#helmut zemo drabble

[cas-kingdom]

“I apologise. I did not mean to wake you” with characters of your choice from marvel ❤️

A/N: Set during TFATWS, in Latvia.

“I apologise. I did not mean to wake you.”

You, still in the midst of dispelling the remembrance of a bad dream from your sleep-riddled brain, jolted on the couch. If you hadn’t been awake before, stirred by the sudden whistling of the kettle, you certainly were now.

Sitting up, you blinked to clear the haze of sleep, catching the dark outline of someone in the kitchen area of the room. You could tell it was neither Sam nor Bucky, but you felt secure enough in your deduction that anyone harbouring ill intentions towards you most certainly wouldn’t have wasted time boiling a kettle before heading over to the couch. Even as your eyes adjusted to the dark and you noticed with a slight leap of your heart that it was Zemo, you didn’t feel as alert as Bucky probably hoped you would be.

You shook your head lightly and rubbed at your eyes with your fists, then let loose a yawn. “Don’t worry,” you said tiredly, “I should probably thank you.”

Zemo rounded the kitchen counter with a mug of something in one hand. “Thank me?” he asked, taking a sip. 

You hesitated. You weren’t sure Zemo was the type of person you wanted to get into conversation with about your sleeping issues. You weren’t sure Zemo was the type of person you wanted to get into conversation with, full stop. 

“Never mind,” you said, pulling the couch throw up to your chin as you leant against the back of your seat.

Zemo walked towards you, very likely aware that your eyes were following his every move. Still, he didn’t let it deter him as he seated himself on the edge of the l-shaped sofa, crossing one leg over the other and settling back with his drink. He turned to look at you, the faintest of smiles pulling at his lips. “I insist.”

Something about the way he said it urged you on. You weren’t sure what exactly it was, but there seemed to be some intonation of familial assurance that you didn’t get from many people nowadays. Whatever it was, you found your muscles slackening as the tension crawled slowly out of your body and you subconsciously picked at a loose thread on the throw. You peered up at him, finding his expression to be one of patience.

“I was having a nightmare,” you elaborated. “But you woke me up, so thanks.”

Zemo nodded once and then turned his head, gently swirling the mug and watching its contents as it spun in fluid circles. “You have nightmares often?” he asked a moment later, and you felt your guard build itself back up once more.

“What’s it to you?”

Zemo’s brows rose and he took one hand from the mug to hold his palm up in front of him, an offer of peace. You doubted he knew you were wary of such questions because you knew all too well how quickly Zemo could turn the most insignificant of information against someone, but he seemed contrite all the same.

“I am just...finding common ground,” he admitted. “Again, I apologise.”

You frowned, your fingers pausing in their pulling of the thread. “You have nightmares too?” 

Zemo lowered his hand and shrugged lightly. “Most nights, yes. I dream of my family and all that happened to them.” He paused for a second, a familiar fire of agony blazing in his eyes, but he pushed it aside with ease, sitting straighter. “And you?” he asked, mostly without thinking but also with the hope you felt more comfortable now that he’d cracked open his door.

You caught your tongue between your teeth as you thought. There wasn’t one straight answer. “They...” you began, returning to the thread. “I dream about a lot of things. All the threats we’ve had to deal with. All the...the losses. All the stress of the years since...well. Since the beginning, really.” You let out an unamused laugh at that. “They all kind of merge together, I guess. I don’t know.” You slunk down the back of the couch slightly, almost ashamed to be speaking so vulnerably to a man you should hate. Alas, he’d been helpful so far with the mission to find Karli Morgenthau, and you were incredibly tired of hating people who didn’t deserve it anymore.

Zemo nodded assuredly this time. “I understand,” he told you. “Is that why you are sleeping here?” His lip twitched when your eyes glinted in the little light the moon gave you through the open window as you flicked them up to meet his gaze. He’d read you well. He was glad he still had that superpower out of all the ones fatherhood had bestowed upon him.

“I had a nightmare about Red Skull last night. I didn’t wanna wake anyone up if it happened to return tonight and I, you know...” You shrugged. “Screamed.’

“And tonight? You said I had woken you from a nightmare tonight.” You took too long to answer this time, so he figured he’d crossed an imaginary line. He changed his question. “Have you told James?”

Another unamused scoff, though this time it was quiet and short-lasting. “He doesn’t need anything else to worry about,” you insisted. Bucky knew about your nightmares, just as you knew about his, but it was rare either of you ever discussed them. If you awoke with a scream, he would run to you and sit with you until you fell back asleep. If he awoke in the same manner, you’d rush to his door, knock, and ask if he was alright. Sometimes, he’d say yes. Most often, he’d say no, but you knew it was safe to go in either way.

Zemo clucked his tongue and lifted a leg to cross underneath him. “Ah,” he said, “I don’t believe Mr. Barnes will ever stop worrying about you, nightmares or no.” He extended an arm then, the one holding the mug, and he nodded his head towards it when you didn’t react. “Please, try this. It is a recipe I used to make for my son when he had nightmares, and later for myself. I learnt it from my grandmother. It helps.”

You swallowed and stared at the mug, unsure if you should accept your fate and take it, or if you should hazard a guess at what was inside it before you inadvertently downed poison. The look in Zemo’s eyes assured you though, and you leant forward to take it from him, holding it with two hands.

“Don’t you want it?” He’d obviously made it for himself, so you knew he’d woken from his own nightmare. 

He waved a hand in your direction and reached for an open book on the table in front of him. “I have had enough for tonight. You drink it. Sleep.” He smiled then, the first genuine one you’d witnessed since you’d broken him out of his cell. “I’ll be here. I swear I will not let anything get to you.”

You mirrored his smile without much thought, biting at your bottom lip as you pondered over his words. You glanced down at the drink, feeling the warmth of it glaze your face, and brought it up to your lips to take a sip. It tasted like...honey. And lavender. Not that you’d ever eaten lavender before. Still, it warmed your throat and you drank it all before lying back down once more, covering yourself with the throw.

“Thanks, Zemo,” you whispered. “Good night.”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You knew who he was. You knew he’d ruined the lives of many. You knew he’d used one of your dearest friends as a weapon and caused him more pain than anyone could ever understand. You knew he was a criminal. You knew he was a villain.

But here and now, in the dark quietude of the large room, he was merely a man, reading a book, promising to sit by you and protect you from anything and everything, as he doubtlessly once had for his son. Rightly, you felt safe.

No nightmares made their way to you that night. It could have been the drink, but you figured it was the presence of Zemo which kept them at bay.

Avengers Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five

[undercoverpena]

How about some hds about zemo and a shield! reader 👀 imagine the conflict

for this, I’ve bent the shield bit a touch and had reader a bit like Sharon Carter in CW. and imagine there’s a touch more time in the JCTC before Sam hunts him down.

If you had known who he was when you first took him home, you would have cuffed him to the bed for a different reason.

Instead, you found him enigmatic, handsome, intelligent and even funny. A chance meeting in a bar and now he kept buying you flowers whenever he got the green light you were free.

You never asked what he did. He never asked what you did. The two of you keeping it strictly… after hours.

They all ended the same. One of you on your back, against tiles, against sofa cushions, floors and once you even bent over your kitchen counter.

Your eyes catching his as he runs from the chaos with Barnes. The sound of people fleeing below you, the entranceway screams and shouts bouncing all over the walls.

Your feet taking off before your brain caught up, slamming into him. His eyes catching yours.

“Schatz?”

“Zemo.”

His eyes dart to your gun, kicking it from your reach before slamming into you. Pinning your back on the floor, smirking.

“This feels familiar.”

Growling, you try to pivot him, a soft hmmph leaving his throat as you force him off you. His lips parting, eyes wide as the two of you stare at one another, the gun in between you both.

