#Zemo fanfic

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 17

Prompt: Bewitched

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Reader

tags/warnings: Love at first sight, mutual pining, confessions, kiss, FLUFF

Although Reader's gender is not specified the translations below (specifically Vrăjitore) are feminine!

Summary: Bucky and Sam come your apartment for a few days to hide out and a certain Sokovian Baron is enamoured by you.

Word Count: 2.6k

Translations:

Draga - dear

Vrăjitore - Enchantress/witch (in the context below - it's enchantress)

A/N: I've said it before and I'll say it again - I'm a hopeless romantic. - Love, Grem x

Prev | Next | Masterlist

Zemo hadn’t known what to expect when the door to your apartment opened but it certainly wasn’t instantaneous infatuation. You were a friend of Sam and Bucky’s and somehow, somehow, got roped into helping them hide him. Despite the initial feelings of scepticism and meticulously planning his escape from the dingy apartment building, when you opened the door it all changed.

You were stood in your pajamas, rubbing your eyes, speaking in a soft sleepy voice that alluded to you either just about ready to fall asleep or you had just woken up. Zemo was staring and he knew it. Even though you hadn’t looked at him yet, you were the picture of perfection with your slightly tousled hair and the disgruntled expression you were giving Sam as he explained what was going on. When your e/c eyes finally flickered over to him, finally meeting his eyes, he felt his breathing stop.

“You better come in,” you sighed, stepping aside and allowing them inside your small apartment.

You immediately headed to the small kitchen-cum-living room, turning on your kettle and grabbing mugs.

“Tea? Coffee? Food?” You fire off questions in rapid succession but Sam nor James pay attention to you. They’d began a hushed conversation about ideas and plans in your living room. Zemo looked over to you and was surprised to see you were looking directly at him. He felt like a deer in headlights. He was at a loss for words. For once.

You raised an eyebrow at him curiously. “You... want anything?”

Zemo clears his throat and stiffly approaches the counter top that seperates the two of you. “Tea will do. Thank you.”

“I have earl grey and English breakfast,” You say, holding up the two boxes. “What would you prefer?”

Zemo blinks, his throat dry. “Earl grey, please.”

“Sugar and milk?”

Zemo only nods and watches as you turn away to prepare the tea. Surely, you knew he was dangerous? Surely, you had seen the news from years before? Surely, you knew you shouldn’t turn your back to him?

But you had. And Zemo was helplessly lost in you whilst the hushed conversation of Bucky and Sam drifted around the apartment. He couldn’t remember when he had last felt this way. It had been a long time, that’s for sure.

After five minutes you turn around with two mugs in your hand and slide one to Zemo. He carefully lifts the mug to his mouth and sips, relishing the sleepy warmth of the lavender drink. His tongue darts across his lips, something else is in the drink, making it ever so slightly sweeter. You register his expression and offer him a small, sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I think I’ve given you mine. I always add a dash of vanilla syrup.”

Vanilla. Zemo’s eyes widen but he smiles and nods. “An excellent combination.”

Your smile brightens. Zemo thinks his knees might give out; that smile lights up your entire living room and you’re not even trying. He should be trying to manipulate you, make you uncomfortable; not nervously running sweaty palms on his slacks or being tongue tied. And you should be cold and harsh, threatening to maim him like Bucky or Sharon not warm, friendly and inviting.

“Have you ever tried an Edinburgh Mist?” You ask, eyes brightening with each passing second. Zemo briefly wonders if it's because your friends, the ones who have barely spoken with you, the ones who have landed a fugitive terrorist into your hands, have never bothered to indulge in the beauty that was you. He shakes his head gently, watching you speak.

“It’s like the cocktail London Fog but an actual hot drink.” You explain. “it’s earl grey with vanilla, with foamed milk and dusted with cinnamon. I loved it so much I had to start making it at home.”

Zemo finds himself smiling  over the rim of his mug at you. He hums in response, nodding a little before adding, “I may have to trouble you for one when you have the chance.”

You scoff a little, suppressing what looks to be a blush and Zemo’s heart does a flip. Unfortunately, you’re both torn away by Sam and Bucky wanting to talk strategy.

The next few days feel like a dream.

Zemo practically follows you around like a love sick puppy, offering to help with everything he can. Laundry. Cooking. Cleaning. Each time you dismiss him, citing that he is a guest in your home and will be treated as such. Your mother didn’t raise you to be unwelcoming.

When it’s clear he doesn’t really know what to do with himself, you roll your eyes and pretend you’re so hard done by with the lack of help you recieve from Bucky and Sam, that you’ll gladly take Zemo’s company instead. Which he humbly (albeit very enthusiastically) accepts.

As you do chores, you chat about anything and everything. His favourite books, your favourite shows, his music taste, your favourite foods. Whilst you cook he watches eagerly, asking inquisitive questions and occasionally teasing gently to make you laugh. Part of your brain believes it to be a ploy, as does Sam and Bucky. Some grand manipulation that they had warned you he was capable of. But somehow you doubted it. There was something about how he made you laugh, how he always acted the gentleman and offered his help, something about the softness in his eyes that you knew he meant every word he spoke and action he did.

Perhaps that was what caused the argument between you and Sam.

“He’s a terrorist,” Sam snapped at you on the fifth day. Bucky was out and Zemo was in the shower, making it an opportune time to discuss the behaviour Sam had witnessed over the last few days. “And a master manipulator. You should not trust him.”

“God forbid men have hobbies.” You quip. Then seeing Sam's frown you sigh.

"On a technicality, you are too." You point out, scrubbing at a dish violently. Anger had bubbled inside you at the subtle accusation that you were falling for a manipulation, especially when said terror had been placed in your lap. “You brought him here as well.” You huff with agitation.

It was Sam’s turn to huff. “You don’t get it. He’s dangerous.”

You slam the scourer down and glare at Sam. “No, you’re not getting it. You brought him here. Hell, yesterday you and Bucky went out and left me with him for hours.”

Sam opens his mouth and closes it again, at a loss for words. He knows he can’t argue against that and he knows damn well better than to try.

“Just... be careful. Okay?” He grumbles, heading to the spare room. “That’s all I ask.”

Once the door is closed you roll your eyes and turn back to the sink, haughtily mimicking Sam’s words. You startle when you hear Zemo chuckle from behind you.

“Apologies,” He murmurs, looking over  at you with a smug smile. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Whether or not it was his intention, you know that he isn’t sorry about it at all and it makes you smirk back. As with everything the last few days, you can’t seem to find yourself to be genuinely upset with him.

“It’s alright,” you sigh, drying your hands. “Tea?”

“Please, dragă.”  

You blush at the use of the nickname, but turn away quickly. This was another ritual that had formed in the last few days, and you would be lying if you didn’t enjoy the sweet nickname he’d given you and the way his honeyed eyes followed your movements. You didn’t want to tell him you knew the meaning. That you’d briefly dabbled in learning Sokovian. Something about him using his native tongue to compliment you, believing you had no idea what he was saying as  he looked  at you,  made your heart beat faster and your fondness for him grow. Again, this only made arguments of him manipulating you weaker; why say things to you that you couldn’t understand? Quick compliments or praise in a foreign language he thought only he could speak, muttered under his breath that made your resolve crumble apart like a cookie dipped in hot  tea. You couldn’t deny that he had charm but something else drew you to him. It was like you were under a spell and the thought that he may have to leave soon was too much to bare.

“You know,” Zemo started, voice quiet. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the countertop. “I’ve noticed that they don’t appreciate you, dragă.”

You turn, eyebrows high, mid-stir of the teas. “What?”

Zemo’s eyes drop to his hands. “Perhaps I am out of line,” he says carefully. “But you are correct in that all of us being here was sprang on you. Yet you welcomed us, even me, into your home without hesitation. You have cooked meals, offered your shower, home and did laundry... and only once or twice I have heard a thank you.” He looks up, meeting your eyes with his. His expression is soft, almost apologetic. “So, thank you, dragă.”

You blink at him, slightly shocked. So, he’d overheard your argument with Sam. He could’ve taken a different route; planting seeds of doubt about your friendship with the heroes, allowing tendrils of resentment to grow and blossom into anger. However, he hadn’t. Zemo had only pointed out the truth of the current situation; you had accepted the bizarre situation to help your friends and hopefully the betterment of the world without question and without thanks. Your mouth opened to defend Sam and Bucky, but your mind faltered trying to find an example from the last few days.

In fact, Bucky had grumbled his thanks of a coffee once and Sam for his food once. Zemo had been trying to help you for the past five days and somehow always managed to thank you and compliment you. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you snapped your mouth closed. You shrug half heartedly and remove the teabags.

“Thank you.” You murmur and then realise it sounds like a very stupid thing to say back. “For saying thank you? Sorry. Um.”

You turn back, handing him his tea but not meeting his gaze. You’d already learned to make it how he liked. That was probably not a good sign. You clear your throat.

“I appreciate it.”

There’s a beat of silence and you look back at him. He smiles. You smile back.

Your heart beats a little faster than before and you shift on your feet. You’re being drawn in again.

“Anytime.” Zemo bows his head to you, still smiling, his tone utterly sincere; like he would never tire of thanking you. His gaze meets yours again and he exhales gently. “You... are something else. Do you know that?”

You tilt your head at him, smile widening to a lopsided grin. “No? How do you mean?”

Zemo huffs through his nose, chuckling slightly. “You have bewitched me, dragă. From the moment I saw you.” He takes a sip from his mug watching you with a mesmerised expression. In a low rumbling voice he adds, “Vrăjitore.”

Your breathing stalls for a moment. You don’t think anyone has ever looked at you like how Zemo is looking at you; like you’re almost too good to be true. Your stomach twists into knots and your heart and mind race to try to come up with a quip or statement as equally romantic and poetic as he’d uttered but you can’t.

When you don’t respond, Zemo steps away, looking at the floor. “Forgive me. I’ve said too much.”

“No!” you blurt suddenly, and cover your hand with your mouth. You cringe slightly and smile sheepishly at Zemo, whose tilting his head curiously at you now. “I thought it was just me.” You say lamely.

Zemo’s eyes widen and a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth but he says nothing as you rake a nervous hand through your hair.

“So....” You start awkwardly, wetting your lips and dropping your hand from your nape limply.

“So.” Zemo repeats back to you, his eyes sparkling. You can feel your heart thunder at the sight and you open your mouth to continue  but Sam erupts into the room.

“We need to go,” He says hurriedly to Zemo, throwing on his jacket. “Bucky and Sharon have ran into some trouble.”  

Zemo nods, setting his mug down and striding to the coat rack for his purple fur coat. Sam shoots you an apologetic glance when you ask if they’d be back.

“We may have to find another safe house. We’ve stayed here for too long, you might get caught being with us.” He shrugs. “But thanks for everything. I owe you one.” Sam grins over at you cheekily and adds, “and so does Bucky.”

“As do I.” Zemo adds, smiling softly over at you as he straightens the  collar of his coat. Sam looks like he’s about to shush Zemo when his phone rings. Sam’s expression turns serious and he stalks for the front door muttering instructions to either Bucky or Sharon.  He points at Zemo before he opens it. “Parking garage in five minutes. Make sure you’re not followed.”

The door closes behind Sam before  he sees Zemo nod and make his way back over to you.

Zemo stands before you, looking down at you with the same wondrous expression he had before. He’s close but not too close; a polite distance even after  everything tonight.

“So....” You start again, smiling wryly at him. “I guess this is goodbye?”

“For now, vrăjatore.” Zemo says with a gentle smile. A gloved hand reaches up hesitantly to cup your cheek. You can feel the heat of his palm through the leather, and you lean into it; searching for his warmth. Your eyes flutter ever so slightly and you heave a sigh. Just your luck.

“I’ll find you once the dust settles.”

You raide an eyebrow at him and chuckle. “And I’ll be waiting.”

Your own hand encompasses his on your cheek and it feels like an eternity passes as you both stand in silence gazing at eachother before Zemo leans down and places a chaste, tender kiss to your lips. Your heart stutters and you move to follow his lips as he pulls back, making him chuckle.

“I’ll find you,” he repeats, firmer this time. “And then you may kiss me for as long as you wish. Until then, duty calls.”

