied. Should have kept your mouth shut.

But you’ve already gone too far.

You could argue you did that when you kissed him to appease Selby. Not needing to sell it as well as you did, not needing to slide your tongue into his mouth or let his hands wander, scorching your skin.

The same way his eyes are right now. Them burning into you, making your throat dry, desperately needing to slide your thighs together because… you want him.

You want him to rip your clothes from you, to leave marks on your skin. You want him to pull on your hair and throw you over his shoulder and take you to his room.

Thoughts you shouldn’t have about the man you helped break out of prison. Thoughts that shouldn’t be summoned about a man who was dangerous.

And yet, you didn’t fear him. Not even a little bit.

You wonder if he expects you to leave, to shout at him.

A better version of you would.

An even better version wouldn’t have said anything, to begin with. You’d have taken the drink and then excused yourself.

Not give into your lust. Because that’s all this was. Lust.

He’s a criminal—a man who was able to impersonate your friend, who blew up a building. Whether spurred by loss and grief or not, he still did it.

It’s why you should leave the room.

Bury your face into your pillow and get yourself off. Not hope he’ll do it for you. Because you shouldn’t let him touch you.

“It’s not too late to run from me,” he says, wringing his hands in front of you.

Somehow, it just makes you want him more.

The challenge. The confidence. The fact it’s frowned upon.

Not helped by the fact he keeps staring at you. Likely undressing you, his words running through your mind.

It’s then you stand up.

Mustering some confidence. He doesn’t move when you stand up. Not even when you stop in front of him. He doesn’t reach for you, giving you a land chance to bow out, to walk away.

You don’t take it.

Instead sliding the hem of your skirt up with your fingers, sliding a thigh either side of his. Watching his eyes flash, him not taking them from your face as his lips twitch.

The warmth of his palm against your thighs almost makes you rock your hips. His aftershave, musky, and wooden, hits your nose as a strand of hair falls over his forehead hearing him clear his throat.

“It’s not too late to ask me to leave…” you tease, tracing your bottom lip with your teeth. “If you don’t think this will be interesting…”

He smirks, ever so slightly as his finger slides up to your hip.

“I was interested the moment my eyes landed on you.”

Your lips curl, eyes flicking from his lips to his eyes, watching him do the same as your body moves closer.

“Such a charmer,” you whisper.

Your hand finding the back of his head, nails digging into his hair as your mouth latches onto his.

He tastes like a mix of sugar and whisky, a muffled vibration as he groans fuck against your lips. You don’t fight it when he pulls you closer by your hip, desperately wishing his other hand slid further north on your thigh.

Your stomach knotting, warmth and need spreading through you. Suddenly desperate for friction.

Even more so as your body inches closer to him until there’s no space between the two of you.

The fur of his coat tickling your skin.

Practically feeling his heart thundering against yours as you lose yourself in him.

You welcome the way his mouth nips at the skin under your jaw, sliding his tongue up to the spot under your ear as you roll your hips.

For someone who has been locked up, and as someone who didn’t know you, he knew you. Letting you rock ever so slightly, his hand urging you to as you feel the outline of his arousal through his slacks.

And you let a whimper escape, just as both his hands snap to your hips, halting your movements. A stern look meeting yours, one you were prepared to protest.

Until he moves you.

Flipping you so your spine is against the sofa, hovering over you. For a second, you’re disorientated. Feeling your own lips remain parted, eyes staring up at him, frozen. Rendered useless as his eyes darken as he drinks you in.

“I should say,” he says in a low growl, “If there’s a likeliness that you’ll regret this, I implore you to tell me to stop now, Liebling.”

Watching his eyes trace your face, his finger sliding over your cheek, dragging it until it’s tugging on the bottom of your lip.

Your tongue peeks out, circling the tip of it.

Hoping it’s enough of a sign. A silent plea for him not to stop as he inhales, before clearing his throat.

“You’ve piqued my interest, Zemo. I need to know if you’re all talk.”

He laughs.

Low. Dark. One which makes you wet as he stares at you hungrily. As if he’s been hiding his thoughts from you until now.

“I assure you I’m not.”

You arch your brow, ready to speak. But, he slides two fingers in your mouth, pinning your tongue down.

“Shh,” he whispers darkly, “You’ll need your voice, Liebling. To beg me. To moan my name.”

Your cocky response falls from your mind. Mouth parting in surprise.

“Because I’m not going to stop until you’re calling me Helmut… and I suspect,” he continues in the same tone, pulling his fingers back, “It’ll take me making you come at least three times before you’ll even consider calling me anything other than the enemy.”

Fuck.

Almost choking on your own breath as his lips slide into a smirk.

And you guess he thinks he’s won. All set to reconnect his lips back to yours.

But, you smirk, before adding, “I hope you fuck as much as you talk.”

He smirks, but less cocky.

And then he snaps—his mouth against yours, groaning as he pulls your hips towards him. The two of you kissing with an intensity you imagine both of you have been running from, so much so, you groan against this lips.

Your nails claw through his hair, his hand snaking in between the two of you, making your mouth fall open as he slides his mouth down your neck. The feel of his touch in two places making you whimper.

Because you’re pinned, his body keeping you in place. Not able to move, or shift, to gain the upper hand.

And then he slides his fingers over your underwear, silently meeting your eyes, checking for permission—one you quickly give.

Your hand finds his shoulder as he slides his fingers inside your damp, silk underwear. His lips sliding into a devious smirk, ghosting his touch over you until you’re about to plead—to beg. Before he slides his fingers inside of you, filling and stretching you as your head falls back to the cushion.

And everything else around the two of you is forgotten.

Your brain forgetting you should hate him.

Just needing him, desperately craving more that he quickly gives you. Focusing on not moaning his name as he curls his fingers inside of you. His thumb swiping over your clit as you whimper.

You try to pull him down, needing to bury your moans against his lips. But he just watches. Eyes glinting, shimmering as he does so.

Occasionally teasing you by ghosting his lips over yours as you whimper more, and more.

“Sweet, sweet, Liebling. How long have you been craving someone to do this?” he whispers, darkly. His nose tracing your cheek as he inserts another finger. “A while I guess. I can tell. You’re so wet. So responsive. Look at me.”

And you do.

You meet his burning eyes with all you have. Not able to tear them away from him, unsure how you’ve let him command such power over you already.

“Is this enough? Or do you want more?”

Your mouth contorts, shapes and words want to blossom. Your mind rendering useless as you near your release.

Only able to mumble a mmm, wanting to say more.

Wanting to beg for his cock, wanting him to turn you over and fuck you until you forget your name.

And from the expression on his face, he can tell.

Zemo touching you with more precision, as though he has an end goal in mind, knowing he’s doing this to you.

You knowing no one else can do this to you. Hasn’t done so, as he said, in a while.

“For now, this is all you’ll have. Even if I want to fuck you on this sofa, on this floor. Even if I want you,” he continues, his free hand cupping your chin. “The wait is half the fun. Isn’t it?”

Your gasping, so close and he must know it from the sounds falling from your lips.

“I want those three, Liebling…”

Because even if you want it, even if you need it, you’re fighting him.

“So you need to let go now, before they’re back—your friends,” he adds, his eyes burning into you as you fight how good it feels. “Unless you want them to see you like this. Being a whore for me.”

“Fuck,” you groan. Swallowing his name. “Plea–please.”

Not wanting to think it, never mind mumble it. His name so close to the tip of your tongue.

His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing small circles as you clench your eyes shut. Your back arching, fingers digging into his side as he twists his fingers inside of you, hitting that spot you’ve been internally pleading for him to touch.

“You should give me the first one now, Liebling.”

And you do.

Your eyes shutting, your head swirling with pleasure. Your back arching into him, your moan filling the room as he continues his ministrations until your hand tries to push him away.

But, he only stops when your hand unclenches from his side, and then his hand falls from between your thighs. Pressing a pleased, chaste kiss to your lips as your eyes slowly blink open as you watch him stand, shaking his coat from his shoulders before folding it slowly.

