Vick: I Wanna Get To Know Sarah's Daughter.

EDDIE BROCK/VENOM

The cringe train just keeps coming. I'm sorry.

She ripped off her white lab coat and moved down the hallway of the life foundation quickly, against the screaming employees running the opposite direction. Away from the roaring and banging coming from the control room. She had hidden her mutation from carlton drake and everyone she worked with for good reason. She has always gotten a horrible vibe from her boss. But she stayed out of fear. Not for her. But her family. And now, now she was needed. She completely ignored the blond woman as she walked passed her to the broken watch tower window, climbing the edge. "Hey!" The woman grabbed her arm. "What are you doing?!" She asked panicked. She looked at her letting her eyes shift purple as her hands began to glow. The woman stepped back in shock. "Stay out of the way." She said and dropped down. Faintly hearing the woman exclaim "oh not you too!" In frustration. She landed on the metal walk way with a loud clang catching the two men's attention as she easily and expertly jumped onto the runway to the launchpad. Carlton hesitated before smiling his signature fake gentle smile. " violet. Call the authorities quickly. Mr Brock here has taken our symbiote and is using it as a weapon." He said trying to look innocent. She stepped forward to allow him to see her glowing purple eyes. His smile faltered. "Violet?" With a quick movement she had his throat trapped in a glowing purple whip. He choked and grabbed at it as he felt to his knees choking out her name in question. "Oh can it you slimy bastard." She pulled tighter as she walked closer past Eddie Brock who watched in frozen shock. She kicked drake over the platform and released the whip. " you always did piss me off." She said over the empty edge before turning and walking back up the ramp. "Come on Brock. Safety third." She said moving past him. "Hey who the hell are you-" he was cut off as the symbiote called riot jumped over the ramp and impaled him with a shard. She growled and allowed herself to be engulfed in a purple flame as he approached. He growled back and jumped off into the air to the rocket. "Fuck!" She yelled. She ran after it leaving Brock on the platform. It was too late for him. She knew realistically she couldn't do anything more. This was a fucking rocket. And her powers only did so much. She was no Jean Grey. She cursed to herself as she watched the rocket began to lift off. It was over. There was nothing else she could do. She shook her head. She should've defected with Dora. She should've protected her and the others. But she didn't. She stayed quiet like a coward and now drake and riot were gonna bring millions of those things back to earth and kill everyone off. And there would be nothing she could do then either. She was frustrated with herself. But as she deflated and turned to walk off in defeat the rocket exploded in a flash of fire and smoke and she found herself yelling as the ground shook, throwing her into the icy waters of the ocean. The last thing she remembered is seeing Brock hit the water not too far from her before she blacked out.

•VENOMVENOMVENOMVENOM•

she moved into the store behind Eddie. Him and venom talking about dinner. Which was you guessed it tatertots and chocolate. Which she wrinkled her nose at but then again this was venom. He was weird anyways. The three of them had become close after the events at the life foundation. Venom claimed to like her because of her powers and Eddie said she was nice. Though the blush on his cheeks lately when he spoke compliments to her said otherwise but she kept her mouth shut. She stood in another aisle perusing the snacks as the bell above the door sounded. She ignored it and grabbed a chip bag she had never seen before looking it over. But quickly was distracted by a gruff voice and Mrs Chen pleading with someone. She put the chip bag back and peaked around the corner. A man pointed a gun at Mrs Chen as she opened the register. She looked at Eddie in the next aisle over peeking out too. She shook her head at him and stepped forward. The purple whip appeared in her hand and she lashed out with it. Grabbing onto the man's hand that held the gun. She stepped out. "Does it make you feel hard picking on a little old lady?" She asked tilting her head to the side. "Do you get a rush of power?because personally I think that makes you a pussy." She said releasing the whip. The man glared and turned to her. "What did you just call me puta?" He asked pointing the gun at her now. "I said. You're a pussy." She repeated with a smile. He cocked the gun and took a step forward but quickly froze in fear. She felt the ground shake and grinned when the shadow fell over her. " have you met my friends?" She asked as venom moved forward and grabbed the man. "You come in here again, infact you go anywhere in this city preying on innocent people and we will find you and bite off both of your arms and then both of your legs." The man shook in fear. "No. No." Venom continued. "And then we will eat your face right off your head. Do you understand?" The man shook his head. "Please. Please." "So you will be this armless, legless thing rolling down the street. Like a turd. In the wind. Do you feel me?" The man finally gathered the courage. "What the hell are you?" Half of venoms face rolled back to reveal Eddie. "We are venom." They said simultaneously, Eddie smirking at the end as venoms face covered him again. Venom thought for a second and then announced. "On second thought." He opened his mouth wide, his tongue danced for a moment before devouring the man whole. "Jesus dude." Violet said quietly. Venom retreated into Eddie and he rolled his shoulders as he came back to his own body. "Eddie? Violet? What the hell was that?" She asked shocked. "Oh that, pshhh I got a parasite. Yeah. Night Mrs Chen!" He waved leaving the store. Violet moved after him nonchalantly. "Yeah. Just an extra DNA gene here Mrs Chen! Goodnight!" She said cheerfully. "No! I will not apologize!" Eddie argued with venom. There was a pause before Eddie gave in. "Alright I'm sorry!" She rolled her eyes in amusement. Her boys were endearing.

What if Michael Mando (Vaas) had a Let’s Play channel??

DON’T SCROLL PAST THIS!!!

If you have already seen this, you can’t go back.

You see that figure in the background? It is a ghost. An evil one. 

If you don’t reblog this, that ghost will come into your room.

and kill you.

the empress (II)

MY MASTERLIST | PART ONE

This fic is inspired by the Empress card of the Major Arcana of the Tarot

pairing(s): helmut zemo x reader

summary: So You're Babysitting Your Ex's Pet Villain: How to Demoralize Yourself in 8 Easy Steps

words: 5,666

warnings: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI), smut, this part has all the good shit, dom!reader, sub!zemo, unprotected sex (no stated use of contraception), oral sex, cunnilingus, praise kink, degradation kink, roleplay, mistress & servant type thing, exhibitionism, riding, the reader makes zemo her bitch

additional notes: this is the second part of my 12k+ word fic that needed to be broken into two separate posts because it exceeded the word limit by A Lot. It is posted on AO3 in its original format, as a single chapter fic.

taglist blog: @rosemareblogs

.VII.