He grins at you again, adoring the flushed expression you’re wearing, but pulls further away from you. Your arm stretches out, still holding his hand and with one last, small squeeze you release him; watching him stride out of the front door and follow Sam. The silence in your apartment is palpable, and when you remember to draw a breath, the air is stale and dry. You sigh to yourself and finish your tea while replaying the events of the last hour.

 You hadn’t seen Zemo in two months.

That hadn’t meant his presence was missing.

The mission had finished a month ago, however, Zemo was still currently on the run. Bucky and Sam had attempted to find him but from what they had told you, they had assumed he was long gone in some faraway island, living it up. But you had known better.

Lavish gifts from expensive chocolates to tea had appeared at your apartment. The latest was the newest, beautiful bouquet that you had centred perfectly on your coffee table, somewhere you could look upon it everyday, and a pack of cherry blossom tea. You took photos of all of your gifts and added little notes of them into your phone – as you had no way of contacting the Baron, you ensured you could thank him for each and every gift he’d bought for you when you saw him in person. Bouquets came every ten days like clockwork – as soon as one bouquet wilted, the next would appear to take its place. The gifts would be every two weeks. Maybe, you joked with yourself, so it didn’t seem like it was excessive to send two gifts every week.

The only indication that it was Zemo sending you these items was because each gift came with a small 6-by-4 card with one word written in plum-purple cursive.

Vrăjitore.

[loki-quinn]

Dom Baron Zemo aesthetic

@ironstrangefrostohmy @intheformofstars

[kebabnikan]

[addict-rat]

Your Eyes Betray You

Summary: You have a rivalry with Zemo and his team, but you also have mixed feelings with him, in one mission you both finally end up saying what you feel and more.

Words count: 2880

Paring: Helmut Zemo x F!Reader

Warnings: +18 Explict, swering, very poorly written smut, wall sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, fingering, p in v. 

Author’s note: Buenas, I just want to say a few things, frist this is my frist smut written in english, that leads to the second thing english not my first language I know a bit of the language but still learning so I used a translator from time to time if you see a mistake in the grammar or in general please let me know, I accept criticism but I don’t tolerate hate comments or similar. I probably gonna write more fanficons so I accept request in the future and I in the process of writing a Namor fanfic x!Reader. Gracias enjoy the fic :D

My masterlist.  

Your career as a government agent was going pretty well. Not long ago you had been promoted to a position now you have your own team of agents to lead although you still had to follow orders from your superior, Secretary Ross. you could say that you had done everything to be where you were now, and you knew that one day you would be in a higher position than the one you were currently in, you worked hard to have a record of success in most of your missions, that was one of the reasons why you were given this position, however everything changed when you met your now "enemies" the Thunderbolts.

Thunderbolts was a team similar to yours except they had two supersoldiers, Ava Starr better known as Phantom, Justin Hammer and criminal mastermind who more than once could take you down. While your team was not bad, the problem was that it turns out you were not the best person to lead, since most of your life you had and preferred to work on your own.

Valentina and Ross were on the same path, therefore Thunderbolts and your team ended up on the same mission so you saw them very often, they were a headache for you because you knew you had a half chance of succeeding in the mission and a half chance of losing because of them.

Everyone already knew each other, it was like seeing co-workers who had been together for many years, but as team leader you knew all the opposing team better, especially their leader.

Helmut Zemo.

Being both team leaders you had faced him before, at first you could say you had no opinion of him, after meeting him on a mission where you lost, you began to hate him especially when you realized how much you found yourself thinking about him, you were not going to admit the obvious you had to stay focused on what mattered.

                                                             You weren't a fan of missions that involved having to infiltrate parties and looking like you were enjoying being there, usually these types of missions you would send someone from your team, but this time you had to go, so there you were finishing your fifth drink. You were waiting for the host of the party to come out of his office so you could go and get some files that could put a big f behind bars, you heard in one of your headphones that he had already left his office and that you could move on, so you preferred to go and finish the mission instead of having your sixth drink, you walked straight to where there was a crowd of people dancing.

"I thought you didn't like these kinds of events" you pulled away a little when you saw how close you were to him "I don't I'm here beacuse of work, look like you a really having fun" you said in a mocking tone "I'm here beacuse of work too and your distracting me, can you even fight in that? "You tried to ignore the previous comment even though you still felt that feeling that had become recurrent in your stomach and you knew that he was the reason for your behavior. Your thoughts left you when you heard one of your colleagues telling you to hurry before he went back to his office "I don't have time for this and yes I can fight in this" you said walking to where you should have been a few minutes ago.

You felt someone pulling you by your arm so hard that you ended up glued to the body of the man who had pulled you, obviously it had to be the last person you wanted to see here and who in fact you were expecting to see.

The mansion you were in was so ridiculously big that it took you a little longer to get there, in some corridors there were people around so you had to find another way or wait for them to leave. You were a little more relieved that you were so close, you just had to look for the files and leave being as cautious as possible. Already in front of the door you looked to the sides before placing your hand on the door handle but before you could open the door, you were a little scared since no one had warned you that someone was already inside but your concern was gone when you saw Zemo in the door frame, the two looked at each other for a few minutes, you still did not understand how he had arrived so fast.

"If you are looking for the same as me, good luck, I doubt you will find a copy" whenever he was in advantage or beat you he always put that mocking smile, you saw him walking away while you doubted if you were really looking for the same or were different motives of the mission, but still you went after him, you approached him and he stopped walking when you reached him "Do you really want took me into a fight in that dress?" he asked this time looking at you again from head to toe "Do you want to try me? Baron" he approached you, cornering you in the wall "Do you know I love when you use my title?" you were going to answer him but you both became alert when you heard footsteps and you heard your team warning you that someone was coming in the corridor, obviously it was going to be suspicious to see you two standing near the office and there was no time to go anywhere else.

You grabbed Zemo by his coat and pulled him closer to you, you whispered an almost inaudible "sorry" before you started kissing him, obviously nobody was going to suspect two lovers looking for a place to be alone, at first Zemo was a little astonished he didn't expect you to do that, but he understood that it was to cover the two of you and not to raise suspicions, so he didn't let go of you, his leg got between yours applying some pressure, which made you moan in the kiss, he took the opportunity to dominate more the kiss and taste inside you, you didn't want to admit it but it was the first time you had been kissed so well.

You remembered that this was your chance to look for the files in his coat, your hands traveled through Zemo's coat, trying to find the files but he noticed what you were doing, he took your hands and slammed them against the wall, pulling something out of you between a sigh and a moan, something you were going to regret later "You like that don't you? You like it when someone else takes control" He said close to your lips, you started to move your hips a little on the leg he had between yours, you did it by mere instinct you hadn't even noticed, " Egear are we? " He murmured as he left a path of kisses from your jaw to your neck, you let out a gasp as you felt his wet kisses, your weak legs brought you back to reality and you saw that there was no one but the two of you in the hallway "T- they're already gone" Zemo let go of your wrists "Yes, I know they left like two minutes ago" he left a kiss on your cheek "Looking for this, Draga? "He took out a small usb from his coat and put it back almost immediately, while you were still stunned and bewildered by what had just happened a few seconds ago.

You followed him down another corridor when you had already put your feet on the ground again, when you got to the corner where he had crossed he was not there, you looked around, but it was useless, there was no one there, you walked back from where you came but you saw from afar that a group of people were coming and you saw that from the other side of the corridor as well. For a moment you were paralyzed, but they dragged you to another small room, that looked like a cellar or something similar, the room was only illuminated by the small lines of the shutter that almost completely covered the window of the door.

"What..."

You couldn't finish.

"Shhh."

"Don't shhh to me"

He put his hand on your mouth "Shhhh" you heard murmurs that were going to close where you were, you did not pay attention to what they were talking, you were more focused on watching him even with the little light that came from the hallway, his dark eyes staring at the door where he had you nailed, you saw how he frowned to concentrate on what the other people were talking, his dark hair well combed and how soft it seemed to be, you wanted to pass your hand touching him.

"Enjoying the view?" He ask with that cooky smirt and removed his hand from your mouth "I do, although I preferred the way you looked in the hallway" he tilt his head, his hands went to your hips "You didn't look at me like you hated me... but you don't, do you? Well you did at first, but then you pretended to" Your eyes widened in amazement, after all this time you were still impressed by how capable he was of reading you despite how good you were at pretending.

"Your eyes, your eyes betrayed you" he replied as if he knew what you were going to ask, it was no secret that he no longer saw you as if his gaze could kill you, at first he detested you especially you being the one who had beaten him a few times, but that had been a long time ago.

Your lips approached his, when it finally looked like your lips were about to touch his, he moved a few inches away from you "Tell me what do you want, darling?" You bite your lip, his hand slowly went down to the hem of your dress, caressing your thighs under your dress "Please, please Helmut... Touch me, make me yours please fuck me please" you begged pathetically for the other man to touch you, you never thought you would beg like that for anyone ever in your life, but for him, you didn't mind doing it.

This time it was his lips that found you and he drank you in almost the same way he had done in the past kiss, his kisses went down to your neck and his hands this time went up your dress to your waist and into your panties playing with the now wet fabric, you were about to beg for more, when you heard the rustle of the fabric tearing, You gave a gasp of astonishment that quickly turned into a more erotic one as you felt his fingers in your wet folds "You won't need these" he said finishing removing your panties "You already so wet for me" one of his hands took your leg to lift it a little, your fingernails dug into his shoulders to steady you.

"Don't stop Zemo ples...Ah" Two of his long and thick fingers penetrated into your wet cunt, his fingers curled in that place that made you forget where you were. "Ah" you moaned loudly feeling how his fingers stretched you and at the same time his thumb started massaging circles in your clit. You began to feel that sensation in your belly that indicated your orgasm was beginning to form, your nails dug deeper into his shoulders. His lips so close to yours that you could feel his breaths heaving and he could feel your gasps and moans.

"Zemo... I..." His lips caught your lips in a kiss before you could raise your voice any more, you heard footsteps and murmurs outside, across the hall but they gradually receded. "You have to be a little more quite, my love... As much I would love to hear you, we can't let anyone hear us, do you understand?" Zemo asked you shortly after you came down from your state of pleasure. "Yes, Baron" you said he kissed you again, this time a little shorter "Good girl" you were surprised when he turned and your face pressed into the door, you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling as well as the zipper of his pants, one of his hands was on your hip gripping you tightly then you were to find the bruise in the shape of his hand on your hip, with his other hand he said the tip of his cock was moving in your wet folds "Stop teasing me, baron please" a choked moan came from your lips as you felt him slowly penetrate you, it was much bigger than you had thought, your count trembling with the strecht as inch after inch.

You both let out a sigh when he fully stettled, both of his hands on your hips "Fuck, you're so thigt" He whisper in your ear leaving a path of kisses and hickeys in your neck, you moved your head to the side leaving him more space, you let out a loud moan when you felt his teeth penetrating the skin between your neck and shoulder "Oh! Don't mark me you possesive... Oh fuck" you whimper when you felt how he came out completely and penetrated you again in a single movement, his nails dug into your hips while he came out and entered you in a constant pace, Zemo grabbed you by the neck turning your head so he could kiss you, his kisses were hungry, a little violent, you tried to follow the same rhythm as him returning him with kisses full of lust and needy, you didn't separate until you were both out of breath, a loud moan came from your lips when he hit that place that left you wanting more, your back arched and he noticed it by the way your legs weakened and by the way your walls squeezed his cock, his pace this time faster hitting that sweet place. Even though you wanted to be quiet because you were not exactly alone, anyone could pass through the hallway and hear you, but Zemo made it difficult for you to be quiet, his arm grabbed your hips while the other one massaged your clitoris, a gasp escaped your lips from the pleasure he was giving you, it wasn't a few minutes later when you felt your second orgasm come again.

"I'm so close... I'm gonna come" you let out a loud moan "Come for my draga" he grabbed your neck bringing your head to his shoulder, he applied a little pressure to your neck, which brought you to your second orgasm with a sigh and a gasping moan, Zemo waited until your breathing was no longer so agitated and came back with the same pace he had before. You felt his seed fill you deep inside your walls, you heard profanities between Sokovian and Ingles in between cut off by his agitated breathing.