“Under different circumstances, I’d afford you the luxury of escaping unharmed,” he says, eyes narrowing before he lunges.

Hands grasping for the gun.

You just as quick, moving kicking him into his stomach, grasping for the gun as his hands find your neck. Thumb pressing down, thighs pinning you down hearing soft, little chokes as your nails dig in.

“This also feels familiar,” he smirks, removing one hand, furrowing in his pocket. “Fuck I love your fight, Schatz. But, I need you to sleep now. If you do, I’ll come back for you.”

Your eyes narrowing, full of fire and determination.

“Reward you with that thing I do with my tongue,” he grins. “You’re such a pretty thing, I hope you know that.”

He almost pities you. Even as your lashes begin to flutter, your hands tapping and tapping at his hands.

“I’ll find you when I’m done,” he says with finality, before stabbing your neck with a needle.

Watching the little light left on fading, and fading. Slowly releasing his hand, brows raising as he sees the marks he’s left.

“I hope they’re there when I return,” he mutters, if only to himself, standing as he brushes himself down before fleeing.

[terry-perry]

Bet zemo wont pull el chapo when james is being put to keep an eye on the barron while Pops and Sam watch walker getting an ass kick from the wakandan guards

Well...

"Where do you think you're going?"

Zemo should've expected the youngest Barnes to try and foil his escape. He thought he had a chance to leave during the whole ordeal going on upstairs. Through the short amount of time, they've spent together, the Baron knew James' boy was a determined young man with a readiness to go against anyone.

"Somewhere I can pay my respects," Zemo replied with, smiling at Jack.

With his hands raised, he gave the sign of surrender and the opportunity to turn himself in. It was a bold move since the boy had plenty of reason to hate him. It was because of him his father almost died and practically became a criminal of the state. The act of surrender was a bold move, but one that was necessary to secure himself and be heard out.

"Sokovia," Jack realized, his stoic expression remaining.

"You or your father can easily find me there. I'm not going to go anywhere else. And there's no need to worry because I do not plan on killing any of you."

"What a relief," Jack replied, his words dripping with sarcasm.

He was very much similar in appearance to James, although he had a more diplomatic manner to him. This was apparent in how he interacted with others and was able to maintain a level of composure even when around those he didn't care for very much.

"Young James," Zemo went on. "It is you who is holding the weapon." His eyes go to the gun in Jack's hand. "You are responsible for what happens next. Just know it will only be a matter of time before Miss Morgenthau is completely transformed. I hope you all are prepared when she becomes a more ruthless individual who will do whatever it takes to get what she wants."

After destroying the super serum, Zemo was expecting a relentless pursuit of action now. Once everything was in place, he can start working on his own plans to stop all this. But for now, he wanted to go and pay his respects.

"And let your father know that I took the liberty of crossing my name off his list. I have no grudges against him for what he did."

Jack kept holding that blank expression, listening to every word. It was up to him now what to do. Zemo will accept any fate delivered to him. He can either find a way to stop the Flag Smashers' attack or reunite with his dead wife and son.

"Get out of here," Jack said, maintaining eye contact. "I'll tell them you were gone by the time I got here." He lowered his gun. "I will be telling my dad where you ran off to, though. So you better leave now. He won't be as fair as I was."

Zemo lost his smile, but he still gave his approval with a nod. He was right to trust this boy.

[f1yogurt]

I haven't written for Zemo in a while but I have this prompt idea in my head: like an amnesia fic where Helmut has been wounded or drugged during his time in the military (by Hydra??) and Heike has to sort of rescue him and bandage him up (whump!!). Helmut finds himself crushing on his beautiful rescuer hard though, and he doesn't remember that he's married to her. He tries to flirt and fails and it's all extremely amusing to Heike because she likes to press all of his buttons and make him flustered

Thinking about this in mind of people who hate reading self insert fics lol like if you're interested

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙯𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨 | helmut zemo x reader

@radmerrmaid requested a drabble with zemo and enemies to lovers. what happened is a whole oneshot. don't ask me how.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: DUBCON SMUT, enemies to lovers/hate sex, rough sex including hair pulling, degradation and name calling, restraint, a slap, and overstimulation, touchstarved reader, unspecified age gap, very mild violence (hand-to-hand combat and a mention of a previous gunshot wound), kidnapping, soft!dark zemo?

"It must drive you crazy," he purred, wrapping his fingers carefully around the crystal glass before picking it up. "Seeing me like this."

He smirked around his sip of bourbon— at least you figured it was bourbon— as you tried to keep a poker face. You didn't like the idea of being seen as crazy at all, let alone because of him. "Like what?" you pressed instead of admitting to it.

"Free," he shrugged. "Out of that cage you worked so hard to keep me in."

"Getting you there was my job," you corrected with a frown. "If keeping you there was mine, too... you'd still be in it."

He laughed lightly, if briefly, and shook his head. "Still so prideful. You're young, and you have something to prove."

"I have nothing to prove to you," you asserted, shifting your weight on your hips— it was sort of uncomfortable to keep standing, but it felt wrong to take a seat even though he'd offered you one when you entered. It seemed like a sign of trust. Not that he should be surprised by you acting aloof, when he'd offered to meet you here without even explaining why.

"No, not to me," he agreed, setting the glass down again and taking one step closer to you. "To your friends at the CIA."

He seemed to emphasize every letter of the acronym, a playful condescension in his tone. "Friends is a funny way to say it," you rolled your eyes, "like I do what I do because I want to be popular, and not because I want to keep the world safe."

"Safe from me," he added, "the evil terrorist. Right?"

You ignored his question, not really wanting to dignify it with an answer— or start some spiel about how you don't really believe in evil people, just actions that merit punishment, bla bla bla...

"Yet, you couldn't keep yourself safe from me," he went on, raising one eyebrow as he examined you. "Or, you can't. Here you are— alone, as I asked."

Obviously, you had tried to imagine some way you could have back-up for this, even just tell someone where you were going. But this was Zemo's turf, and he had eyes and ears all over the city... he would know if you tried to turn this into a sting. Instead, you only hoped to gain some sort of information tonight that you could use to track him down when he tried to run again.

"You're more trusting than I suspected," he smirked, gaze darkening a bit. "Or, more desperate."

"Maybe the right word is 'curious'," you proposed. "Clearly, you have something to discuss with me."

"I do," he nodded. "A question to ask you-- one I feel only you can answer."

You waited for him to ask it, but even just the way he sucked in a sharp breath made you realize he was going to bore you with some preamble first— just like him, really..

"You see, after evading you so many times—"

"Narrowly," you interjected.

"Maybe some times," he shrugged, smiling, "other times, I think I had plenty of room. But that's besides the point... the point is, here I am. I've probably bested you for the last time—"

"That's not—"

"Ah ah, no interrupting, please," he scolded gently. "I know you know that if I can keep a low profile here, your organization has no hope of getting me back. I simply have too many resources, and your superiors know my risk is relatively low. No?"

Again, you refused to answer, but the way you crossed your arms tighter and glanced away seemed to serve as enough of an agreement.

"So that's it— I'm free. It should be so simple," he sighed. "So, why am I disappointed?"

You furrowed your brows, staring at him in confusion. You were waiting for him to say something to give context to that, but he didn't— he only waited for your response with an earnest look. "Why... are you asking me that?" you wondered.

"Because you're the person who knows me best."

You'd never thought of it like that, and it was such a jarring idea that you began to shake your head almost instantly. "No, that... that doesn't seem right..."

"I figured you would take pride in it," Zemo grinned. "You tracked me for years, studied me, learned my habits... I had to do the same to escape you. I must know you better than anyone else."

"That's ridiculous," you scoffed. "What are you trying to say?"

"I just hoped you could tell me why I feel this way— why I feel so wrong about never seeing you again."