Your eyes falling to his bulge, before studying his movements as he places the coat down. Adjusting himself as he licks his lips.

And then he pulls you up, catching you as you almost fall on shaky legs. Barely recovered from what he’s just done to you.

“Two to go, Liebling.” Your chest rises and falls, heat blossoming across your cheeks. His knuckles brushing your cheeks. “Now, go to my room, and strip.”

Clearing your throat, you suddenly find your voice again. Brain coming back to you. “And if I don’t?”

Helmut slowly retracts his hand, before pulling you flush against him by your hips, nose against your ear.

Feeling how hard he is. How much he wants you.

Ignoring the little quake in your legs even with him holding you.

He pushes your hair from your cheek, smiling as if he hadn’t of just made you see stars. “I’ll strip you here myself, and let your friends find you cock-drunk and spent on this expensive, but dusty floor.”

His hand retracting, burning his brown eyes into you as he smirks.

“You’ve got until the count of th—“

You move.

Your fingers are undoing your zip, hearing him chuckle—hearing his footsteps. Knowing he’s following close behind—heart in your throat, excitement bubbling in your stomach.

Opening his door, stepping through as you pull clothes from your body until cool air meets your skin. Turning to face him, eyes drinking you in.

And you’ve never felt hotter, never felt more attractive.

And then he slams the door shut behind him, his hands on you once again.

[lokislittlemidgardian]

Can we get a Zemo caregiver moodboard please?

[starryevermore]

🥃 + “If I survive this, I'm requesting hazard pay.” + Nathan Bateman

(My prompt takes place in the Ex-Machina universe where Kyoko and Ava still exist. Perhaps this is something occurring canonically in the movie, minus Caleb, where the AI’s try to kill Nathan but reader saves him instead.)

You can also ignore my parentheses section above if you so choose and have fun! Never want to diminish anyone’s creative ideas. That’s just where my initial thought process went to.

💕 Thank you for all your contributions. Hopefully I did this right? 😂

bleeding love ✧ nathan bateman

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: 🥃 + “If I survive this, I'm requesting hazard pay.” + Nathan Bateman. (My prompt takes place in the Ex-Machina universe where Kyoko and Ava still exist. Perhaps this is something occurring canonically in the movie, minus Caleb, where the AI’s try to kill Nathan but reader saves him instead.) You can also ignore my parentheses section above if you so choose and have fun! Never want to diminish anyone’s creative ideas. That’s just where my initial thought process went to.  💕 Thank you for all your contributions. Hopefully I did this right? 😂 - the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo

pairing: nathan bateman x fem!reader

word count: 592

warnings?: implied character death, angst, ambiguous ending, not proofread

When Nathan Bateman asked you to come work for him out of his secluded mansion, two thoughts ran through your head: (1) this was easily the most important move you would ever make in your entire career; and (2) if there were ever a chance that you would be murdered, this was it. Granted, back then, you thought you’d be murdered by Nathan. After all, it’s always the eccentric billionaire types that commit the crimes, isn’t it? And being asked to move to the middle of the woods? Where you had to hike a mile into the woods to even reach the damn house because he refused to let anyone see it? Yeah. Yeah, if you were going to die a gruesome death, you were sure it would be by his hands. You never expected that it would be a fucking AI that would take you out.

Nathan had brought you to his mansion to look over his code. He never really told you what the code was for, only ever gave you bits and pieces to look over. It was interesting, working with Nathan. He was incredibly dedicated to his craft, and you admired that. Really, actually, you admired him. Sure, the man was rough around the edges. But he made you laugh, he respected your intelligence, often asking for your opinions on his work, even if it wasn’t technically in your job description just because he valued your opinion. And then, of course, were the dance parties. God, you’d never seen a man more attractive than him. 

Then—he finished his work. Or, at least, got to the point where you could see what he was doing. He’d been working on AI, and he wanted you to judge his latest project, Ava, to see whether she was genuinely capable of thought and consciousness. And it had been going well. 

That is, until you realized Nathan had built an AI who wanted to kill you and him and join the real world. 

Well, actually, you don’t know if she wanted to kill you. She was trying to kill Nathan, but you had jumped in the way of her blade and suddenly you were the one collapsing to the floor. 

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER!” Nathan shouted, striking Ava in the head with…something. You couldn’t quite see. All you could see was a decapitated Ava falling beside you, Nathan falling to his knees, pressing his hand into your stomach, shouting at Kyoko to get the first aid kit. 

“If I survive this…” you started to say. 

“Shh, save your energy,” Nathan said. “And don’t talk like that. You’re going to be fine. You’ll be fine.”

“…I’m requesting hazard pay,” you finished. You placed your hand on top of Nathan’s, patting it slightly. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t feel like you have some duty to me.”

“Of course I have a duty to you.You’re my employe, and you’re my…” Nathan sighed, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment. As he gazed down at you, you could see him holding back tears. “I’m not good at this sort of thing. I really care about you, Y/N—”

“Shh, I know,” you said. “You don’t have to say anything. I, uh, think I’m gonna close my eyes for a sec. I’m really sleepy.”

“No, no, don’t—”

But all you could focus on was how heavy your eyes felt. You just needed to close them for a second. That’s all. You just needed a second. And then it all faded to back.

join my sleepover!

[norabrice1701]

Targeting to wrap up three WIP fics soon (!) featuring...

This rakish, haunted duke:

In a The Tudors fic, Charles Brandon x Fem!OC

This dashing, enigmatic baron:

In a Zemo Triple Crown AU fic, racehorse-owner!Zemo x Fem!Reader

This cocky, unapologetic pilot:

In a Top Gun: Maverick fic, Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader

[frostironfudge]

Tenebrous - Loki (AU) - Chapter Twenty

Pairings: Vampire! Professor Loki x Fem!Reader, Bucky x Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki, Reader, Bucky Barnes, Stephen Strange, Baron Zemo, Other OCs

Warnings: 18+ minots dni, angst, witch-vampire bonds, coven dynamics, blood drinking, emotional, swearing, sm/ut, mmf, mm, mf, thre/esome, soul bonds, vamipire stuff, or/al, fing/ering

Word Count: 5.1k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics​

Chapter Nineteen || Epilogue

Main Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || My AO3

Chapter Twenty: Time Will Be Immortalised

Eight Months Ago. 

They all stood at the foot of Thor’s grave. Nia placed a single flower near the headstone. Her hand pressed upon the apex, “God, Thor, did you have to be so horrible?” She grumbles. 

Loki stands solemnly between Bucky and Y/N. Her head resting against his arm and Bucky’s palm intertwined with his own. 

The vampire sighs, looking at the grave. Stephen and Emery stand a few feet behind Loki. Though he had an off feeling about the dead vampire, he had hoped this would not be the outcome. 

“He made bad choices.” Y/N reasons, Bucky wants to scoff. His displeasure at her words traverse across the steadily growing bond. Y/N’s gaze meets his blue eyes. 

“He didn’t take care of you as he had promised. Do not make excuses for his choice of actions.” Loki looks down at Y/N. 

“I—,” She begins but Bucky shakes his head. 

“Poetess, things would have been much different if he held focus upon you.” The warlock reasons. 

“He’s right, even if I did not know the truth of Loki leaving you. Thor did, I would have understood why he was being protective.” Nia stands, turning away from Thor’s grave. 

Y/N stays quiet, eyes lingering upon the headstone. 

‘Thor Odinson — brother, first love, and friend. Immortal in memory.’ 

Nia did not want to write soulmate, he didn’t deserve that title. 

“He did possess good qualities, it is a shame they were outshined by the bad.” Stephen adds, Nia joins them. 

“Any bars nearby?” She questions Loki, this was their hometown, built by them over years, most of the land owned by them. 

“In the town square there are five, Meade’s is decent, good hard liquor.” Loki chuckles as Nia grins. 

“Pretty good tab we’ll be stacking up.” Emery chuckles then looks at Y/N. 

“You okay?” They ask her, she nods in response. 