You don’t sleep that night.

You could blame the alcohol. Or, you could blame the screaming fire in your core, trying to pull you off your bed, out the door and down the hall to where you know the Baron lies in his own bedroom, probably half naked and wonderfully upright.

You slip in and out of consciousness, but never truly give in to the other side of sleep. It’s too hot beneath the sheets. You can hear Bruno’s asthmatic wheezing at the foot of the bed, and it seems like it’s booming throughout the cavern of the master bedroom.

When you rouse early in the morning to let the dog limp out of the room and down the hall, the alcohol hasn’t entirely worked its way out of your system, and has left you with the disorientation of a mild hangover. You’re not stumbling, but you’re parched, and so ravenous that the emptiness of your stomach lends itself to nausea.

Your movements are jerky and a little bit too slow as you move through the kitchen. By the time you rip open a fresh package of bacon, the pain in your stomach is so strong you think you might kill someone.

And that’s precisely when Artemis comes trundling into the kitchen, howling like she’s being tortured.

She hops onto the counter to investigate what you’re doing as you begin slicing the cuts of bacon, a frying pan already heating on the stove. She butts at your hand to try and get at the fragrant meat, giving you an indignant, “MRROW.”

You affect an unamused glare. “What, you think you’re the only horny one in this house?”

“May I offer some assistance?” comes the Baron’s voice.

Your ears start to ring with the rush of blood to your head as you turn to find Zemo standing two feet from you with a coy smirk on his face, holding a glass of water. When you blink at him, he opens his palm and gestures for you to give him the knife in exchange for the water.

You take the glass, and press the flat of the blade into his outstretched palm. He wordlessly nudges you to the side and begins to slice the bacon with such quick, careful precision that the fluid motion mesmerizes you for a second.

As you sip the water, your eyes follow the line of his hand up to his strong forearm, bared to you by his rolled sleeves, and further up until your eyes settle on his face. The scratches on his cheekbone are still bright red, but seem to have sealed up in the night.

The flapping of wings at the window heralds Dodie’s arrival, and you snatch up a piece of the raw bacon before Zemo can manage to cut it. The raven titters at you as you hold the scrap out to it, and you nudge your knuckle affectionately against its plumage. “Good morning, my love.”

You hear Zemo’s meditative hum from behind you. “So that’s who you presume to be meant for love.”

“Please, Baron. Animals are innocent souls,” you tell him easily as you stroke the raven’s beak. “They’re all worthy of love.”

“Whatever happened to ‘Helmut?’”

You pause as Dodie takes flight, feeling your blood humming through your veins with such a fever you think you may be turning red. His voice is quiet, much like it had been when he first spotted Nerissa, like he might not have meant for you to hear him say it.

But you turn to him, and he’s not looking at the stove or the knife, or anything else. He’s looking at you.

“Do you want me to call you ‘Helmut?’”

He considers you for a moment, his sharp eyes scanning you with growing warmth, like you can see a fire being lit within his irises. But then they go cold, and they drop to the stove without warning.

“What I want makes no difference,” he states with clinical detachment. “Perhaps it is best that you call me ‘Baron.’”

“Why is that?”

“Because, I made a promise to James,” he explains, and his voice has garnered a rough edge. “A promise that he told me to remember.”

Bucky’s parting snarl rings through your mind. ‘You remember what I told you, right?’

“What was that promise?”

“That I would remain a stranger to you.” He continues to conduct himself about the stove, tossing the bacon as if the conversation is of little importance to him. “And that if I don’t, it is with the understanding that he will, and I quote, ‘cut off my balls and use them as a hacky sack.’”

A litany of emotions bombard you at once, freezing you in space without any way to reply. First comes flattery, at the fact that Bucky still feels protective of you in some regard. Second, anger, because it’s not his place to be protective of you when he didn’t want to remain with you.

And third, frustration. Because now that he’s successfully gotten under your skin, Zemo’s doing the fucking right thing.

“And you intend to honor that?” It seems ridiculous that he would, considering Bucky’s “warning” sounds more like a schoolyard taunt and less like an actual threat.

But Zemo looks at you, and smiles warmly. “Yes, dragă, I do.”

You nod slowly, eyes falling to the floor, chewing on your lip because you can feel your frustration rising to the surface. “Are you trying to be a good man, Baron?”

He barks a laugh, and turns to look at you.

“In my life, I have been many things. A good man is not one of them.” Though he keeps his face evenly measured, you can see something pained within his gaze. “However, I shall make a valiant effort.”

You suck on your tongue as you watch him turn the stove off and plate the horrendous amount of bacon you’d decided to make in your stupor.

“I’m disappointed,” you say, just as he sets the plate beside you on the counter. He’s not a foot away from you now, and as you stare challengingly up into his eyes, you can see every little deviation his face makes.

“Are you, indeed?” He tilts his head slightly, and his lips turn up at the corners.

“Yes.” Taking the plate from him, you let your fingertips brush his, where they linger on the porcelain. “Here I thought I was supposed to be keeping a dangerous villain in line.”

You watch his pupils dilate dramatically, and a smile breaks across your face. That’s what you were looking for. Last night his eyes weren’t blown completely black because he was frightened of your pet snake. He liked that you were in control.

The low timbre of his voice vibrates through the air around you. “Didn’t you say that I do well when I listen?”

You hum, and slide around him with newfound purpose, allowing your fingers to trail innocently along the line of his belt. “Come to me when you decide who it is you want to listen to, Baron.”

You smile to feel his eyes scorching your back as you exit the kitchen.

.VIII.

The Baron is already out of breath.

You can’t imagine the inner dialogue he’s been through to get to this point, but the look on his face is earnest, like he’s two seconds from begging you on his knees. You allow yourself to smile at the thought.

You haven’t done anything to him. Not yet, anyways, but you can tell by the way he stands at the threshold of the conservatory with his fists clenched at his sides, his chest heaving and his eyes trained solidly on you, that it won’t be long before you do. Because he’s just played right into your hand, as you knew he would.