After a few minutes you both had come down from your euphoria, you felt Zemo's lips on your bare shoulder, his short but affectionate kisses were going up to your cheek, his hand grabbed your jaw returning it to his face leaving a soft and affectionate kiss on your lips, you kissed him back, you let out a whimper in the middle of the kiss when he came out of you, you felt his semen going down your thighs "We could have had fun a long time ago... you know it was much better than I had fantasized..." you weren't going to admit that you had also dated him in this way, but that wasn't something you would say out loud at least not today. you know it was much better than I had fantasized" you weren't going to admit that you had also fooled around with him in this way, but that wasn't something you would say out loud to him at least not today. You both began to arrange yourselves to hide any kind of evidence. You looked for your panties on the floor, when you found them they were torn "Great, now I have to go back without underwear thanks Zemo" you said showing him your ruined panties, Zemo took them out of your hands and put them in his coat "I will buy you new ones, and next time I won't tear them" you both left the room and walked down the hall "So now we will do this on every mission we see each other" You smirk devilish "I can't promise you that I won't, but I'd prefer it to be somewhere more private" they both laughed a little "What a strange way to propose a date but ok I'll take it" they both headed for the exit and went their separate ways to where each team was waiting for them, and there Zemo noticed that you had removed the usb.

[bucknastysbabe]

The Call Girl - H. Zemo

Kink Bingo - Spanking

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Call girl reader, Zemo is bb girl, Madripoor shenanigans, she wants that Bucky dick, possessive Zemo, spanking, shite bdsm etiquette, aftercare, pnv!sex, subtle audio voyeurism, That Club Scene

A/N: Sokovian is like Hungarian/Slovenian with Cyrillic lettering. So I made a Russian Slovenian nightmare.

сладкий - sweet

хорошая девочка - good girl

теплый - warm

You worked in Madripoor as a call girl. You didn’t provide ‘favors’ unless the client was handsome or particularly wealthy. The Baron, one of your favorites, had recently contacted you on accompanying him to Lowtown. You rolled your eyes, Lowtown had nothing good coming out of there.

He needed a date to fit in with the crowd at the Brass Monkey. The wire number was included in the message. You shrugged, Helmut was dearly missed since he’d been locked up. In the past he’d need you to scope out former Hydra members. Then have intense sex. Usually fun.

You idly wondered how he got out. Whatever, you accepted the request and informed Zemo that you would be there. Time to pick out a clubbing fit now. A client had recently bought you some jewelry that needed to be shown off.

You raised a brow at the two men accompanying the Baron. They seemed just as surprised. The famed Falcon barked, “Who the hell is this?” Meanwhile the stupidly handsome Winter Soldier glared you down, a mulish tilt to his jaw. Zemo swaggered forward wearing a lavish coat.

“Ah- dearest, you’re just as lovely as I last saw you. How are you сладкий?” He held his arms out, embracing you with a kiss on each cheek. He purred, “Business first, then much needed play Hm?”

You ran a manicured nail down his cheek, teasing, “I’ve been great. But we are very, very overdue.”

Clad under Zemo’s arm he turned to face the two men. They probably were here about the whole serum nonsense. Everyone knows something in Madripoor, knowledge is monetary. Helmut smoothly supplied, “Sam, James, My lovely friend here is to help us blend a bit more. She’s got connections everywhere.”

Sam frowned. “Whatever works man. Let’s get this over with.” Bucky nodded, looking at unease. Helmut palmed your ass, smirking like the cat that got the cream. You planted a kiss on his smooth cheek, inhaling the expensive cologne.

The two Avengers stuck out like sore thumbs. Your eyes flickered over to the Power Broker making deals while you danced with Zemo. You giggled at his little dance, pulling the Baron closer. You twisted to align your back to his front. The Sokovian tilted his head, a question in the air. You shouted over the music, “I know you did ballroom, but just move with me!” He nodded dutifully, hands encircling your hips.

To the thudding bass you rolled along to the music. Zemo learnt quickly, always did, serious face trained on yours. You grinded against his hips, asking, “Do you like my new sapphires? Montez bought them.” Zemo fingered at the jewels, not missing a beat. He hummed, “Good choice, meant to look ravishing with them only adorning you.”

Your lashes fluttered at his sultry tone. Helmut drove you fucking wild. You turned to capture his thin lips, lapping into his spicy taste. Zemo’s fingers clamped onto your waist, rutting roughly. The moment was interrupted by Sam and Buck, saying Sharon? was ready.

Well. Things have shifted dramatically. You just wanted to get boned. Not run from bounty hunters and practically blacklisted from Madripoor. Your very lucrative home. Also they didn’t realize their dear Sharon was the Power Broker, not your problem at the moment. You liked having a tongue.

The soldier snorted, “Bad luck huh?”

Sam added, “I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I’m sure- uh- someone can sort this out.”

You hissed, pointing at Zemo pacing, “I expect someone to find me a pardon. Hightown is where I work, live, and no one is watching my fucking cats!”

Zemo sighed, running a hand across his brow. He leveled you with a look, promising, “You will get sorted out my dear. Oeznik is already making arrangments. Why don’t you join me for a drink in the cabin, hm сладкий?”

Feeling slightly better you acquiesced by holding a prim hand out, the Baron taking it and leading you both to the back, closing a curtain and shutting the door. You could vaguely hear the two men complaining.

Once the door shut, Helmut was upon you, pushing you face first on the bed. You moaned softly, poking your ass up for him. Zemo hummed, “I would be quite upset to miss your company. Poor little James looked to be quite infatuated when you turned.”

To egg on the Baron you laughed, “He could join in, very easy on the eyes that one. Pliant.”

Helmut subtly growled, a gloved hand gripping at the meat of your ass. He ordered, “Don’t play the whore. You’re more than that. James is a pawn, a dog at our feet. Don’t even consider Wilson. сладкий, you’re all mine for the night, understand?”

You nodded, a strangled whimper of ‘yes’.

“хорошая девочка,” he said.

You heard his belt rustle, the clink of it in the air. Unable to help but squirm feeling his heavy gaze. Helmut stated flatly, “Since you dressed like a minx, brought up James, and teased me I think that earns you ten swats. Does that seem good?”

You babbled, “Yes Baron, I’ve been bad, I deserve those.”

He smirked again, flexing the belt with a crack. Zemo continued, “If you count them like my хорошая девочка then I’ll reward you. You remember the word?”

You gulped and replied, “теплый.”

Zemo closed in, and slid up your tight dress. He stopped, you turning to look. The Sokovian had his thoughtful head tilt on. He grunted, “Dress off.”

“Yes Baron.” The dress was shimmied off and you returned to your position. He made a sound of amusement, palming your smooth ass one more time. Helmut purred, “Remember to count my dear.”

Crack. One.

He struck the belt across both cheeks, zinging pain making you writhe and cry out a strained, “One sir!”

Your pussy was already achy and soaked from the build up. Zemo’s antics would have you squalling by the end. You’re a princess, not a pain slut.

Crack. Crack. Two, three.

This one was harder, definitely leaving a welt. You howled and gripped at the bedding, moaning in pleasure-pain. You gritted out, “Two and three sir.” You whimpered at the aftershocks of the intense heat.

“Doing so well.”

Crack! Across the backs of your thighs. You jolted up the bed, a leather clad hand easily yanking you back. He laughed lowly, “Easy girl.” You whimpered and stilled yourself, sulkily replying, “F-four.”

Crackcrack! Criss crossed across your ass. Your pussy convulsed around nothing, needy for his cock. You whined, “Five! Thank you Baron- fuck, six!” You clenched your sore thighs together, head foggy.

Seven and eight were a blur. Tears began to well in your eyes, ass stinging and bruising. Helmut cooed and praised you, thumb tenderly circling your ankle. You mewled, “S-s-seven, ah-eight.”

“So close.”

Crack. Crack. One final smack on each cheek. The floodgates opened, you babbling, “Fuckfuck- m’god! Baron! Shit nine ten! Fuck me Helmut, oh god fuck me!” You couldn’t hold back the sobs, presenting your sore ass.

Helmut had stripped behind you, laying over your wracked frame. He slid his palms up your waist, nipping your ear. The Baron groaned, “You bloom so gorgeous for me.” You sniveled and rutted back against his hard cock, begging brokenly for dick.

He laughed, “I have you. I have you.” The blunt tip of his cock rubbed around your swollen, wet folds before sliding in one rough stab. The pair of you gasped and shook, your ass reigniting with pain at the collision.

Zemo muttered rapid Sokovian nonsense, breathing down the nape of your neck. He urged, “Take it dear. For your Baron.” You nodded in drunken jerks, grasping the fine bedding. You were already so close from the spanking.

Helmut pounded his frustrations into your willing body, grunting and spouting Sokovian nothings. His balls slapped wetly against your cunt, filling the room with a lewd soundtrack. Meanwhile you scrabbled at the bed, sobbing his name and praising the Baron.

“So gah-goddamn good! Close- please don’t stop sir! Mmm!”

He licked and sucked at your shoulder and neck, cracking his palm down on your flank. The new sting made your eyes roll back and cunt aggressively pulse out slick. You shook under the brunt of your long awaited orgasm, howling in ecstasy. Zemo growled, “Hah- that’s it dear, let them hear, let them know what they can’t have.”

You yelled, “Youyouyou Helmut!”

His pulsing cock stretched your rolling pussy, driving deep to fill you up with a quiet grunt. He hoarsely panted, staying upright, amber eyes up at the roof. He gasped, “Divine dear.” You whispered, “Lay down, relax for a bit. I know my dear Baron is busy. Mind the ass.”

He chuckled, sliding out with a curse. Helmut got up on shaking legs, walking to a drawer. You looked up and asked, “What is it?” He didn’t turn, responding, “Crème. Helps with the ache for tomorrow.” You smiled at his sweetness.

Zemo returned to rub the cooling lotion into your worn buttocks, idly chatting about recent events. You simply listened, lulling off into a sleep. How you enjoyed your Baron so. But Oeznik better fly you back to the Power Broker to get your name restored. Insanity.

[celestialsarcasm]

hard to hate you

baron zemo x reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You’re an Avenger, so of course, you and Baron Zemo exist in a state of mutual hatred. Or at least, you’re supposed to. It’s the natural order of things. Too bad you lose sight of that a bit more each time you end up in his bed…

Tags/Warnings: smut, a tiny bit of fluff at the end, but mostly smut, dom!zemo, sub!reader, enemies to lovers, piv sex, dubcon (not really, but maybe? just in case?), dirty talk, degradation, condescension, name calling, choking, praise kink, begging

Word Count: 1.5k

You aren’t sure how you ended up like this, pinned underneath the man you claimed to hate. Some unfortunate lapse of judgment or the wine you drank earlier, probably. Never mind that this was somehow becoming a regular occurance. But you always managed to come up with an excuse, even if they were starting to sound a little ridiculous even to your own ears.

This time, you’re sprawled out under Zemo on the silk sheets of his enormous bed. He’s thrusting his fingers into you while his other hand pins you to the sheets, and you’re about ten seconds away from losing your fucking mind.

“What would your precious Avengers say if they saw you like this? If they knew how desperate you are to be fucked by the enemy? How you turn into a cockdrunk little slut as soon as I get my hands on you? How when I do this-“

He curls his fingers inside you and bites down hard on your pulse point, and you wail.

“You seem to forget how much you hate me.” He laughs darkly as you squirm underneath him, wanting to retort but instead finding yourself reduced to a string of pitiful whimpers.

“Hmm, nothing to say to that? I really have made you into a brainless little whore. Too bad, you’re still going to have to beg if you want to cum.”

The final words are spoken against your ear, his lust-filled, accented voice clouding your head with desire. You fight to think through the haze. “Please, Zemo,” you whine. “I-I need it!”

He tsks and shakes his head. “You know better, draga. Try again, what’s my name?”

You can hardly think as his thumb starts tracing teasing circles on your clit, but eventually it clicks in your brain. “Baron! Baron, please, make me cum, I want it so bad!”

He hums approvingly, moving his thumb faster. “There’s my good girl. You’re close, aren’t you, mein schatz?” He smirks knowingly. “Beg for me some more, and I just might let my little slut cum.”

His fingers are working you so good you can barely stay afloat, waves of pleasure washing over you as you fight the urge to cum without permission. “Please, Baron, feels so good! Want to cum on your fingers, please let me! I’ll be so good for you!”

His eyes darken and he all but growls, “Do it, then. Cum all over my fingers like a good little slut. Cum for me, now!” His mouth moves to your nipple and sucks, just as his fingers hit that perfect spot inside you and his thumb presses down on your clit.

