#professor zemo

[reginaregen]

Perpetual-fünf

After hours of a temper tantrum, tears, and shouting, Elena finally reached an agreement with Iolanda. In exchange for the girl never setting her up on another date, she agreed to attend the date with Bucky Barnes. Now, sitting across from him, her cheeks were bright red because Bucky was practically undressing her with his eyes. The table he chose was in a secluded part of the restaurant.

Bucky rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward slightly as he asked, “So, Elena, what was a sweet girl like you doing in the swamp known as Tinder?”

“I…”

Bucky sighed, “How old are you, Elena?”

“Twenty-one.”

“God! Do you know how old I am?”

She shrugged.

“I’m thirty-four, Elena,” he said softly. “I’m way too old for you.”

Elena felt a surge of anger. She tried to guess how much older Zemo was than her but couldn’t quite figure it out. “Then why did you come on this date?” she asked him.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Because you’re young, beautiful, and sweet. I’d love to spend the rest of the evening with you in my arms.”

Her mouth formed an “O.” “What?!”

Bucky shrugged, “Honestly, I came on this date intending to seduce you, but then my close friend saw my Tinder and, well…” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “You’re only four years older than his daughter. He got a little mad. Called me an old pervert. We argued a bit, and it made me see things differently.”

What actually happened was that Pietro had snooped through Bucky’s phone while he was passed out drunk, saw that Bucky had a date with a much younger girl, and lost it. Seeing the innocent face of the girl had reminded him of his own Luna. He had shaken the sleeping Bucky awake, yelling, “You animal! You predator! Because of scumbags like you, these poor girls will never trust anyone again!”

By the time Bucky was fully awake from the beating, Pietro was practically sitting on him, demanding, “What are you going to do with this girl, huh?”

Bucky had shouted back, covering his face to protect himself, “Stop hitting me, you psycho! I’m going to bury my face in her sweet breasts, what do you think?!”

As they wrestled, Pietro yelled, “No! You’re going to go and warn that sweet girl about animals like you!”

“Why the hell would I do that?!”

Pietro had pressed his elbow into Bucky’s throat, “Because I’m your best friend, you bastard! And as a girl dad, I need you to do this so I can sleep at night!”

Bucky recounted the story, and Elena was laughing so hard her sides hurt. “You call that a little argument? He totally kicked your ass!” she said.

Bucky rolled his eyes.

Elena cleared her throat with a fake cough, “So this Pietro… Is he single? I’d make a great stepmother.”

“Great! As if getting my ass kicked wasn’t enough, now he’s stealing you from me without even showing up!”

“I want to see a picture of him!”

When Bucky showed her a photo, Elena’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God, I would totally be this guy’s daughter stepmom!”

Bucky squinted, snatching the phone back from her hand, “Don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart. He’s got a crazy mistress.”

Elena’s shoulders slumped, “Oh…”

Bucky grinned, “But I’m single?”

“Thanks, but I’m not into f*ckboys.”

“Careful, sweetheart. Break my heart one more time, and you’ll have to kiss me to heal it.”

Elena shrugged, “Maybe I only deserve fuckboys. The other guy I like has a girlfriend, too. And I think he’s older, too.”

Bucky chuckled, “Does that mean by the end of this night, you’ll kiss me?”

“Never. My heart belongs to someone else, sir.”

He rolled his eyes, “Alright. But since I’m a gentleman, I’ll take you home. And I’ll enjoy watching your cleavage for the rest of the night. Can we order now?”

Elena giggled, “I guess we can have a friendly date.”

“I don’t go on dates with friends, Elena,” Bucky said in a dangerous tone, “Don’t push your luck. I’d love to show you why we’re not just friends.”

Her cheeks flushed as she mumbled, “Okay, okay,” and started looking at the menu.

As Bucky watched her pretty face turn pink, someone else was watching them too.

“Is this a joke?!” Zemo muttered to himself, seething. He had just entered the restaurant. Seeing Elena’s flushed face across from Bucky filled him with rage. He hesitated for a moment. The guy was handsome. But they must be around the same age, right? He had never thought Elena could be interested in someone like him, but still, it hurt. God! He should have been the one to take her on this date. Her cheeks should be blushing in front of him. What was he going to do? Sit at the table next to them? He wanted to go home. But hearing her laugh, he couldn’t help himself and started moving towards the table next to theirs. As he reached it, he nodded his head in greeting, “Miss Elena.”

Elena’s eyes widened in shock as she stared at the man preparing to sit at the table a few steps away from hers, “P...Professor?”

Bucky smirked, noticing the look in her eyes, “Is this the other f*ckboy?”

Elena’s eyes widened even more, and Zemo’s jaw clenched, “What did you say?”

Bucky bit his lower lip and turned in his chair to face him, “I said…”

But when he felt Elena’s warm, soft hands on his, he turned to her. He pitied the look in her eyes, silently begging him not to. If she called him Professor, he must be a teacher at her school. She didn’t seem like the type to fall for her teacher, but... Bucky stood up from his chair, “Have a good evening, Professor.” He extended his hand to Elena, “Let’s have dessert on the way, Elena. I want to see how that ice cream cone looks in your hands, and how your lips will move closer to it.”

Zemo slammed his fist on the table, and Elena jumped in her seat. Bucky’s hand, which had been left hanging, found Elena’s as Svetlana walked towards the table. Elena had stood up and taken Bucky’s hand. As Zemo watched them with fiery eyes, Svetlana reached over and kissed him on the lips.

Bucky finally saw the man she was sharing with him. He couldn’t help but wonder what poor Elena saw in such a man. As they walked towards the restaurant’s door, Elena whispered to him, “Please, get me out of here.”

As Bucky drove her home, Elena cried silently the entire way. When they arrived at her house, Bucky stopped the car and took a deep breath, “I’m still a little upset you didn’t let me see you holding that ice cream cone, Elena, but here we are. You’re home.”

She giggled through her tears, “Thank you, Bucky. You’re a good man.” Leaning over, she kissed his scruffy cheek, “I hope you find someone who melts your icy heart one day.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m fine, shorty. But I’d love to know what you see in that cold fish.”

Elena shrugged, “I don’t know. It just happened. I’m not happy about liking someone who has a girlfriend.”

Bucky laughed, “Elena, Elena, Elena… There isn’t a man born yet who wouldn’t bow down to those pretty eyes of yours. And you’re wasting your time on that guy?” He cupped her cheek with one hand and looked into her eyes, “Stay in school. Eat your vegetables. Make any guy you want your slave. Love isn’t real.” He paused, “And next time, if I get another chance with you, even if Pietro himself sits on me, I’ll seduce you. Just so you know.”

They both laughed. Bucky was struggling not to kiss her. “Alright, if you don’t get out of this car in the next few seconds, you’re getting a hot goodbye kiss from me.”

Elena panicked and fumbled with her seatbelt as Bucky laughed, “Hey! Kissing me isn’t that bad!” He unbuckled her seatbelt for her, “There. You’re free, sweet thing.”

She got out of the car. Bucky waited until she was inside the house. When she waved at him from the window, he started the car. He had wanted to tell her that Zemo was a strange man who shared Svetlana with him, but then he decided against it. The girl already looked upset enough. Besides, Zemo hadn’t even reacted when he saw her. He swallowed hard at the thought. Could it be that the guy didn’t know anything at all?

[annikityk]

I present to you: gay people flirting by pointing a gun at each other

Exhibit a: Charles and Erik

Exhibit b: Bucky and Zemo

Exhibit c: Will and Hannibal

Exhibit d: Sherlock and Moriarty

And last but not least: Deadpool and Wolverine

[nm-mattuz]

My top ten Marvel Rivals wishlist:

In no particular order

Colossus, Vanguard: we need the fastball special proper, not this bootleg hulk shit! Also that Magik line that talks about her missing him is heartbreaking.

Baron Zemo, Duelist: there's too many duelist characters already, but this would be my top pick! Also with their version of Hydra, I predict that he'd have a new design to go with the Eldritch theme.

Jean Gray, Support: not specifically Phoenix Force, but I would prefer it personally.

Abomination, Vanguard: I specifically want it to be Immortal Abomination (because that thing REALLY is a freak) or heroes united (because the design is just that cool, also personal nostalgia). Either way, I need them both as at least alts.

HERCULES!!! Vanguard: have you heard about his romance with wolvie?

Professor X, Support: come on, it's Xavier.

Juggernaut, Vanguard: bitch.

Ghost Rider, Duelist: I need him to have the penance stare.

Ultron, Vanguard: hear me out on this one. Vanguard to differentiate him from Iron Man and thus he wouldn't fly. Also make him revive himself because he always comes back (exceptionally so)(actually don't, that'd be broken).

Howard the duck, Vanguard: he's got a suit of armor sooooo, that's why he's Vanguard.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Professional Oversight

Masterlist

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, power imbalance, blackmail, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are noticed for all the wrong reasons. (plus sized reader)

Characters: Helmut Zemo, Brock Rumlow

A note on reader characters:

For clarity,  each reader will have a defined nickname when appearing in any installment not their own. This is Scribble.

Note: real life interrupted me

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Donkey love Waffles. Take care. 💖

You stare across the courtyard as you let the spoon stick out of your mouth. You hoped the spring would make the days seem less blurred, maybe bring some excitement to your dull life. You suck the last of the yogurt from the silver and scrape the side of the cup, scooping up the fruit bottom and cream. You savour the last bite, so overly sweet it makes your cheeks twitch. 

You tap the empty cup so it makes a hollow noise. You crush it in your hand and stand to toss it in the bin just across from the bench. You sit again and wipe the spoon before you tuck it away, folding it in the kleenex to sink to the bottom of your purse. You sigh and watch a long-necked goose honk at an oblivious pedestrian. 

You’re used to it. The sounds, the sights, the latent energy of the university green. You thought it would be better to eat there instead of the stuffy office break room but after a while, it’s just as boring and bleak as the old institutional walls. 

You zip up your purse and checked the slender watch on your wrist. Just a little longer before you have to drag yourself back to your shared desk to answer phones and redirect lost students. You don’t hate your job only that it’s all you have. Your life is as fruitless as the used yogurt cup you just tossed away. 

You wake up, eat, get ready for work, go to work, eat lunch by yourself amidst a sea of indifferent people, go back to your desk, then wait until it’s time for you to go home, and there, nothing. Just you and the evenings filled with lonely restlessness. You want to do something, anything, but you just can’t figure out what. 

You aren’t an interesting person. Plain, at best, with no discernible talent. Friends never flocked to you despite your effort, even as pathetic as those were. You’re always a fleeting thought to other people. You’re kept around so long as you are useful; a study buddy, a wing woman, and occasionally, a shoulder to cry on. But there was rarely any reciprocation in those roles and never anything meaningful enough to call friendship. 