Having Emery know everything made their friendship even more strong. Y/N could tell them everything. They could ask the questions that Y/N could answer while still preserving her recovering mental health.

The bond thrums Y/N and Bucky eye Loki curiously. 

“You three go ahead, I want to take them to Mum’s resting place.” Loki gestures with his head towards the path which leads to the destination in mind.

“Very well.” Stephen intertwines his hand with Emery's, they blush. Y/N has a knowing smile upon her face. Stephen chuckles.

Emery meets her gaze, their happiness shining through the smile they harbour.

Nia checks her phone for messages from the law firm, nothing new, no fires to put out. She sighs, tucking the device back and following Stephen to the bar.

Loki, Bucky and Y/N remain back.

“I know I should have asked the two of you before—,”

“We’d like to meet her.” Y/N interrupts, quelling Loki’s nervousness.

Bucky smiles as well, “We would be honoured to meet the woman who raised our mate.” 

Loki smiles, leading them to the grave that has flowers bordering it.

“These were her favourite, we had a garden back home.” Loki touches the petals as the flowers sway in the wind. “Mother, this is Y/N and this is James, they both are my mates.”

Bucky and Y/N look at each other and then at the grave, then Loki,

“You have a wonderful son.”

“So full of love.”

Loki smiles hearing their words as he kneels placing his lips to the headstone.

“She is proud of you, you know?” Bucky adds with a smile. 

Loki nods, “I wish she could have met the two of you.”

“We wish we could have met her too.” Y/N places a palm on Loki’s shoulder. it trembles despite her best effort. 

She attempts to use the spell that would allow him to feel her embrace.

The spell spurs in and out, flickering like a broken lightbulb.

Bucky feels her frustration. Loki is about to tell Y/N that it is okay, she needs to rest. When his mother’s embrace takes over.

Y/N stares at Bucky’s warm hand placed upon her own. Eyes closed in concentration to stabilise her spell. She sighs, the inability to perform magick frustrating her to no beyond.

“Just a matter of time, you will get back to it.” Bucky whispers, peeking at her with one eye open, “Then we can have a magick battle to see who is the better spell caster.” He grins focusing back on the spell after her frown is turned into a smile.

“You both are not doing anything reckless.” Loki pipes up.

Y/N giggles, Bucky looks at her and winks, “Of course, we won’t.”

“I felt the wink, Warlock. Witchling, you better not be agreeing with him.” Loki mutters.

“Good, the bond works then.” Bucky laughs, drawing more laughter from their mate.

“Little troublemakers.” In a blur Loki has the two of them flush against him in his arms, lips brushing over their foreheads.

Seven Weeks Ago.

Y/N had avoided speaking to her quote unquote mother for as long as she could. Clark and Miles suggested she get it over with, but Sierra surprisingly told her to take her time. The moon ruled over them, as Celestials there was a bond of a higher calibre. 

Y/N purses her lips, as she trudges to Clark, moving away from where Bucky and Miles were discussing types of divination. 

“Keeping secrets?” Clark chuckles, gesturing for her to sit, she shakes her head.

“What do you know about power transferring? I read in one of the books that we can store powers in inanimate objects or other…. beings.” She keeps her gaze steady.

“Who do you want to transfer your powers to?” He places the book on the side table.  

“I’m not sure if I want to but I’d like the option open.” Y/N admits, fingers drumming against her thighs. The thoughts she was having, the aversion to magick that suddenly was thrust upon her only to take Alexander down.

It felt alien to her. Not a part of herself as it should feel. 

“Transferring is no easy feat, razor sharp focus and the person should accept your powers before the spell.” Clark writes upon a piece of paper, handing it to Y/N.

“This book is in the library, you can take it. I hope you think it through before giving away your abilities.” He regards her, knowing he was hard upon her.

“It doesn’t feel as though it is my own.” She admits out loud for the first time. Fingers run over the written words upon the paper. She sighs.

“You can work on it, as part of the coven–,”

“Am I part of it? I didn’t have a traditional initiation, I just practised and learned to protect. I know you’d save them over me.” Her words silence the High Priest.

“I will admit your journey has not been the easiest.” Clark wonders what words are correct, soothing in this situation. It doesn’t come easily to him.

“It hasn’t.” Y/N agrees, biting down on her bottom lip to stop the tears. 

Weak. The word rings across her mind.

“Giving up isn’t the way.” He advises, reaching out to place a comforting palm over her forearm.

“I’m not giving up Clark, I just, I feel disconnected. I went through so much with everything. I don’t belong in this world in this way. I can’t push myself to work with something that doesn’t seem to want me.” Y/N looks up at him, hoping he understands. 

Clark nods, “If you want to practise or have questions let me know. Learn to cloak the object you do pick. If it is another witch or warlock I suggest speaking to them first about it.” 

“Thank you.” 

Bucky’s leg bounces as he watches Y/N approach the dinner table. Loki places a gentle hand on his knee. Reassuring him silently. Two weeks after the meeting with the Celestials and things were going well for the three of them. Date nights, days, falling further in love. Exploring aspects of their bonds one on one and together. 

Things were looking further upwards and onwards for all of them. Y/N and Bucky both recovering from the traumas of the past year. Healing. 

The bonds no longer looked decaying and broken but now gleamed gold, fragments repaired. 

“You’re not going to hurt her by your decision.” Loki assures yet again, the sinking feeling Bucky has quells in the slightest when he feels the love rush across the bond. 

Y/N grins at the two, her loves, her mates. 

Recovery wasn’t an easy road in the slightest but things seemed better, felt better. She takes her place at the table. The mahogany is covered with different dishes for dinner. 

Impeccably plated and micro greens used for garnishing. 

Loki cooked, she deemed then her brows furrowed. It was Bucky’s turn to cook today, she looks up at the warlock who regards her and allows his own unease to trickle past his carefully guarded walls. 

“You can tell me… what happened?” Y/N reaches towards him, Bucky’s fingers intertwine with her own. Giving a squeeze he grounds himself. 

She had her own decision to share, but what had Bucky worried would take priority. 

Loki grasps Bucky’s other hand, “Whenever you’re comfortable.” 

Y/N squeezes Bucky’s hand, he nods. Pursing his lips and then closing his eyes. She gazes upon Loki; he offers a smile that is assuring but she notes the hint of his own anxiousness. 

“Whatever it is we’ll get through it okay? We’ve been doing so well since everything went down months ago, even the pending conversation with Moonmy.” Y/N recounts, attempting to ease their worries. 

“I have decided that I want to turn. I’m close enough to Loki’s apparent age and I think it is time.” Bucky’s words are met with happiness from his bond with Loki. The vampire is smiling at his mate.

“Oh.” The word leaves past her lips with such heartbreak her mates both lose their smiles.

“Are-are you not happy?” Bucky begins to pull his hand away from her own.

Y/N tightens her grip on his hand, “Bucky, I am happy, I just, I wanted to discuss something with you and based on your decision I don’t think what I had in mind will work out. I’m happy for you, I’m glad you’re taking this step and Loki and I both are here for you during your transition and after it.”

“What did you want to discuss?” Bucky counters, not allowing her to be dismissive. 

“It’s nothing, I–,”

“Witchling.” Loki shakes his head, “You need to share whatever it is that is bothering you, with us.”

“Exactly, Poetess. How are we to provide you with the tools necessary or be there for you in the way you need us to be there if you don’t tell us?” Bucky unlaces their intertwined fingers cupping her cheek. 

The book and her notes weigh heavy on her chest. 

Loki and Bucky exchange a glance then gaze back at their mate. Observing her internal turmoil. Watching her swallow before gesturing with her index finger for them to wait. She heads upstairs.

Loki follows her footsteps with his hearing, “Her reading room.” He watches Bucky’s brows furrow attempting to decipher what was there that had a profound impact.

“She has been in there quite a lot, I deemed it was for her return to her course.” The warlock reasons. 

Y/N returns, a thick book and notes in hand, post-its sticking out of several places and handwriting strewn across the pages haphazardly. Loki denotes the different coloured pens adding to the notes.