Bucky knew he would, too. Because the same thing happened with him, and history tends to repeat itself.

“Have you given up your valiant effort so soon?” You recline in your high backed chair, not unlike a queen upon her throne.

“It seems my villainy knows no bounds.”

Nerissa is asleep, coiled into a pile on the shelf of culinary herbs, but you don’t think he cares by the way he threw open the doors with barely contained desperation.

He steps into the room.

“Did I give you permission to enter?”

The Baron halts, hands flexing at his sides. “No, dragă.”

“Dragă?”

Behind you, rain dashes against the darkened conservatory windows, rippling down the glass like a waterfall. In the silence that hangs throughout the room, thunder can be heard echoing from the valley. You wonder how long it will take him to address you correctly, or if you’ll have to guide him there.

“No…  Empress.”

You incline your head toward the Baron’s rigid form. “Very good. You are a smart boy. Now,” you cross your legs to tease him with the fact that you’re wearing nothing beneath your robe, “have you decided what you want me to call you? Baron, or Helmut?”

“Helmut,” he says almost too quickly. He’s all too eager, likely from a culmination of years locked in a prison cell without any contact, combined with whatever internal crisis he’s been having all day to break his resolve so quickly.

For that fact, you’re just as tightly wound as he is, the pulsing in your core echoing the way his trousers are nicely tented below his belt. But you’re not going to rush things along. He strikes you as a patient man.

You’d like to test that theory.

“So, you don’t want to remain strangers.” You run the tip of your finger along your lip, mostly to stop yourself from nervously tapping it against the arm of the chair. In testing his patience, you’re also testing your own. “You seem to have an issue following orders.”

“That depends on who’s giving them.”

You raise your eyebrows. Normally you would bark at him for speaking without being spoken to, but you do love to hear his rasping voice. “Do you think you’ll be able to follow my orders, Helmut?”

His eyes glow gold in the dim light. “Yes, Empress.”

“Then you may come closer.”

It’s a dance, trying to hide your own need while also feeding off of his. He crosses the room slowly, trying to conceal how his hands twitch to reach out to you. He stops just short of your crossed legs.

“Tell me, Helmut,” you say, revelling in the way his eyes flutter at the sound of his name, “were I truly a queen, how would you approach me to ask for something?”

His face is darkened with lust, his breath coming in swift bursts. “On my knees.”

“Show me, then.”

Zemo falls to his knees before you, his gaze remaining trained on your face. You keep your expression level as you move your leg with aching slowness and precision, ensuring that it brushes teasingly across the Baron’s growing bulge. He hisses through his teeth, and his hand catches your ankle to hold it there.

You tut at him condescendingly. “Did I give you permission to put your hands on me?”

His nostrils flare with the impatient breath he huffs out as he releases your ankle. “No, Empress.”

“That’s right.” You continue to rub the length of your calf just barely against his hardness, smirking at the strained grunt he gives you. “Remove your shirt.”

His fingers hasten to unbutton his blouse, but once they fumble a few too many times in response to your gentle caress against his trousers, he roughly yanks the closure apart with a growl, buttons flying as the fabric falls from his shoulders and exposes the lean expanse of his chest.

You make no attempt to hide the impish smile that stretches across your face. “Are we in a rush?”

When Zemo remains silent, dark eyes glaring up at you defiantly, angrily, you stop the movement of your leg against him.

“No,” he chokes out weakly, leaning into you to find that friction again.

“I thought so.” Graciously, you resume your gentle teasing against his trousers, and he visibly melts into you. “Tell me what you want, Helmut.”

He hesitates. He seems to contemplate his words before finally saying, “I want to taste and touch every part of you. I want to feel you come apart around me.”

“My god. A poet.” You smirk, dragging your calf a little harder against his bulge. “Run that by me again, and say what you mean this time.”

He sucks a breath through his teeth at the added pressure against his hardness, his voice tinged with a new kind of hunger. “I want to fuck you until you can’t speak. I want to feel you cum on my cock so hard that you beg me to stop. I want to mark you as mine, dragă. And I want the Winter Soldier to know it when I do.”

Your leg halts of its own accord, because his lewd admission has you clenching pathetically on air, the heat of your slick dampening the satin of your robe where it’s seeped from your cunt. You could make him wait longer, simply because he dared to use his own pet name for you instead of the one you’d given him. But you don’t want to.

You uncross your legs before him, then lean forward to grip his chin in a similar fashion as you did to wipe the blood from his face. “You’ll be content with what I give you for now, yes?”

He nods obediently, swallowing hard against your hand before vocalizing, “Yes.”

“And then, if you behave yourself, I’ll allow you the privilege of feeling me cum on your cock.”

You restrain yourself only for a moment, but the sound of the Baron’s stuttering breath prompts you to lean forward and pull his lips against yours. He stays there, allowing you to drink in the small moan he makes into your mouth as his tongue dances between your lips. He tastes sweet, like bourbon mixed with ripe summer fruit, meeting your lips with a fervor you haven’t known in years.

Your own desperation seeps into your voice when you whisper, “Touch me, Helmut.”

He obliges without a second thought. His hands slide up each of your calves, running along the length of your thighs and back down again, as though testing the waters. You kiss him feverishly, drawing him closer to you, his torso slotting between your knees to press against the edge of the chair.

His thumb slides up your inner thigh to brush along your slit, and you nearly let out a noisy whine.

“You are eager, aren’t you?” you force through gritted teeth, tightening your hands on his shoulder and jaw. His mouth breaks from you with a gasp, forehead pressed to yours for a modicum of stability.

“Yes.”

“Such a smart mouth, and all you can say is, ‘Yes?’” The sound of his desperate groan at your words only serves to spur you on, your hips jolting forward on your seat. “Why don’t you show me what that mouth can really do, Helmut?”

He affords two wet kisses along your jaw before he forgoes all propriety, and pushes your robe up to expose you from the waist down, pulling you forward until your hips meet the edge of your seat. Then his hands rake down your thighs as he dips his head between them, and his tongue slides between the lips of your cunt.

You suck in a gasp unexpectedly, grinding against his mouth as your fingers weave into his hair like they’re made to be there. He takes to you like a man starved, his tongue spreading you open and his lips devouring, and a swift flex of your fingers in his hair draws a moan from his throat.