You’re distracted from your existential daze by a shadow above you. You look up at the man as he smiles at you. It’s more akin to a leer. That’s odd. He’s odd. Men don’t smile at you, they barely even see you. And he surely doesn’t belong here. Too old to be a student and his jacket too casual to be a professor. 

“You mind if I sit?” he asks without greeting. His tone is brusque but unconcerned. 

You looked at the empty spot on the bench beside you. You hug your purse and sidle over. You shrug and mumble “sure,” but he's already sitting. 

He sits with his legs wide and pushes his shoulders back. He sighs as he stretches out his broad figure. He glances around nonchalantly and leans back with his elbows over the back of the bench. You look at your watch again. What’s a few minutes early? 

“You work here?” he asks before you can stand. 

You blink and furrow your brow at him then glance around at the green campus. You waver on the bench. You should just walk away but you hate to be rude.  

“Uh, yeah?” you answer awkwardly. 

“Not that you-- you don’t look young enough to be a student, you know? I had a hard time telling, which is why I asked,” he explains as he turned his palm up, “I wasn’t meaning-- heh, well, you look like a very nice lady, is all.” 

You poke your tongue out between your lips and quickly retract it. Your thoughts are racing. You should get back to work and away from this man. He gives you this creepy crawly feeling. 

“Brock,” he holds out his hand as your eyes graze the dark five o’clock shadow along his sharp jawline. 

You force out your own name and nervously shake his hand. You’re polite, perhaps overly so, but your customer service instinct can’t be repressed. His grip is firm and his hand big enough to cover yours entirely. He lets you go reluctantly and you hook your purse over your arm. 

“Sorry, I gotta get back to work--” you stand as the sirens in your head tell you to leave. His grips speckles in your hands, throbbing in the bones, tingling on your skin. 

“That’s too bad,” he says coolly, “maybe I’ll see you around.” 

You nod dumbly and step past him. You trod down the path, on your usual route, then stop as your suspicions tug at your mind. You turn back as he remains on the bench, his gaze stuck to you. 

“You work here too?” you call back. 

He shakes his head and smirks. He doesn’t say anything as you frown. He doesn’t move. He just watches. You turned back to your path and quickly stomp away. You’re unsettled by his presence alone but his assured calmness at being an intruder on campus is even more frightening. Not least of all, his interest in you; always an unexpected trait. 

🖊️

After work, you walk across campus without urgency. You fall into autopilot. Your departure trails over its usual route. There’s nothing special awaiting you at your destination; only your couch and a frozen pizza.  

Students still loiter and hop up the steps of the buildings on the way to evening classes. You envy them just as you had when you were in their shoes. You were never really one of them. You always felt like you were on the outside looking in. You didn’t find your niche, you just floated along untethered, still lost in the breeze. 

The lot you park in is mostly empty. You prefer that one even though it’s a ten minute walk from the building you work in. It’s far from the main row and so you didn’t get caught in a jam on your way out, not until you get to the roundabout near the east entrance. 

You stroll along behind the few other cars parked before yours and check your phone for the time. You don’t hear the footsteps as they approach and the dimming sky disguises his shadow. You don't notice any of it until you’re grappled from behind. You’re taken off your feet as a large hand covers your mouth. 

Your phone bounces against the tarmac and your bag is flung from your arm. You kick out and flail, whining into the calloused palm as your eyes prickle. You grasp at the thick arms as you’re spun around to face the open trunk. You kicked at the man’s feet as he bends you and shoves you headfirst into the trunk. You try to push yourself out but he’s too strong. 

The lid shuts and you roll over to beat on it as you holler. Your heart pounds in your ears and your lungs burned as your voice turns to horrible gasps. Panic drowns you as the engine turns over and the car backs out smoothly.

Oh no, no, no. This can’t be happening. 

The suddenness of it all has you dizzy. The man’s scent clings in your nose. You've smelled that before. Your eyes round in the darkness as the tires roll without stopping. No, no, no. That man! The same one on the bench. 

You didn’t forget him. You couldn’t. The abnormality, the absurdity of his introduction, was enough to stick in your head. It’s only that you didn’t let yourself believe it was anything but a strange encounter. You know who you are, you know you’re nothing special. Unlike him, you’re not interesting enough to remember. 

Or so you thought. 

You thump on the lid of the trunk, then the back, screaming. The car doesn’t stop. The man only muffles your voice with the radio. As you continue your assault on the walls of the trunk, he slams on the brakes so that you roll violently into the siding. He does the same several times until you’re quiet and stunned. 

Your adrenaline fades to fear as you can only lay in the dark and dread what comes next. The worst scenarios race through your mind but every now and then, your heartbeat spikes again. You have to get out.

Bang, bang, bang, ‘let me out!’ 

You’re shaken and exhausted but utterly and painfully awake. Whatever comes next, you can’t just put your head down and ignore it. Not like everything else in your life. This is the one thing you have to face, whether you like it or not. You can’t just brush it off, you can’t just forget. 

You wanted desperately for something to happen in your dull life but could never conjure a nightmare as real as this. 

🖊️

When the engine slows and the axle lurches to a stop, you’re not ready. How could you be ready for any of this? You don’t understand why this is happening to you. 

The car shuts off and your heart reaches its paramount. It’s beating so fast you can’t think. You can barely breathe. The car door slams shut and shakes the entire vehicle, making clear that you are overpowered. Footsteps tread over the ground towards the trunk and you steel yourself for the horror that awaits you. 

You know his face before you see it. Even as the shadows swallow up his features, you know him. He grabs you by the front of your blazer, hauling you out without a word. He handles you like a stray caught; rough and agitated. You claw helplessly at him and whine. 

“Please--” 

“Scream one more time,” he spins you and curls an arm around your neck, marching you forward with stunted steps, “and I’ll crush your throat.” 

You gurgle and clasp onto hit thick forearm. Your tears well over, though your face is already raw from the waves of terror that poured over in the black of the trunk. Lights wash over you and give some sense to the grounds around you. 

You expect an abandoned warehouse or some faraway cabin. Somewhere remote where you’ll never be found. Somewhere you’d be forgotten. Who is there to forget you? 

Instead, you make your way up a long walkway before a large mansion. At least compared to your box apartment, it seems as such. Your low heels clack shakingly as the man keeps you firmly hooked. He takes you up the front steps, between replicas of famous status, and lets himself in through the double doors, the brass knockers jiggling with his entrance. 

He doesn’t seem the type to live in a place like this. The thought is silly given your circumstance. Your sobs settle to hiccups as your mind wanders to the tedious and unimportant. Is that a genuine Rembrandt on the wall? 

“Can you walk on your own or do I keep the leash on?” He snarls. 

You gulp and try to nod against his burly muscle, “yes...” 

He lets go at the wisp of your agreement. You shudder and pull away from him, not far as you don’t want to instigate him. You cross your arms and look at him, pouting as tears roll to your chin. It is the man from the bench. You knew it but now you’re certain. 

“Up,” he points to the left branch of the double staircase. 

“Sir, please, why are you doing this--”  

“Sir?” He grimaces, “no questions. Just go.” 

You snivel and put your head down. You turn stiffly to the staircase and reach for the curled banister. You climb with dread heavy in your heels. Your shoe slips off and you stumble. He growls and lifts you under your shoulders, dragging you up the last few steps. 

“Left. Second door on your right,” he commands. 

You whimper and hug yourself again. You obey as peruse along the finely decorated walls. The details assure you that whoever’s home this is has a precise eye. There is some familiarity in the style; it reminds you of some of the offices nestled in the heart of the university. 

He reaches around you, crowding you against the door as he turns the handle. His breath scalds down your neck. Is he smelling you? 

He pushes the door open and snaps his fingers. You enter and look around for an answer. Why are you here? Who has brought you here?  

The leather chair behind the desk has its back to you. You can see a man’s dark hair above it. Like some sort of movie, he turns to face you slowly. You unwittingly step back against the other man as you’re struck by the reveal. 

“Ah, I was starting to think you got lost,” Helmut Zemo intones as his latent gaze meets your startled one. 

His soft brown hair with wisp of silver, the keen way his lips naturally curve, and his dark eyes. He's unmistakable. The vaunted dean of linguistics and language studies is the last face you expect to see.

“Dean?” You murmur dumbly and chuff out several shallow breaths. 

“Hello, darling,” he purrs as he sits forward, putting his elbows on his desk, “I trust you had a safe journey.” 

“I-- what?” You gasp. You turn to look at the man prowling behind you. “No, he--” you choke as he snarls at you.  

You face the dean again. It doesn’t make sense. Why are you here at the dean’s home? You only really know him by his likeness, pasted on every literary publication on campus and hung in the halls across his faculty. You’ve met him once at some lunch but it was that fleeting formal introduction you forget before you’ve even left the event. 

“Rumlow, I told you to be gentle with her,” he tuts and shakes his head, “allow me to apologise for my colleagues behaviour. He isn’t the type for sorries.” 

You mop your cheeks with your cuffs and sniffle. Your a shaking mess. The other man paces towards the other side of the room. He uncaps the decanter there and pours himself a glass of dark liquor. 

“Now, it is rude to serve oneself before a lady,” Zemo snips, “please, she would do well for it.” He turns to you after reproaching his associate; the man he calls Rumlow. “Sit, dear, let us speak civilly before things get... less civil.” 

You suck in a quaking breath, “I don’t understand--” 

“Sit and I shall explain,” he insists. 

You cross the large study and claim the seat across from him. The other man approaches and holds a glass of flat scotch under your nose. The roiling alcohol fumes and makes your eyes water anew. You accept it he loudly slurps his own. 

“Thank you, but I...” 

“Drink. I believe you will need it.” 

The dean’s words draw your attention back to him. You make yourself sip and scrunch up your nose at the taste. You don’t drink. It only gives you a headache. 

“Now, I’ve brought you hear because I would like to review your work,” he smirks and goosebumps raise on your skin. Rumlow looms close as Zemo’s tone puts you on edge. “I do enjoy when university staff are so eager to put their work out there.” 

You’re confused. What does he mean? You’re not a PhD, you’re no faculty spending hours writing papers on physics, you’re just a registrar’s assistant. 

“Ahem, let me just...” he pauses and unfolds a tablet on the desk. He props it up in the case and pulls his glasses down to his nose. He taps the screen and begins to read, “'You can hardly believe it’s real. That you’ve put yourself in this position. There’s no going back now. There is no escape from this man...'” he pauses and looks up at you, waiting for a reaction. Your spine tingles, “let me go on to my favourite passage,” he refocuses on the tablet, “’his rough hands grazed her soft skin, making her shiver, making her whine. He smothers her protests and her breath as he drowns her in a hungry kiss”.” 