Your chest tightened. You couldn't bear to meet his gaze; your stomach felt sick and strange and you just wanted to run out of there, but what good would that do? You needed him to tell you something you could use, one last chance to catch him before it was too late.

"If I didn't know you so well, and hate you so much," he went on, "I wouldn't have the energy to keep running. And me? I'm your biggest case. Sometimes you act like I'm your only case. What is it about me, that you need to win against me so badly?"

"It's not you," you insisted instantly, "it's me— it's who I am."

"Maybe that's how it started," he suggested, "but you can't spend so long hunting someone without becoming a little obsessed with them— trust me, I would know."

You grimaced at him. "You— you can't be serious."

"Who will you be without me to chase?" he pressed anyways, matching some of your anger as he stepped closer again— almost too close. "Without this... passion, between us?"

"Don't step any closer," you warned.

"Or what?" he challenged. "No weapons, no soldiers— it's just the two of us here."

He stepped up again, nearly pressed against you, and you couldn't let him get away with that... you had to prove you meant what you said. You weren't armed, and you knew he wasn't someone you wanted to go up against hand-to-hand... but at the same time, it was one thing you'd always secretly wished for. A chance to wage this war the way it should be, the way it had always been: personal.

You stepped back at the same time as you swung your fist, giving yourself just enough room to gain momentum— but you weren't quite fast enough, and he blocked you. From then on it was fast, instinctual: he was stronger but you were quicker, and on the offensive.

You never quite landed a hit, but neither did he— which felt like a good sign, until you realized he wasn't really giving it his all. Dodging and blocking, yes, but he wasn't trying to win, just keep you at bay.

"Come on!" you yelled in frustration as you finally got in a kick to his chest, forcing him to stumble back and nearly fall. "What are you doing, pitying me?"

"Hardly," he wheezed, a little affected by the hit, which made you smirk. "But I don't want to hurt you."

"Please," you rolled your eyes, putting your fists up and stabilizing your posture. "If we're going to do this, let's do it right."

He came at you, and finally, there it was... his real strength. That passion he'd been talking about, you could feel it.

Both of you were flushed and panting, exhilarated by the sport of it all. Unfortunately, right as you thought you'd found your moment— the weak spot in his form— it was a trap. When you moved in closer, he grabbed you and spun you around, holding your back against his chest so tight that you struggled to breathe.

But he didn't shove you down, didn't put you in a chokehold, didn't even threaten you or gloat about pinning you. Instead, he only held you tighter, and soothed you with a gentle 'shh' in your ear when you tried to squirm out of his grasp.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you whispered, your whole body shaking as he ran his tongue up your neck.

"If it's curiosity that brought you here," he purred in response, "I can satisfy that."

"You can't be fffucking serious," you hissed, though a moan tainted your words as one of his hands ran down your body, the other still effortlessly holding you still.

"I know you so well," he went on, a deep growl in his voice as your eyes fell shut. "I know how lonely you must be. That's one of the things we share."

His hand was heavy and warm against your leg, even through your pants— and it was moving higher, petting your inner thigh as you shivered.  Though your mind longed to resist him, your body was desperate for any affection; because he was right, you were lonely.  You couldn’t think of the last time someone had touched you like this, and yet you remembered it didn’t usually feel this good.  His touch was precise and careful and teasing— not too awkward but not too cocky.  And the heat of him wrapped around you, his hot breath on your shoulder, his wider form encompassing you… how could it feel so good?

“And I know you’ve thought about this,” he added.  “That’s something we share, too.”

He couldn’t know that— he might be rich and resourceful, but he wasn’t omniscient.  If you were any more logical in that moment, you would’ve realized he was just guessing and denied it.  But his teeth brushing over your pulse didn’t exactly provoke your critical thinking skills.  “Fuck, I— fuck,” you choked out instead, shuddering when he chuckled proudly.

“You might hate me, draga, but you need me,” he explained.  “Your mind needs me, just as much as your body does.”

Something about the way his fingers traced up your side, teasing your breast before pulling away right before getting to anything too exciting… it seemed to bring you back to reality, at least partially.  You absolutely couldn’t do this— you couldn’t let him do this.  “G-get off me,” you choked out, struggling against him again.

“That’s what you want?” he taunted.

“Get the fuck off me!” you yelped.

“Make me,” he challenged.

Bringing your foot down hard on top of his, he winced and you managed to break away, spinning around and shoving him back— he actually lost his balance that time, falling to the floor.  You were ready to deliver a firm and swift kick between his legs, but rolled over and grabbed your leg while it was up, bringing you down to the floor with him.

He laughed breathlessly, sounding a little frustrated, as you flailed for purchase against the floor— only for him to grab your wrists and pin you down, positioning himself over you with a grin.  His hair was shaken out of its style, hanging around his face which was flushed from exertion.  “You keep me on my toes, I’ll give you that,” he offered.  You tried to writhe again but he had you properly trapped now, with absolutely no way out.

“You wouldn’t,” you sneered incredulously.

“Wouldn’t what, dear?”

“You wouldn’t force yourself on me,” you completed.

He seemed a little surprised, hanging his head and shaking it.  “Oh,” he breathed, “no, I wouldn’t.”

A little relieved, you started to catch your breath.

“I don’t need to.”

He brought his lips down to yours suddenly— the collision was almost too rough, and yet it was the only thing that made sense for the two of you.  You groaned in protest yet submitted instantly, opening your mouth wide for his desperate and dominating kiss.

Your back arched up off the floor, and his weight seemed to sink down on top of you in response.  Though you hated yourself for it, you spread your legs a bit, just enough for him to rest his hips between— and fuck, you could feel it.  The hard, throbbing heat, you could feel it pressed against you and the most horrible moan was nearly lost to his lips.

He hummed back proudly, running his hands over your body, kissing you faster.

You were gasping for breath when he broke away, which only worsened when he latched onto your neck.  “God, I hate you,” you blurted out, just to remind you both that if this was going to happen, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“You hate me for all those times I embarrassed you?” he assumed, hands holding your waist and starting to slide up your shirt.  “For when I eluded you, wasted your time, made a fool of you?”

“And that time you shot me.”

“I winged you,” he corrected— like that was any better.

He tugged your shirt up and you raised your arms, letting him slip it off; he spotted the scar right away, a line across your arm just under your shoulder.  He cooed for a second before kissing it softly— too gentle a moment for you to let lie.  You shoved his jacket back next, helping him slip it off his shoulders before pulling him down to kiss you again.

Your sports bra had a clasp in the front, it was a bit unique in that way, yet he had no trouble with it.  Freeing your chest, he of course had to tease you a bit more— instead of groping your waiting breasts right away, he guided your arms down from where they held onto the back of his neck, lifting you up from the floor a bit so you could slide the garment off and toss it away.  

When you laid back down, the floor was cold, but the hiss you let out was more a response to him rocking his hips against you, teasing you through these stupid remaining clothes.  “You know why I hate you?” he returned as he started to unbutton your pants, even though you’d entirely forgotten that last part of the conversation.

Before he answered the question, he yanked your pants and underwear down to your thighs— and swiftly got his own out of the way.  Your heart raced; you weren’t totally convinced this was really happening, not until he pushed into you in one painfully sudden thrust.  You cried out, yet he took no mercy on you.  He was ruthless, in fact.

Choking on your broken cries, you arched up off the floor again as he hammered into you, rage and relief and desperation evident in every movement.  He had to hold your legs tightly just to keep you from sliding across the floor, which only ensured you took every stroke as deep as it could go— which was already too fucking deep.

“Say it,” he ordered, “tell me why I hate you.”

“I caught you,” you said— but you knew that would just make him angrier.  Maybe that was kind of the idea.

Stopping just long enough to tug your pants the rest of the way off— and leaving you naked while he was still mostly dressed— he descended over you and looked right at you, far too close, with a rageful stare.