“Such a lovely tongue. It always gets you what you want, doesn’t it?” You release your grip on his roots and stroke gently through his hair, like butter against your fingers.

Zemo hums a response, his lips closing around your clit to suck hard against it. Your back arches, a loud moan finally falling from your mouth, and he chuckles against you just before flicking his tongue across the swollen bud.

“You fucking bastard,” you choke out, nails digging against his scalp as you desperately rut against his mouth. “You like to hear how good you are, don’t you? How much you make me fucking want you?”

Your head tilts up seemingly on its own, pulling you to look at him. He’s watching you from beneath his lashes, looking like an absolute devil as his tongue drags through your folds and pauses just shy of your clit.

You can’t help the way your mouth falls open in a needy gasp, your fingers tugging on his hair once again. “Don’t you dare stop, Helmut.”

He obliges you by sucking your clit between his lips with spiteful force. You’re all too aware that his eyes are still on you, watching your head drop back as the muscles of your core tighten, your legs shaking where they rest on his shoulders.

Your orgasm is ravaging. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve had a partner to bring you there, but the pulses seem to constrict every part of your body, hoarse cries stealing from your throat to mingle with the sharp sound of rain striking the windows. Your skin sings, breath shaking when the Baron draws away from you to rest his chin on your thigh.

Then, the fucker has the audacity to say, “Take your time.”

You don’t even lift your head up in order to watch how Zemo flies backward when you use the ball of your foot to shove him by his collarbone, hearing his soft grunt as he lands on his back against the floor.

“You think I’m not taking my time with you, you entitled little shit?” you hiss as you straighten yourself, your hands falling to the tie of your robe. He raises himself on his elbows, watching you with hungry eyes as you stand, shrugging the satin negligée from your shoulders and towering over his sprawling form. “No. If I wasn’t taking my time with you, you’d already be blissed out of your fucking skull. I want to hear you beg for it.”

The look on the Baron’s face is excitable, fearful, his sharp features looking younger and more boyish now as you bend at the knee and begin to crawl tantalizingly between his parted legs, running your palms along the inside of his thighs toward where he strains against his fly.

“Poor thing,” you coo, hooking your finger beneath the buckle of his belt to tug lightly against it, and watch him buck his hips along with it. “You really need me so badly?” You undo the buckle to slip the belt from his trousers, and use two fingers to release the button of his fly before sliding your hand across his bulge as you drag the zipper down. And then, the Baron surprises you.

He whimpers.

It’s not a sound you ever expected to come from him. Zemo is normally so regally composed, stoic and even-tempered with just a hint of malice below the surface. You expect growls and groans, deep, guttural noises with primal connotations. But not this. A pathetic little whimper high in his throat, so soft it’s almost like a sob.

You can’t contain your self-aggrandizing grin as you reach into his trousers to finally relieve him of his restraints, his cock swollen and hard and leaking against your fingers.

His hand comes up to grasp your shoulder at the contact, but you’re not about to let him guide you. You grab him by the wrist and pin his hand against the floor, watching him strain to hold back a moan as you stroke him. You can hear his nails scratch roughly against the floor when his elbows give and he falls back, bucking his hips into your hand.

“Oh, you like that.” You give him a languid stroke, feeling him rigid and pulsing against your hand. Beneath the pleasure of watching Zemo squirm against your touch is the undercurrent of, ‘I want to taste it,’ as your thumb drags the bead of precum down his shaft, and your mouth waters. And who are you to deny yourself the pleasure?

You lick him from base to tip, and feel him shudder against you. You know you’ve wound him up enough that he won’t last if you go at him like this for too long, but still, you close your mouth around his tip and take him in as far as you can, his hitching breath like music to your ears and his salty taste like heaven on your tongue. And then, you draw back slowly, giving him one long, hard suck between your cheeks before your mouth pops off of him, and he very nearly screams.

“No, no, darling, you’re not going to finish like this. Not before I give you what you asked for.” His chest heaves as you dip your head down and slide your tongue up the hollow of his stomach and the line of his ribs, pulling back just at the burst of hair on his sternum. “Do you think you deserve to be given what you want, Helmut?”

His hands land on your waist as you hover over him, staring down into his glassy, dark eyes and carding your fingers delicately through his dishevelled hair. He’s shaking, his skin is burning.

“Yes.” His voice is broken, like it’s been stolen from him and wrung so tightly that he can barely use it anymore. “Please.”

A smirk twitches on your lips. “What was that?”

“Please.” His eyes are searching, desperate, a look you’ve been familiar with before. He’s not above begging, at least not now. His hand brushes your cheek, stroking a finger along the side of your face with tender reverence. “Please, dragă.”

You take his hand, and press a kiss to his palm. “Since you asked so nicely.”

You skim your hands down the length of his body as you rid him of his shoes and trousers, not really trying to conceal your own haste anymore. Your need is already evident in the way your slick seeps down your inner thighs, wet against your skin as you move up his legs.

Zemo is sitting now, his arms outstretched and grabbing for you like he can’t be without you, pulling you against his chest because he said he wanted to touch all of you, not just your cunt, not just your mouth. He’s peppering kisses along your jaw and down your neck, sucking and biting, nails scratching, marking. He holds you so close it’s like he wants to intertwine himself with you entirely.

His hands find your hips. You make no move to guide them away. You run your palm up his chest as you rub against him, raising your hips to align him with your entrance.

When you sink down onto him, your name breaks in his throat like a swan song.

You, on the other hand, are so overwhelmed with the feeling of finally being filled, you’re clinging to him like he might float away from you, moaning against his neck as your walls tighten around his intrusion.

When was the last time you felt so complete?

Zemo’s hand strokes down your spine, raising the hairs on the back of your neck with the gentle caress, and his whisper is soft as velvet. “You’re divine.”

Your eyes flutter before you finally collect yourself, and you bite down on his shoulder as you rock your hips into his. He groans loudly into your ear, his chest vibrating against yours as you lift yourself up on your knees to pull back again.

And you push him flat down onto the floor once again before you drive yourself back down onto him with excessive force, biting your lip as he strikes deeper within you.