“I um, I was reading up on how to transfer powers.” Y/N begins placing the books and notes in front of the two. Bucky takes her notes and Loki opens the book to the first sticky tab annotation. 

“Transferring powers is not uncommon, but you will require training.” Bucky assures, “I think you will be able to do it.”

“I, um, yes, yeah, practice is required but it’s straight forward.” Y/N agrees, her fingers intertwine as she fidgets nervously. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Bucky hums as he reads over her notes, “This is good extensive research. I’m pleased and an object that can be kept safe so that no one may steal and–, oh.”

Loki’s gaze moves from the book to the page Bucky is reading. 

‘While transferring powers to inanimate objects is the far more common and reversible practice it is not lost that a witch or warlock can provide another living being – either animal or human with their powers, provided permission is sought and the recipient of the powers is willing.’ 

‘Supernatural beings such as witches, warlocks, werewolves and vampires may be considered as recipients; this practice is lesser known and explored. It is deemed, however, to be an irreversible spell.’

Bucky’s azure eyes find Y/N’s nervous gaze. Loki gazes upon her as well. 

“Why?” The two of them ask her together. 

“I don’t feel connected to my powers… I know I did the magick when it was required but,” she looks to her warlock, “You had your initiation, a coven that cherished you as their own and not a pawn that was needed to fight battles and only trained in a manner of dire circumstance.” 

“You’ve been doing well, gaining control.” Loki counters, he feels her heartbreak before she vocalises it. Bucky winces, this wasn’t the reaction she expected or hoped for from them.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m getting better… I just, I appreciate the powers, I appreciate what flows through my veins but it’s second nature or rather basic instinct for all the other warlocks and witches I know. For me it's…” She takes a deep breath. 

“Does it feel as if it's more of a burden to you?” Bucky offers, his heart cracking as she nods. His Poetess’ entire demeanour feeling as if she’s admitting defeat. 

“Did you want to transfer your powers to an object?” Loki shifts the focus, they needed to know what she was thinking and how to get through this together. 

Y/N says nothing just swallows the lump forming in her throat, her eyes flashing towards Bucky and then back to her fidgeting hands. 

Bucky looks at Loki, the two gaze down at her notes. Finding the small scribble at the corner.

‘Ask Bucky… if he says no then consider Midnight’s old collar.’

“Did you want me to be the one to receive your powers?” Bucky questions, thumb brushing over her handwriting on the paper. She doesn’t answer. 

“Witchling…” Loki’s voice is pleading; making her look at him.

“Okay, you know what? We’re going to the living room to discuss this, this isn’t a conversation where you need to feel small or thinking you’re asking something you aren’t supposed to,” Bucky tucks the notes back in the book. He then walks towards his mate, gently taking her hand and guiding her to the couch. The three spent the most time either reading, talking or binge watching shows and movies. 

Y/N easily falls into place across Bucky’s lap, Loki follows suit settling next to them, his hand holding hers, kissing her palm. Bucky allows Y/N to nuzzle against the crook of his neck grounding herself before they continue the conversation. 

“You don’t have to be afraid alright?” Loki assures, “No matter what choice Bucky makes, his feelings towards you won’t change nor will he feel forced to choose for you.”

Bucky feels her nod, his palm rubs up and down her back soothing her. 

Loki presses a soft kiss to Bucky’s temple, “You do know you won’t be forced to choose.” 

“I know, I want to hear our mate out completely and help her research further before taking an informed decision together.” 

Y/N takes a few more grounding breaths, lifting her head from Bucky’s neck and she faces the two of them. Her explanation falls from her lips the feeling of disconnect, the way it doesn’t feel nurturing. As though it was a chore to teach her rather than a tradition of passing down knowledge. 

Bucky understands every word, knowing what it is to have a coven that nurtures their baby witches and warlocks rather than just prepping them for battle as if a lamb to slaughter. 

Loki understands nodding along to everything, a worried pit forming in his stomach at the prospect of her regretting the decision. 

“It’s okay if you say no…” She shrugs, “I just, I think I was supposed to be normal?” Once she’s done she looks at both waiting for a response. 

“You’re anything but ordinary, witchling.” Loki kisses her nose making her giggle. 

“Look, I’m not saying no, but I did consider the fact that I would lose my powers when I turned.” Bucky begins, “It’s not to say that I don’t mind losing them, but my powers are another thing that connects me to my coven and Grandmother. I know I would probably have some other kind of ability in place if it is part of my transition but I doubt it.”

“Celestials are known to retain their abilities after the shift.” Loki adds.

“I could transfer my powers to an inanimate object,” Bucky looks at Y/N, “It humanises me, then you could well transfer your powers to me.” 

Her features light up.

“Provided the two of you research this in depth and are equally prepared.” Loki adds, “Also if her transfer doesn’t work can you reabsorb your powers from the inanimate object?” 

“I will be able to, it’s reversible.” Bucky assures, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Loki’s ear. Then brushes his lips against Y/N’s cheek. 

“Will you be telling Moonmy?” Bucky raises a brow. 

“I guess she already knows…” Y/N shrugs, “It doesn’t matter if she says no, either way I want to do it.”

“If you had undergone a better time as part of the coven would you still feel the same way?” Bucky questions her, Y/N ponders over it, replaying all the interactions she saw between the other members and the stories Bucky told her.

“I wouldn’t feel disconnected if I had that kind of witchy upbringing.” Y/N admits.

“Okay.” Bucky nods.

“Dinner then research?” Loki offers, his mates both nod.

Present.

“Professor?” One of Loki’s students cuts through his thoughts of the past five weeks. He refocuses into the present, plastering on a smile for the student. 

Questions answered for his students yet Loki’s own worried curiosity knows no bounds. He retires to his office, heading straight for the alcohol. 

“Pour me a glass.” Bucky’s whisper travels across the floor to Loki. He places another glass filling it with the amber liquid. 

The vampire waits for his warlock to join in, Bucky opens the door, closing it softly. In a few strides he’s pressed up against Loki. Wrapped in each other’s arms. Their mutual worry over their mate quelling in the slightest. 

“It will be alright.” Bucky whispers, “It has to be.” 

“It will be my warlock.” Loki runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, he sighs leaning for more support onto his mate. 

Grasping onto his blazer lapels, blue eyes meet green ones. Loki leans in, his lips meet Bucky’s own. The soft gesture is comforting enough to quell the growing anxiety. 

They part when their phones vibrate and chime in unison. 

The dates had aligned; it was the phase of the lunar cycle when Bucky would be completing his conversion. It was also the night they would be transferring the powers before Loki would complete the process and turn Bucky into his own kind. 

Bucky’s nerves were shot but in a good way. Excitement of being the same creature as his mate, having the chance to deepen the bond he shared with Y/N. There was a part of him that was melancholic over the loss of his original powers. 

The blue markings on his left arm glow in response to his call. He traces the lines with his eyes. 

Loki gently raises Bucky’s palm to his lips, tracing the lines to his elbow. 

“Loki.” Bucky whispers, red rims surround his vampire’s eyes, “Loki.” he says yet again with need.

Loki pulls Bucky closer, nose tracing the juncture of his chest and neck, “You smell divine, our mates blood mixed with yours and mine.” open mouthed kisses have Bucky whimper. His shirt unbuttoned, Loki sinks to his knees. Undoing the jeans, Bucky hisses as the confines upon him are released. 

Loki brushes his lips over the tip, Bucky’s fingers tangle in his hair. 

“Mate, you’ve come at the right time.” Loki speaks, Bucky’s eyes snap open and towards the door.

“I,” Y/N’s hand is frozen on the door knob, arousal brims through the two bonds

“Poetess I-,” Bucky’s words are cut off as Loki takes his length in his mouth, cheeks hollowed, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

‘Get inside.’ Loki’s voice instructs in her mind. 

Y/N scrambles inside, locking the door. She moans at the sight of her mates. Bucky beckons her closer. His lips meeting hers in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongue and moans as Loki continues his movements, varying speeds enjoying the sounds he draws from Bucky.