“You trapped me,” he corrected gruffly.  “You played dirty.”

Before you had a chance to retort that all’s fair in love and war, he started to pound into you… harder and meaner than ever.  You didn’t surprise yourself by crying out, considering how intense and nearly painful the feeling was, but you were a little confused that the word you said was a needy yes!

"Those years in prison," he snarled, "you could barely call it living, life in that place— you put me there. I thought every day about how you put me there."

He yanked your hair, making you whine loudly and exposing your neck for his lips and teeth to explore freely.  

Finally, a hand latched onto your chest— a hot palm encompassing your breast and skilled fingers pinching lightly at your nipple.  You couldn’t believe how composed he was through all this— in many ways, he wasn’t, but he seemed to be deliberate with every way he touched you and that was far more togetherness than you had.

You weren’t together at all, actually… something about the heat of the moment, the way your body responded to him, the way he glared at you… you could already feel tension building inside you.  It wouldn’t be long, not if he kept going like this.

“I thought about you every fucking day, draga— that you were free, and I was trapped in that cell,” he growled.  “You missed it, didn’t you?  Chasing me.”

When you didn’t answer, he struck you across the face with the back of his hand; the shock of it made your walls clench on him, or at least you could blame it on that, but you had no way to explain the way you moaned a moment later.

He moved even faster, a sickening wet sound echoing through the room which you hated to acknowledge was your own body.  “The worse I am to you, the wetter you get,” he noticed, smiling for just a moment.  “What a filthy whore you are.”

“F-fuck you,” you stammered roughly.

“Actually, why don’t you?” he offered, grabbing you by the hips and rolling both of you over until he was on his back and you were straddling him.  “Show me how bad you need it.”

As much as you wanted to not do what he told you, your hips were already moving— your body was on its own mission now, desperate for pleasure and friction and heat.  Desperate for anything he would give.  You whimpered as you grinded down on him, feeling his cock go so much deeper than you imagined was possible.  “God,” you sobbed, tossing your head back and trying not to picture the way he must have been looking at you then.

His hands moved all over you, up your thighs and over your breasts, even wrapping around your neck once though they didn’t put on enough pressure to really choke you.  “Pretty girl,” he praised darkly, making chills dance over your skin.

But when his hands settled on your hips, trying to guide you the way he wanted, you’d had enough; you grabbed him at the wrists and leaned forward, pinning his hands beside his head.  He smirked up at you at first, but when you bounced your hips up and down while hovering over him, his eyes fell shut and he let out a deep groan.  “I’m close,” you panted sharply.

“You can make yourself come like this?” he realized, sounding a little impressed.  He opened his eyes and lifted his head for a moment to get a better look at you, before almost instantly giving up again and dropping his head back to the floor with a moan.  “Fine, take it— just take what you need, draga.”

You held tighter to his wrists, mostly to keep yourself stable, and you felt his own hands ball into fists as you bounced faster.  “Oh god, oh god, oh god— yes!” you yelped, legs quivering as it struck you.  It seemed to come and go so quickly, perhaps because your strength gave out halfway through and you felt weak and paralyzed.  It had been ages since you’d felt pleasure like that… actually you weren’t sure you’d ever felt pleasure like that, at least not so much all at once.

If only he were satisfied by that.  With your grip weakened, he easily pulled his hands away to wrap his arms around you, holding you tightly and bucking his hips up into you rapidly.

“Fuck, wait, s-slow down,” you panted, whining weakly as he shook his head against the crook of your neck.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” he purred.  “I won’t be able to slow down at all until you’re full of come, draga.  I want you dripping.”

You were all numb and limp now, so raw and sensitive inside— he put you on your back again and didn’t struggle at all to pull another orgasm from you.  The third, though, was a little more hard fought: he rubbed your clit with an almost painful amount of pressure, watching through dark eyes and with a sneering grin as you screamed and shivered.

“Not too loud, darling,” he warned, “the people in the streets might hear you, the window’s still open—”

“Fuck!” you shouted, high-pitched and shaky, and he covered your mouth with his other hand as he laid on you with a growl.

“Just one more, then I’ll fill you,” he promised.  “I only need to feel you come one more time.  You want a rest, don’t you?”

You nodded weakly, biting down on your shaking lip.

“Then give me what I want.”

Your final cry was stuttered and helpless, every final ounce of energy in your body being taken from you by the final forced peak of ecstasy.  But it wasn’t until you sighed out his name, barely audible under your breath, that he groaned against your neck and pumped himself deep inside you— every drop, leaving you full to the brim and then some.  

You didn’t even have the strength to hold onto him, but he held you far too tightly as if to make up for it, and didn’t let you go for quite some time.

It had only gotten darker and colder out, and the draft through the window eventually danced over your sweat-slickened skin.  When you shivered under him, Helmut lazily reached up to the couch nearby, pulling a throw blanket off of it and wrapping you both up in its soft embrace.  You sighed with relief from both the cold air and the hard floor, not even realizing you were falling asleep. 

Even when you woke up, you didn’t really notice that you’d been asleep— except that Helmut was gone, and the fireplace was going.  Sitting up as little as you could get away with to look for him— since moving at all was quite a task given how tired you were— you heard him coming around the corner and turned back to look at him.

He was in a robe now, and carrying two crystal glasses of water.  He smiled at you as he sat back down on the floor, laying beside you on the blanket and handing you your glass.  “Figured you would need this soon enough,” he explained with a soft voice as you sipped carefully at the water.  You weren’t really ready to talk to him yet, but you wanted to thank him for the water, so you just nodded and hoped that would get the point across.

The silence was probably only awkward for you— he seemed totally at peace, getting through most of his drink before setting it down on the floor and cuddling up to you again with a contented sigh.

You quietly drank the water, staring forward at the crackling fire, hardly believing where you were.  It actually sounded sort of romantic on paper: a dashing and wealthy older man, a penthouse apartment in a foreign city, a fire, a blanket, a crystal glass…

If it weren’t for the wanted terrorist, it might make for a good little fantasy.

Yet, you set your glass aside and laid back down with him.  He slipped an arm around you, holding your shoulder and petting it with his thumb, even kissing the side of your forehead sweetly.  “I don’t understand how you can… be like that,” you whispered, glancing down at his arm crossed over your chest.

“Not everyone is so afraid of their feelings as you are,” he countered, and you snorted a little.

“I’m not afraid of my feelings,” you denied half-heartedly.

“You’re afraid of me, then?” he wondered.

“Not… quite…” you murmured your answer, not even sure yourself what you felt.  “I mean, I drank the water, so—”

“I wondered if you would,” he laughed, “but I’m glad you did.”

“I mean, only half the glass, technically,” you noticed.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ve had enough,” he shrugged.

“Enough?” you chuckled.  “After that, half a glass of water is hardly enough.  I won’t be recovered until I have a protein-heavy meal and probably a couple painkillers— if I wanna, you know, sit or jog or whatever in the next few days.”

“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” he chuckled, “but I didn’t mean enough to recuperate.  I meant enough for you to sleep until we get there.”

“...what?” you asked, turning over your shoulder with knitted brows to look at him.

“If even you know where you’re going, you might find a way to get out is all,” he explained flippantly.

“What… what are you…?” you started, shaking your head— but it didn’t shake off that funny feeling, that heaviness in your head.

“You see, I did think about you every day in my cell,” he went on, “and I thought about how, someday, I would lock you away— so you’d know how it feels, to be a prisoner.”

Whimpering as realization dawned, you sat up quickly to try to fight whatever was in that water… but it only seemed to make it worse, spots forming in your vision like when you stand up too fast— except they didn’t fade, just multiplied.