He gasps as you rake your fingernails through his chest hair, scratching deep red welts into his skin that mimic the ones on his face. He’s surprised, and delighted, and one particular swirl of your hips makes his face scrunch so preciously you’d dare to call it cute, if that’s a word that could be used to describe the Baron.

Zemo’s hands grip your hips, moving in tandem with them as you roll down onto him, a strangled whine leaving your lips. It’s been a long time since you’ve done this, and yet, you find that the movement and feeling is not something one easily forgets.

His hips erratically buck to meet yours, a tense sort of culmination building between you as you bend forward over him, your hand coming to rest on the floor beside his head.

“Is this what you wanted, Helmut?” The words fall from your mouth before you’re even able to process them. “For my cunt to be yours for the taking?”

His pants interrupt his words as he speaks. “I hardly think I’ve taken it.”

Your free hand closes around his jaw, a scoff issuing from your mouth. “That’s right. Remember that I gave you this.”

You’re so enrapt in his mouth as you kiss him, it takes a moment for you to register that the ringing in your ears is not, in fact, from your own sensory overload, but that it’s from your cell phone, which sits two feet away on a little antique footrest. You break away from the Baron with a frustrated growl, refusing to stop the rolling of your hips even as you knock over the footrest in your haste to shut the fucking thing up.

And then you see the caller ID.

“Well, well,” you laugh as you grind your hips into the Baron’s, your eyes flickering to his confused visage, “It looks like you really do get whatever you want.”

You push the phone into Zemo’s palm, as Bucky’s call continues to vibrate in his hand.

“Answer it,” you order, your eyes blazing into his as you straighten yourself, trailing a finger down his torso.

Zemo swallows, a hint of terror washing across his face before he clears his throat, eyes steeling and growing sharp. It takes you a moment to realize that you’ve just watched him put on the mask that he wears in daily life; he’s no longer Helmut, he’s Baron Zemo.

Nevertheless, his voice cracks when he answers the phone. “Hello, James.”

You can hear a vague chattering coming from the phone against his ear, his eyes staring up into yours with unadulterated lust as you continue to roll yourself down onto his cock.

“The phone was simply nearest to me.” Zemo speaks clearly now, but his voice is deeper than normal. “Is there something you wish to tell me, zimniy soldat?”

If you listen hard enough, you can hear the cadence of Bucky’s voice over the sounds of your own erotic gasps, watching the Baron’s jaw tighten when he drives his hips up particularly hard into you, like he’s trying his hand at warning you to shut up.

“Is that so?” he nearly growls through gritted teeth. “That didn’t take long at all. I expect you’ll be chaperoning me, then?”

Ah. So Bucky called to tell you that he’s coming to collect Zemo for whatever job he needed the Baron’s help with. It makes sense for that to be the reason he called, but similar to what Zemo’s apologetic expression attests to, you thought you’d have more time.

Might as well go out with a bang.

“Actually, she is right here,” Zemo says, his words coming out thick with anger and desperation. “Perhaps you’d like to tell her yourself?”

He quirks his brows at you, like he’s asking if you want to talk to Bucky. The little inquiry for your consent is almost heartwarming; as you reach to take the phone from his hand, you bend forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

And then you pick up your hips and slam down onto him as hard as you can, making him give out a moan that he strangles to a quiet grunt in his throat before it can be heard over the phone.

“Hi, Bucky,” you sigh into the phone, putting all your frustration into the two words.

“Hey, I know it’s probably late where you are, but I wanted to catch you before tomorrow. Something came up with the Flagsmashers, I need Zemo as soon as possible.”

“Well, that’s what you left him with me for, right?” Your breathing is coming hard through your nose as you try to choke back your own moans, because now Zemo’s hands are truly guiding your hips, and he’s ensuring that each time you fall down onto him, his cock is hitting that perfect spot within you that wants it most. “You don’t need my permission to come get him.”

“I just figured I’d let you know before showing up unannounced.” Bucky’s voice is tense, like he doesn’t like the prospect of seeing you again. “I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with him even this long. I hope he wasn’t too difficult to deal with.”

“On the contrary,” you gasp out as you sweep your hand up the Baron’s chest, taking in his face as he gazes up at you with what can only be described as adoration, “he’s been a very, very good boy.”

At your words, and a particularly well aimed rut of your hips, Zemo lets out a groan that you’re sure can be heard through the phone.

Bucky is quiet for a moment, before he says in the most disappointed tone you’ve ever heard, “You didn’t.”

This time, you sigh a quiet little moan of your own into the speaker. “Don’t be too hard on him, Bucky. He made such a valiant effort to resist me.”

You feel Zemo twitch within you as you rock down onto him, his fingers tightening on your hips as you toss your head back at the sensation.

Bucky’s voice is enraged now as he growls, “Empress…”

Your head snaps forward, and you stare directly down into the Baron’s dark eyes as you say, “I’m not your Empress anymore, Bucky.”

And you end the call as Zemo jerks his hips up ungodly hard into yours. You squeeze the phone in your hand just before your core tightens, and you launch it across the room and through the open door with a ridiculously loud cry, like everything you’ve been holding back all evening is coming out all at once.

You catch yourself on your hand before you can collapse against him, allowing your release to seize you entirely. You jolt forward into it, feeling your cunt pulse around his cock with your eyes screwed shut, searing heat exploding in your belly and sizzling through your veins.

You hear Zemo’s harsh cry at the same time as you feel his hands tug you further onto him, and then the warm rush of his release, sprung forth with the sensation of you cumming around him.

He hasn’t quite finished his orgasm when his hands slide up your sides to pull you down against his chest, his arm winding around your waist and his hand cradling the back of your head, hugging you to him as he continues to moan out his release. Your head dips into the crook of his neck, lips pressed to his collarbone while you’re lost in the aftershocks of your muscles pulsing against his hardness.

You lay atop him, breathing him in. It’s the only thing you can do. You can’t seem to form words. You suppose he’s managed to get what he wanted in that respect as well; you’re dumbstruck at the intensity of your orgasm, the fact that you’ve thoroughly debauched yourself in the proverbial face of your ex, and that in less than eight hours, the man holding you like a treasure will be whisked away by said ex, likely never to see you again.