Again he looks at you. You sink down in chair and turn your attention to the liquor. Oh no. You make yourself drink. You don’t stop until it’s empty. The other man laughs. 

“You have a way with prose,” Zemo praises. 

“Please,” you choke through the burn, “I... its just stories. They’re meant to be private. It’s...” you bite your lower lip. It still doesn’t make sense. “Why am I here?” 

Now both men laugh. You’re the joke. You look between then. Rumlow approaches and you shy away. He takes the empty glass and walks away with it. He clinks it down with his own on the oak bar. 

Zemo watches you intently. You rock in the chair. He could’ve fired you in the office, so what is all this? 

“I like your hypotheses,” he slithers, “I thought we might test them out. As is the academic way.” 

“What?” You pulses thumps in your temples, “what do you--” 

Rumlow startles you as he closes his hands around your neck from behind. He hushes you as he squeezes your yipe into a croak. He drags you up to your feet as you writhe and kick out. One of your shoes falls off in your struggle as he lurches you forward. 

“You know, fantasy can be such a good outlet for... self-discovery,” the dean stands as his chair rolls out behind him, “but it pales in comparison to the real thing.” 

“Please--” you crackle out of your throat as Rumlow squeezes your neck tighter. 

“And reality is a writer’s companion. Their work is always better when they have experience to draw on,” he comes around the desk as Rumlow brings you to face him. You can’t help but press yourself to the other man as the dean closes in. “And a creature like you, you’ve never felt desired. That much is clear. It drips from your words. These stories are a plea for more.” 

He runs his fingers up the lapel of your blazer and urges it down your shoulders and arms. You quiver as you’re trapped between the two men. You can only stare wide-eyed as you reach back weakly to claw at the bigger man’s jacket. He growls and you quickly retract. 

“Now, darling, the fear will only make it all the more... exciting,” he draws out the last word teasingly, “have you not written this one already?” 

You whimper as he unbuttons your blouse. You quake as he bares you plain white bra and you quivering stomach. The other man pushes his crotch to you, grinding with a snarl. 

“Ah, Rumlow, patience,” Zemo warns as he peels your blouse down your arms, “my colleague can be rather... impulsive.” 

Your head swells and spins. This can’t be real. You just can’t believe it. The humiliation of being found out is burned through by the fear coursing in your veins. 

“Please,” you eke out again. 

“Shhh,” he presses a finger to your lips and toys with the bottom one. “Mmm,” he turns his hand to frame your mouth, “how has no one ever noticed these pretty lips?” 

He leans in and kisses you. The other man moves a hand to the back of your neck, pinching so you squirm. Rumlow’s other hand hooks around to cover one side your chest, kneading through the unlined cup as you’re suffocated by Zemo’s mouth. 

Zemo purrs and draws back. He licks his lips and hums again. His fingertips crawl down your sides and across your stomach. You squeak and flinch as Rumlow squeezes your neck harder. 

“Darling, you can be good, can’t you? I fear you’ve been for too long,” Zemo taunts, “but can my associate let you go? Might we trust that you are to struck with lust that you cannot possibly flee?” 

You suck in air and babble. You only want the pain to stop. You nod, “yes...” 

“Yes, Dean,” he corrects and sends a look to Rumlow. 

The vice falls away from your neck, instead tugging at the hook of your bra. Zemo’s gaze falls to your tits and he purrs. He fondles you brazenly, running his thumbs over your nipples as the point through the thin fabric. 

“So plain one must appreciate the simple beauty,” he squeezes and leans in to kiss along your cleavage.  

You bra slackens and he lets go to let it slip down. Rumlow untangle it from your arm as Zemo gropes one side of your chest and seals his lips around your nipple. You moan and the air turns static at the vocal betrayal. 

Rumlow laughs and his hand spreads across the other side of your chest. He rolls your nipple harshly, tweaking as you whine. His hand falls down and he feels along your saft tummy. He growls as he slaps your ass with his other hand. You jolt and Zemo’s mouth pops off your tit. 

“Delectable,” he snarls and gives a nip to your flesh. 

Rumlow yanks down the elastic of your plain slacks. The cheap sort you order online. Your panties slip down halfway as he forces the fabric past your thighs. You reach to brace Zemo’s shoulder without thinking, feeling as if you might tip over. 

He touches your elbow as he bends to once more teethe and tease your tits. He bounces them then crushes his face between them. You stare down in shock, still paralysed in disbelief. 

Rumlow rolls your panties down your ass, your ankles bound up in the gathered wool and cotton. He shifts and lowers himself to his knees. He covers your ass with his large hands and you waver on your feet. He pulls your cheeks apart and snarls again. The man sounds like an animal. 

You yelp as he pushes his face into your ass and his tongue swipes along your tight hole. Oh god! Oh! Your muscles knot and coil and you hug Zemo’s head to keep from tipping between them. You reach one arm back as you arch your back and latch onto the other man’s shoulder. 

You drone out a startled but sultry moan. It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. You haven’t felt this before. Another’s touch. Another’s hunger. You puff out shallow gasp as you’re caught in the storm of warring sensations. Your fear dissipates as you’re overcome by the slow build of please. 

You close your eyes as you try to pretend it’s just one of your stories. One of the many written fantasies you used to tamp down that need for desire. For this! Even alone, even your own touch, could not ease the longing that needles inside you. 

“Darling,” Zemo growls as he kneels in turn and grips your hips, doting on your stomach. He makes your imperfections feel perfect as he worships you with his mouth. 

Rumlow lets out another growl as he laps and his finger tickles up to meet his tongue. You squeal as he pokes his fingertip inside of you, the scalding intrusion tingling in your thighs. It hurts but in a way that you want more. Without a thought, you lean back, urging him deeper into your ass. 

Zemo traces along your pelvis and over the patch of curly hair. His fingers wander between your legs, nudge them apart and he toys with your clit. You quiver as he rolls over your bud, flicking and swirling as you slicken. You feel the blood swelling at his touch. 

He leans forward on the heel of one hand and tilts his head up, delving into your folds. He trails his hand down your thigh and sucks on your clit as he purrs. Rumlow pulls his finger in and out of your ass as you tighten around him, your walls pulse at their duality. 

Your stomach coils and your insides ripple. A tightness bounds you up as you puff out heavily and spasm through the sudden release of tension. You grip Zemo’s hair, forgetting the man has more than a physical hold over you, your other hand curling on Rumlow’s shoulder. You cum with a warbling yawl as you throw your head back. 

Neither man stops until you’re a shaking mess. Until your legs are so slack that you lean back on the man behind you and your whole body threatens to fold over. Rumlow slides his finger free and Zemo wipes his wet lips up your pelvis before he sits back on his heels. 

The move you as you pant loudly. You have no strength left to resist them. You’re strewn across the leather chaise that sits mirror to the desk at the other end of the room. The men circle you as your head lolls and you lay naked but for one heel still on your foot. 

They undress without a word between them. It’s clear this is planned. That they have every single second of the night calculated. You can only get through it. 

As Zemo reveals his furry chest, your cheeks raze with fire. You’re embarrassed more to see the dean like this than for him to see you. You turn your face away only as Rumlow stands even more bare.  

His chest is covered in coarse black hair that trails down to his pelvis. You gasp at the sight of his rigid length bobbing before him. His thighs are corded with thick muscle and his stomach tightens as he steps closer. 

Your turn your head again and nearly squeal at Zemo. Slighter than the other man he is no less eager to have you. As he nears, you curl into yourself. 

They don’t let you disappear or detach. Rumlow grabs you, lifting you off the leather, and takes your places across the chaise. 

Zemo guides you, something in his hand. You can’t keep up with any of it. He turns you to face the other man, nestling his chin into your shoulder as he holds himself flush with you. He sways you and he presses the shape between the top of your cheeks and squirts coolness down your ass. 

He tosses the bottle onto the chaise and it bounces to rest at the end. He rubs the lube around your hole and dips his fingers in, once, twice, three times. He nuzzles you and moves you closer to the leather bench. 

Rumlow reaches for you. Both men guide you over his prone body. You’re made to straddle him with your back to him. He grips his dick and taps the tip on your ass, sliding between your cheeks as he wets himself with the lube. Zemo grabs it and reaches around you. Another squirt adds to the wetness. 

Rumlow pushes his tip against your ring. You yelp and try to pull away. He grabs your shoulder and holds you in place, stretching you around him slowly. You shake at the deep and fervent agony that radiates up your back. 

Zemo coos at you as he strokes your cheek. He climbs up on the chaise as Rumlow drops his legs over the sides. He sits before you, coaxing you as the other man eases you onto his dick. You grit your teeth and cling to the dean’s wrists as he kisses your forehead. 

“It’s alright, darling, you’re doing good,” he praises and pets your head, “just a little more, mm?” You sink down another inch and whimper, “a little more,” he repeats. When at last you bottom out, tears spring fresh down your face. “Very good, darling.” 

“She’s tight,” Rumlow snarls and starts to rock you, “holy shit, she’s fucking--” 

“Language,” Zemo girds as he continues to stroke your face, “you hear that, darling? You are so good. Hm? He likes you.” 

“Weirdo,” Brock mutters but keeps you moving. 

Zemo runs a hand down your body. A tide rolls through you at the soft graze of flesh, and he once more finds your clit. You’re overly sensitive and so full already. He toys with you as you pout out shallow pants. He slowly lays you back as Rumlow takes you across his torso. 

Zemo dips his fingers into your cunt and out again, smearing around your slickness. As his eyes fixate on your cunt, you close your own, hiding beneath your lids. The other man continues to rock from beneath you, stretching you to your limit. 

As Zemo drags his hand from your cunt, the chaise shifts with his weight. He moves closer, draping your legs around him as he slides his tip along your entrance. He pushes along your folds, wetting himself as you quiver, then aligns himself again. He forces his tip inside, just the head, and lingers. 

He raises himself and bends over you as your muscles tug with tension. Rumlow grunts from below as Zemo bends over to kiss you and inches further inside. You nearly cough into his mouth as he gets deeper and deeper. Oh, god, you don’t know if you can take it. 

Rumlow brings his hands around to kneads your tits, his hips tilting as the other bottoms out in your cunt. They both groan as if they can fill your fullness. You throw your arms around Zemo and gnash your teeth, mewling and moaning as you sink your nails into his back. 

He kisses along your chin and cheeks as he starts to thrust. Long, languid, and calm. It has you on fire as the other man matches his tempo. A torturous teasing rhythm that has you writhing and whimpering. 