“I’ll treat you much better than I was, though,” he assured, “in fact, I think you’ll be better off than you were before… you’ll be mine, draga.  No one else will ever see you again.”

You tried to speak but it wasn’t really coming together— you tried to push him away but you only limply held onto him, looking up at his eerily blank expression with your fading vision.  As it all turned to black, he caught your head before it hit the floor, cradling it rather tenderly before kissing your cheek.

“Now,” he whispered to you, though you couldn’t possibly hear it, “let’s get you cleaned up— the plane is waiting to take you to our new home.”

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

July 7/23 Masterlist Update

✅ - finished 🆕 - new series

Series

Marvel

The Little Things In Life (Steve Rogers)

Never Too Late ✅(Steve Rogers)

Outside the Lines 🆕(Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes)

All the Good Girls Go To Hell🆕(Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes)

Watching, Waiting…🆕(Bucky Barnes)

In the Summertime🆕(Helmut Zemo)

Take Shelter🆕(Thor)

No Time This Time🆕(Tony Stark)

Other Fandoms

Who’s The Boss?🆕(Lloyd Hansen, The Gray Man)

Wildest Dreams (Andy Barber, Defending Jacob)

River Below (Rafe Canerom, The Outer Banks)

Only Yesterday 🆕(Nick Fowler, The 355)

Laisse tomber les filles ✅(Lee Bodecker, The Devil All the Time)

Don’t Speak🆕(Andy Barber, Defending Jacob)

To be alone with you🆕(Clark Kent, DC)

Multifandom

Pretty Petals (Multifandom)

Crushed (Colin Shea, What’s Your Number; Jonathan Pine, Night Manager)

One Shots

Marvel

Graceless (Steve Rogers)

Other Fandoms

Through the Eye (John Wick)

God Mode (God The Bounty Hunter, Ghosted)

Double Trouble (Lloyd Hansen, The Gray Man; August Walker, Mission Impossible: Fallout)

Drabbles

Series

Marvel

Drawn Together🆕(Steve Rogers)

Wallflower✅(Thor)

One (Steve Rogers)

Hide and Seek 🆕(Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes)Watching, Waiting…🆕

Resistance (Bucky Barnes)

Other Fandom

Unexpected (Lloyd Hansen)

Multifandom

Sweet Treat Epilogues🆕

The Club AU🆕

One Offs

Marvel

Make You Feel My Love (Bucky Barnes)

Other Fandoms

Paradigm Shift (August Walker, Mission Impossible: Fallout)

Let’s Have A Picnic (Lloyd Hansen, The Gray Man)

Multifandom

Song Lyric Drabble Requests (Multifandom)

[boop-le-snoot]

welcome to

⚡ Welcome to Bun's Cockstop! This is a place where I thirst over cute dirty old men! Most of my works can also be found on AO3 (here).

⚡ My name is Bun/Bunny. I go by any pronouns.

⚡ I do not write RPF (real person fiction). That said, any kind of drama mongering, moral policing and other purity culture bullshit is not welcome on my blog. At best, I will block you; if you annoy me enough, I just might be inclined to prove your opinion wrong (with citations).

⚡ I am pro-ship, pro-dark!fic, I think sex work is work, I don't support communism (and Russia! seriously, GTFO) and I support the death penalty for crimes against children. If you find yourself wanting to argue w/me about these topics, don't waste our time and block me.

⚡ I communicate in English and Russian and understand several more assorted languages. Don't be shy and say hello 😌 This is my Spotify <3 😌

⚡ My blog is meant for an adult audience. It will contain topics such as sex and various kinks, drugs, trauma, queer stuff and lots of rock-'n'-roll. All the things I post are tagged accordingly, therefore it is your responsibility to block the tags/blacklist the content you do not wish to see. You choose the content you consume & I am not here to babysit.

⚡ a post with fic author recs for stephen-tony-bruce

⚡ masterlist below spoiler ⚡

stories marked with an asterisk* contain adult content

⚡ multichapter fics ⚡

party favours [AO3 link] | tony stark x bruce banner x stephen strange x reader ot4) | explicit | ~120k words | completed

practical alchemy [AO3 link] | witch!reader x established!ironstrange | explicit | in progress (hiatus)

black dog [AO3 link] | badass!reader x negan (twd) | explicit | in progress, 1/3 done

⚡one-shots⚡

tony stark | doll parts | skin starving | butt dial? no, booty call* | degradation* (dubcon) | teasing tony | nerd fishing* | love letter* (dd/lg) | bad day* | trust issues | stitches | sticky sweet* |

helmut zemo | marmalade taffy* |

bruce banner | emotional support nerd* | bondage* | lab delights* | spoiled | blindfolds & edging* | you've seen the butcher* |

stephen strange | dr. feelgood* (as seen on tiktok) | touch me i'm sick* | spellbound* | brat & restraints* | aftercare | mean!dom* (gender neutral reader) | inappropriate use of the eye of agamotto* | selfship drabbles - oral fixation, more horny brainrot | spitfire* | dazed & confused* | year after year | the leg thing* | hand/size kink* |

sam wilson | bad touch* | violent delights* (content warning) |

loki | if life gives you melons* | bondage* (nb reader, they/them) | snow day* (male reader)

natasha romanoff | hot wheels* |

wanda maximoff | caught |

bucky barnes | bother figure (daughter!reader) |

thor | idunn's apples | hired man* (dubcon) | beloved, bejeweled |

otto octavius / doc ock | horny headcanons* | i want to kill you like they do in the movies - part 1 - part 2* - part 3* (fin) |

steve rogers | it drives me wild* |

daryl dixon | cherry - part 1 - part 2* (coming soon) | untitled* | dirt* |

⚡ blurb series ⚡

daddy!ironstrange - daddy lessons* | part one | part two |

rickyl - part one*

[stevesbestgirl]

Marvel Masterlist

Please see under the cut for my Marvel characters masterlist! Current characters include: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Stucky, Natasha Romanoff, Loki, Helmut Zemo, Steven Grant, and Johnny Storm. This also includes my Eddie/Venom fic (It took place when they were in the MCU, so it counts). Enjoy!

Find my main Masterlist here!

Because it needs to be said, no one has my permission to translate or repost my fics anywhere.

Key:

🔥 - smut

❤ - fluff

💀 - angst (always with a happy ending because I am soft)

💫 - my favorites

One Shots:

Drunk Enough (Steve Rogers x Reader) ❤ 💫

-> Star Spangled (Steve Rogers x Reader) ❤

Teamwork (Steve Rogers x GN!Reader)  ❤

Series:

A Moment of Your Time (Mob!Bucky x f!Reader) ❤ 🔥

One Shots:

A Walk in the Park (Bucky x f!Reader)  🔥

Shades of Gray (FATWS!Bucky x enhanced!Flagsmasher!Reader) 💀

Sunshine (ex!Bucky x Reader) 💀❤

Hooked (Captain Hook!Bucky x Lost!Reader) 💀❤

Last Call (Biker!Bucky x f!Reader) ❤ 💫

Shooting Blind (Bucky x Reader)  ❤ 💫

In the Pit (Pit Boss!Bucky x f!Reader)  🔥

Secrets (Bucky Barnes x f!Reader)  ❤

One Shots

Dolled Up (Stucky x f!Reader) 🔥 💫

Late Nights (Stucky x f!Reader)  🔥 💫

Performance Review (CEO!Stucky x Reader) ❤

Down to Business (dark!CEO!Stucky x Reader) ❤

The Auction (Mafia!Stucky x Reader) ❤ 🔥 💫

Part 1 Part 2

Sticky Notes (Stucky x Reader)  ❤

Series:

Vanaheim Storms (Loki x f!Reader)  ❤ 💫 Completed

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

One Shots:

Bock Haben (Zemo x f!Reader) 🔥 💫

Blind Date with Daddy!Zemo (Daddy!Zemo x F!Reader) ❤

One Shots:

Don't Be Afraid (Steven Grant x Reader) 💀❤

Excited (Steven Grant x Reader) ❤🔥

Love Languages with the Moon Boys  ❤

Series:

Phases of the Moon (Steven Grant x f!Reader)  ❤

Masterlist

One Shots:

We Are Drunk (Eddie/Venom x f!Reader) 🔥

Drabbles:

There Was One Bed (Johnny Storm X f!Reader)  ❤

[blackleatherjacketz]

Baron Helmut Zemo Masterlist

Baron Zemo x Original Female Character

Work of Art - (NSFW One-Shot) While waiting for Sam and Bucky to get back, Zemo compares their partner to a classic painting by Klimt.