You try to burn it into your memory that Helmut’s sweat-damp body tastes of salt, and smells of sandalwood.

You remain like that, with his arm hugging you to his body and his thumb stroking circles against the back of your head, while he slips from you and his breathing slows.

Eventually, you’re able to find your voice again when he croaks out a gentle, "Thank you."

“It isn’t always like that with me, you know,” you mutter, your voice echoing in the dip of his collarbone.

“Is that so?” His voice vibrates against where your mouth is pressed to his skin.

“Yeah. Sometimes, I like to be on the receiving end.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

You raise your head, your nose brushing the stubble on his jaw as you find his eye. “Next time?”

“Yes, dragă.” His thumb continues its gentle caress of your head as his eyes search your face. “There will be a next time, if you desire it.”

“Of course I desire you, Helmut.” His breath audibly stutters when you say his name, his arm tightening around your waist.

“It… relieves me to hear you say that.” His eyes flutter shut when you press a kiss to his jaw.

“But you have to leave in the morning. And Bucky might actually kill you.”

“Don’t worry about that. I believe I can talk down our zimniy soldat.”

“I have no doubt about that,” you say with a small laugh, and rest your head in the crook of his neck again. “But he’s definitely not going to be bringing you back here, that’s for sure.”

“Have no fear, dragă. I know where to find you.” Helmut’s hand strokes down the back of your neck, beginning a gentle descent along your spine. “One trait we villains have in common is that we know a good thing when we see one.”

Don't skip without sharing this please even if you cannot donate.

A pleasant evening to all.I am new here because my friend in Reddit tells to post here. I am sincere kindly asking for financial help for my baby luke for our hospital bills and laboratory and medicine.

He has been admitted since July 6, 2021 at Metro Antipolo Hospital and medical center inc. intensive care unit for 2 weeks after he underwent internal intestine surgery and he is still recovering due to inspection. Our total bills as of August 2021 at Php 459,000 pesos and that's still without doctors fee ..

To those who want to give a help any amount for our baby.

gcash no.09275124046

PayPal account

Bless you all..

On May 28th, my sister, Edna, turned 31.

  Her mental age is about three years old. She loves Winnie the Pooh, Beauty & the Beast, and Sesame Street. Even though the below picture is unconvincing. 

Edna and “Cookie.” I think she was trying to play it cool. 

My name is Jeanie. I’m Edna’s younger sister. I’m also her guardian and caregiver. 

That’s me on the left. (Hey, you never know. After a year of writing a blog about online dating - Jeanie Does the Internet - I’ve come to learn that there are A LOT of fools on the internet.) 

ANYWAY, I’m not “doing the internet” anymore. I’m taking care of Edna full-time, after completing my MFA in Writing for Screen & Television at USC.

May 16, 2014. I wanted a picture. Edna wanted breakfast.

In case you’re wondering where our parents are, they’re dead. Our mom died of breast cancer when she was just 33. 

Us with mom before she died. (Obviously.)

As for our dad, he peaced-out around the time my mom got sick. His loss - we’re awesome. 

Here we are being awesome at the beach. Pushing a wheelchair in the sand? Not so awesome. 

In case you’re wondering “What’s wrong?” with my sister - as a stranger once asked me on the street  -  NOTHING. Yes, Edna has a rare form of epilepsy - Lennox-Gastaut syndrome - but I don’t know if that’s anymore “wrong” than people who don’t have manners. 

Basically, Edna was born “normal,” and started having seizures as a baby. They eventually got so bad that they cut off the oxygen to her brain, causing her to be mentally disabled. Or impaired. Or intellectually disabled. Or whatever you want to call it - except “retarded,” because in 2010, President Obama signed Rosa’s Law into effect, replacing that word with “intellectually impaired.” 

Which is cool and all, but services for the disabled and the people who care for them are SEVERELY LACKING. Also, there’s a bunch of people working in taxpayer-funded positions who are supposed to help families like us, but don’t. (Big surprise, I know.) They just fill out paperwork (whenever they feel like it) with asinine statements like this: 

YUP. I transport my sister down the stairs in her wheelchair, because that is not only safe, but TOTALLY PRACTICAL. Why doesn’t everyone in a wheelchair just take the stairs, for God’s sake? Stop being so lazy, PEOPLE WITHOUT WORKING LEGS! 

But, as it says above, Edna’s legs do work. Whether or not she wants them to, is another story. 

Edna refusing to go inside. 

These are the stairs that I have to carry her up - by myself - on a daily basis. That is, until one of my legs break and both of us are just sitting at the bottom of the stairs, helpless. 

For six months, I have begged - BEGGED - the State of California to help my sister, which they are required by law - The Lanterman Act specifically - to do so. But they’ve told me “these things take time” and that I “need to amend my expectations.” (That was said to me when I refused to place Edna at AN ALL-MALE CARE FACILITY. Because yes, that was an “option” that was offered to me.) 

Prior to Edna moving in with me in my one-bedroom apartment, she was living with her amazing caregiver, Gaby, back in Tucson, where we went to high school and I did my undergrad. Edna’s reppin’ the Wildcats below. 

But back in November, Gaby also died from breast cancer. (FUCK YOU, BREAST CANCER!) This picture was taken a month before she died. She never even told me she was sick because she didn’t want me to worry. 

By the way, we were raised by our grandma. Edna and her were very close.

She’s dead, too. Surprise.

She died when I was 20 and Edna was 21. That’s when I became Edna’s legal guardian and Gaby stepped into the picture to help me out with Edna. 

So, six months ago, after Gaby died, I moved Edna to California, where I tried to get the folks over at The Frank D. Lanterman Regional Center to help me. I’ve told them I’m worried about our safety - that one of us could get hurt on the stairs -  I’ve told them I can’t afford to pay the private babysitters $15/hour because the ones social services sent me who make $9/hour were unreliable (they didn’t show up on time or at all so I could get to school and work), untrustworthy (one of them let Edna go to the bathroom in the kitchen and then took her into the bathroom because “that what I thought I was supposed to do.”) 