You’re crushed between them, bodies sweaty and sticking, the friction of hair and skin, of saliva and need. Your head lolls as Zemo nips and sucks as Zemo nips and sucks at your throat, a hand snaking under your ass, basking in the feel of you as nails graze tender flesh. 

A roughness from below as Rumlow bucks his hips harder, plunging deeper, breathing across your scalp as he grunts and growls. His pinches and gropes your chest as your spine curves wantingly. You succumb to your basest desires, to the fantasies you fall asleep to, the very same that you put to paper. It’s horrid but it’s oh so delightful, being used and bruised and tortured until you just can’t think. 

“That’s it, darling, you see how natural it is,” Zemo purrs as he quickens, “how you give yourself over to your purpose. You always knew you would...” he speaks between stolid groans, “those weren’t only stories...” he cradles your head and lifts it, looking deep into your eyes as he ruts into you, the man below you matching his time, “you were begging for this.” 

Your eyes roll back and you cum again. You feel something inside you snap, like a dam breaking with the pressure of a deluge, you gush out around the men, squeezing and twitching until you are hollow. Yet they don’t stop. They keep going. 

Rumlow sits up as Zemo moves with him, bringing you into his lap. The man behind grips your shoulder as his pelvis claps against your ass and the one before you sits back as you shake around him. He holds your head up as it threatens to wobble on your neck. 

You orgasm again. Your lashes flutter, your heart too. Every part of you is pulsing. Their gristling, grinding voices storm in your skull, almost maddening as their bodies sandwich yours. 

“Shittttt,” Rumlow drawls and bends his head forward, biting into your shoulder as he empties himself in you. He quakes as slows and sits back, twitching as he keeps you around him. 

Zemo sighs as you feel his own release. His hips rock subtly as he cums and holds you close, his eyes roving down to watch you tremble. When at last you’re still, the tremors do not fade. He grazes his knuckles down your stomach and you moan. 

“Shall we try that sweet mouth?” Zemo brushes long you lower lips. 

“Fuck yeah,” Rumlow growls, causing the other man’s eyes to glint.  

He might pretend to be proper but dean has proven himself just as sinister as any man; in reality or fiction alike. 

[nijigasakilove]

“Magneto was right” chilllls what a start to the 3 part finale. Finally got lore on Bastian and his motivations and exactly what the hell he is. Stopping him isn’t going to be easy at all. He is the ultimate enemy of mutant kind.

Jean, Scott and Cable fighting together was such a cool moment. I love how Jean just orders Cable around like a little kid and he obeys it because he’s always wanted to have his parents in his life lol

Wolverine’s fight scene with Nightcrawler and then him in the sky while falling back down to the mansion was crazy

Wasn’t expecting a Dr. Mengele reference damn “he could’ve been so much more, but chose to be a Nazi pup” Sinister’s seen so much shit.

SPIDER-MAN CAMEO FINALLY HOLY SHIT. He looks amazing. Please bring back spiderman the animated series after freshman year. The other cameos like Doom and Zemo were great too omg

There’s just something hilarious to me about Magneto flying around in his underwear going full rage mode

Professor is back! Just in time, what an ending I can’t wait for next week

[justsomerandomfanfic]

The City Of Love - Helmut Zemo X Female Reader

Title: The City Of Love

Helmut Zemo X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's friend, the driver (Mentioned), and college people (peers/professors) (Mentioned)

WC: 3,059

Warnings: Modern AU, age gap very briefly hinted at (Reader's 23 - Helmut's 40), italics, love at first sight?, teasing, banter, flirting?, instant attraction, brief mention of long distance, brief suggestiveness, nicknames, brief mention of drugs (none used), ignoring Marvel plots, very very mini angst, and fluff

Out of all the things you wanted to do today, sitting through a seminar was not really one of them. You couldn’t really help it, however. It was Friday and it wasn’t like you could skip out on school. You could skip for the day, but then you’d be celebrating alone for the most part. It was your birthday, number twenty-three, and you were more or less so excited about it. You didn’t have any huge plans. That morning, you had planned to go to your favorite cafe, grab your favorite drink and maybe a scone… But, your alarm decided to ignore you and you woke up late, resulting in no special cafe drink and no birthday scone. 

You weren’t too upset about it. However, that cafe was open between six in the morning and two in the afternoon. And, it was half past two. So all plans of going there after your seminar were out the door. So, you sat back in your seat, notebook open on the desk in front of you, purple gel-pen in hand. It was kind of hard to pay attention, as your teacher droned on and on. Normally, you could pay attention but your mind would occasionally drift to a certain someone.

You met him at a library in the middle of Paris, France. Your college had funded a trip for your French class during your second year. So, you and the other twenty-seven students got on a plane one day and set off to France for the next week where you and your peers could get the full French experience, whilst also putting your two-years of French knowledge to the test.

You were allowed a sum of cash - in euros - and you were sent off in small groups to explore Paris. There were rules, of course. Your college wasn’t going to let you just run off and start a new life in France, no. You were placed in groups, five or six people per group, and each given enough money to probably have one or two fun experiences a day; whether that was to go to a cafe, restaurant, store, museum, or otherwise.You were also supposed to check in with your professors and chaperones at a meeting point; the hotel you were all staying at. And, lastly, you had to stay in Paris, you couldn’t leave the city. It was an amazing experience. Never in your life did you think that you were going to ever see Paris.

~~~

With the money you all had been given, your group of five all agreed to go to a cafe, which was also a bookstore. Your favorite places all rolled into one. While your group had grabbed their drinks, bread, or little desserts, you went to the other side of the cafe; the bookstore. You mused through the aisles, fingers brushing along the spines of books, your eyes fluttering from title to title. You were so caught up in the books, that you really weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings. You ended up bumping into someone. 

Your apologies, sadly not in French, flew out of your lips, stuttering and a mess as you helped the stranger pick up their books that had fallen to the floor. It felt like a movie, some cliche rom-com that your roommate and best friend would’ve forced you to watch, the moment yours and the stranger’s hand met reaching out for the same book. You hand snapped to your chest, another apology - this time, in French - leaving you as your eyes met his. 

Beautiful brown eyes met yours. For a moment, you were star-struck. Your mind going blank except for one question; were his eyes more of an auburn or chestnut? His eyes weren’t the only thing you thought was beautiful. Faint hint of stubble, dark blonde hair- no, it was more of just a light brown, but his short hair was neatly combed yet with a natural tousle. There was just something about him, something refined yet effortless, and the subtle trace of expensive cologne and his regal clothing. The well-fitted, dark wool coat with a high collar, the rich dark red turtleneck underneath, black slacks, and sleek leather gloves only confirmed your theory. 

You were quick to look away, realizing a second too late that you had been staring. As you stood up, he followed, his movements unhurried, graceful even. You apologized again, but this time, he spoke in English - his voice smooth, accented - saying that there was no need to apologize, before asking if you were alright. You were immediately intrigued by his accent, a mix of German, and something else that you just couldn’t quite put your finger on. But you answered, a bit nervous, and definitely awkward and mighty embarrassed; you were indeed alright.

Time shifted, stretched, folded in on itself. You didn’t know how long you had been speaking to him, but one moment, you were apologizing again for bumping into him, and the next, names were exchanged with an ease that felt almost natural. Helmut Zemo. That was his name. There was something intoxicating about him - not just his words, but the way dark his eyes lingered, the slight tilt of his head as he listened, stray strands of brown grazing along his forehead. The way his lips quirked in the corners, subtle but knowing as you both spoke of your favorite French poets. The quiet pauses, the brush of his fingers against yours as he passed you a recommended book, lingering just long enough to make your breath catch and butterflies to erupt in your stomach. This wasn’t just any conversation, it felt like a dance. A dance that neither of you wanted to end. 

It was difficult leaving the bookstore when it was nearly time to check in at the hotel with your group.You had expected that meeting Helmut was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, a fleeting moment never to be repeated. You wished you had more time. And it seemed that he did too. Just before you stepped out of the book aisle, apologizing that you had to go, his gloved hand found yours - warm despite the leather, firm yet hesitant. You barely had time to react before his voice cut through the air between you. “May I see you again?”

From that day until your last day in France, you met up at a small cafe close to your hotel. It was an easy place to meet up, since your group enjoyed their strawberry and blueberry crepes. So, every morning you would walk in and find him, a book in hand, and your favorite drink already ordered for you. You were crazy to leave without exchanging numbers. It was nice to be able to text him and call him, to hear his voice the following days after your trip. 

Was it crazy to feel this way? To have such a connection, an attraction, so quickly? It had only been a week… Maybe you really were in a rom-com. 

~~~

You fiddled with your locket between your fingers, a present from Helmut from his last trip over to see you. He said that he saw it in a store window somewhere in Spain, and immediately thought of you. You had to have it. Once he clasped it around your neck, you never took it off. You never thought that your college trip to France would lead you to meeting your boyfriend. Maybe the saying was true; Paris was the city of love.

Since your trip, Helmut would visit often. He would surprise you with little trips on college holiday breaks. Eating at rooftop restaurants in Spain, walking the sandy beaches of Australia, and watching the Northern Lights in Iceland; you traveled the world together. Aside from holidays, he bought a lavish vacation home for the both of you in your city, where the both of you stayed when he flew over. Helmut even said that you could fully move into the home, and so you did. It wasn’t too far from your college, and Helmut even hired you a personal driver, who would drive you to and from. 

God, you loved him. You loved how he spoke to you, how he looked at you, how he held you, touched you, loved you. You loved his smile, and how his face would light up upon seeing you. You loved the way his arms would wrap around you tightly whenever you were reunited. And you loved the way he would kiss you, deeply and passionately. The way he would say your name left you breathless. And waking up beside him? A whole other level of feeling. Curled into him, your face tucked into the warmth of his neck, limbs tangled, skin touching. He smelled wonderful, not only of his cologne but of citrus, spice, leather, and his natural musk. He hold on you, his arms wrapped protectively around your waist, fingers feather-light along your spine. He reminded you of comfort, of safety, of love, and of home.

You missed him… Helmut was in Sokovia. He had called you the night before, apologizing that he couldn’t see you on the day of your birthday as he had planned. You didn’t mind, especially since he said that he would come over the following day as soon as he could. Soon, however, the constant flights back and forth weren’t going to be an issue for the both of you. Once you graduated, you were moving in with him in Sokovia.You just had a couple months left…

By the time your class was over for the day, you made your way to meet up with your best friend before grabbing a late lunch. Walking down the sidewalk between her building and your English building, you waved, your smile was big, matching hers. 

“Hey, hun!” She exclaimed, pulling you into a hug, “Miss birthday girl!”

“Yeah,” You sighed happily, pulling back from the hug, “I’m just another year older, nothing too crazy.”