You scream, shattering around him. “Fuck, fuck, yes!” Your eyes roll back in your head as you ride wave after wave of ecstasy, hands finding purchase in Zemo’s hair and tugging, if only to anchor yourself to this reality.

Zemo eases his fingers out of you, laughing softly when your cunt clenches involuntarily around them.

You gaze up at him breathlessly, mind still reeling from your orgasm.

“Open,” he commands, holding up his fingers still covered in your cum.

You groan at the implication and open your mouth dutifully, sucking eagerly on his fingers when he slides them between your lips.

“Good job, schatzi, being such a perfect slut for me,” he praises, pulling his fingers back. “But you know I’m not done with you yet. I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to take it like I know you can. Isn’t that right, princeza?”

Even though his words threaten to ruin you, you keep quiet. You’ve regained some consciousness by now, and the post-orgasm clarity is reminding you of all the reasons why this is a bad idea, all the things about Zemo that would send any sane woman running. And yet…

You know you’ve hesitated too long when he leans in closer and wraps his hand around your throat. “I said, isn’t that right?” he growls. “Come on, slut, use your words. Tell me how you’re going to be good for me and take my cock in that tight little cunt.”

Just like that, your mind is once again blank of all thoughts except for his words and the feeling of his hand on your throat, squeezing just enough to make your brain go fuzzy. And, goddamn him, what else could you do but obey?

“Fuck, fine, I’ll take it for you, I’ll be good,” you say breathlessly.

Zemo’s grip on your throat loosens slightly. “That’s more like it.” With his other hand, he reaches down and grips his already hard cock, groaning as he gives it a couple strokes before bringing it to your slick entrance. “Already stretched you out around my fingers, so you should be all wet and ready for me, hmm?” he asks, smirking.

His words are driving you crazy, and you gasp when he teasingly rubs the tip of his cock over your clit. “Yes, Baron, I’m ready. Please, just fuck me already!” You’re vaguely aware that you’re begging again, but at this point you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Someone’s impatient,” he chuckles. “But since you asked so nicely…”

He slides into you with a single thrust, forcing a loud moan from somewhere deep in the back of your throat. He groans along with you, cock twitching inside you as he bottoms out. Quickly, he starts thrusting in and out of you, not giving you much time to adjust. But fuck, you love it.

Needing something to ground yourself, your hands fly to his shoulders, digging your nails into the skin so hard they’ll surely leave marks.

Your whimpers combine with his groans in what may be the most flawless harmony you’ve ever heard. Your bodies slot together perfectly on each thrust, as you arch your back and lift your hips to meet him. You’d never admit it, but at times like this it seems like the two of you just fit.

The thought is driven from your mind as Zemo starts talking again. “Mmm, that’s it, draga, you’re taking it so well for me. Such a perfect whore, just for me. C’mon, tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Baron, only you! I’m yours!” you moan, knowing somewhere in your lust-addled mind that it was true.

“That’s right. Mine,” he growls, and the possessiveness in his voice makes you clench around him. “My - fuck - my perfect whore, my desperate little cockslut. Tell me how good my cock feels inside you, I know you love it.”

As he says it, he adjusts his angle to hit a spot even deeper inside you, and oh, you’re fucked.

Words fall from your mouth without your permission. “Feels so good, it’s - oh - so fucking good! Please don’t stop, need you!”

His pace doesn’t falter as he grabs your hair and turns your head to the side so he can lick and bite over the column of your neck, moaning against your skin. You writhe, the attention he pays to your sensitive spots driving you closer to the edge.

You couldn’t seem to stop talking, babbling nonsense at this point. “Ahh, s’ good, feel so full, I need it, more, please!”

You’re getting close, and you can tell he is too by the way his hips start to stutter. “Fuck, schatzi, I’m going to cum,” he breathes shakily. “Want me to cum inside you?”

“Yes, yeah, cum inside me, want you to fill me up!” You’re practically screaming at this point, so close that you know feeling him spill inside you would be all you need to send you over the edge. “Please, Baron, cum in your good girl’s pussy!”

That does it. “Fuck!” he shouts, biting down on your shoulder as he cums.

You follow not a second later, a strangled “Oh god, yes!” falling from your lips. You shake around him, moaning incoherently as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Once you’ve started to come down from your respective highs, Zemo pulls out and makes to roll off of you, but you grab his arm. “Can we…” you bite your lip, suddenly shy. “Can we stay like this for a minute?”

He grins. “You like having me on top of you that much, hmm?”

You rolled your eyes, moving to push him back off you. “Well if you’re gonna be cocky about it-“

“No, stay, princeza, please,” he says softly, and you’re surprised to see something like longing in his eyes. Appeased, you sink back against the bed, Zemo’s weight on top of you somehow making you feel safer than you have in a long time. You’ll save the analysis of that thought for later. For now, you close your eyes, and he surprises you yet again when he starts gently stroking your hair. The two of you lie in silence for a few minutes until you open your eyes and narrow them in what you hope is a menacing expression.

“You tell anyone about this, so help me, I’ll kill you, Baron,” you say in what’s meant to be a threatening tone, but comes out like more a lover’s teasing quip. After a second of silence, he starts laughing softly and you can’t help but start too - laughing at your pitiful attempt to scare him and, well, at the whole situation.

Despite your better instincts, you let yourself relax under him again, and eventually the soft strokes of his hand against your hair, combined with the steady beating of his heart, lull you into a peaceful sleep.

[whowantsnachos]

Strawberry Champagne

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Original Fem!Character (or you can insert yourself if you want)

Summary: After Madripoor, Zemo thinks Lydia should stop drinking. This is the result. (set post episode 3 FATWS)

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Lydia, my character, has like this fire magic thing that HYDRA implanted in her. She has a lot of scars because of all of the experiments and the injections, but she covered them all after she got out with different tattoos. Another thing, her hair does this thing where streaks of it will turn into like a brighter red / ginger than her regular hair color [kinda like Tonks is a good way to describe it] when her body temperature goes up. The language that is occasionally spoken is Serbian, but it’s supposed to be Sokovian, and I heard they were similar. Anyways, feedback and stuff is always accepted, given this is the first thing I wrote officially. Enjoy!

Lydia was sitting in bed, wearing an oversized Metallica hoodie with her knees close to her chest. Her dull, red hair was a mix of slightly messy and living hell. She thought about everything she had just witnessed in the past couple of hours with one arm wrapped around her legs and the other holding champagne. Lydia sat in the same position for about an hour or two, either thinking, spacing out or drinking. A sudden knock on her door made her jump in surprise.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?” she heard Zemo ask on the other end.

“Um, yeah, sure,” she said quietly.

He opened the door and stepped inside. He raised his eyebrows in slight shock seeing her so distraught.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m over the moon,” she said sarcastically.

“I apologize, I probably should have warned you ahead of time what we were getting into.”

“Yeah, you think? I can’t really blame you though, I should’ve expected all of that. I mean, it’s you, Sam, and Bucky, how could it have been any different? Anyway, it’s more my fault for agreeing to get into all of this shit again.”

“It’s not-”

“No, wait, that’s right! It's not my fault. It’s you three that dragged me back into this shitfest. Why am I blaming myself? I guess I agreed… regardless! Why am I the one to fix your guys’ messes, huh?”

“Ok, that’s enough champagne,” Zemo said as he grabbed the glass from her, sensing her getting mad.

“I wasn’t done with that yet,” she said sternly, reaching for the glass.

“Yes. You were.”

Lydia glared at him, and Zemo rolled his eyes out of annoyance, grabbing the champagne bottle from the side table next to her. He went into the bathroom and poured the rest of it into the sink.

“Why do you have to ruin my fun all of the time?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Zemo raised his eyebrow and said, “I’m not. I just think you would rather not have a hangover first thing in the morning.”

“How would you know? Tomorrow hasn’t happened yet,” Lydia cockily stated.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t.”

“Oh, you’re trustworthy now?”

Zemo gave her a death stare and Lydia looked down, realizing she might’ve hit a nerve.

“Sorry,” she murmured, playing with the edge of her sleeve.

Zemo softened his gaze a little and leaned on the doorway of the bathroom. He noticed the tattoos near her wrist, each one a different pattern or idea than the other.

“What are those for?”

Lydia quickly put her sleeve back down and said, “Nothing.”

Zemo titled his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at her but shrugged it off.

“Where did you find that champagne?” he asked.

“Um, I may or may not have stolen it from that club...”

Zemo’s face lit up in amusement, and he asked, “You stole two thousand dollar champagne?”

“Possibly,” Lydia said with a smirk.

“Impressive.”

“I can be spectacular sometimes.”

Zemo laughed breathly but didn’t say anything. Lydia wanted to thank him for helping her out when the shooting broke out, but she didn’t know if now would be the appropriate time or not.

Well, it couldn't hurt.

“Um, I wanted to thank you. For helping me out back there. It really means a lot to me, I mean, I know that I’m not your favorite person in the world, but-”

“What gives you that impression?” Zemo asked.

“You’re kidding me, right? You’ve shut down half of the ideas I had about how we were going to execute Madripoor, and look where we ended up!”

“I knew it better than you did.”

“Apparently not! We could’ve died, Helmut.”

“If we would have done it your way, that fate would have been met sooner.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And neither do you,” Zemo responded.

Lydia cocked her head and put her hands on her hips. Raising her eyebrows at Zemo, she went into the bathroom to grab something from under the sink. Lydia also noticed that some streaks of her hair lit up, but she hoped that he hadn’t noticed.

“What are you doing?” Zemo asked.

She answered him by holding up another bottle of champagne with a strained smile on her face as she was walking out of the bathroom. As she was about to open the bottle, Zemo grabbed it and put it on the bathroom counter. Lydia gave him a mock pouty look, and he rolled his eyes.

“You need to stop drinking, I’m serious. You giving me that look isn’t helping you,” he said.

“You sure?” she asked as she emphasized her look.

“Lydia. I’m serious.”

Her ears burned at the way that he had said her name, and she could only pray that her hair hadn’t betrayed her now. 

“And,” Zemo continued, “For the record, I don’t hate you or anything like that. To be honest, you’re the only one I can stand out of the ones I’ve met.”

Lydia raised her eyebrow slightly, and he quickly added, “Not that you’re the best of the worst, it’s just, how should I put this… I guess it’s more around the lines of ‘you’re smart and they’re not.’”

“Wow, harsh,” Lydia said with an amused look on her face.

“Well, it’s true,” Zemo said with a smirk on his face. 

“Well, if I’m so smart, then that means… my plan was the best.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

Lydia rolled her eyes playfully at him and walked back into the bathroom, but Zemo stopped her by closing the door halfway.

“Lydia,” he said with a warning tone.

Now, Lydia could see her hair quickly turn into a brighter red color, and she cursed herself in her head silently, hoping he didn’t notice, but she wouldn’t bet on it.

“Does your hair always do that?”

God damn it.

“Do what?”

“Change color like that when your name is said.”

“Um, no. Not to my knowledge, no,” 

Zemo narrowed her eyes at her while his attention seemed to turn to her hair. Lydia felt slightly embarrassed by his staring, but this only led to it turning brighter again. He smiled a little and said, “It’s a nice color; it suits you.”

She could feel her face burning mainly out of embarrassment and something else she couldn’t describe. Lydia jumped a little when she felt Zemo touch her arm. She felt her skin burn up, and he said, “I apologize, but I recognize this one.”

Zemo went to touch her arm again, but before he did, he asked, “May I?”

Lydia nodded, and he lifted her sleeve, intently scanning the dragon on her forearm. He carefully traced the outline of it, and Lydia felt her skin heat up with each trail he left. The way that he was looking at her tattoo sent shivers down her spine, but surprisingly, it was a nice feeling, considering she hasn’t felt anything cool in a long time.

“Змај,” (“Zmaj,”) Zemo whispered.

“What?”

“Змаj, correct?”

Lydia nodded, and Zemo hummed, “Yeah, I remember that story. My parents used to tell me that all the time.”

“My parents weren’t into the whole legend thing, they always said it was just a bunch of lies people tell to poison our minds, but I have heard it a few select times.”

“Your parents were quite the people, huh?” He laughed.

She laughed with him and said, “Yeah, they were definitely something, alright.”

“Well,” Zemo started as his hand traced bits and pieces of her tattoos before stopping at the palm of her hand, his fingers slowly intertwining with hers. “They raised well.”

Damn you.