Point of No Return - (NSFW One-Shot) - Zemo helps his colleague get into character for an undercover mission.

Baron Zemo x Female Reader

What I Paid For - (NSFW Drabble) - Zemo wants to see what your new lingerie looks like.

Without a Trace - Zemo up and leaves without saying goodbye…

More - (NSFW Drabble) Zemo pushes your body to the limit.

Delightful - (Drabble) Zemo comforts you in the freezing cold.

Ruin Your Plans - (Drabble) Zemo finds you after being on the run.

Baron Zemo x Female Reader x Bucky Barnes

Russian Roulette - (NSFW. One-Shot) Zemo propositions you and Bucky for a threesome.

Read more MARVEL stories!

[marvelmusing]

The Spider Incident

Pairing: Single Parent!Helmut Zemo x Reader

Summary: Despite the fact that you and your coworker Zemo bicker regularly, the two of you are slowly becoming friends. One evening you offer to babysit his son Carl, to which Zemo agrees. (An AU where Zemo is just a regular single dad)

A/N: I’m not actively writing for Zemo anymore but I found this little drabble and thought it was cute

My Masterlist

»»---------------------►

You’re awoken by someone nudging your arm. You shift slightly, careful not to wake the boy snuggled up beside you. You blink blearily in the lamplight, before your eyes settle on Zemo.

“You are aware he’s old enough to sleep on his own?” He whispers. You scowl at him before sliding out from Carl’s grasp.

“Of course I am. There was a spider in his room.” You explain quietly. Zemo’s eyes flicker down to his son in concern, before looking back at you as you lead him to Carl’s room.

“And you couldn’t handle that yourself?”

“I did handle it.” You argue, a hint of pride shining in your voice as you open the door. You gesture towards the laundry basket overturned on the floor. “I’ve trapped it.” He glances down at the basket, then back at you.

“How you’ve survived as an adult for this long, truly astounds me.”

“In a good way, right?” You tease with a grin. He shakes his head,

“Whatever helps you sleep at night Liebling.” As he approaches the basket you shift your feet warily. Zemo notices and looks back at you. “Would you prefer to stand on the bed?” You smile sheepishly at him before nodding. You jump up onto the bed, peering down at the floor.

“It was huge.” You explain, before showing him with your hands how big the spider was. Zemo plucks a tissue from the box on Carl’s desk and advances towards the basket. When the basket is lifted and the creature scuttles out you can’t help but recoil. When Zemo spots it he drops the basket and jumps onto the bed beside you, clinging onto your arms for support. You grab hold of him to prevent the two of you from crashing to the floor.

“Told you it was huge.” He hums in response, not wanting to agree with you, but certainly recognising the monstrosity he’s just released. “So what’s the plan?” You venture.

“I’m going to use you as an offering.” You tighten your hold on his arms.

“Don’t you dare.”

“It’s a necessary sacrifice.”

“It’s really not.”

“What do you propose?”

“We could evacuate the house?”

“Is that not rather drastic?”

“And using me as a human sacrifice isn’t?” You seize a large encyclopaedia from Carl’s nightstand.

“What are you doing?”

“Solving the problem. You’re going to hit it with this.” You tell him, waving the book for emphasis. He shakes his head slightly before he meets your hopeful eyes. He sighs, taking the book from you. After a few failed attempts on the spider’s life, Zemo finally drops the book onto the creature. As he’s flushing the remains down the toilet and cleaning up the bedroom, you scoop Carl up into your arms before returning him to his own bed. When Zemo looks for his son, he finds you tucking him in with a tender expression on your face. Zemo hovers in the doorway, watching the rather domestic scene. You turn to look at him, a rather embarrassed smile adorning your face as you stand up. You gesture slightly towards Carl’s bed and Zemo nods in understanding. The two of you swap places and you lean against the doorframe as he crouches on the bed. He bends down to press a kiss against Carl’s forehead, smoothing the blankets down as he stands. He turns the lamp off, and you hold the door open for him as the two of you step out into the hallway. You both make your way down the stairs quietly. Zemo looks back at you as you walk,

“Thank you, for tonight.”

“You’re welcome. And anytime you need someone to watch him, I’ll be free. He’s a sweet kid.” He seems rather taken aback by your offer.

“That means a great deal to me.” You smile gently at him. You’re about to reach for your coat when he asks you, “Would you like to stay? For a drink?” You hesitate at his offer.

“I shouldn’t, really. I have to drive home.” He nods,

“You could stay the night?” You hesitate again.

“Okay.” You say with a small smile. “If you’re sure it’s not a bother?” He shakes his head.

“Not at all.”

[gvtted-ratz]

request/idea rules

requests: open

fandoms/characters:

• dc

the ridder/edward nashton (the batman 2022), scarecrow/johnathan crane (mix of arkham night game+injustice 2)

• marvel

anthony "tony" stark/iron man, peter benjamin parker/spider-man, wade wilson/deadpool, helmut zemo, james "bucky" barnes/winter soldier, matthew "matt" murdock/daredevil, franklin "foggy" nelson, frank castle/the punisher, william "billy" russo/jigsaw, miguel o'hara, spider-punk/hobart "hobie" brown (smatsv)

• slasher fandom

billy lenz (black christmas 1974), brahms heelshire, martin mathias (martin 1977), harry warden/the miner (og and remake), asa emory (the collector), jason voorhees (og and 2009 remake), michael myers (og and rz remake), arkin o'brien (the collector/the collection), arkin o'brien (the collector/the collection), nicholas "nick" henry jones(house of wax, lester sinclair (house of wax)

john doe +

john doe

• marble hornets

masky/timothy "tim" wright, skully/jay merrick, alexander "alex" kralie, hoody/brian thomas

• duskwood (game)

richy rogers, phil hawkins, jake "hakermen", thomas, daniel "dan" anderson

there will be blood

eli sunday

that's not my neighbor (game)

physicist/dr. w. afton, milkman/francis mosses, hoon (milkman doppelganger), scarlet milk (milkman doppleganger), pilot/steven rudboys, d.d.d agent (hazmat guy)

today i'm harvesting you (game)

dante, the collector

call of duty (+modern warfare 2)

könig, simon "ghost" riley, kyle "gaz" garrick, john "soap" mactavish, alejandro vargas, rodolfo "rudy" parra, gary "roach" sanderson

yes/no:

will not do

• incest

• suicide

• ddlg/ddlb

• scat/urine

• pregnancy

• heavy angst

• teacher/student

• sa/rape/non-con

• full smut/sex scenes

• illnesses/issues we're unfamiliar with (ask)

• underage/child anything (papa, uncle, child, etc. reader &/or character)

• fem reader (including pronouns/detailed anatomy due to high discomfort) - anything else is fine

can/will do

• fics (1k+)

• past abuse

• headcanons

• drabbles (100-1k)

• alpha/beta/omega

• polyamory relationships

• blood, gore, violence, etc.

• self-harm (to a degree. ask)

• anything soft, comfort, fluff

• aus (soulmate, cafe, bookstore, etc.)