Your friend waved a dismissive hand in the air, “Spfft, nothing too crazy?” She repeated your words as if you saying them was ridiculous, looping her arm with yours as you both began walking, “You’re twenty-three! That’s a huge deal!”

You looked at her, giving her a knowing look, “What makes turning twenty-three a big deal?”

She pursed her lips, her eyebrows furrowing, “Well, you can still drink and your brain is almost fully developed.” She answered as you both made it to the street corner, waiting for the pedestrian light to switch over, “And you’re two years away from being twenty-five, and that’s a great year.”

“Really?” You asked as you both began crossing, “How so?”

“Well,” She began, “My aunt told me a story about how she and my mom went out clubbing and got super high before they went stargazing on the roof of my mom’s camper van.”

You sputtered out a laugh, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, “So, you want me to go out clubbing, get high, and stargaze?” You sighed deeply, very amused, “You mom was crazy in the 70’s.”

“You’re telling me,” She huffed out an amused kind of laugh herself, “She was crazy! Did I tell you that one time she went to a concert and she-”

“Got high with the band backstage?” You finished for her, shaking your head, “Yeah, no, I don’t think that happened. But, yeah, you’ve told me.” Arriving at the small restaurant, you entered, being immediately greeted by the wonderful smell of food. Your stomach grumbled. “Come on, let’s eat. I am famished.”

“Let’s! My treat, birthday girl!” Your friend pulled you over to find an empty place to sit. 

You and your friend sat and ate, laughing and having a good time. Reminiscing. Taking a sip from your drink, you listened to your friend’s story, something about a new movie that she saw in theaters and how the people sitting in front of her left half-way through the movie, even leaving their unopened candy - which, she, of course, took. Which then led into a conversation about the new thrift store that opened down the block that you were both interested in checking out sometime. 

Then, suddenly, your senses were overtaken by the scent of cologne. The smell was so familiar, you knew who it reminded you of. Home. You could almost feel his fingers brushing through your hair, no, wait, no, that was real. Turning around in your chair, your smile instantly brightened. 

"Helmut!" You exclaimed, your hand subconsciously reaching out for him, fingers grasping at his coat. "You're here! I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow." 

"I finished earlier than I had previously anticipated," Helmut explained, his gloved hand reaching up to tilt your chin up slightly, and leaning down to press a kiss to your awaiting lips. "Happy birthday, my love." He whispered against your lips before pulling away.

You giggled softly, "Thank you." But, then remembering that your friend was with you, you turned back to her, giving her a bashful smile, "You remember Helmut, don't you?" You asked, and she nodded, a mischievous little grin on her face.

"Yes, I remember. Hello, Helmut." She greeted your boyfriend, who nodded in greeting back. 

“Good to see you,” Helmut then looked back down at you, tilting his head to the side slightly, "Do you have any plans for today?"

You looked to your friend, only for her to shake her head and wave a dismissive hand in the air, "Go, hun, have some fun! We can go to that new Thai place and thrift store when you get back." She offered, and you nodded, standing from your chair, you walked over to the other side to hug her, while Helmut grabbed your bag from off the back of your chair. 

"I'll text you when I get home," You said to her as you were pulling away from the hug.

"You better," She spoke, "And you better have fun, birthday girl."

You huffed, waving goodbye as Helmut led you out of the small restaurant, his hand on the small of your back. As you exited, the bell above the door ringing behind you, you looked up at him. "So," You began as he handed you your bag back, "What's the plan for today?"

Helmut smirked, his hand still on the small of your back as he opened the passenger seat of his car for you. "Oh, just a few things," He spoke as he shut the door, walking around the side to hop in as well, "Firstly, we're going to head home, so you can pack."

You raised your brows, a smile already forming on your lips, "Pack? Where are you taking me, honey?" You mused, only for the man to wave his pointer finger in the air as he began to drive.

"I will not reveal any surprises, my love. But, I assure you, you will enjoy it." 

The ride home was soothing, the wind blowing through your hair, the radio on your favorite station, Helmut's hand resting on your thigh. Once you arrived home, he sent you off to pack. And so you did, strolling back to him with your suitcase packed for whatever adventure he had planned for you. Locking up the house, he then drove you to the airport, where you hopped on his private jet, and a couple of hours later you found yourself sitting on the terrace of Helmut's vacation home in Paris, overlooking the Eiffel Tower. You let out a deep, content sigh before taking a sip of the cherry blossom tea Helmut made for you, occasionally snacking upon the Turkish Delights before you as well. You were very thankful that tomorrow was the beginning of the weekend. Three beautiful days in Paris sounded wonderful. You missed the sights, the sounds, the smells…

Your hair was brushed aside, the feeling of warm lips pressing against your neck - mixing with the cool of the chain on your neck - causing you to hum. Helmut pressed another soft kiss against your throat, nuzzling his nose into your neck before releasing a content sigh.

Rising, he found his seat beside you, "What would you like to do first, my love?" He asked, taking a sip of his own tea, "We have some time to kill before dinner tonight. I got us reservations at Jules Verne."

You sighed again - warmth filling your heart - your smile widening at the thought of having dinner on the Eiffel Tower. You bit your bottom lip, thinking before saying, "Could we go to the Louvre?" You looked over at him with an hopeful expression, “I would love to see the Mona Lisa again.” You reached over, grabbing a Turkish Delight, plopping it into your mouth, “And see Psych and Cupid. That sculpture just feeds my soul.”

"Of course." He agreed with a smile, "Anything for you.We can leave whenever you wish." 

Setting down your tea, you then stood, "Well, then I'm going to go get ready." You leaned over him, just as he did to you earlier in the day, "I love you, Hel," You muttered as you cupped his cheek, leaning in close enough to press your lips against his. 

He hummed in response, tasting the flavor of rose from the Turkish Delights from your lips, one hand rising to grab the back of your thigh, lips brushing along yours; your love addicting. "I love you more, meine schatz." He muttered, his warm fingers caressing along your leg before you reluctantly slipped from his grasp. 

You wanted to stay, forever in his grasp, but if you didn’t go to get ready, you both would never leave. Backing up, you bit your bottom lip, trying to hide the almost giddy smile crawling on your kiss-plump lips, eyes fully focusing on his before you turned around and left the room; your cheeks burning.