She felt her skin heating up with every second, but she tried to contain it as much as she could. She looked over at the bathroom mirror that was mostly covered by the door, but she could see that dozens of streaks of her hair were lit up bright orange like crazy. He glanced back at her hair, and his smirk grew.

“Does it usually change when people touch you as well?”

“A-again, not to my knowledge, no.”

Zemo hummed again and began tracing the tattoos on her other arm before grabbing her other hand and running his thumb over her wrist. He carefully moved his hands up her forearms, tracing the shapes of her tattoos more fully this time, while pulling her closer to him. Lydia’s heart picked up even faster, not that she knew how that was possible. To her, it felt like they’d been spending an eternity standing in the doorway, but at the same time, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Lydia?”

She took a breath in, and looked up at him, asking, “Yeah?”

It wasn’t until that moment that she realized how close they were to each other. Zemo’s breath lightly fanned her face, and his hands let go of her arms, slowly wrapping them around her waist instead. Lydia swallowed discreetly from his stare, and Zemo tilted his head to the left slightly and smirked at her.

“Do I make you nervous?”

“N-no, why would you? I could beat your ass into next year if I wanted to, what would I have to be nervous about?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. I’m sure your hair doesn’t light up around other people every time you stand next to them, or they talk to you.”

He pulled her closer and leaned his head down just enough so that he was only inches away from her face. 

“Unless… it’s something else that makes your hair light up whenever I'm around.”

After he said that, he backed up a little and looked at her hair. Several streaks of it were brightening up, lightly illuminating the aura around her head. He smiled and laughed lightly through his nose.

“If I remember correctly, ‘Miss Vesta’s abilities cause her physical appearance to change as well. Her hair will change into different shades if she has any sort of strong emotions, including, but not limited to: anger, stress, sadness, and attraction.’ Does that sound right?”

Lydia squinted at him in confusion, and Zemo chuckled, saying, “SHIELD’s not very good at hiding things like they think they are.”

Lydia sighed and looked to her right and then down at her feet.

“So, again, I must ask,” he started. “Lydia…”

He removed one hand from her waist and lifted her chin up to meet his gaze.

“Do I make you nervous?”

Lydia licked her lips and said, “...no.”

Zemo leaned in closer, guiding her face to his slowly. He stopped centimeters before her face, just like before, and she could smell his expensive cologne radiating off of him.

“Are you sure? Your skin is burning.”

‘Копиле.’ (‘Bastard.’)

“Maybe I shouldn’t-“

“Ох, забога.” (“Oh, for God’s sake.”)

Lydia put her hand in the back of his neck, pulled him down, and their lips met. Zemo’s grip on her waist tightened, and moved his hand from her chin to the side of her face, the extreme heat of her skin slightly burning his hand. He furrowed his brow and backed her up onto the doorway, allowing him to close any distance between them. The smell of strawberry champagne intoxicated his senses, and he couldn’t get enough of her. 

Lydia could feel every part of her body start on fire, whether she knew that’s what was actually happening to her or not. Her heart felt like it skipped ten beats at once, and heat filled her chest. She felt magnetized to him, and every break for a quick breath of air filled her with a sense of longing for more. Lydia thought her knees were going to collapse from underneath her, and she was grateful for the doorway behind her. She felt ripples of chills go up her spine for the second time that day, and the sensation of his thumb grazing her cheek only made it harsher. She felt her fingers become white hot, and she quickly retracted her hand to his shoulder, not wanting to burn him. She felt every bone and muscle in her body become the same temperature, and she felt the texture of the material of his shirt change. She removed his hand from her cheek and pulled away from him, catching her breath.

“I-I’m sorry. My skin… I can’t-”

Zemo shrugged and said, “To be honest, I never liked this shirt anyways.”

“No, you don’t understand, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Zemo tilted his head and raised his eyebrows quickly. He looked down and put his hands in his pockets, taking out the pair of gloves he was wearing earlier that day and putting them on. After he did that, he put his hands up and smiled at her.

Lydia lightly laughed and said, “I appreciate the gesture, but that’s not gonna do you much good. I’ll just burn-”

Zemo cut her off by saying, “I’ll take that chance.”

He kissed her gently, not wanting to make her skin burn back up again.

A sudden knock at her door caused Lydia to jump and separate from him, turning her head towards her door.

“Lydia? We need to discuss the plan for tomorrow. Have you seen Zemo anywhere?” Bucky asked through her door.

Lydia turned back towards him with a devilish look on her face. She whispered, “Play along,” and quickly pushed him away from her, a glare forming on her face.

“Yeah, he’s trying to steal my champagne.”

Bucky opened the door to the pair glaring at each other with murderous intent.

“You mean, I’m trying to take away the champagne that you stole from the club,” Zemo quickly countered, getting the message.

“Well, it’s mine now, isn’t it?”

“Alright! Look, she can keep the champagne, it doesn’t matter,” Bucky said.

“James, that was worth probably around two thou-“

“I don’t care,” Bucky said while giving Zemo a death stare before continuing. “We don’t have time for this anyway. We have to figure out the plan for tomorrow, come on.”

He left the room, and Lydia turned towards Zemo, raised her eyebrows, and dramatically put her hand out. He rolled his eyes and took the champagne bottle off of the counter and gave it to her.

“You’re only getting this because he likes you more than me.”

“And who’s fault was that?” Lydia retorted.

Zemo gave her an annoyed look as she laughed, and they both walked out of the room.

[lorna-d-m]

Still Dark Heart Masterlist

Series (upcoming)

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x fem!OC (Matilda "Maude" Metzger)

Summary: A baron harboring a dark secret. A village girl who dreams of adventure. It’s a tale as old as time, but with a twist. Maude seeks shelter in an abandoned castle to find Helmut Zemo: dazzling and puzzling. However, not everything is as it appears. Will love make their hearts beat, or is his heart still?

[st-eve-barnes]

My writing

All my fics can be read on AO3 or my writing blog

My Masterlists:

Aemond Targaryen

Eddie Munson

Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan

Steve Rogers/Chris Evans

Loki/Tom Hiddleston

Other muses include baron Zemo, no masterlist yet but you can find those on AO3

Recent fics and favorites:

Burn (Aemond x fem reader)

Somewhere only we know (Aemond x fem reader)

I will follow you into the dark (Aemond x wife reader)

Something for the pain (Eddie Munson x fem reader)

You could be mine (Zemo x fem reader)

Amends (rpf Sebastian Stan/Tom Hiddleston x fem reader)

Someone like you (Steve Rogers x fem reader)

Warm bodies (Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers)

The man on the train (Bucky Barnes x fem reader)

[kittyofalltrades]

Did I scream the entire time I read this? Yup. Love that for me….

i’ll find you in the rising sun

Helmut Zemo x f!reader

Summary: An eventful trip to Madripoor initially leads you to regret ever telling Sam Wilson to give you a call if he found himself in need of an extra pair of hands on a mission, though the annoyance quickly morphs into heady, elicit temptation when you find yourself caught in Baron Zemo’s trajectory. 

Word Count: 5.2k Rating: EXPLICIT 18+

Content: NSFW, smut, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, cum eating

Keep reading

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 5

Main Kink(s): Discipline, dominance, face fucking, spanking Pairing: Dom!Zemo x f!Sub!Reader Tags/Warnings:  SMUT, Discipline, dominance, face fucking, oral (m receiving), dubcon at the start but it's consensual overall, spanking, vaginal fingering, edging/denied orgasm, gagging/choking, drooling, cum swallowing, pet names (draga, sweets, good girl), use of titles (baron/sir), hair pulling, praise Not beta read Summary: After annoying your lover all day, he takes his time to teach you a lesson you won’t forget. Word Count: 1.9k

Draga = dear/darling/honey (depending on what translation you want to follow!)

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome! A/N: My little Sokovian delight - I will need to come back and proof-read this at some point but I hope you enjoy! - Love, Grem x Prev | Next | Masterlist

Zemo had been pent up in his office all day and you were bored. So bored you had annoyed him on several occasions; asking if he wanted tea, snacks, lunch, you. Each offer he’d refused with increasing frustration (and difficulty) and your usually calm and sweet boyfriend was gripping his silver ballpoint so hard it hurt. When you came in for the final time, clothes draped over your arm as you tentatively asked if he'd seen your walking boots, lightning crackled in his eyes and thunder rumbling in his voice.

“Draga,” he growls through gritted teeth. “Come here. Now.”

You shuffle into the room in the lingerie you had worn to entice him last time you entered, head hung with guilt, looking pitifully at your feet. Zemo leaned back into his chair to look at you, his eyes didn’t roam over your body with that tender gaze you’d come to know and love but rather a hunger and ire you’d not seen before. Nevertheless, you could feel yourself growing hot and bothered under his gaze.

"Yes, sweets?" You don't mean to sound so nervous. Shuffling the clothes on your arm, you give him a sheepish smile. He doesn't smile back.

“Bend over.”

You look at him, wide eyed. The stern, icy look he returned told you he was 100% serious.

"But I was-"

"Drop the clothes and bend over. I won't ask again." His tone is clipped, agitated. There's a delicious tingle that runs down your back that urges you to listen to him, as does the pulse between your legs. Your clothes fall with a soft thump to the floor at your feet and with shaky exhale, you turned and bent over the oak desk shivering when the cold wood met the flimsy material of your lingerie.

“Cross your arms over your back.”

His voice was thick with lust but as much as you wanted to throw your arms around him, something told you it would be hell if you disobeyed his order. Whether the hell implied was a good or bad thing, you couldn't quite tell. Doing as commanded, you crossed your arms over your back slowly and awaited further instruction – or the praise you were so used to. When the praise didn’t come, you were about to speak, but a harsh smack across the cheek of your ass sucked all of the air out of your lungs to a mere squeak.

“Do. Not. Move.”

You stiffened, subconsciously obeying his words. Helmut had never sounded so... angry. But God, it was doing things to you that you never thought you’d enjoy.

Smack.

You whimper again, body jerking forward with the force. You can barely think before there’s another to the same cheek.

Smack.

The silence in the room save for your spanks makes your cheeks flush with shame and your clit throb.

Smack.

You breathe a sigh of relief, thinking it’s over. Just before you move though, another sharp smack hits your other other ass cheek. It’s such a surprise that this time you do yelp out – not that it deters Zemo. Another three harsh smacks later and your lip is quivering from the sting of your ass-cheeks.

“Look at me,” Zemo says coolly after a short sigh. You turn your head, remaining bent, looking up at him with your cheek against the desk. His face was a little softer now, but his pupils were blown almost black. You press your thighs together to ease the heat that had grown between your legs at your spanking, looking up at him with glassy, pleading eyes. Looking so utterly pitiful and feeling utterly horny.

“You should know better than to interrupt me.” He huffs, his hands moving in delicate circles over the red marks of your cheeks, making you whimper quietly.

“’M sorry.” You mumble into the wood. You are sorry – but not that sorry. You’ve discovered something about yourself that you can’t wait to explore further with Zemo and your lover seems to know that too.

A smirk tugs at his lips, widening into a grin when he pulls the lacy fabric of your panties away from your ass and down to your knees. You gasp loudly at the sensation of cool air and the quick removal of fabric from your pussy. Zemo chuckles.

“Pretty little draga,” He coos, slipping a finger through your folds easily, curling it at just the right angle to make you squirm. Your back arches and you sigh breathily at the intrusion but Zemo’s other hand presses into the square of your back; pushing you back onto his desk. He clicks his tongue and quickens his pace, knowing exactly how to work your pussy to get you to the edge. You don’t have to look to know he’s smirking as he watches how you react to him.

You clench around him when he adds another finger, moaning unashamedly as he drives you closer and closer still to your impending orgasm. His office is filled with your sweet moans and whines and although you are being punished for interrupting him, you can’t help but feel that this is a welcome distraction for you both.

“That’s it, draga,” Zemo purrs to you as your pussy sucks in his fingers and your eyes roll back. “You like this, do you? Being such a pretty slut for your baron.”

 You nod against the desk,  paper crinkling under you. You're so close to the edge you're euphoric, unable to think past cumming over your baron's fingers.

Zemo’s voice is smooth and sultry when he follows up with, “Are you going to cum for me?”