• some ships/otps/rarepairs (feel free to ask)

• death of character/reader (character/reader kills the other)

• nearly any pronouns (including neos, just provide pronouns)

• male/masc, gender-neutral, nonbinary, trans male reader, neogenders/xenogender reader (this includes monster, human, alien, divine etc. readers)

• "steamy" scenes/dub-con (more tame/less described) <- will be posted on ao3 ONLY (link will be provided for requests)

[undercoverpena]

misc.

misc. characters from different worlds.

all works below are for 18+ readers only - minors do not interact. ⤼ works are with a fem!reader.

HELMUT ZEMO (MCU)

▴ interesting | 1.1k ▴ interesting (ii) | 1.5k

▴ on your back

DRABBLES.

▴ vying for attention (drabble from sleepover) ▴ zemo + a shield!reader

DIEGO HARGREEVES (TUA)

▴ stood up + salad

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE (COD)

▴ don’t part one | 900 words ▴ don't part two | 2.1k

▴ small, dark and kind of shady

▴ a handful of birthdays | 3k

[ao3feed-sambucky]

Soldier

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/IHG6u4p by Heartswarm Lowtown, Madripoor - Bucky had to play the part of the Winter Soldier for the team to obtain information. Then shit just got too real. SamBucky drabble (100 words) Words: 100, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Helmut Zemo Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson Additional Tags: Madripoor (Marvel), Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Soldat - Freeform, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Comfort, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes has DID - Dissociative Identity Disorder, Protective Sam Wilson, sambucky - Freeform, sambucky drabble, Episode: s01e03 Power Broker (The Falcon and the Winter Soldier TV), Hurt Bucky Barnes, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Tone shift in the middle read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/IHG6u4p

[peachyxboy]

✧˖° Masterlist ˖⁺‧₊˚ ✧

⊹˙⋆ Lalo Salamanca ⋆˙⊹

Series:

A Love so Sweet, it Hurts

One-shots:

It’s a Salamanca!

HCs & Drabble

TBA

⊹˙⋆ The Salesman ⋆˙⊹

Series:

TBA

One-shots:

TBA

HCs & Drabbles:

⊹˙⋆ Helmut Zemo ⋆˙⊹

Series:

TBA

One-shots:

TBA

HCs & Drabbles:

TBA

[noforkingclue]

Hello, how are you doing today? I hope that you are well. I was wondering if I could please request something, if that's okay with you ?

✨ Character ✨ ~ Helmut Zemo

🤍 Fandom 🤍 ~ Marvel Cinematic Universe

🍃 Prompt 🍃 ~ One shot ( if you write those ) if you don't write one shots then a drabble please 🥺👉👈

💮 Details 💮 ~ Reader has a major anxiety attack and is hyperventilating. Zemo tries to calm them down. It gets bad to the point, where reader shuts down and holds their breath until they end up losing consciousness in his arms. And then Zemo makes sure that they are alright afterwards

☄️ Pronouns ☄️ ~ Female reader or Gender neutral please.

🏞️ Message 🏞️ ~ Thank you for considering this ask. I love your work so much ! Have a good day :)

Note: requests are currently closed

Still feeling kind of blurgh (if that makes sense) so some more softness for Saturday!

Title: Always Here

Marvel tag list: @geocookie21, @greeneyedblondie44, @purebloodwitch, @sessa23, @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You practically collapsed to the floor by the side of your bed. You tried to draw in a deep breath but couldn’t quite manage it. It felt like you could only draw in half a breath and when you tried to release it, it was almost as though it was stuck in your throat. A gentle tap at the door made you look up quickly.

“Liebling?”

Damn, it was Zemo. You had hoped that your escape to your room had gone unnoticed but apparently it hadn’t been. When you didn’t answer Zemo knocked on the door again and said,

“I’m coming in.”

The door opened slowly and you couldn’t help but smile at the action. Even though he was concerned for you, you could hear the worry in his voice, he still respected your privacy. He frowned when he saw you sitting on the floor and shut the door softly behind him before approaching you slowly. You felt your breaths coming quicker and Zemo wasted no time in moving next to you.

“Y/n, listen to me.”

He raised a hand and after a moment’s hesitation he put it on top of yours. He gave it a soft a squeeze and you couldn’t help but give him a shaky smile. Count on Zemo on always knowing what to do.

“Shh,” he said, “Focus on my voice. Focus on what I’m saying. Focus on my breathing.”

You tried to copy Zemo’s actions but despite his best efforts all that happened was the feeling of your chest getting tighter. You slumped against Zemo’s chest as your eyes fluttered shut and everything wen black.

*

You let out a soft groan as your eyes slowly opened. You winced as he bright light blinded you and you raised a hand to cover them.

“Easy,” said Zemo, “Take it slowly.”

“Wh… Zemo.”

A warm hand appeared at your shoulder and slowly helped you to sit up. You opened your eyes and Zemo handed you a glass of water. You quickly took a gulp but Zemo pulled the glass away.

“What did I say about slowly,” he said, “Don’t want you choking.”

“What happened?” you asked

“You had an anxiety attack.”

“Did I?” you hid your head in your hands, “Fuck. I’m… I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

Zemo pried your hands away from your face. You could feel your cheeks heating up at how close the two of you were.

“Still,” you muttered, “I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”

“It is one I am used to dealing with.”

“O… oh.”

You bit you lip and shifted awkwardly. You were an idiot not to realise what Zemo was implying. Zemo stood up and offered you his hand. At your confused look he said,

“The floor is not the most comfortable place to recover from an anxiety attack.”

“Right.”

You hadn’t realised that you were still on the floor. You stumbled to your feet and Zemo wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you. It felt strange being held in his arms and yet felt strangely alright. You rest your head on his chest and he said,

“Let me get you a cup of tea. Everything always seems a bit better after one.”

“Yes, thank you.”

As Zemo led you out of the bedroom you couldn’t help but note that he hadn’t removed his arm from your wait. Not that you were complaining of course.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Soft Target: Ch. 5

18+ content, minors DNI

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

This is short, but I wanted to get something up before diving into edits for my other fic (so I can send them off to my lovely new beta reader).

In hobbit birthday tradition, I will give the first ten folks to comment and/or reblog with a comment a drabble/mini fic (in the coming months). Happy to write for Zemo, Safin (Bond villain), or Bucky/Winter Soldier. Other characters possible upon request, but may take more time.

Chapter 4: Link

Chapter warnings; smut, Zemo manipulation at its finest, thigh riding, German and Slavic pet names in place of Sokovian.

Enjoy!

Oops, all smut.

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“Then I must work to make my intentions clearer,” he said, stepping closer.

“Do you even know what they are?” she challenged.

She was asking about blood and death. An inkling of something very different stirred in a place he wasn’t prepared to search.

“Maybe not,” he confessed. A soft smile rose to banish the stiff horror in her eyes. “But it isn’t to murder my host while she makes a cup of tea.”

Maybe it would be better if he did. Then, at least she’d know. She didn’t believe he really had no idea what he intended to do with her. Baron Helmut Zemo was a man with a plan, and even if she’d been a surprise addition to the equation, he’d had enough hours to recalculate.  

Balancing on the cusp of threat and flirtation was exhausting, and if he wanted to kill her, the kitchen wouldn’t be a bad place.

“What are you thinking?”

In the still room, his voice felt louder than it should. It felt physical, a touch without consequence, and she bit her cheek hard against the pleasant shivers rolling down her spine. Why did such a bad man have such a lovely voice? And how was she supposed to answer his question?

“I’m thinking it would be easy to clean up the blood in here,” she said.

His head tilted to the opposite side in time with a step forward. Standing by the counter, she didn’t have room to retreat, but she turned to face him, ready for a fight. If she had a moment, she could grab the kettle and swing for his face. He’d have to at least block, and that may provide a window to escape.