Helmut watched you go, his eyes following you until you disappeared from sight. Fully making sure that you were gone, he waited a moment, before sticking his hand into his slacks’ pocket. He couldn't stop the adoring smile from growing on his face as he pulled out a small red, velvet box. As he opened it, his smile softened, his dark eyes looking over his gift to you, before he carefully shut it, and placed it back into his pocket.

~~~

Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

[elgaberino-mcoc]

Working on a reveision to the MCOC Wishlist entry for Paul Norbert Ebersol, who started out as the Fixer, a guy so technically clever no cell could hold him, recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. turncoat Mentallo to help him foil Nick Fury, Sr.

He and Mentallo would team up over the years to fight a surprisingly broad array of foes, ranging from SHIELD to The Thing, Professor X to the Micronauts, and various Avengers.

Ebersol would develop romantic feelings for the thief Rita DeMara, but she didn't feel the same way, which drove him a little crazy.

He was a member of the Enforcers opposite Spider-Man, and was often spotted in group-shots of baddies, particularly the Masters of Evil, giving way to his role in Zemo's faux superhero team, the Thunderbolts.

Ebersol's adventures were pretty complex in the decades ensuing, all parts of the Thunderbolts stories. He randomly started having hair, had a robot body for a while, time traveled and, annoyed, killed his younger self, being forced to take his place in the past.

Originally a completely cue-ball bald white guy, since the early 1990s his skin has gradually seemed to fade to a Latin brown and then a black, but not consistently. In the game Marvel Avengers Alliance (2012) he looks like a fully African-American man with male-pattern baldness; in the video game LEGO Marvel's Avengers (2016) and the animated television show Marvel's Avegers Assemble (2016), he appears a totally white guy with a thick shock of brown bedhead and a smart goatee. Whatever.

This is a brilliant, complex bed of visual ideas from which to pull for Marvel Contest of Champions character design.

[vicky82gargoylesfan]

My Thoughts on X-Men 97 Episode Tolerance is Extinction Part 1

Another great episode, the action and fighting scenes were awesome. Nightcrawler was amazing in this episode.

Spoilers

Oh Cool Professor X is back in the line up but no Storm yet.

Hmm, Jean has her hair up. I'm glad to see her and Scott are working things out now.

Cool cameo of future Polaris and Rachel.

Oh damn, so the Genosha Massacre had to happen, so they can't stop it with time travel.

Oh damn, Bastion leaked the news that Xavier is alive.

Oh no, Rogue is still out, possibly in a coma. I did have a feeling she would still be unconscious, as she wasn't seen in any of the new shots from the final trailer. It looks like she not physically injured, as Wolverine can heal her. But it looks like she's affected mentally.

I just love this interaction between Nightcrawler and Jean. Jean telling him that even though Cable is not her son but she has all of Madelyne Pryor's memories of being pregnant with him but he is Madelyne's blood and we can see her getting a bit teary eyed. Nightcrawler telling her Blood is Blood, family is choice, as he was abandoned by Mystique and says Rogue is his adopted sister and are close.

Erm, why is Magneto strapped to an X and in his underwear?

Oh you stupid Woman, Val Cooper is alive and working for Bastion but it does seem to not know what Bastion's plans are.

Trish arrives to apologise to Beast, i'm surprised she was allowed in the "basement area" of the Mansion.

Cyclops, Jean and Cable find out more about Bastion. Jean using Psychometry on finding out Bastion's backstory was awesome. His parent's were seen in the 2 part episode One Man's Worth.

Oh wow Dr Doom!!! With the speculation that we could be getting Onslaught, does this mean The Fantastic 4 could make an appearance in season 2.

Sorry I don't know much about Zemo.

Oh my gosh!!!!! Bastion has got prime Sentinels everywhere, he even changed his own Mother into one. So they are mostly sleeper cells, some people volunteered and most were done against there will.

Oh Damn!! even Trish is one and even took out Beast.

Love the transition between scenes.

Morph changing into Juggernaut was pretty cool.

Jubilee and Roberto being chased in the mall by these Prime Sentinels, is a little similar to Jubilee being chased by Sentinels in the 1st episode of the original series.

Wolverine fighting Prime Sentinels in the sky was great.

The Prime Sentinels watching Rogue was creepy

Wolverine and Nightcrawler fighting the Prime Sentinels was awesome, love seeing Nightcrawler using 3 swords. Also as the humans are robots, they can go nuts in slicing them up without being too graphic. But they are so tough they can put themselves back together.

Awww, Nightcrawler is protecting his sister and teleporting the Sentinels out the room.

Seeing inside Nightcrawler's teleportation was amazing.

Roberto has been using the Danger Room to control his powers and learn to fly, which is pretty cool since he doesn't live at the Mansion but is allowed use there facilities.

Lol at Jean being a parent and putting seatbelt on Cable.

Another Blackbird destroyed, love that Cyclops keeps his car in it.

Love the Summer's family moment here with Cable shooting the Sentinels, Jean controlling the car and Cyclops blasting through the mountain.

Love the fist bump between Father and Son

Oh man, Roberto's Mother is bitch, she let the Sentinels take her Son and Jubilee away.

Val let Magneto go, she knows that what Bastion is doing is wrong. I just love her monologue and says Magneto is Right.

LOL Magneto flying to the North Pole in his underwear is hilarious.

Oh wow!!! Magneto just used a EMP to shut down the world, which is actually bad, as it would kill millions of people.

Holy Crap!!! Spiderman!!!!!

Oh wow, Silver Samurai and Omega Red.

At least the Prime Sentinels have been taken down, I wonder if they will change back to humans again. I know they were in the comics but these ones are lot different.

I just love that Wolverine and Morph are drinking beer.

He's back, pretty funny that he crashes his spaceship into the mansion, making it even more destroyed.

Professor X "I hope, I'm not too late" LOL, yeah bit late yeah.

Love Morph's smiling at seeing Xavier back.

Xavier calling back his X-Men gave me goosebumps.

Can't wait for next episode and hopefully Storm will be back.

[reginaregen]

Perpetual-vier

Elena’s inexplicable emotional state continued the next morning, but she had projects and assignments to submit. I need to pull myself together, she thought. After making the quickest breakfast she could, she left the house. She checked the time—12 PM. The luxurious brands just below her neighborhood often attracted tourists. She was used to the crowds, but when she saw the last person she expected, she had to quicken her pace. Zemo was standing on the sidewalk with a blonde woman with blue eyes, around the same height as him, looking at something across the street. People around them might have thought they were just friends—there was that much distance between them—but Elena’s heart burned with the truth. She quickened her pace, leaving them behind and turning away from the street. The woman's tall stature, long blonde hair, and blue eyes would haunt Elena’s sleep for a long time.

*   *   *

Bucky whistled as he looked at the girl he’d matched with on Tinder. “Elena, huh? What’s a sweet girl like you doing in this den of wolves?”

The truth was, Elena had no business being there. Iolanda had swiped right on Bucky after a string of absurd matches on the profile she’d created. She thought if she could set Elena up with a date, it would distract her from Zemo. So she had made a Tinder profile without asking Elena. When she saw Bucky’s age, she rolled her eyes. God, Elena is such a daddy magnet. On the other hand, the guys in her own age group trying to match with her were terrible. Some had even written directly on their profile, Looking for a one-night stand.

Bucky's profile was mysterious, which made her a bit nervous. And his gaze looked like it could freeze the sun. She shrugged, “Sorry, Elena. You’ll have to make do with this for now.”

*   *   *

They were in the kitchen. The man poured olive oil into the pan and reached for the vegetables on the cutting board.

“How about we go to the Asian restaurant?”

Zemo gave a brief glance at Svetlana, who was asking a question that was really more of a command. “I want to eat at home, Svetlana. I’m not in the mood to socialize.”

Svetlana laughed. “When have you ever been in the mood to socialize? Should I make a reservation?”

“Make it for one because I’m staying home.”

She huffed and puffed and, seeing Countess in her path, yelled, “Get out of my way, you flea bag!” and stormed out of the house. Countess jumped not onto the counter but onto one of the barstools by the island, as Zemo had taught her, and meowed at him, as if telling him something. Zemo listened to her seriously and sighed heavily. “I think Elena would have liked you too, and she wouldn’t have minded spending the evening with us at home, but she’s a young and beautiful girl. I’m sure she’s doing something more appropriate for her age with her boyfriend right now, Countess.”

The cat meowed in discontent.

“Do you really think I’d have a chance with Elena? For God’s sake! I’m old, ugly, and weird. She... she’s all the beautiful things I know. Sweet, cheerful, cool…”

As Countess meowed as if laughing, Zemo frowned. “Hey! You’re the teenager! I don’t have a crush on my student, don’t be ridiculous.”

When Countess meowed again, Zemo scowled. “If you want to keep eating high quality cat food, we’re dropping this subject here.”

Okay, that was enough to shut Countess up, but she wasn’t going to let it go entirely.

*   *   *

Bucky moved inside Svetlana, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, while she looked at his Tinder on his phone.

“Elena? Did we just match with this sweet baby?”

Bucky groaned, winding her ponytail around his hand. “Not we matched, I matched. I told you, Svetlana. Unlike your boyfriend, I don’t share my women.”

It had been nearly a year since Svetlana had lied to Bucky about having an open relationship with Zemo and become his friend with benefits.

“That’s a shame,” Svetlana moaned. “I would have liked to bring this baby into our bed, Barnes.”

“I don’t do threesomes. But if your boyfriend is as weird as you say, ask him.”

Svetlana laughed and moaned with pleasure as Bucky hit a deep spot, her finger gliding over the screen. “Look at how sweet this girl is. Do you really think she’d be interested in a weirdo like Zemo? On the other hand, you and that divine body of yours could totally mess with her mind.”

As Bucky pulled out of her, Svetlana cursed. “What the hell!?”

“I’m going to finish alone, you can leave. It feels like you’re drooling more over this girl than me. I don’t like it.” He reached out and took his phone from her hand. “Thanks for coming, darling. And don’t forget to thank your boyfriend for sharing you.”

Svetlana gave him the middle finger, adjusted her skirt, and got up. “You’re disgusting.”

“Says the woman with a boyfriend who shares her.”

[annikityk]

I present to you: gay people flirting by pointing a gun at each other

Exhibit a: Charles and Erik

Exhibit b: Bucky and Zemo

Exhibit c: Will and Hannibal

Exhibit d: Sherlock and Moriarty

And last but not least: Deadpool and Wolverine

[frostironfudge]

Tenebrous - Loki (AU) - Chapter Twenty

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

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

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

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

Chapter Nineteen || Epilogue

Main Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || My AO3

Chapter Twenty: Time Will Be Immortalised

Eight Months Ago. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loki, Bucky and Y/N remain back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have a wonderful son.”

“So full of love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seven Weeks Ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Weak. The word rings across her mind.

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

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

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

“Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Impeccably plated and micro greens used for garnishing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing, I–,”

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

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

The book and her notes weigh heavy on her chest. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re anything but ordinary, witchling.” Loki kisses her nose making her giggle. 

“Look, I’m not saying no, but I did consider the fact that I would lose my powers when I turned.” Bucky begins, “It’s not to say that I don’t mind losing them, but my powers are another thing that connects me to my coven and Grandmother. I know I would probably have some other kind of ability in place if it is part of my transition but I doubt it.”

“Celestials are known to retain their abilities after the shift.” Loki adds.

“I could transfer my powers to an inanimate object,” Bucky looks at Y/N, “It humanises me, then you could well transfer your powers to me.” 

Her features light up.

“Provided the two of you research this in depth and are equally prepared.” Loki adds, “Also if her transfer doesn’t work can you reabsorb your powers from the inanimate object?” 