But the people over at the FLRC don’t return my calls, they don’t file the paperwork on time - and the first caseworker that was assigned to us actually LAUGHED AT my sister when he came to our home to evaluate her. When I reported him to his supervisor, she told me, “That’s just [insert name of said jackass].” 

He was one of the two caseworkers that contributed to the report I mentioned above, which also included this: 

So let me get this straight - I have to feed, bathe, dress and help Edna in the bathroom and you can’t deduce whether or not she is able to vote? What in the fuck?!

Now I realize I seem angry. And you can bet your balls I am. I’m also sad. Sad for those who don’t have family to stick up from them and who waste away God knows where, monitored by no one. Or monitored by people who physically and sexually assault them. 

I’m also sad for the caregivers who are SO EXHAUSTED - trying to take care of their loved ones - while also trying to take care of themselves and battling a system that is supposed to help, but does nothing of the sort. And I know a lot of people give up. They let their dreams, their marriages, their friendships slide. All while trying not to resent the very person you’re doing it all for.

Edna wanted to sit next to me the other day while I was writing. Clearly, she’s not impressed. 

Here’s the thing: I REFUSE TO GIVE UP. I’M NOT GIVING UP ON HER OR MYSELF. I’m going to pursue my dreams while taking care of her, AND while ensuring that the people paid to do their jobs ACTUALLY do them.

That’s where you come in. I need you to help me get my story out there. Because I know I’m not alone in this. I want to connect with families who are in similar situations and also show people who have no idea what it’s like to care for someone with a disability (or even a loved one who is sick) that it can be rewarding. Super fucking hard. Exhausting. Painful. Isolating. But, rewarding. 

I’m going to get help for my sister - and others. My hope is that by sharing our story, I can bring awareness to the lack of services and help for the disabled. 

Thank you, 

Jeanie 

Facebook:  facebook.com/eisforedna

Twitter: @EisforEdna 

James delaney imagine #1

Getting even better

Lilith messed about with the candles and the salt circle inside them. She had found out who used to live in this house. She had been curious about this place since she moved in. With the Big Ds on the gates. Rumor had it a man who everyone used to call the devil used to live here. She couldn't find much concrete evidence on him. Just word of mouth spread from generations. So she figured she would do a seance to try bring him forth. To find out more. She closed her eyes and began to chant the words she had found on the internet. Some sort of African language. She hoped she was pronouncing the words right. The room immediately felt colder and she snapped her eyes open to find rhe candles blown out. Except for one. Which a man was holding leaning against the wall. He studied her a moment with wary eyes before blowing out the flame. Plunging the room into complete darkness. She hesitated for a moment before rushing up and out of the protective circle to flip on the lights. Looking around she saw no one. Was it a trick? She screamed when someone grabbed her and yanked her around. It was the man. He was inches away from her face as he squeezed her arms. "Who are you and why did you call me back?" He demanded roughly with a glare. She stuttered out a response. "I-I just wanted to know.." she said. He shook her once. "Know what girl?!" He said angry. "Why they called you the devil!" She said back in fear. He searched her eyes to find her being truthful. He let her go and stepped back still watching her like a hawk. She pushed herself as far away from him as possible in fear. It worked? She hadnt taken this seriously at all. She was just doing it to have a bit of fun. She never expected this to be real. And now that it was, she didnt know what to do next. This man, this spirit, he was angry. And she knew from his vibes that this wasnt just a one off because he'd been summoned. No this was him. All the time. She looked at him from where he looked out the circular window to the thames.  His back to her. "You're messing with things you cannot even begin to comprehend girl. Do you understand that?" He turned to her with steely eyes. She didn't respond. He continued. "What you just did was very foolish. You opened a very dangerous door. And you are lucky that it was I who answered your call. Not something else." He said sternly. She lowered her eyes to the floor. "And now you have managed to attach me to yourself. And I do not know to undo it." He said annoyed. When he said this her eyes snapped up immediately. "What? You can't just..disappear back to where you came from?" She asked. He glared at her like that was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. "No. The chant. You messed it up. Said something you shouldn't have. And now I'm stuck here. With you." He said walking towards her. She gulped. "Im sorry.." she offered. He snorted not amused. "Yes. You will be." He said.

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

S

he sat at her vanity staring intently into the mirror as she applied the brow pomade. She pulled away the brush and made a face into the mirror. "Sisters not twins. But these bitches look like 3rd cousins." She said with a huff, opening the drawer and pulling out her makeup wipes and removing the pomade from one of the brows. James raised a brow from his place on her couch, looking up from his book. He didn't understand this generation's women and their need to use so many beauty products at once. Most of the stuff he had watched lilith put on his generation hadnt even had. And the way she put them on was just bizarre to him. He compared it to the way he piled on the ash on his body during his sacred rituals. He shook his head as he watched her. It was like she was painting a precise picture. He turned his attention back to the book. She set the brush down and leaned back in her chair blowing air out of her mouth. "This takes too long." She muttered. "Then why do you bother?" He asked. "You look fine without it. I doubt any man or women cares." He flipped the page. She lazily turned her gaze to him. "Its not for anyone else. Its for me. I feel nicer with it on. I don't wear it all the time." She said. He raised another brow. "Alright then. Don't complain." He said looking at her briefly over the book before returning back to it. She shook her head. "I can't believe I'm stuck with you." She muttered and went back to work. "Yes. Well. Its your fault you are." He said gruffly. She rolled her eyes and started on her face. "Dick." He snorted. "Yes. I have one. What of it?" She sighed. "How childish of you. Whered you learn that one?" She asked sarcastically. He was amused. "Is that a rhetorical question?" He asked. She groaned. "Shut up I can't concentrate!" She said. He chuckled darkly but said nothing else.

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

She pulled on her coat and grabbed her keys and purse as he stood leaning against the stairs. "I need more ash. And herbs" He muttered handing her a list with his fancy writing on it. She took it with a look of annoyance. "Why is it you always send me to do these things?" She said shoving the list in her purse. "Well. You're the only one of us that can leave this house now arent you? Therefore the responsibility falls to you." She glared. "Yeah well its also my money you demand me to spend." He raised a brow in amusent. "Sorry. I dont think ghost currency works in this world." He said. She just threw her head back and groaned and left the house, slamming the door behind her. "What a dick."