The scent of Y/N’s arousal urges Loki on, one hand caresses Bucky’s balls. The other moves along her inner thigh, the skirt allowing him leverage. Her soaked panties have him moan around Bucky. 

The three moan in unison. 

Loki’s thumb draws circles over her clit, the fabric adding another layer of sensations that have her whimper into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky’s arm wraps around her waist, holding her flush against him. 

Their sounds grow needier, Loki times his head bobbing to the thrusts his fingers provide to Y/N. His sweet mates unravelled for him. Bucky tugs on his hair. 

Y/N moves as Bucky lifts her in his arms, facing Loki. Her dripping cunt soaking his cock her legs thrown over Loki’s shoulders. His fingers now move on her clit.

Loki takes Bucky back in his mouth, their mixed arousal only urging him onward.

She falls apart first with a cry, her head thrown back against Bucky’s left shoulder. Bucky places kisses over her neck as he moans against her sweet spot as he cums. Loki swallows every drop they give him.

Slowly the two humans calm down, Loki kisses them deeply each stated to an extent.

“What brought you to my office?” Loki questions his witchling.

“I um, forgot…” Y/N’s cheeks flush, drawing laughter from Bucky. 

“Perhaps another set of orgasms might jog your memory.” Loki offers, Y/N squeals before she’s placed on his desk. Bucky and Loki both gaze at her glistening folds. 

“We’re the luckiest aren’t we Loki?” Bucky’s large palm traces up her thigh, spreading her legs further apart.

“We are.” Loki agrees, “Have your fill my Warlock. I’ll have her moan around my cock.” 

Y/N clenches around nothing, preening under their intense gazes, words having her grow wetter. 

Bucky takes a seat on Loki’s chair, lips tracing her folds as his lips then latch upon her clit. Loki traces her parted lips with his cock before slowly sinking into her beautiful mouth. 

<><><>

Everything was set up, candles arranged in the shape of a crescent. Y/N sitting at the centre of it. Bucky’s jaw clenched as the air became heavier around them. 

Iridescent glimmers shift through, candle light adding to the glow. Embers casting shadows across their features and the walls. 

Loki attempts to quell the growing unease across the bonds. Disallowing his trepidation to trickle to his already worried mates. 

Y/N bit her bottom lip, eyes meeting his then drifting to Bucky. The warlock gives an encouraging nod. His spell was done, he was left without powers, they were encased into a necklace he had bought for Y/N.

She blinks, the white glow returns. Loki swallows, shifting towards Bucky. The warlock grabs his hand. Then let it go.

It was time. 

The charged air seems to move. Loki watches, the flames of the candles shift into circles. Burning full moons. 

Bucky swallows, feeling the first of the powers wrapping around him. His eyes close. 

The charged air recedes into nothing, the flames return to their normal shape. Y/N’s eyes open first, no glow present. Her eyes move to Bucky. Loki waits, their breaths held.

Bucky falls to his knees, wheezing and then his eyes open. White crescents visualise across his irises and then fade back to blue. 

‘She may have given you her powers, but they do not make you a celestial.’ The voice rings across the room. The necklace shatters into pieces and blue lines form along the broken fragments. They move towards Bucky wrapping around his left arm. 

The moon gave him back the markings of his old coven. The three of them stare at one another for long moments.

Loki and Y/N move then, helping Bucky up. The warlock only stares at his arm, the lines do not fade as they used to but now remain as a constant as though a glowing tattoo. 

Her hand reaches to touch the line, she had done it before, but this time she feels nothing. 

No flow of magick. Nothing weighing down upon her, making her struggle to stay afloat. A responsibility she wasn’t encouraged or nurtured to bear.

No sense of connection to Bucky and Loki beyond the soul bonds.

The way it should have been. The way it felt before her awakening as though there was something between them but now it was more, deeper and defined.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Bucky gently grasps her face, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

“I don’t regret it. I just, it feels peaceful?” Y/N looks up at him, he nods.

“I just feel my magick, not the Celestial one.” Bucky admits his own eyes glazing over with tears, “Even if I don’t retain it when I turn it's okay.”

Loki pulls the two of them into his embrace. 

Kissing every bit of their faces, taking away the tears that flow. Salt on his lips, his mates cradled in his arms. 

Nia, Stephen and Emery join them hours later. In the last of the night, Bucky consumes the last vial of Loki’s blood mixed with Y/N’s. The taste wasn’t blood-like, the bit of ironish rust taste one would get when trying to curb the bleed of a paper cut.

“This next part may hurt.” Loki says, setting the glass down.

“It definitely will hurt.” Stephen pipes up.

“Does it have to be this way?” Emery questions, their own transformation pending. 

Stephen reaches out to them, gently stroking their arm to soothe them.

“It has to be a sort of clean death. Not to say other forms of killing don’t work. They do but this is swifter.” Nia explains nursing another glass of alcohol. Y/N looks at her in worry. 

“Nia…”

“Doesn’t affect me. Perks can’t get drunk.”

“Nia.. still.”

“Drop it, your boyfriend’s about to turn into a vampire. We’ll discuss this later.” Yet again Nia tables the discussion.

The loss of Thor doesn’t hurt as much. It’s the betrayal, Nia missing the signs. Signs she was fucking good at noticing.

“Just do it.” Bucky exhales, eyes meeting Y/N’s worried ones, “Just a nap, Poetess.” 

“Just a nap.” She affirms, walking back to him. 

“It’s going to hurt like a bitch.” Nia reminds Y/N, she nods.

“My blood runs through him, so I know he will awaken, I’ll be there to hold you through it. Unfortunately you know the experience of the breaking of a bond.” Loki strokes her cheek, “I’ll keep the bond fully open so it may help quell the despair.”

“Or you end up feeling mine.” She mutters.

Bucky laughs, “Look, he fully deserves to feel it.”

“Bucky!” Y/N lightly hits his chest.

“Rude.” Loki rolls his eyes but he smiles at the banter.

“Hey you were the one deciding for us before. This is just karma.” 

Y/N laughs at Bucky’s retort, Loki grumbles under his breath.

“Alright, alright, it’s a bit of time away from Bucky.” Stephen assures, pointing at the clock.

Loki grapes Bucky’s face gently, palms moving to his jaw. 

“I trust you.” Bucky assures, “I love you both.” He looks between his two mates, smiling.

“I love you.”

“I love you, thank you, for trusting me.” Loki places a kiss on his forehead.

Y/N and Emery close their eyes. The cracking sound has them flinch. 

At first Y/N feels nothing and then the bond rips apart, her chest heaves. Loki grasps onto her pulling her against him where the two remain near Bucky. He opens the bond he shares with Bucky to the bond he shares with her. 

The certainty of his soon to return to life status begins to wash over the turmoil in Y/N’s chest. Her sobs begin to quiet and tiredness takes over. Loki rocks her back and forth, her hand not leaving Bucky’s own. 

Sleep finds her after an hour still not letting go of Bucky. Loki feels the vampire aspect take over Bucky stronger, the warlock markings begin to gleam and change. The parallel lines once linear now wrap around his arm.

Y/N is placed in the farthest room as it gets closer to Bucky’s awakening. Nia and Loki remain in the house to prevent things from going south in case the bloodlust is too much for Bucky to handle.

The former warlock stirs, groaning, his hand reaches for his neck rubbing over where he could feel the ghost of the bone breaking. Bucky’s eyes open, black with red rims, a deep hunger manifesting in his belly. As he licks his lips they are dry, parched. The thirst is taking over. He suppresses it, walking to the mirror to observe the changes he’s gone through. 

The short sleeved V neck fits him, his features seemingly sharper and defined but not taking away from what he was born as a human with, it wasn’t as though he was fully changed. 

When he touches his face with his left hand he notices the biggest difference. The three lines of his tattoo now wrap around his arm in swirls.

The middle line has a small crescent at his wrist and a star akin to the northern star is now over his cubital fossa. At the centre of the star however, is a crescent moon with a tiny sprig of lavender.