“Yes-sir.” You manage thickly, on the verge of release, stars prickling at the edges of your vision. You're so, so close and your pussy clenches around his fingers but when he pulls back, he removes them completely. You whimper at the emptiness, pussy clenching around nothing, and you blink the stars in your eyes away as your almost-orgasm dissipates. You turn your head painfully to frown up at him with a huff. All you receive in return is a raised eyebrow and a smirk. 

“Ah, bad girls are not rewarded.” He states stepping back from your flushed ass-cheeks and sitting back into his chair. “On your knees, draga.”

Your legs wobble as you move from the desk, kneeling carefully in front of him. You wince slightly when your heels press into your abused cheeks, and shift slightly, hoping you're not sat on your heels for long. You look up from between his legs, eyes blown and half lidded, watching him unbuckle his belt and free his hard length. Your eyes don't quite know where to look, flickering between holding his gaze and watching him gently pump his cock. You lick your lips without thought as you catch a glance of his thumb brush over the head, swiping at the pre-cum that had gathered there with his index finger.

Zemo chuckles low in his throat and offers his finger to you wordlessly, watching you lean up to take it into your mouth, licking it clean with a hum of satisfaction. His pre-cum is mingled with the taste of your pussy and you moan into his hand. His free hand knots in your hair at the root, tugging gently to guide your face closer to his cock, slipping his index finger from your mouth. You follow the wordless instruction, heart thrumming with excitement as the tip of Zemo's cock taps against your bottom lip. You part your lips in anticipation, but there's a harsher tug on your hair that makes you whimper and look up to meet Zemo's eyes.

"I want you to tap my leg three times if it gets too much," he murmurs. The contrast between his caring tone and the hoarseness of his voice makes your heart beat kick up another notch. Even though you were willing, and horny, enough to do whatever he asked; both the reminder that he cared for you and that he desired you so much it made it hard to talk, stirred a warmth in your core. You go to nod your head but Zemo tsks. "Use your voice, draga." You look up through your eyelashes at him. "Yes sir." Zemo inhales sharply, his eyes not leaving yours as you take his hard length into his mouth. He tastes slightly salty but it's with the familiar spiced scent of his aftershave you loved, and you take a deep inhale through your nose as you reach the base of his cock.

"That's my good girl," Zemo's head falls back onto the chair, with a hushed sigh. As you move to raise your head, Zemo's hand in your hair halts you. You hum questioningly around his cock and you can feel him twitch against your tongue. Your squeak of surprise when he thrusts into your mouth is muffled around his cock and you quickly catch on to what he's planning.

Zemo had enjoyed your throat before and this time, although under new and exciting circumstances, would be no different. You relax your throat and swirl patterns against the velvet skin before Zemo groans and thrusts faster. The sounds you make are garbled, the lack of oxygen making your eyes bleary, and just when you think you'll need to tap out - your Zemo pulls your hair back roughly, allowing you to gasp unashamedly for air. There's drool coming from your mouth and you take notice of a string of spit still connected to your lover's cock and your mouth. You can feel your core tighten around nothing and wetness pools when you look up to see Zemo looking down at you with a flushed expression of pride. Once your panting subsides to short breaths of excitement, you open your mouth wider, offering it to him again.

"Oh, draga, you are perfect." He praises softly, guiding you back to his wet cock. You take him easier this time, knowing what to expect. You moan and hum around his cock when he hits the back of your throat earnestly, enjoying the quiet moans you receive in response. You feel how his cock throbs against your tongue as he fucks your throat knowing he's close to his climax. His thrusting falters slightly, his moans become more ragged and you know exactly what will push him over that edge. With half lidded, cock-drunk eyes gazing up at him, you bob your head to meet his thrusts.

You know you're doing something right because Zemo's hand tightens in your hair but he doesn't stop you. Instead, he grunts praises and with a long, stuttering groan, cums down your throat. Your immediately ripped from his softening length, and you swallow hard, gulping down whatever cum was left in your mouth so you can breathe again. Your breathing is ragged and laboured, as is Zemo's, and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand lazily with a smirk.

Zemo manages an appreciative smile, offering you his hand and helping you to your feet, tugging you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you, as you catch your breaths. "Are you okay, my love?" He asks tentatively, brushing wisps of hair from you face to peck at your lips.

"Yes, Helmut I'm okay." You reassure him, albeit a little hoarsely, your own arms wrapping around his neck. You smile at him. "Sorry for interupting. Again."

Zemo smiles back at you. "I don't think you're that sorry but you are forgiven. " His eyes narrow teasingly. "For now."

"Shall I get us the tea?" You offer, pecking his lips sweetly. Zemo's arms tighten around you, pulling you back into his chest as he relaxes into the plush leather chair. "In a moment draga," He sighs softly, his eyes fluttering closed as he buries his face into your neck. "I'm not quite done with you yet."

[kebabnikan]

[therenlover]

Always For A Second (Usually At The Start) - A Helmut Zemo x Reader fic

"And when I imagine life when it's mine / I can try to picture faceless folk to love a thousand times / But always for a second, and usually at the start / You're in the image posing with a cradled beating heart" - Katie Gregson MacLeod, i'm worried it will always be you

Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.

Tags: Explicit Smut (+18), Exes, Getting Back Together, Enemies to Lovers to Exes to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Switch!Zemo, Oral (Fem Receiving), Service Top!Zemo, Aftercare, Bucky is Mentioned Too Much

Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 8,600~

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

“I didn’t expect you to come crawling back so soon, schatz,”

The restaurant was crowded enough that nobody heard Helmut’s words, curt and cloying and so fucking familiar. Still, my face heated. It always would for him, no matter how much my common sense protested by body’s reactions. How dare he be so damn effective at getting under my skin? 

Some over-expensive brown liquor sloshed against the rim of the glass in my hand as I lifted it less than gracefully from the table, dribbling down the edge of my mouth as I guided it to my lips and drank deeply. “For one, two years isn’t soon,” I started, swallowing. “Two, you’re the asshole who showed up in my apartment like a robber, which makes you the one who came crawling back. I was just nice enough to let you take me for a free meal to get you the hell out. Three,” I set the glass down sharply, “don’t call me that. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I still haven’t forgiven you,” 

“Apologies,” 

He didn’t mean it. 

“Still, it’s too soon to expect any sort of kindness from you,” he continued, “If I recall correctly, you said you’d rather die than suffer through another night with me for the rest of eternity. I believe an eternity has yet to pass… and yet, here we are,”

His matter of fact tone left little up for debate, unless I wanted to reach for my fork and maim his smug face. Instead, I bit my tongue and swallowed another mouthful of whatever I was drinking.

For once I was glad to be surrounded by the kind of noisy, faceless jumble of humanity that usually made my skin crawl. F. Scott Fitzgerald was on to something with his theories on large crowds and intimacy; there was no better place for two war criminals to meet than the corner booth of a hazy restaurant, lounging and drinking, covered by the blanket of sweet anonymity. Anyone who glanced our way would see two normal human beings sharing a meal in peaceable silence, sharing sparse conversation between bites of this and that. 

They would see lovers.

The thought left a lump in my throat. 

Maybe I looked uncomfortable enough that they would presume, correctly, that we were ex-lovers. I wasn’t hopeful about it, though. 

Helmut noticed, of course, but I knew he would. He had always had an almost supernatural sense for these things, like he could tune into my emotional radio on a frequency I didn’t even fully know myself. Enemy or ally or… otherwise, it was a constant to be seen through and picked apart like carrion. An appetizer for the fights to come. Thankfully, though, he chose to have mercy on me this time in a rare show of respect. Instead of wrapping his lips around another snide comment- even though I could tell it was burning a bitter hole into the tip of his tongue behind his clenched teeth- he chose to pick up a ring of calamari from the plate between us. He held it up to examine the crust in the dim lamplight before placing it delicately against his lips, pulling it from the fork in one bite. Still, he couldn’t be too gracious. Helmut held eye contact as he went.

I could only managed a disgusted sigh but found myself mirrored as his teeth sunk into the squid and his brow furrowed. 

“Bad?” I asked.

He chewed for a good while before managing to swallow the offending clump down, gagging all the way. “Despite my recent diet, that might be the worst thing I’ve eaten in a long while,”

A laugh escaped me before I even knew it was there. “You managed to pick a restaurant where our appetizer is worse than prison food? Serves you right for ordering seafood in the midwest,” 

“I suppose it does.” He nudged the plate towards me with a growing smirk, “See for yourself. I’d hate to see it wasted, and as you said, it is ours. I can’t be expected to finish it alone,” 

As if under the spell of his charisma all over again, I followed his instructions without a second thought. It was just as bad as I anticipated. 

Things were off to a bad start from the moment the tines of my fork hit the batter. The breading seemed to squelch under the pressure, sagging and giving way into meat that was somehow both rubbery and gelatinous, if that was even possible, and if the texture seemed bad outside of my mouth it was even worse inside. Somewhere between its fishy tang and the overly salted batter, there was a bitter, almost sour note that seemed to permeate further with every chew. I spit the macerated glob into my napkin before even attempting to swallow down the remaining spit. 

Across the table, Zemo grinned at my misfortune. “Let’s hope our entrees are less offensive to our palettes,” 

“Fuck off,” I muttered, lips turning up at the edges. 

“You can curse all you want at my poor choice of venue, but I can tell you’re glad you’re the one who ordered the pasta instead of the steak,” 

I went for my glass again, letting the liquor with a name I couldn’t pronounce burn all the way down my throat and into my chest. “I hate that you’re always right, Helmut. Can’t you be wrong, just once? Leave some correctness for the rest of us,” 

Maybe it was the lighting, soft and amber against the dark wood of the table to mask the bloody steaks that would sit below, or maybe it was the music, something old and swinging that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but knew from the radio in my grandmother’s car as a child, or maybe, just maybe, it was the crows feet that popped up around Helmut’s eyes when he smiled that hadn’t been quite so prominent the last time I’d seen him, but no matter the cause, the solid iron wall I had put up around my heart when I walked out of the Baron’s life those two year sago seemed to soften. Weakened, somehow. It was like someone took a blowtorch right to the center of my defenses. Something in me screamed that they had never been all that strong to begin with. 

I only noticed I’d been staring when he looked away, clearing his throat and wiping his thin mouth with the napkin from his lap. 

There went my hand. Helmut, 1. Me, 0… Well, 1, if leaving him those years ago counted for anything, and I refused to believe that it hadn’t. That the blow to his ego hadn’t given me at least a slight upper hand compared to the naive girl I had been in comparison when I first met him. There had been so much good in the world then. 

The silence dragged on as if the structural flaws of my guarded heart could patch themselves up with the defenses created from just a few silent moments between us. That’s all it would take for me to remember all the reasons this would never work: all the pain, the sleepless nights, the snide comments that turned into biting replies that grew into massive, earth-shattering fights that exploded into days or weeks or months living alone in a house with him. One by one, the memories flooded back, reminding me exactly why it had taken me almost two years to find enough peace within myself that I wouldn’t decide to shoot the man in front of me on sight. My heart hardened by the second.

“I saw your concert,” 

I was simultaneously thawed and frozen all over again. “How did you-“ 

“James mentioned it,” 

“You still talk to Bucky?” 

“Here and there,” 

The conversation lapsed into silence. 

He had… been there? I didn’t even bother to think about the talk I’d have to have with Bucky about my privacy, too focused on the more important matter at hand. 

The venue was grungy, a basement bar with a small stage serving the communities aspiring comedians and desperate punk-rock garage dwellers just waiting for their big break. I had barely had the guts to pay the booking fee, though. It was just me, a piano, and my guitar for an hour and a half set of mostly cover songs that had gone better than I’d expected, but hadn’t been anything crazy. The crowd was appreciative and respectful. Several people had left tips, even more giving me a congratulatory clap on the back as I left the building that night, promising to “stream my EP” whenever I released it, despite the fact that I had no plans to do any such thing. Still, I couldn’t imagine that I hadn’t seen his face in the crowd. I couldn’t name what I was feeling as I imagined it; visualized his face on the other side of the smoky room, leaned against the bar with his dark eyes catching hold of mine…

“You came and you didn’t say anything? Not even a hello?” 

Helmut laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “And risk my life over a free concert? No.” He paused, “Despite my tendency to sometimes be… less than kind, I knew it would rattle you to see me. I didn’t want to throw you off before your performance.” 