“I will be able to, it’s reversible.” Bucky assures, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Loki’s ear. Then brushes his lips against Y/N’s cheek. 

“Will you be telling Moonmy?” Bucky raises a brow. 

“I guess she already knows…” Y/N shrugs, “It doesn’t matter if she says no, either way I want to do it.”

“If you had undergone a better time as part of the coven would you still feel the same way?” Bucky questions her, Y/N ponders over it, replaying all the interactions she saw between the other members and the stories Bucky told her.

“I wouldn’t feel disconnected if I had that kind of witchy upbringing.” Y/N admits.

“Okay.” Bucky nods.

“Dinner then research?” Loki offers, his mates both nod.

Present.

“Professor?” One of Loki’s students cuts through his thoughts of the past five weeks. He refocuses into the present, plastering on a smile for the student. 

Questions answered for his students yet Loki’s own worried curiosity knows no bounds. He retires to his office, heading straight for the alcohol. 

“Pour me a glass.” Bucky’s whisper travels across the floor to Loki. He places another glass filling it with the amber liquid. 

The vampire waits for his warlock to join in, Bucky opens the door, closing it softly. In a few strides he’s pressed up against Loki. Wrapped in each other’s arms. Their mutual worry over their mate quelling in the slightest. 

“It will be alright.” Bucky whispers, “It has to be.” 

“It will be my warlock.” Loki runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, he sighs leaning for more support onto his mate. 

Grasping onto his blazer lapels, blue eyes meet green ones. Loki leans in, his lips meet Bucky’s own. The soft gesture is comforting enough to quell the growing anxiety. 

They part when their phones vibrate and chime in unison. 

The dates had aligned; it was the phase of the lunar cycle when Bucky would be completing his conversion. It was also the night they would be transferring the powers before Loki would complete the process and turn Bucky into his own kind. 

Bucky’s nerves were shot but in a good way. Excitement of being the same creature as his mate, having the chance to deepen the bond he shared with Y/N. There was a part of him that was melancholic over the loss of his original powers. 

The blue markings on his left arm glow in response to his call. He traces the lines with his eyes. 

Loki gently raises Bucky’s palm to his lips, tracing the lines to his elbow. 

“Loki.” Bucky whispers, red rims surround his vampire’s eyes, “Loki.” he says yet again with need.

Loki pulls Bucky closer, nose tracing the juncture of his chest and neck, “You smell divine, our mates blood mixed with yours and mine.” open mouthed kisses have Bucky whimper. His shirt unbuttoned, Loki sinks to his knees. Undoing the jeans, Bucky hisses as the confines upon him are released. 

Loki brushes his lips over the tip, Bucky’s fingers tangle in his hair. 

“Mate, you’ve come at the right time.” Loki speaks, Bucky’s eyes snap open and towards the door.

“I,” Y/N’s hand is frozen on the door knob, arousal brims through the two bonds

“Poetess I-,” Bucky’s words are cut off as Loki takes his length in his mouth, cheeks hollowed, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

‘Get inside.’ Loki’s voice instructs in her mind. 

Y/N scrambles inside, locking the door. She moans at the sight of her mates. Bucky beckons her closer. His lips meeting hers in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongue and moans as Loki continues his movements, varying speeds enjoying the sounds he draws from Bucky.

The scent of Y/N’s arousal urges Loki on, one hand caresses Bucky’s balls. The other moves along her inner thigh, the skirt allowing him leverage. Her soaked panties have him moan around Bucky. 

The three moan in unison. 

Loki’s thumb draws circles over her clit, the fabric adding another layer of sensations that have her whimper into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky’s arm wraps around her waist, holding her flush against him. 

Their sounds grow needier, Loki times his head bobbing to the thrusts his fingers provide to Y/N. His sweet mates unravelled for him. Bucky tugs on his hair. 

Y/N moves as Bucky lifts her in his arms, facing Loki. Her dripping cunt soaking his cock her legs thrown over Loki’s shoulders. His fingers now move on her clit.

Loki takes Bucky back in his mouth, their mixed arousal only urging him onward.

She falls apart first with a cry, her head thrown back against Bucky’s left shoulder. Bucky places kisses over her neck as he moans against her sweet spot as he cums. Loki swallows every drop they give him.

Slowly the two humans calm down, Loki kisses them deeply each stated to an extent.

“What brought you to my office?” Loki questions his witchling.

“I um, forgot…” Y/N’s cheeks flush, drawing laughter from Bucky. 

“Perhaps another set of orgasms might jog your memory.” Loki offers, Y/N squeals before she’s placed on his desk. Bucky and Loki both gaze at her glistening folds. 

“We’re the luckiest aren’t we Loki?” Bucky’s large palm traces up her thigh, spreading her legs further apart.

“We are.” Loki agrees, “Have your fill my Warlock. I’ll have her moan around my cock.” 

Y/N clenches around nothing, preening under their intense gazes, words having her grow wetter. 

Bucky takes a seat on Loki’s chair, lips tracing her folds as his lips then latch upon her clit. Loki traces her parted lips with his cock before slowly sinking into her beautiful mouth. 

<><><>

Everything was set up, candles arranged in the shape of a crescent. Y/N sitting at the centre of it. Bucky’s jaw clenched as the air became heavier around them. 

Iridescent glimmers shift through, candle light adding to the glow. Embers casting shadows across their features and the walls. 

Loki attempts to quell the growing unease across the bonds. Disallowing his trepidation to trickle to his already worried mates. 

Y/N bit her bottom lip, eyes meeting his then drifting to Bucky. The warlock gives an encouraging nod. His spell was done, he was left without powers, they were encased into a necklace he had bought for Y/N.

She blinks, the white glow returns. Loki swallows, shifting towards Bucky. The warlock grabs his hand. Then let it go.

It was time. 

The charged air seems to move. Loki watches, the flames of the candles shift into circles. Burning full moons. 

Bucky swallows, feeling the first of the powers wrapping around him. His eyes close. 

The charged air recedes into nothing, the flames return to their normal shape. Y/N’s eyes open first, no glow present. Her eyes move to Bucky. Loki waits, their breaths held.

Bucky falls to his knees, wheezing and then his eyes open. White crescents visualise across his irises and then fade back to blue. 

‘She may have given you her powers, but they do not make you a celestial.’ The voice rings across the room. The necklace shatters into pieces and blue lines form along the broken fragments. They move towards Bucky wrapping around his left arm. 

The moon gave him back the markings of his old coven. The three of them stare at one another for long moments.

Loki and Y/N move then, helping Bucky up. The warlock only stares at his arm, the lines do not fade as they used to but now remain as a constant as though a glowing tattoo. 

Her hand reaches to touch the line, she had done it before, but this time she feels nothing. 

No flow of magick. Nothing weighing down upon her, making her struggle to stay afloat. A responsibility she wasn’t encouraged or nurtured to bear.

No sense of connection to Bucky and Loki beyond the soul bonds.

The way it should have been. The way it felt before her awakening as though there was something between them but now it was more, deeper and defined.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Bucky gently grasps her face, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

“I don’t regret it. I just, it feels peaceful?” Y/N looks up at him, he nods.

“I just feel my magick, not the Celestial one.” Bucky admits his own eyes glazing over with tears, “Even if I don’t retain it when I turn it's okay.”

Loki pulls the two of them into his embrace. 

Kissing every bit of their faces, taking away the tears that flow. Salt on his lips, his mates cradled in his arms. 

Nia, Stephen and Emery join them hours later. In the last of the night, Bucky consumes the last vial of Loki’s blood mixed with Y/N’s. The taste wasn’t blood-like, the bit of ironish rust taste one would get when trying to curb the bleed of a paper cut.

“This next part may hurt.” Loki says, setting the glass down.

“It definitely will hurt.” Stephen pipes up.

“Does it have to be this way?” Emery questions, their own transformation pending. 

Stephen reaches out to them, gently stroking their arm to soothe them.

“It has to be a sort of clean death. Not to say other forms of killing don’t work. They do but this is swifter.” Nia explains nursing another glass of alcohol. Y/N looks at her in worry. 

“Nia…”

“Doesn’t affect me. Perks can’t get drunk.”

“Nia.. still.”

“Drop it, your boyfriend’s about to turn into a vampire. We’ll discuss this later.” Yet again Nia tables the discussion.

The loss of Thor doesn’t hurt as much. It’s the betrayal, Nia missing the signs. Signs she was fucking good at noticing.

“Just do it.” Bucky exhales, eyes meeting Y/N’s worried ones, “Just a nap, Poetess.” 

“Just a nap.” She affirms, walking back to him. 

“It’s going to hurt like a bitch.” Nia reminds Y/N, she nods.

“My blood runs through him, so I know he will awaken, I’ll be there to hold you through it. Unfortunately you know the experience of the breaking of a bond.” Loki strokes her cheek, “I’ll keep the bond fully open so it may help quell the despair.”

“Or you end up feeling mine.” She mutters.

Bucky laughs, “Look, he fully deserves to feel it.”

“Bucky!” Y/N lightly hits his chest.

“Rude.” Loki rolls his eyes but he smiles at the banter.

“Hey you were the one deciding for us before. This is just karma.” 

Y/N laughs at Bucky’s retort, Loki grumbles under his breath.

“Alright, alright, it’s a bit of time away from Bucky.” Stephen assures, pointing at the clock.

Loki grapes Bucky’s face gently, palms moving to his jaw. 

“I trust you.” Bucky assures, “I love you both.” He looks between his two mates, smiling.

“I love you.”

“I love you, thank you, for trusting me.” Loki places a kiss on his forehead.

Y/N and Emery close their eyes. The cracking sound has them flinch. 

At first Y/N feels nothing and then the bond rips apart, her chest heaves. Loki grasps onto her pulling her against him where the two remain near Bucky. He opens the bond he shares with Bucky to the bond he shares with her. 

The certainty of his soon to return to life status begins to wash over the turmoil in Y/N’s chest. Her sobs begin to quiet and tiredness takes over. Loki rocks her back and forth, her hand not leaving Bucky’s own. 

Sleep finds her after an hour still not letting go of Bucky. Loki feels the vampire aspect take over Bucky stronger, the warlock markings begin to gleam and change. The parallel lines once linear now wrap around his arm.

Y/N is placed in the farthest room as it gets closer to Bucky’s awakening. Nia and Loki remain in the house to prevent things from going south in case the bloodlust is too much for Bucky to handle.

The former warlock stirs, groaning, his hand reaches for his neck rubbing over where he could feel the ghost of the bone breaking. Bucky’s eyes open, black with red rims, a deep hunger manifesting in his belly. As he licks his lips they are dry, parched. The thirst is taking over. He suppresses it, walking to the mirror to observe the changes he’s gone through. 

The short sleeved V neck fits him, his features seemingly sharper and defined but not taking away from what he was born as a human with, it wasn’t as though he was fully changed. 

When he touches his face with his left hand he notices the biggest difference. The three lines of his tattoo now wrap around his arm in swirls.

The middle line has a small crescent at his wrist and a star akin to the northern star is now over his cubital fossa. At the centre of the star however, is a crescent moon with a tiny sprig of lavender.

Pride swirls in his chest as does a familiar happiness, Bucky turns, Loki stands at the door with a bottle in hand.

“Welcome back, James.” Loki greets with a bright smile, their bond thrums. Bucky almost knocks his mate over when he’s by his side in a blur. Loki chuckles, wrapping his mate in his arms.

“Loki.” He breathes, melting into his embrace. 

“You need to feed.” Loki reminds and the thirst comes back tenfold.

“I need to see her.” Bucky argues.

“Warlock, she’s still human.”

“She’s my mate.” 

“And you will know then to feed before you see her.” Loki’s eyes turn black with red rims in response to the defiance, “Quell the beast within, James. You do not want to accidentally hurt Y/N.” 

Bucky clenches his jaw, pushing away from Loki, “You didn’t tell me it was this hard, curbing the need to be with my mates.” 

“You’re a half mated newborn, two basic urges are strong.” Loki hands the bottle to Bucky.

The latter drinks the blood in large gulps, sighing in content as the thirst quells. 

“Better?”

“Maybe after two more bottles.” He jokes, Loki chuckles.

Two more bottles are consumed, Bucky wipes the corner of his lip. 

Enhanced hearings pick up soft careful steps and then a ‘oof’ along with a whined out call of Nia’s name.

“You will wait patiently for Bucky to come to you.” Nia chastises Y/N, She huffs in response literally being dragged away as though a child.

“I need to see him.” She reasons when Nia pauses in the room.

“I know, but you need to let him feed,” Nia looks to the side, “Well you’re in luck, impatient little human he’s on his way.”