Pride swirls in his chest as does a familiar happiness, Bucky turns, Loki stands at the door with a bottle in hand.

“Welcome back, James.” Loki greets with a bright smile, their bond thrums. Bucky almost knocks his mate over when he’s by his side in a blur. Loki chuckles, wrapping his mate in his arms.

“Loki.” He breathes, melting into his embrace. 

“You need to feed.” Loki reminds and the thirst comes back tenfold.

“I need to see her.” Bucky argues.

“Warlock, she’s still human.”

“She’s my mate.” 

“And you will know then to feed before you see her.” Loki’s eyes turn black with red rims in response to the defiance, “Quell the beast within, James. You do not want to accidentally hurt Y/N.” 

Bucky clenches his jaw, pushing away from Loki, “You didn’t tell me it was this hard, curbing the need to be with my mates.” 

“You’re a half mated newborn, two basic urges are strong.” Loki hands the bottle to Bucky.

The latter drinks the blood in large gulps, sighing in content as the thirst quells. 

“Better?”

“Maybe after two more bottles.” He jokes, Loki chuckles.

Two more bottles are consumed, Bucky wipes the corner of his lip. 

Enhanced hearings pick up soft careful steps and then a ‘oof’ along with a whined out call of Nia’s name.

“You will wait patiently for Bucky to come to you.” Nia chastises Y/N, She huffs in response literally being dragged away as though a child.

“I need to see him.” She reasons when Nia pauses in the room.

“I know, but you need to let him feed,” Nia looks to the side, “Well you’re in luck, impatient little human he’s on his way.”

Nia stops at the door, “There are about 5-6 gatorades in the drawer.”

“For what?”

“Stamina, you have to keep up with two vampires now.” Nia laughs, easily dodging the pillow thrown her way. 

Y/N sits at the edge of the bed. There is a knock at the door. Her heartbeat picks up, as does the rustling of pages within her chest, as though pages being turned to reach the favourite part of a beloved novel.

Loki smiles at Bucky, noticing the anticipation of the bon trickle through the bond. 

“Come in…”

Loki turns the door knob, he enters with an encouraging smile. Y/N doesn’t look at the door but at Loki as he stands before her. Cupping her face.

“He’s fed, taken to the change well. Eager to see you and bond if you’re willing. He’s told me to pull him away if you do not want to tonight.” Loki explains, Y/N nods.

“I’m ready. I trust him.” She whispers. 

Bucky sighs in contentment.

Loki shifts, Y/N looks up at Bucky. The blue flickers in and out of focus as he tries to keep the beast at bay. Her eyes fall to the markings. The star gleams in the slightest and then the lavender sprig. 

Bucky’s fists clench, “Poetess.” he calls out to her, voice hoarse, needy. 

“Bucky.” Y/N says with equal need.

In a blur she’s pressed against the mattress, a breathless laugh leaves her before Bucky’s lips find her soft ones. Her scent thrums through his senses. The beast within him wanted more. 

Bucky’s hands wander over her frame, drawing moans from his mate into his mouth. Her hands grip at his t-shirt arching against him. He nips at her bottom lip. Bucky moans at the taste of her blood. 

“You’re so fucking divine.” He hums, “Loki was right, a goddess, we’re blessed with a goddess.”

Y/N preens at the praise, Bucky allows the beast to take over, the spot under her left collarbone calls out to him. His thigh grinds against her core.

He raises his head looking at Loki who watches them with a lust filled gaze, “Claim our mate, James. You can have her this once alone, because after that she isn’t leaving from between us for a long time.” he smirks.

Bucky returns the gesture, “Hear that Poetess? You’re going to be worshipped. You’re going to feed our hunger the way no other could ever.” He kisses the spot of their bond. Y/N hums, the pheromones clouding every sense their needs brimming across the bonds.

Bucky’s fangs break through the skin, tears brim over as the bond forges between the two. Golden, gleaming, bright. Strong. Bucky feels whole, his bonds complete. The magick thrums through him as well. As before, stronger now.

Y/N breaks out of the haze of the bond, her chest feeling full, the love prominent and everything she needed it to be from both of them. Her hand moves to Bucky’s new markings, thumb brushing over the crescent on his wrist. Both vampires watch the outline of the same crescent form in her eyes then fade away. 

Clothes are scattered over the floor, their mate worshipped between them. Bonds thrumming happily, sighs and moans fill the room. Y/N falls apart between them and is put back together by her mates.

The tangled mess of limbs, she lays between the two. Bucky’s chest against her back and Loki’s chest pressed to hers, she’s on the precipice of sleep with a smile on her face. 

“I love you both.”

“I love you both.”

“I love you both.”

A.N: finally combated the block on this fic and the epilogue will be uploaded next week! thank you for waiting and supporting this fic, i'm so happy i was able to finish it and give it the ending that i feel is deserved by our witchling/poetess, warlock and vampire

tagging: @camerons-specialinterest@stevesmewmew@pandaxnienke

[whiskeyswriting]

Dragon's 5k Followers Celebration

For Rachael:

Asserting Her Tiny Dominance (Doc Holliday x Baylie Kazasnky x Rachael Kazansky)

Chaos Squad’s Incorrect Quotes with Rooster

Love is Blind? No. John is Blind! (John Henry Petterson x Rachael)

Preview: Gotham’s Golden Couple (Bruce Wayne x Rachael)

Where Are We Going? (Iceman x Dragon)

Reader Insert:

Slow Dance in a Parking Lot (Steven Grant x Fem!Reader)

Syllabus and Tea (Baron Zemo x Reader)

Those Two Lines (Goose x Fem!Reader)

--

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[rissa067]

nightmares | bucky barnes x reader

author's note: i wrote this fic years ago and i have rewritten it more times than i can count, i hope and pray to the gods above it doesn't flop...

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k+

synopsis: nightmares have always plagued bucky while he slept, but now that he has you, he can sleep a little better

Bucky hasn’t been able to sleep well for decades. Between being the soldat, nightmares, and the constant worrying and anxiety; it’s been far too long since he got a good, full night’s sleep. Until he met you.

At first, the idea of sleeping in a bed with you terrified him. What if he hurt you in his sleep? Or you decided you wanted someone who wasn’t an ex-HYDRA experiment? He has never consciously hurt you, but there were a few nights where his nightmares got the best of him and he accidentally hurt you. You were more than understanding and knew that this was a possibility because of his past, so you never took it to heart and always made sure to let him know that. 

Time passes and he starts to realize that you do genuinely love him and don’t intend to leave. You always want him close around bedtime because sleeping without him has become unpleasant and restless, especially when he’s on a mission. Sleeping becomes easier for him. The stiff uneasiness that it once was is now tangled limbs, quiet love confessions, and soft kisses. He dreaded sleep for a long time, hating how alone he truly felt, until you came around. He grew to love sleeping because it meant that he could hold his best girl and prove to her just how much he loves and appreciates her.

He still had his bad nights, everybody does, but the good nights were far more frequent and he couldn’t be more grateful. Sometimes they got to be too much, and that’s when Bucky needed you most. And you were never one to deny the man that made you happiest.

Cold. Darkness. Bucky was running and the only thing he could think about was finding you. Making sure you were safe. His blood ran cold when he heard the screams of fear and pain from where HYDRA was holding you. He hated when anything happened to you and the thought of not being able to save you made him run faster.

A light at the end of a long, dark hallway caught his attention, and the sounds of your captors hurting you spurred a wave of newfound anger inside of him. Moans and whimpers that would make his knees weak in any other situation signaled that you were being hurt and he hadn’t saved you yet.

A terrified scream of his name comes from you just before he runs in, the sudden light assaulting his vision. He doesn’t care. All he cares about is saving you. His heart breaks when he sees how beaten, bruised, and bloodied you are and he makes a mental note to give you a bath and love on you when the two of you leave.

He runs over to you, battling to keep his own emotions hidden, “Y/N/N, doll, it’s me. I’ve got you,” He breathes out, making quick work of your restraints and pulling you into his arms as he buries his face into your shoulder and holds you tightly. A sob wracks through your body as you cling to him, causing his heart to break as he curses himself for letting this happen to you.