I didn’t have much of anything to say in response. Instead, I picked at the paper straw wrapper in my lap and tried to look anywhere but in his direction, shoving down whatever was welling up in my chest. He wouldn’t let things go, though. He never could. That was half of why we’d never work. Every time I tried to drop an uncomfortable subject he’d be there to pick it up with a snide comment or two. It was an easy rhythm. Too easy. I had never wanted to fall back into it and yet, here I was, almost excited to snipe his next words down. 

“Cain misses you,” He continued. 

I folded the straw wrapper in my hands, pulling at the crease as I thought about the doberman puppy I had left behind. He would be so big now, as big as the one I’d taken with me was now. My heart ached at the thought. 

“I doubt he remembers me after all this time,” 

“Of course he does,” Helmut’s voice was low. It was almost hypnotic, the way he carried himself. He could fool anyone. I realized, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that couldn’t have been the calamari, he could still fool me. “He’s quite the troublemaker. More times than I can count he’s evaded me in the house, only to be found asleep in your old closet. I think he remembers your scent,” 

“Thats…” I sat quiet for a moment, pursing through choices of words in my mind, mulling over the sharp accented way he pronounced the t in scent, “Sad. Really sad. Makes me wish I could’ve taken them both,” 

“And what of Brutus?”

“He’s good,” A smile crossed my face. “Big, as you saw tonight. I remember when we got them, they told us they’d be 60 pounds at most, but I swear Brutus must’ve snuck in with the rest of those puppies, because he’s massive. Headbutts me every time I walk through the door wondering where I was. He’s a good boy, though. Keeps watch while I sleep, just in case.”

“Just in case I decided to let myself in through the window one night?”

I let myself laugh without judgement this time, reaching for my water. “Looks like it was all for nothing, then. Who knew he’d just let intruders come waltzing in off of the fire escape?” 

“Am I truly considered an intruder in your home?” He asked it as if the answer wasn’t obvious. As if there were any other answer I could possibly give. As if I could’ve wanted him there. His earnestness almost hurt as much as his taunting did, maybe more, because even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, there was a soft ring of truth to his words. 

I took the cowards way out. “I don’t know, what do you think?” 

It was a vulnerability to not give a straight answer, the kind of weak spot that Helmut would catch wind of in an instant before using it to unravel someone piece by piece. Not a no, but certainly not a yes, and the fact that it hadn’t been a resounding yes was enough to glean that maybe, deep down, I wasn’t hating this dinner. He would see through me. Rip me to shreds for the subtle admittance that I hadn’t hated seeing him waiting for me on the couch when I walked through my door, even if I hadn’t expected or wanted him there in the first place. 

I found it was better to lie by omission than to fully lie and let him see through me to the more important truth; For as much as I despised everything about him, I had missed Helmut Zemo. I had missed his stupid expensive taste and the tilt of his stupid head and his stupid shiny white smile. I had missed seeing his coat hung up beside the door and knowing what waited for me inside. It was sick how I had loved him. How I had loved every minute of him picking me apart by the seams and putting me back together. Who could possibly crave their own destruction? Who could live knowing that to be loved was to be deconstructed down to the bone and laid bare as something lesser, something so small compared to the great destroyer I devoted myself to. 

How could he let me live like that if he truly saw through me? 

And that was why I had to leave. 

Loving Helmut Zemo was no way to live. I knew that. I had known that the day I picked up my dog and walked out of our home with nothing but my wallet, car keys, phone, and a polaroid picture of his silhouette. Somehow, I knew that he knew that too. Why else would I move on so suddenly, so sharply, removing every piece of the life we’d built to start myself fresh? A new me, I had said. A new chapter. Yet here I was across from him, shredded bits of paper littering my lap as he puppeteered my heart right back into his arms. 

No. I couldn’t let it happen. 

Not again. 

“Listen, baron,” I didn’t let him answer my rhetorical question. It wouldn’t be wise to let him gain the upper hand again. It wouldn’t be smart to let myself stay weak. “I appreciate dinner. It’s been surprisingly lovely to catch up with you. I’m glad to know you’re not dead, and its great to know Cain is doing well, but I know you weren’t here to tell me that over a plate of mediocre pasta,” 

Helmut smiled, his head in its signature tilt, and swished his own glass a bit. The ice was all but melted giving the liquor an almost clear quality as it diluted. Not a sip had been taken. “Ask the question, schatz,” 

“Why are you here? Why did you stalk me here and break into my apartment when I made it clear that you weren’t welcome in my life?” My words came out so matter of fact even I almost recoiled at them. Not unemotional but detached. 

“Um, who had the chicken alfredo?”

I could feel the blood drain from my face as I looked up at the poor waiter, hot plates in hand, as he took in our table at just the wrong time. Five minutes earlier he would have walked in on polite conversation about the dogs or the shitty appetizers. Now, though, he stood between a man who was known to kill for the things he wanted and me, the one thing he could never have again. 

Surprisingly, though, Helmut waved a hand towards me as I froze. There were none of the usual dramatics, just polite chatter with the waiter as he set my plate in front of me and left Helmut with his, taking the offending calamari plate away with him as he scurried away, surely to tell his coworkers about the crazy exes at the corner table. Helmut didn't even carry on with his answer. He just started tucking in to his steak and potatoes, not sparing me a single glance. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t memorized the way his eyes looked in the low light of a restaurant across from me, I would think he’d been replaced by a skrull.

Where was the tearing? The shredding? The utter evisceration of my waiting throat as he drank deeply of my darkest, most shameful thoughts only to spit them out for the world to see. Where was that shame? In the before times, in the times that the two of us had been a we, he never would have paused to mind a waiter. The world would have revolved around him as he laid me bare, no matter who watched or waited in the wings. What changed? 

How had I not noticed his docility until now?

The pasta was decent. It was better than anything I would’ve made at home, at least. I barely thought about it, though, letting my body go through the motions of eating mechanically while my mind went over a million things I could say. What could I say? There was nothing left to. We had gone over every possibility before I had left, at least I thought we had. Whatever we were was dead. That was certain. But what we could be…

I swallowed hard before I could choke on a relatively large piece of broccoli I neglected to chew in my trance. 

Helmut seemed to be in a painfully similar situation. One look at his plate showed a steak cut into tiny pieces. Almost none of it looked eaten, just diced into a pile and shuffled around a bit on the plate to mix with the potatoes, smashed down from their neat ice cream scoop globe and spread with the back of a fork. 

With a sigh, I set down my fork, pasta already forgotten. 

“Lost your appetite?” 

He paused his fiddling with his fork and knife, mirroring me and letting the utensils rest on the table beside his plate. It was odd to see him rattled. Strange to watch his eyes roll up to the ceiling and pause there, as if he was searching for the right words to say. He always knew just what to say to cut the deepest. Maybe it was foreign for him to not want to cut; To find a soft word, instead of a sharpened one. His mouth opened one… two…three times. Open and shut, open and shut. I couldn’t help but hurt for him. The man of many words was finally struck dumb. 

Finally, it came. 

“I’m sorry,” 

I had anticipated a selfish reply, a demand for me to come back and put the past two years behind us, but time had changed him. It had changed us both. He was no longer the man he had been when he was first freed from behind bars, vengeful and biting and so deeply afraid of being alone again, but I was no longer the lost girl I had been either. I did not need to be destroyed to breathe. I could feel tears pricking up in my eyes as he reached a hand across the table to search for my own. It was such a familiar sight in a time of uncertainty. I kept my hands firmly in my lap, though. I would not give him the satisfaction. 

More, I would not give him hope.

“Come home, schatz,”  

There it was. 

I couldn’t hold in the bitter, wet laugh that bubbled up through me, more at my own foolishness than at anything else. He had changed, yes, but some things never would. 

“Helmut,” The word hurt to say. It was altogether both familiar and unfamiliar, covered in a thick layer of dust from time, but nothing could erase the fact that it had once been used over and over, like a prayer, as easy as breathing or saying my own name. “You know I can’t,” 

He let his hand slink back to his side. “I had to try, you know,”

“I know,” The words were a whisper. 

So this was closure? 

The table was quiet. There was no desperation from Helmut’s side, no attempts to sway me or sudden outbursts of resentment. It was almost peaceful. His voice was sad but there was no manipulation in it. We laid our cards of the table as the game we’d played for years finally came to an end. 

“You were right about us, when you left,” he laughed, “I was, as you so aptly put it, a massive ass. I was still so deeply disillusioned about this world and the horrors of it. It was as if everyone around me was just another cog in it all, even you. I thought if I could puppet it all, make things go my way, everything could just be quiet. The horrors would finally stop. The memories would finally stop. I took it too far, though. I took it out on you. For that, I will never be sorry enough,” 

I put up a hand. “Helmut, you don’t have to do this-“

“I want to,”

His voice was delicate but didn’t waver. For the first time I wondered if this was more about what he needed to say than about what I needed to hear. I nodded him on. Without me even thinking about what I was doing, my hand caught his across the table.

“I wanted to run after you the same day you left. I nearly did, too, before I thought better of it. Then I really thought of what you said. What I did. It was then that I decided I had to change for the better, not for you but for myself. Only then would I allow myself to try again. So I did. I spent my time deconstructing the things I had seen and done and finally facing my own demons. I’m not perfect- believe me -but there are many things I have… worked on, for lack of a better word. James was surprisingly helpful throughout it all,” 

“Is that why you’ve been talking?” My thumb stroked over his knuckles, pausing on a scar. 

“More or less. I needed advice on how to overcome my atrocities, and I owed him an apology either way. He told me about your concert because he thought I would be ready to make amends, and yet I found myself unable to speak to you because I knew that if I did, I would have to beg you for forgiveness, and that is not something I will allow myself to do from anyone. Not now, nor ever,”

I let myself pull away. This was not a movie. There was no happy ending for the two of us at the end of this conversation. It was a chance to clear the air and let go of our grievances before going our separate ways. Treating it any other way would only hurt us both. “Why break in, then, and drag this all out over dinner? Why not just knock on my door, apologize, and leave?”

“I couldn’t have you slamming the door in my face and leaving me to apologize to the wall, now could I?” 

We shared a sad smile, a knowing one. “I guess that’s true.” 

“I needed to know you would hear what I had to say until the end,” he paused, “And one last confession. I must admit, I could not walk away without sharing dinner with you one last time. It’s selfish, as I am selfish, but I could not see you again without truly seeing you, more than just as you shouted at me and threw me to the curb,” 

“You think so little of me?” I asked. There was no bite in it. 

“No, I think so little of myself,” he finally took a sip from his glass, “Any anger on your part is warranted,” 

We did not speak again for a long while. Helmut methodically went through the bite-sized pieces of steak on his plate as I finished the alfredo, which had grown cold in the time it took to sort things out. There was no quiet conversation, no jokes or shared stories in the glow of the lamps overhead. Instead we sat in peaceable silence and breathed in the finality of it all. I was almost grateful for it. I never would have imagined sharing a meal like this with him in all of the years I had known him and loved him. If it was to be the last, and it was, we would savor every moment of each others company. Every moment not spent on my meal was devoted to memorizing the line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes as he did the same for me. 

By the time the waiter came to ask about dessert, I could have written sonnets about his face alone, and by the time he returned with the check, paid discreetly with a 40% tip for his troubles on Helmut’s card, I had committed the sound of his breathing to my mind. I could only hope the memory would last this time.

Realistically, I knew it wouldn’t. 

I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as we approached the front of the restaurant together, pausing awkwardly outside the door as we exited out onto the street. 

“So, this is it,” My hands found the pockets of my coat as I rocked onto the balls of my feet. 

Helmut smiled softly in the lamplight. “Let me walk you home,” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” 

“Says who? I have to follow you either way, my car is parked down the block,” He offered me his arm. 

I took it far quicker than I should have, relishing in the scent of his cologne. Even after all these years he had never switched to another brand, and I refused to admit to anyone else but myself that I was grateful for it. Instead I leaned into his warmth. “Well, it’s only a few blocks anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt,” and with that, we were off. 

The night was cool. Summer had given in to the pull of a lush fall, the temperatures dropping to a comfortable but windy chill when the sun fell below the horizon. The leaves were not yet falling but they’d begun their slow transformation from green into a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens, forming a rustling canopy above the sidewalk that allowed a flash of stars and moon through the foliage every few steps. 

We were not the only pair walking through the streets that night, but if you had asked me about it later I would have said we were the only two people in the whole city, matching each other step for step under the flickering streetlights. Helmut’s crows feet were in full force as he laughed at my terrible jokes, and I couldn’t help but feel warmth rush through my neck and cheeks as he recounted the moment we first met. 