But he stopped just within reach, hands empty at his sides, all thoughtful expression and bobbing head, like a snake studying a mouse in the corner of its cage. Wander eyes dipped from eyes to lips, rolling down her body and back up again, lingering on places of interest with no strategic value in a fight.

Her battle plans crumbled, and she stared back, thrown entirely off her rhythm.

“Would it put you at ease,” he murmured, “to know you interest me far more than your family?”

“I don’t doubt it.” Her mouth had gone dry, and when her teeth instinctively pinched her lip, she tasted pennies again. It would never heal at this rate. Further proof the man was bad for her health. “They’re only in danger because of me.”

Zemo hummed, shifting so another precious inch between them disappeared as he made a show of considering her point. For a moment, she felt like a fish on the end of his line, watching as he reeled himself closer and closer to his catch.

It was cruel of him, and she clung to the splinter of rage as he dipped into her personal space. He’d run out of room soon, and they both knew he wouldn’t touch her, so this farcical seduction would only leave her aching and lonely in her room. By herself. While he smugly filed this little encounter away in his book of petty victories.

“Would you believe me if I said they were in no danger because you are in no danger? At least not from me?”

Laughing a strained little bark, fit to burst with nervous energy doing its best to turn erotic, she pushed back into the sharp edge of the counter. “I think we already covered that.”

His head dropped, like he’d been bested, but when his eyes flicked back up to meet hers through his lashes, the impish light in them promised anything but peace.

“Actions speak so much louder than words.”

She scoffed as her heart kicked into overdrive. Deadly or not, his gaze burned with intent, and she felt too warm, too exposed, too close to doing something dangerous and stupid that no one had ever invited her to try before. She flailed for a defense. For room to breathe.

“Right. Because you’re so easy to read, you enigmatic fuck.”

“You’re trying much too hard, draga.”

The endearment, pet name, whatever it was, caught her attention. She didn’t know the word, but her body translated the velvet purr into a sizzling heat, like an electrical fire, burning low and hot. She gulped, and her hands flexed on the countertop behind her.

Every twitch betrayed her, and if he couldn’t see the signs of her growing arousal by now, she’d seriously misjudged him.

Humiliated, she turned to the floor, only to see his foot slip between hers. When she snapped to attention, he had her caged between his arms and counter.

“I don’t need to kill you.” He smiled, not a trace of his pensive frown to be seen, so near she imagined she could taste the expression. It bared something sweetly malicious in his manners, and his dark eyes twinkled with fiendish delight at her stuttering breath. “I want to like you.”

Her own words, wrapped in his sinful voice, sounded so much more suggestive than she’d meant them to be.

No space remained. When she breathed, her chest bumped his, and his rich cologne filled her senses. His voice. His smell. They made him and his actions too real, and she struggled to interpret them as anything but what they appeared to be.

It wasn’t possible. Even if she might want it to be.

“I find the softest things wear the prickliest armor.”

His voice reverberated in her bones so she breathed in time with him, so she fell quietly under his spell. He had her where he wanted. Now if only she knew what he wanted.

She could see the end of this, even if she couldn’t understand how they’d arrive. Though she ached to continue – with what? – she made one last attempt to save herself.

“This isn’t kind, Baron,” she whispered, feeling that prickly armor peeling away. Admitting he could hurt her. Admitting vulnerability.

Nearly kissing her ear, he whispered, “I am not a kind man. But there’s something you need, draga. I’ll help you, if you let me.”

She closed her eyes, afraid to shake her head lest she brush against his face.

“You won’t even shake my hand. Don’t tease me. Please.”

“Oh, I have every intention of teasing you,” he said, “and delivering on everything I promise. In the end. There are many ways to pleasure a woman without ever touching each other’s skin.”

Her eyes flew open, and she met the wickedest grin she’d ever beheld. He delighted in his games, and he’d maneuvered her effortlessly to the brink of the cliff, all the while whispering encouragement to jump. If she accepted, gave him that kind of power, she may never get it back.

“May I help?”

A soft target indeed.

She’d never had any power to begin with.

Swallowing, she decided she might as well jump since he’d already wrecked her.

“Yes.”

The foot between her legs slipped forward, and his chest pushed flush against hers, forcing her off balance as his knee pressed into the gap. His thigh moved between hers, pressing against everything that demanded friction all at once.

She gasped, and he bent his knee, forcing his thigh higher, lifting her onto her toes. Half-bent back over the counter, she couldn’t be any more at his mercy if she tried. Her hands scrabbled for a sturdier grip.

“Hold onto me,” he purred, rolling his leg to send fluttering waves through her core.

Helpless to do anything else, she grabbed fistfuls of his sweater. It was as soft as his thigh was hard.

“Very good.”

He crooned over her as he continued his ministrations, stoking the fire he’d set. He experimented with different rhythms, different angles, forcing her to whimper and adapt as he ground up against her.

The jeans she’d chosen were close to jeggings, thin enough for her to feel the pressure and drag of each roll of his thigh, every bounce of his knee. She suspected the fabric gave her tormentor an advantage, too. Thicker denim would leave him to guess where her sweet spots hid. If he was guessing now, he had the devil’s luck. Every slide stole her breath, and the mounting pressure left her feeling like she might explode.

Her hips jerked erratically as she tried to keep still, tried to save face as she let a man she’d known for two days work to – as he so elegantly put it – pleasure her.

He caught onto to her reticence quickly and moved to correct it. Warm hands wrapped around her hips, guiding down harder on his knee as he tsked.

“Don’t be shy, liebling.”

His voice was really doing it for her, and she followed his instructions, carefully rolling her hips to chase the beginning of her end. Her face flamed, and she couldn’t meet his eye, but it felt too good to stop. With his hands on her and his chest pinning her, she could image she was being held.

The long, winding cord grew tighter and tighter in her belly, like a rope going taut before it snapped. She’d really fall this time, too. No one could save her from the fallout of her own choices, and she knew, even as she ground down against his knee, that her prickly armor would never quite keep him out again.

As her orgasm approached, her thighs began to shake, and her pace faltered as they threatened to give out after balancing for so long on her toes. But the baron didn’t let up. His hands grasped tighter driving her against every glide and bounce of his knee, giving her everything she could feel through the layers of clothing between them.

“You’re doing so well,” he purred. “Nearly there.”

His warm murmurs sent cold shocks all the way out to her fingertips, and she clung to him, biting her ragged lip to stop from making too much noise. Aware of the fear tangled too tightly around her arousal, he shushed her, comforting her as he drove her relentlessly towards the brink.

“Don’t worry. It is only a little death.”

The rope snapped, and she fell.

As she slumped, twitching and exhausted, Zemo tucked an arm behind her back, keeping his leg between her knees as he withdrew just enough for her feet to fall flat on the floor. He pet small strokes down the middle of her back, watching her recover with naked pride.

“You did beautifully, draga.”

“No one’s ever – I mean – that was – ”

Blushing, she stammered herself silent, suddenly and wildly aware of her own inexperience. And position.

The baron grinned, all teeth. “It was. Thank you.”

Why thank her? She’d barely done anything, certainly nothing to help get him off.

“Would you like me to… help?... you?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, no. I am well enough for now. Perhaps another night, liebling.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that, how to approach the idea of other nights, or more illicit tumbles into the chasm of the baron’s schemes.

Finally pulling away, he made the slightest adjustments to right his sweater where she’d tugged it askew. “I should return before Sam comes looking. I will see you in the morning.” Another smile, softer, without teeth. “Rest well.”

She kept her place against the counter as he left and listened to him climb the steps. Even after he’d closed the door, and she knew she was entirely alone in the kitchen, she lingered. Breathing. Coming to grips with her after glow and the shadow of the baron’s smirk.

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