“Ahh, Mister Barnes. We’ve been expecting you,” Baron Zemo speaks up from the doorway, causing you to tighten your hold on Bucky while he moves you protectively behind him. 

Bucky’s jaw tightens, “What do you want?” He growls, wanting nothing more than to get you back to your shared apartment, safe and sound.

“That’s for us to know, and you to find out,” Baron smirks as your fragile, frail body falls into Buckys. You utter his name, barely a whisper but sounding like a scream to his ears.

Red slowly seeps to cover the thin nightshirt you stole from him many nights ago, he never wanted to take it back because he loves you in his clothes, it makes him feel loved and wanted in a way he didn’t know was possible. A pained scream leaves his lips, and he feels empty, broken.

He feels himself being shaken and hears your voice calling for him from a distance, “James, baby, you’re okay. Wake up, honey, everything is okay,” You say softly, not loud enough to scare him, but enough to pull him from his rapidly racing mind. Your fingers comb through his hair to coax him out of his slumber, worry filling every part of your body.

His eyes snap open as he looks around, searching for his anchor. Desperately searching for you.

With his chest moving rapidly and his heart racing, he settles on you. You’re wearing his hoodie and sleep shorts, watching him carefully with your face full of worry and sadness, hating to see the man you love in such a pained and fearful state.

“Doll…” He breathes out in relief, clinging to you as sobs wrack through his body. Your hushed words of comfort fall on deaf ears, he can’t focus on anything except that you’re breathing. You’re alive.

You shift into his lap, properly sitting in his lap as he tightens his arms around you, not wanting to let you go. “I’ve got you, you’re okay. I’m okay, breathe for me, James,” You mumble as you cup his cheeks and rest your forehead against his, wiping the endlessly falling tears on his cheeks.

He looks up at you with wide, panic blown eyes while gripping your wrists, “Y-you died…” He mumbles, his voice cracking and broken, showing just how scared he truly is.

Your heart shatters as you frown deeply, shaking your head, “I’m here, bub, we’re safe at home,” You say quietly, hating to see him so upset and fearful.

He shakes his head, the sight of you dying in his arms replaying in his mind. The room is silent for a moment, aside from the quiet sobs coming from Bucky. “Buck, can you find five things you can see for me?” You speak softly, not wanting to startle and overwhelm him.

He furrows his eyebrows, staying silent for a moment before slowly pulling away after he calms down after a moment, looking around your shared bedroom.

The clothes scattered around the room from the love he made to you before you slept, a picture of the two of you in green face masks when you begged him to have a spa night (he actually wanted to do it, and he very much enjoyed it, though he’ll never admit it,) the many blankets that you refuse to sleep without, the small night light showing from the hallway that you insisted on after tripping one too many times during late-night snack trips to the kitchen, and you, full of worry and care for the man you loved.

He mumbles through shaky, hoarse words, telling everything he sees. His arms tighten around you, needing to feel you to bring himself back to reality.

“Good, can you find me four things you can touch?” You whisper, slowly carding your fingers through his hair. He pulls one hand away from your waist, letting it wander to feel around him.

The still too soft pillows you use, the smooth softness of your still-warm skin, the slightly rough material of the hoodie covering your body, and the harsh coldness of the wooden bed frame.

His breathing slows and his manic thoughts begin to subside as he speaks, his tight grip on you never once loosening. “Can you find me three things you can hear?” You try to coax more responses out of him, feeling relief at the knowing thought of him calming down.

The damned fan you refuse to sleep without, the steady, but light, raindrops tapping at the window, and the slow evenness of your breathing.

“You’re doing great, bubs. I love you. Can you tell me two things you can smell?” You ask after he responds quietly, feeling happier now that he’s finally calming down.

The detergent of the laundry you did that morning, and the slightest smell of the perfume you wore earlier that he loves so much.

He was much calmer now than when he woke up, his words less shaky and more laced with tiredness than fear.

“Just tell me one thing you can taste, yeah? Then we can go back to sleep or do whatever you want to, okay?” You press a soft, chaste kiss to his forehead as his eyebrows furrow. He cups your chin, tilting his head up as he kisses you softly. The soft, sweet taste of your lips was much better tasting to him than his tears.

A moment of silence passes as he holds you close, rubbing your cheek with his eyes closed. He tightens his arms around you, “I love you,” He mumbles, breaking the quietness surrounding you two.

“I love you too, Buck. I’ll always be here for you,” You mumble while laying down, gently pulling him with you as he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your chest.

Hushed admissions of love turn into yawns and sleepy words before becoming soft snores and peaceful sleep as Bucky holds you a little closer and tighter, knowing his best girl is safe with him.

[marvelmusing]

A Game for Two

A Sokovian Lovers Mafia!AU

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader x Heike Zemo

Summary: You’ve been working undercover as the mob boss Zemo’s assistant, but tonight you’ve decided to come clean to him.

Warnings [18+]: oral (female receiving), criminal environment, spanking, leather gloves? If there’s anything else let me know

A/N: I was looking through my marvel fics Google doc and I found this finished fic and I thought it would be a shame not to post it even though I’m not actively writing for this pairing anymore, I haven’t proofread this since whenever I finished it so sorry if there’s tons of mistakes or if it’s bad

I don’t even know if my readers for this pairing are still even here but I thought I might as well post it

My Masterlist

»»---------------------►

Eight months. That’s how long you’ve been working for the mob boss Helmut ‘The Baron’ Zemo as his assistant. Eight months that you’ve spent undercover for the FBI. Though your reports have slowly become more and more sparse as you feel increasingly unwilling to betray the trust that Zemo and his wife have extended to you.

Eight months of your guilt steadily creeping up on you. Until you can’t take it. You consider calling your superiors and asking for a transfer. With the reduced quality of your reports, they’d probably be happy to move you elsewhere. But you can’t. You’d be put into witness protection, and never see them again. Zemo and Heike have only ever been honest with you. The least you can do is be honest with them, even if the consequences are horrific for you.

So you come clean with Zemo. One night, when he’s visiting one of his clubs, you ask to speak to him. The VIP lounge feels private despite being in the centre of the club. Heike is sitting at the bar, and you can’t help but glance over at her as Zemo invites you to sit on the couch in front of him. You take a deep breath, before explaining everything to him. His face is serious. You recognise his expression. It’s the face he always uses during meetings, not the stern face he uses on you that has a soft twinkle in his eyes.

»»---------------------►

“On the instances where you’ve proved your loyalty to me, were they genuine?” You know what he’s talking about. The night you saved their lives. The night you took a bullet for him. It wasn’t deep, or too serious, but that was what solidified his trust in you. The trust you had just broken. The trust that you never deserved. You nod weakly, your voice quivering,

“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Either of you.” He leans back in his chair casually as he continues to consider you.

“Once you leave here, will you return to your colleagues in law enforcement?” You’re rather thrown by this question. He said when you leave here? Is this a trick question? Or is he letting you go? You shake your head,

“No, I won’t go back there.”

“So, through telling me the truth, you’ve put both your position here and at the authorities at risk?” He asks, fully knowing the answer. You nod. “I think such a sacrifice deserves a reward, don’t you?” You shake your head hurriedly, not liking where this is going.

“Oh, I really don’t need anything sir. It’s absolutely fine.” You stammer.

“You’ve been eyeing my wife ever since you sat down.”

“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’d never-“

“She wants you too.”

“She- what?” He nods,

“As her husband I vowed to always give her what she wants. I mean, look at her. Could you deny her anything?” He gestures in her direction with his drink, and you follow the action.

“No, I couldn’t.” You admit, as you watch her laugh with the bartender.

“Then we’re on the same page.” You turn your gaze back to him. “Go over there and show her a good time.”

“A good time?” You echo. He nods,

“You have permission to do anything she’s comfortable with.”

“Sir, I don’t think I can. I mean, are you sure?” Your eyes frantically bounce around the room before landing back on him, he returns your gaze with a hard stare.