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

She placed the items from the list on the counter with a sigh as the pagan witch who owned the store began to ring it up. The other store she had gone to before had given her a bad vibe so she had sound another one only slightly out of her way.  As she slid the woman her bank card their hands touched briefly and the woman paused, staring at her as if reading her soul. Lilith shifted uncomfortably in the silence. The woman tilted her head and spoke up finally. "It is not a mistake that he is here with you. The fates have made it so. Do not be afraid. Your souls are matched." She smiled at her and handed her the bag, sliding her card back to her. "There is no charge today. It has been a while since I've met someone such as you. I hope to see you again." She smiled confidently at her. Lilith gave a small smile back and quickly left the store. What the hell did that mean? She shook her head to get rid of the thoughts and made her way home with her many bags.

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

"Did you get them?" He asked when she came through the door. As he observed her he narrowed his eyes. She seemed to be in a bit of a daze. She pushed the bag into his chest and moved up the stairs slowly, caught in her thoughts. He grabbed the bag and followed her determined to find out what had happened. He found her sitting on the bed absent-mindedly pulling her things out of the bags and sorting them into groups. He moved forward and seized her arm in his grip looking into her eyes, ignoring the sharp gasp she gave. He saw in her mind what had happened. What the witch had said to her. He let go immediately and stepped back. So it was true. The pull he felt to her wasn't a coincidence. She watched him curiously. He took a breath and began moving towards his old ritual room. "I'll be busy. Dont come into that room." He ordered and left, closing her bedroom door after him.

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

Lilith sat up with a groan as she was woken up by something. She rubbed her eyes and blinked away the sleep, letting her eyes adjust to the dark bedroom. She could make out a silhouette in the corner and said in a raspy sleep filled voice. "James what are you doing? Its like 3 am." She whined. He moved towards her slowly like a predator. He got close enough and moved onto the bed. She watched him confused. He moved her hair from her face, gently caressing her cheek as he stared into her eyes. She got lost in his eyes and immediately became dazed as he moved towards her and connected their lips.

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

She groaned the next morning and rolled over. She couldn't ignore the feeling of something heavy wrapped around her and as she cracked her eyes open she noticed the arm that connected to the naked tattooed body and everything from the night before came rushing back. She closed her eyes in confusion as she became aware of her lack of clothes. A sudden movement of kisses along her neck brought her back to the present. "What was last night?" She asked steadying her voice. He hummed against her neck. "I believe it's called love making." He said. She sighed. "Thats not what I meant and you know it. Please no word games." He sighed and pulled away. "That witch was right. Our souls call to eachother. I dont know why. But they do. And you messing up that spell wasn't a mistake. It was meant to happen. Even now I can hear your soul whispering to me. I havent heard that in a long time." He said. "So what does that mean?" She asked turning in his arms to face him. He met her gaze. "It means that we are two halves of a whole." He said moving her hair from her face. "What? Like soulmates?" He raised a brow. "I suppose you can call it that." He said. She lowered her eyes for a moment before looking back up into his. " does this mean you're no longer looking for a way back from where you came from?" He snorted and burrowed his head into her chest. "Oh love. I'm not going anywhere."

Send a symbol for my muse’s reaction to your muse:

❅ = wanting to build a snowman

✾ = bringing them a dozen roses

✛ = telling them they want kids

✎ = leaving a note

♛ = tucking them in bed

♠ = asking them for a loan

♘ = telling them a secret

✉ = texting them at 4 a.m.

♬ = whistling off-key very loudly

☆ = pointing out a shooting star

RP Starters for kids/kid muses!

( These are starters that can be used with kid muses! This was a request. )

-

Rain, Rain: Our muses play in rain puddles together during a light shower!

Go away: One muse hides under the bed from the big storm outside!

Monsters!: One muse is convinced there’s a monster under the bed!

I didn’t do it!: One muse drew/painted all over the walls!

Ready or not!: Our muses play a game of hide-and-seek!

I’m not going!: One muse really doesn’t want to go to school!

But I’m not tired: One muse simply refuses to go to bed! 

Excuse me, sir: Our muses go house to house selling chocolate!

Sugar rush: One muse had way too much candy and is now super hyper!

Pretend: Our muses play ‘pretend’ together - costumes and all!

Ouchies: One muse falls down and scrapes up their knee!

Nightmare: One muse wakes up from a scary nightmare!

Uh oh!: One muse gets caught stealing some candy from the store!

Yuck!: One muse refuses to eat their healthy veggies during dinner!

Would you like a glass?: Our muses open a lemon-aid stand! 

Time to bake!: Our muses make pie… except, it’s made out of mud.

Play with me! Now.: One muse demands the other plays with them!

I’m fi- achoo!: One muse is sick… but they refuse to stay in bed and rest!

Birthday: One muse throws a a giant birthday party for the other!

Splish splash: One muse teaches the other how to swim!

Read to me: One muse reads the other a bed-time story!

Tag, your it!: Our muses play a fun game of tag!

Oh no…: One muse got lost on their way home from school!

I want it!: One muse throws a tantrum in the store for a toy/item they want!

Draw with me: Our muses finger-paint together!

The mean kid: One muse is being bullied by another student!

Peaceful outing: Our muses go to the park together!

It’s a giraffe!: Our muses go to the zoo! One is scared of some of the animals.

Just a few more minutes: One muse is too obsessed with watching t.v!

Makeover!: One muse insists to give the other a makeover - makeup and all!

A fort for us: Our muses make a blanket/pillow fort together!

Pillows: Our muses have a pillow fight!

Up all night: Our muses have a sleepover with snacks and movies!

Boo-hoo: One muse is having a bad day and keeps crying over everything!

Snip Snip: One muse tries to give themselves a hair-cut… and fails.

I’ll fix it!: One muse breaks something and tries to fix it with glue before someone notices!

Do you want to build a snowman?: One muse wants to play in the snow! However, the other would rather stay inside.

It’s mine!: One muse simply refuses to share any of their things!

Rotten: One muse keeps misbehaving everywhere they go!

Detention: One muse gets in trouble for something at school!

Turtle: One muse is too shy to play with others and stays alone!

Can we keep him?: One muse brings an animal home without permission!