Nia stops at the door, “There are about 5-6 gatorades in the drawer.”

“For what?”

“Stamina, you have to keep up with two vampires now.” Nia laughs, easily dodging the pillow thrown her way. 

Y/N sits at the edge of the bed. There is a knock at the door. Her heartbeat picks up, as does the rustling of pages within her chest, as though pages being turned to reach the favourite part of a beloved novel.

Loki smiles at Bucky, noticing the anticipation of the bon trickle through the bond. 

“Come in…”

Loki turns the door knob, he enters with an encouraging smile. Y/N doesn’t look at the door but at Loki as he stands before her. Cupping her face.

“He’s fed, taken to the change well. Eager to see you and bond if you’re willing. He’s told me to pull him away if you do not want to tonight.” Loki explains, Y/N nods.

“I’m ready. I trust him.” She whispers. 

Bucky sighs in contentment.

Loki shifts, Y/N looks up at Bucky. The blue flickers in and out of focus as he tries to keep the beast at bay. Her eyes fall to the markings. The star gleams in the slightest and then the lavender sprig. 

Bucky’s fists clench, “Poetess.” he calls out to her, voice hoarse, needy. 

“Bucky.” Y/N says with equal need.

In a blur she’s pressed against the mattress, a breathless laugh leaves her before Bucky’s lips find her soft ones. Her scent thrums through his senses. The beast within him wanted more. 

Bucky’s hands wander over her frame, drawing moans from his mate into his mouth. Her hands grip at his t-shirt arching against him. He nips at her bottom lip. Bucky moans at the taste of her blood. 

“You’re so fucking divine.” He hums, “Loki was right, a goddess, we’re blessed with a goddess.”

Y/N preens at the praise, Bucky allows the beast to take over, the spot under her left collarbone calls out to him. His thigh grinds against her core.

He raises his head looking at Loki who watches them with a lust filled gaze, “Claim our mate, James. You can have her this once alone, because after that she isn’t leaving from between us for a long time.” he smirks.

Bucky returns the gesture, “Hear that Poetess? You’re going to be worshipped. You’re going to feed our hunger the way no other could ever.” He kisses the spot of their bond. Y/N hums, the pheromones clouding every sense their needs brimming across the bonds.

Bucky’s fangs break through the skin, tears brim over as the bond forges between the two. Golden, gleaming, bright. Strong. Bucky feels whole, his bonds complete. The magick thrums through him as well. As before, stronger now.

Y/N breaks out of the haze of the bond, her chest feeling full, the love prominent and everything she needed it to be from both of them. Her hand moves to Bucky’s new markings, thumb brushing over the crescent on his wrist. Both vampires watch the outline of the same crescent form in her eyes then fade away. 

Clothes are scattered over the floor, their mate worshipped between them. Bonds thrumming happily, sighs and moans fill the room. Y/N falls apart between them and is put back together by her mates.

The tangled mess of limbs, she lays between the two. Bucky’s chest against her back and Loki’s chest pressed to hers, she’s on the precipice of sleep with a smile on her face. 

“I love you both.”

“I love you both.”

“I love you both.”

A.N: finally combated the block on this fic and the epilogue will be uploaded next week! thank you for waiting and supporting this fic, i'm so happy i was able to finish it and give it the ending that i feel is deserved by our witchling/poetess, warlock and vampire

tagging: @camerons-specialinterest@stevesmewmew@pandaxnienke

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drabble Roulette: Helmut Zemo + Mob AU

Hey hey! This weekend (July 6 -7) I’m going to be playing drabble roulette! I’ve curated a list of characters, tropes, AUs, and kinks and I’m spinning the wheel! Hopefully I can do this once a month as a little writing exercise.

Character: Helmut Zemo

Warnings: this drabble includes illegal activity and drunkeness. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

A giggle bubbles up from your throat. You don’t know why it’s so funny. Maybe it’s the absurdity. Maybe you’re just tired of being the other one. Or you’re drunk. Very drunk. 

You glance over at Shantal. She’s making eyes at the guy who brought her a lime twist cocktail. He’s into her too. And Traci grinds on the dance floor with a buff guy you know spends more time in the gym than doing actual work. And you, well, you get the cream of the crop, don’t you? 

As the man approaches, you try to ignore him. Try not to see him. Maybe he’ll get the hint. You’re really not interested. 

He doesn’t. He sits beside you on the long bench behind the table and sets the second martini in front of you. You repress a cringe. You hate to be rude but you can’t help another giggle. 

He looks older up close. You could tell before he’s beyond your age range. Do you have one of those? Not like you have a vast field for selection. Next to the young studs your friends have reeled in, his seniority is even more stark. 

“You look lonely,” he slithers. 

You put on your best smile. It’s hard. You’re mortified. 

“Um, thanks, that’s nice but...” you look away and wet your lips, laughing again. “I’m sorry I’m not looking--” 

“Mm, you could’ve fooled me the way you keep peeking over at your friend. You are rather green.” 

You wince at the insult. You’re not jealous but you do wish you could find them as east as Shantal. You shrug. 

“I appreciate the gesture but I think I might be a bit... young for you,” you suggest. 

It’s his turn to laugh and he does. Heartily. He stirs the cocktail with the toothpick, three olives skewered upon it. He raises his chin and inhales through his nose, looking around the flashing club. Why is he even there? It can’t be much fun hanging out with coeds at that age. 

He looks at you smugly, “do you have any idea who you’re laughing at?” 

His expression turns dire and your stomach drops. Something in his dark eyes strangles you. You shake your head and look at the stemmed glass. 

“Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” you utter. 

“We’re meeting. Now.” 

“Right,” you hesitate. This is awkward. You don’t know what he wants you to say. “I am the designated driver so--” 

“Don’t lie to me,” he sneers. “I’ve watched you keep pace with these sluts you call friends. You’re slurring right now and I can smell the vodka on your breath,” he leans in, “I’d rather taste it.” 

“Excuse me?” You sputter. 

“You’ve got a pretty mouth,” his eyes flick down to your lips, “go on, have a sip.” 

“You’re gross.” 

“I bought you a drink so don’t be so impolite,” he retorts. “I’m sorry, did you have a line up?” 

He peers around again, even more smug than before. That hurts.  

“You know, you catch more bees with honey--” 

“I already own you,” he insists, “you’re in my club, you have my liquor in your stomach, and you are sat at my table. So, show some manners and drink what I give you.” 

You shake your head. This man is confounding. Is he flirting or demeaning you? 

“I recommend you weigh this very carefully. I don’t just own this snake’s pit. The landlord you pay for their basement, I know him. He pays me his dues. And the college campus, yes, well, several professors have a taste for gambling, and I suppose you would need to deal with the banks...” 

“You’re lying--” 

“Perhaps, would you like to find out the hard way or the easy way,” he reaches over and taps the glass before you, “I do find gin does go down rather smoothly.” 

[aro-simp]

2, 11, & 22 for the blorbo game!

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK MYTH

2. who was your first ever Blorbo, who was your childhood Blorbo, and are they still your Blorbo?

my FIRST ever blorbo (...that I can actually remember... according to my dad we used to be a really huge fan of Fairly Odd Parents and Timmy Turner up until we must've been like 7 but I don't remember that one bit...) I'm p sure was Kai from Ninjago! That didn't hold very long tho, when I got a Zane minifigure gifted I immediately switched sides x) Well and for most of my childhood it was just between Zane and Hiccup from httyd.

Idk how far that counts as blorbo but the first character I felt genuine attraction to was actually Caesar in the Asterix comics!

As already said I switched out Kai pretty early on, but I still care deeply about Zane, and Hiccup (cough cough... sp/in... literal fictive... cough cough)! And I do selfship with Caesar still :>

11. have you ever written a fanfic about your blorbo?

(aaand back to mcu!zemo here :3)

I haven't actually :) Or well... not really. I have a bunch of scattered notes and a lot more of scattered thoughts for fics!

I've been coming up with stories for him pretty much the moment I first finished Civil War and they've been pretty big and important to me over the years, but I rarely ever wrote them down, and what I wrote down is far removed from a coherent story.

But just today I started what I hope is gonna be a short little oneshot with him :)!

22. would you still love your Blorbo if they were real?

I WANT to say yes but sadly I have morals 😔 /silly

as much as I love him and he's an incredibly important character to me I can't just be chill like that over a literal terrorist.

Also if we take tfatws into account (...which I don't) that means he's also rich royalty, something I don't particularly support either, and if we go to literally every other iteration of zemo he's a literal nazi

so no, I would not love him

(tho I have to say I read a fic recently where he was neither a nazi nor rich nor a terrorist but just some professor and well....... that version of him I'd have a really hard time missing out on even in real life 👀)

[ao3feed-drstrange]

Young Avengers and the Multiverse

by SpookyGothEmo Words: 1921, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English Fandoms: Ben 10 Series, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel, X-Men '97 (Cartoon 2024), X-Men Evolution (Cartoon) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M Characters: Sera Masumi, Ben Tennyson, Peter Parker, Shuri (Marvel), Kate Bishop, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Nick Fury, Laura Kinney, Kevin Levin, Gwen Tennyson, Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan, Mouri Ran, Mouri Kogorou, Amuro Tooru | Furuya Rei, Akai Shuuichi | Okiya Subaru, Logan (X-Men), Jean Grey, Scott Summers, Remy LeBeau, Rogue (X-Men), Jubilation Lee, Roberto da Costa, Kurt Wagner, Kitty Pryde, Ororo Munroe, Morph (X-Men '97), Lucas Bishop, Max Tennyson, Rook Blonko, Loki (Marvel), Haneda Shuukichi, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Professor Paradox (Ben 10 Series), Helmut Zemo, Stephen Strange Relationships: Sera Masumi/Ben Tennyson Additional Tags: Avenger!Ben Tennyson, Avenger!Masumi Akai, Cyborg Ben Tennyson, Dark Past, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Crossovers, alternative universe, Evil Professor Paradox, Sorcerer Supreme Stephen Strange, Evil Stephen Strange via https://ift.tt/O5QsVDE

[icebobbles]

Robert Drake - 32 - Mutant Alpha/Omega - Accountant

Current :

No one knows he's gay beside Rogue

Suffers from severe PTSD he is seeking help for

lives with rogue and is her accountant

low contact with his parents

Once upon a time

Born to a Jewish mother an irish-catholic father, Bobby first discovered his abilities at a young age when he found himself unable to stop feeling cold and shivering. Only years later would he reveal his true nature, when saving his date from a school bully who was out to attack them. Sadly this only brought fear and for his own protection, the local sheriff brought Bobby into custody. The story made it to Charles Xavier who sent Scott to recruit Bobby. After turning him down, Bobby and Scott were however cornered by a mob and would have been hanged if it weren’t for the Professor using his abilities. Grateful for the saving, Bobby enrolled. He secretly yearned to be like Scott.

He eventually became an X-men, one of the younger members. Despite his self-conscious self, his lighthearted approach to disaster often eased tensions among his teammates and open the most recluse young mutants at the school. Using his skills and knowledge to teach younger mutants, he spent most of his time on school grounds, jumping into action whenever needed, until New York and the Inhuman war.

It was mostly the inaction decided on the mutants part that made him leave the team. On his way to the airport, he had an encounter with Johnny who thought he was the one who attacked him thinking he was someone else. Even if he missed his flight after that, he did make it to Los Angeles, where he attended the UCLA until recently. He came back to the academy even if he is still debating on resuming his role as X-men.

Bobby was forever changed after his time in Zemo’s captivity. He had been freed, thanks to Kitty’s ingenuity but he felt a sense of survivor’s guilt after he was free and she wasn’t. He helped to track them down and bring her home. Like Kurt, he tried to help her after her ordeal, but still has his own demons to deal with. Like the rest of the X-Men, he signed and seems to be doing much better, even if he’s hiding his own trauma from everyone else.

[kahuna-burger]

Rocks For Jocks, all the scholarship athletes watching their minimum GPA think he's on their side until he explains what he needs to give them what they need.

Though I'd never make Brock the gross predatory professor when Pierce and Zemo are both right there. I mean, you need an evil drill instructor or a predatory coach, Brock's your man, but we've got other villains that just scream "badtouch academia."

if brock was a gross predatory professor, what would he teach?