“Not everyone would have the courage to admit who they are to me. For that, I respect your honesty. However, should you displease my wife in any way, I will show you exactly what I do to spies. And I assure you, you won’t enjoy it. Is that understood?” You swallow hard,

“Yes sir.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.” You would feel a little lighter - having finally confessed - though all you can feel is on edge as you head towards the bar. You order a drink in an attempt to settle your nerves. You take a sip of your drink and think things over. Having seen them do this before, you know this is a trick. That no matter what you do, you’ll be in the wrong. If you don’t please his wife, he’ll punish you for disobeying an order. If you do, he’ll probably punish you for touching her. You’ll need to be smart to pull this off. You make your way over to her, engaging in a little conversation but she knows what you’re there to do. Zemo must have given her some sort of non-verbal instruction. She allows you to buy her a drink, and she makes several excuses to touch you. You can feel Zemo’s eyes on you, and he’s not the only one. The entire club seems to be keeping their attention on you, knowing that you’re in for the beating of your life if you get too friendly with her. Unfortunately for you that’s exactly what the Baron told you to do. You take her hand and pull her to the dance floor, where it’s a little more crowded and the people are mostly distracted. You keep her body close to yours, though she’s the one who grinds her hips against you. You slip your arms around her, a hand pressing against the small of her back as you move your leg between her thighs. Even with the noise of the club, you can hear her sharp inhale.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You purr against her ear. “Grinding against me on the dance floor like a horny teenager.” She’s already whimpering, her nails digging into your biceps. You look across the room, eyes meeting Zemo’s as he watches the two of you. The look he’s giving you nearly has your fight or flight kicking in. You’re almost running out of the club and fleeing the country. Then Heike’s nails run down your arms and you shudder, bringing you back to the beauty in your arms. You keep your eyes fixed on Zemo’s as you nibble on her earlobe. “What would your husband say about this?” You move both of your hands down to grasp at the soft flesh of her cheeks. She gasps as you slowly knead your hands against her skin, her body now flush against yours. “He’s rough with you isn’t he, sweetheart?” You murmur against her neck, pressing gentle kisses to the possessive hickies already adorning her skin. “Although I bet you like that, don’t you?” She nods hurriedly. “Well too bad,” you breathe out a laugh. “Because I am going to take you apart inch by inch.” She whines at your confession. “And I am going to take my sweet time doing it.” You pause, before leaning close to her ear and whispering, “And he’s going to watch every second.” Her eyes fly open and you grin as you take her hand and pull her through the crowd. If you’re doing this, you might as well go all out. With a gentle push from you, she sits down on the sofa opposite her husband. Zemo’s eyebrow lifts momentarily, and you’ve evidently gained his interest. You lean over her body, capturing her lips in yours as your fingers brush along the hem of her dress. When you pull away she attempts to chase your lips despite how breathless she’s become. You take a hold of the fabric of her dress before looking up at her.

“May I?” She makes eye contact with Zemo over your shoulder and he must have given her some sort of confirmation as she nods at you.

“Yes please.” You press another kiss to her lips with a smirk,

“So well mannered.” You purr against her ear as you slide your hands up her thighs to push the dress to her waist. Once that’s done you kneel between her legs, your face level with her knees which you take in each hand and part them to reveal the glistening heat between her legs. You nuzzle your face against one of her thighs, before trailing your lips down to press a soft kiss next to her inner knee. She whimpers when your teeth scrape over the skin there and you grin up at her. “So sensitive.” You muse as you make your way up her thigh. As promised, you take your time, tracing patterns into her skin with your mouth. The marks you leave are small, you don’t want Zemo to get jealous. She whines when you reach the apex of her thighs, as if she’s expecting you to pull away. Her husband is most definitely a tease. Your theory is proven when she gasps at the swipe of your tongue between her folds, her hips jerk towards your mouth, and you press your hands down on her thighs to hold her in place. You trace over her with your tongue, taking your time to both her pleasure and frustration. Squeezing her thighs as they twitch, you ensure she stays wide open as you find the spot that makes her cry out, before doubling your efforts. All you can hear is her ragged breathing and broken moans. Then she’s crying out your name, begging and pleading for you not to stop. Zemo’s right, you couldn’t deny her anything, and she’s soon shuddering under your hold. You spend some time cleaning her up with your tongue, being careful not to push her too far. Then there’s a hand in your hair, pulling you back sharply. You glance around, as the sudden silence dawns on you. The club is empty. Zemo tightens his hold on your hair.

“You know, I usually kill the people who dare to touch my wife.” You swallow hard as he releases you. He sits back on the sofa, leaning back casually. You nod, before lifting your gaze to meet his eyes,

“I figured.” A minute smile traces his lips as he considers the sight before him, you on your knees waiting for his verdict. You had read Heike so well. None of the others had cared so much about her pleasure over their own. And you respected him. Even when he was threatening your life. That was such a rarity in his line of business. He gestures between Heike and you,

“That was your reward for telling me the truth.” You eye him nervously, a spark of curiosity lingering in your eyes. “Now for your punishment.” He looks across at Heike. “Darling?” She moves to sit next to him before leaning to whisper in his ear. He seems to agree with whatever she says, then he turns back to you, “Come here.” He pats the space next to him and you sit there feeling on edge. Heike hands him a pair of black leather gloves which he begins to pull on. “As this is a punishment, I would like you to last as long as I deem appropriate. However, should you want this to stop, you need only ask. Yes?” You nod. A small frown of confusion crinkles your brow but as he drapes you over his lap you begin to understand what is about to happen. Heike sits facing you, as your head settles on her thighs. She takes your hands and places them above your head to rest beside her hips. Zemo begins to undo your trousers and you lift your hips to help him pull them off. His fingers trace the waistband of your panties, the cold leather of his gloves making you shiver. “Would you like these on or off?” You swallow hard,

“Off please.” He hums approvingly, slipping the fabric down your legs. He smooths his hand over the skin he’s just revealed. The first blow catches you off guard, drawing a cry that’s muffled against Heike’s thighs. Your fingers grip onto her hips as you try to find something to keep you grounded.

“Count for me, Draga.” He tells you. You nod, squeezing your eyes shut. Your voice shakes a little when you speak,

“One.” He brings his hand down on you again, and your nails dig into Heike’s skin. She doesn’t react to it, simply petting your hair as you squirm on her husband’s lap. “Two.” You gasp out. After the third slap, the tears are streaming down your face. He certainly isn’t gentle, and the leather stings against your bare skin. Your voice breaks as you choke out, “Three.” He seems to keep to a pattern, allowing you a moment to breathe and cry out the number between each smack. Some subconscious part of you relaxes into the repetition, despite the pain. “Four.” Your grip on Heike doesn’t loosen the entire duration of your punishment and her skin is damp from your tears. “F- five.” You breathe out.

“You’ll have to be a little louder next time, darling.” Heike encourages, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You nod hurriedly. The strength of his blows is unchanging, and you cry out a broken, “Six.”

“Good girl.” Heike coos and you whimper at her praise, a sharp contrast from her husband’s actions. Ten strikes is the limit on what Zemo is willing to push you to tonight. Heike guides you into her arms and you cling onto her, your hands shaking as she smooths over your arms soothingly. “You’re done darling. All done.” She presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling you closer to her. “You did so well.” You bury your face against her chest, before risking a glance at Zemo. He’s pulled the gloves off and he extends his hands towards you slowly.

“Can I touch you?” He asks you. His care makes the tears well up again in your eyes again, and you nod. He cups your face gently, his eyes meeting yours. “She’s right, you were so good for us.” His thumbs brush against your cheeks, wiping the tears away. “All’s forgiven now.” He kisses you softly on the forehead. “You understand why I punished you, don’t you?” You nod,

“Because I lied to you.” He nods,

“Not only that, but you put yourself in danger because of that lie.” You nod in agreement. “And have you learnt your lesson?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” He pulls you into his arms, smoothing a hand over your hair. “We’re going to take care of you now Draga.”