It had been fall then, too. A brief, chance encounter in the streets of Paris was all it was, a night spend with a stranger, until I had seen him again in Sibera, and again in Germany, and again on the Raft, and again, and again, and again, and again…

He had been younger then, much younger, and still raw with grief, but I had loved him even then.

I was so lost in my own memories that I almost missed the stairs up to my apartment, but Helmut paused there, keeping me rooted with him even though the look in his eyes told me he almost kept walking past, hoping to gain one more turn around the block before he had to let me go. He didn't, though. This was the end of the line. 

My arm slipped easily from its place against his own, hand catching briefly on the crook of his elbow. “Walk me to my door?”

His laugh felt almost nervous, a paid mockery of my own earlier reticence. “I don’t think that’s wise,” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman, baron?” 

“I have never claimed that,” For a moment, when he paused, I thought that would be that. I would turn my back, ascend the stairs, and turn around to find he’d shifted back into the shadows from whence he came, but then the moonlight caught on his soft, wet eyes. “But for you, schatz, I try to be,” 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say as we walked up the front steps and into the building. 

It had been so angry last time. I had vomited up every hateful, raging, repressed thought that I had shoved down into my chest over the course of our turbulent time together all at once and left without a second glance. This time, though, it felt wrong to end things without giving him credit for all of the other things, the things I had forgotten in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded us. How could I thank him? How could I tell him every wonderful thing about himself only to close the door in his face a moment later? I spent the whole trip up to my apartment trying to find a way to express even an ounce of what I felt, and then it was far too late. 

We stood there on my novelty doormat, boots settled over the dirty cartoon chickens, hands in our pockets, and breathed in the stale hallway air. 

“Thank you for dinner,” I said. If I shut off my heart and my mind and every other little betraying ache in my bones it was like it had been all those years ago. We were just meeting. This was the end of our very first date. There was a future instead of a past in the time that lay beyond us. 

Helmut averted his eyes from mine. I could tell he was pretending too. “Of course,” 

“I’ll see you again,” I lied, “I mean, it’s inevitable. We’ll end up at Bucky’s place at the same time,” 

“Or run into each other at a busy cafe,” he offered. 

“Exactly! Or our cells will end up next to each other in maximum security prison,” I laughed, but it caught, pathetic, in the back of my throat.  

He took a step back, boots leaving my doorstep. “I look forward to it, whenever it may be,” 

My shaking hands found my keys, an autopilot motion I had done a million times, and the door to my apartment swung open. I could hear Brutus in his kennel, beginning to whine the moment he heard me come home, but I paused there for a moment, one foot in and one foot out. 

“Goodbye, Helmut,” 

“Sleep well, schatz,” 

I stepped inside and locked the door without turning around for a last look. 

My tears came quicker than expected as I took in the room around me. It was the antithesis of my home with Helmut, all whites and beiges and grays from the sparse walls to the lonely couch against the wall. There was one great shock of black, though; a solid footprint on the windowsill. One last souvenir to remember him by. 

I had done the right thing. 

I had to have done the right thing. 

Life with Helmut was hell. It was exciting and lush and romantic and alluring but it was destructive and painful too. It would mean being seen and unseen for the rest of my life, living with the ghosts of those lost in Novi Grad. He would never stop being the man his grief had created. He was just too broken… wasn’t he? 

All at once I knew I had to see him again. This wasn’t going to be the end. There were still so many chances to make it right. 

Before I knew my own feelings, I was undoing the latch and throwing my door open, only to find him there, feet planted solidly on that stupid welcome mat and fist raised to lift the knocker. Our eyes locked. 

We didn’t need words then. 

No, all I needed was his lips on mine and my hands in his hair. It was a need easily rectified. 

He didn’t pull away as I grabbed the edges of his ridiculous fur coat and dragged him in for a kiss, letting the remains of that day’s lipstick smear against his chapped lips as the parted and made way for me. It was like a piece of my puzzle fell back into place, like the thing that had been lying dormant in my empty chest for the past two years had jumped to life and jumped into my throat. The tears weren’t coming anymore, though Helmut’s cheeks felt wet when I guided one of my hands to rest against it, dragging him closer. I needed him urgently. I needed all of it. Every moment I had missed. 

At least one time in my entire tiny, useless life I needed to know him as he had always known me. I had to see him through eyes that would know every atom of him by heart. 

It could have lasted second or hours. I was lost in it; lost in every heartbeat and the messy clack of teeth on teeth as we remembered exactly how our mouths locked into each other. There was no need to breathe. I would happily drown in him if he would let me. Through the passion I distinctly remembered this fervor, the endless need for him. It wasn’t frightening anymore, though. I knew how to walk away. We both did. 

This time I didn’t want to. 

Helmut was the first to pull away. His mouth was wet and red as he panted there, just a breath away from diving in for more, but he pulled away when I advanced again, instead choosing to speak between placing kisses on my cheeks and down my jaw. “I couldn’t let you walk away from me. Not again,” his voice shook as he kissed me, “Does that make me a bad man? Does that mean you can’t love me?” 

I could only breathe a laugh as I pressed my chest to him. No measure of closeness was enough. I needed him to cover every inch of me. “I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried, and I’ve tried,” 

“Please, stop trying,”

With that, he caught me in another kiss. 

“We should probably go inside,” I panted, gesturing towards the apartment with my head and Helmut nodded, maneuvering us over the threshold and into the barren entryway of the home  I’d made without him. It didn’t matter, though. That wasn’t what I was focused on. Instead, my hands were more focused on pulling his coat from his shoulders and discarding it loosely in the direction of the coat rack between fevered kisses. 

The old Helmut would’ve pulled away and make some snarky remark about keeping the place clean. This Helmut, though- my Helmut, as I had selfishly started to refer to him mentally in the past few moments -just dragged me in closer after his arms were freed, letting his hand drift to the small of my back but not even an inch lower.

Suddenly, though, things seemed to cool. The kisses grew shorter, softer. His arms still held me but seemed to loosen their grip. 

“Tell me you want this,” He whispered softly against the shell of my ear, “That you want me,” 

Ah. So that’s what this is. 

“Helmut, of course I do-“ 

“That’s not enough,” his voice was laced with a rare seriousness as he pulled away to look at me properly. His brown eyes glowed a million honeyed colors under the shitty, flickering overhead lighting I should have replaced months ago. They flitted from my swollen mouth to my cheeks to my watery eyes as his hand came up to cup my cheeks again. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake or a bad decision you’ll regret the second we finish,” 

The rest went unsaid. 

(Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me this means something to you, even if it doesn’t mean as much as it does to me. Tell me I won’t wake up alone tomorrow morning. Tell me anything and everything except the cruel reality that neither of us really knows what the future looks like once this is over)

I simply nodded my head, coming in for one closed mouth kiss. “I want this. I want you. Whatever I choose to do next, you’ll be a part of the decision. No more running away,” 

Like a shot, we were off to the races again. 

It was hard to detach our bodies long enough to give Brutus a treat to quiet him down, harder still to lead him to the bedroom and drop his hand long enough to turn on a nearby lamp, but somehow I managed. For all of the small things I’d forgotten about Helmut in the two years we’d spent apart, his bitten nails and the silhouette of his nose and the sound of his labored breathing as he took in my body with something akin to animalistic hunger, it was easy to fall back into the rhythm we’d always found ourselves in intimately. 

His shirt came off first, exposing the soft curve of his stomach. I kissed down from his neck to his chest, letting myself pause on each and every pinkish scar that graced his flesh. I made a mental note to ask him about a few new ones, including a wicked one across his collarbone that still puckered into an inch long divot in his flesh. My fingers followed my mouth, mapping every inch of his flesh. They caught on every soft yielding place he offered, a worship on the altar of his body, dragging his flesh ever so slightly but never enough to leave a scratch or bruise. 

I would not mark him any more than the world already had. It was not my purpose to remold him into my image. Instead I would venerate what he was, what he had become. 

Helmut had put so much effort into changing himself, rebreaking the things that had never healed correctly and setting them right again. I refused to let him break down to splinters again. Not on my watch. 

He shuddered at my attentions. 

“Let me see you?” It was a question, not a demand, and how could I deny him when he asked so nicely? 

I stood up again, relishing in the feeling of his fingers against the hem of my t-shirt, the gentle scratch of nails on skin as he lifted it over my head. When he looked at me, it was like he was looking at the most precious thing in the world. Usually he was so hungry for it that there was never a pause once my shirt was discarded. My bra would be thrown off with it, then my pants, then my underwear, all in such quick succession that I barely distinguished one article from the next in the order of things. This time, though, he paused, hands just inches from my bare flesh. 

“My sweet girl,” he whispered to me like a prayer, a confession, “I don’t think I can hold back much longer,” 

Slowly, deliberately, I stepped forward and pressed my body into his awaiting hands. He squeezed my hips once, gentle, and twice. Then they were roaming up to the clasp on my bra with that usual hunger again, freeing my breasts for his attentions. I don’t exactly recall how he manhandled me on to the bed, I was too busy feeling the hard press of his bulge through his crisp dress slacks. The first thing I was fully cognizant of was his hot breath on my sternum as he hovered over me, still standing but bent at the waist, boxing me in with his knees. 

“So fucking sweet,” he whispered before taking one of my nipples between his lips and laving his tongue over the hardening tip. 

I felt like a live wire. Heat was building everywhere. Dazzling electricity shot through my head and fingers and toes and cunt and gods especially my breasts. They were always my weak spot, and how he knew it, how he knew me. I wanted to thrash against him, to buck and gain his attention where I really needed it, but his body above mine held me fast, keeping me right where he wanted me, vulnerable to him and his specific brand of torture. With a particularly sharp pinch and a well timed suck he had me keening against him, curling into his every move. 

How had I lived without him? It was hard to imagine a night not spend here with Helmut, wherever here was, not that that mattered. I was embarrassingly wet. The slickness had gathered enough that I could feel it on my thighs despite my jeans. When I tried to relieve myself, though, the baron caught my hand, tutting softly. 

I expected to have to ask permission. Soft begs escaped my mouth. I needed him. I had no patience for games. Instead, though, he lifted up off of my chest and smiled, pulling my hand to his lips. “Let me help you, love,” 

There are no words in the human language that could adequately represent the sound that escaped my mouth. I could not even begin to try. It continued even as I lifted my hips to shimmy free from my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, only ceasing when Helmut was on his knees with his face buried in my cunt. I was making different noises then. Loud. Guttural. If I had any mind left at all I would worry what my neighbors thought, to see me out on my doorstep desperately pawing at a man only to hear the noises we were making in tandem now. Thankfully, any sensible thought I had left seemed to fly out the window with Helmut’s first lick to my cunt. 

It was clear that he hadn’t forgotten me, and if he had, the muscle memory was coming back quick. His tongue was deft as it worked its way over my aching nub in a pseudo-figure eight; circling once, twice, and three times before dipping back through my folds. I held him in place this time, though, rocking into his mouth. At some point my hands found their way into his hair. It was so soft between my fingers, so pliable as I pulled against him, desperate for more of him, anything he would good. 

Every time he relented to me. Each sharp jolt was rewarded with a kiss against my thigh or a muttered curse in Sokovian, hot breath teasing my glistening mound. 

He was so giving, so attentive to my every need. He had always been a generous lover, never leaving me wanting for anything, but this felt… different. The way he sucked bruises into my thighs, relenting to each and every sobbing please that escaped my soft lips, was a new and devastating experience. There were no power games left to play, no lording his sexual prowess over me as he brought me slowly closer and closer to the ever distant goalpost, just his mouth on me over and over and over again as he wrung the first orgasm of the night out of me, then the second in short measure, barely ceasing from one to the next.

By the time he decided I’d had my fill, my legs were a trembling mess against his shoulders and my cunt was a sopping mess. 

He grinned a crooked grin at his masterpiece.

“How was that, my love,” 

I could barely catch my breath enough to speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, thrumming a frantic drumbeat even as the room quieted. “So good- really really good, Helmut,” 

Slowly, he rose up from his knees, undoing his belt. “Please say my name again, schatz,” 

“Helmut,” My voice was hushed. Reverent. 

He undid the button at his fly, pulling at the band of his boxers. “Again,” 

It fell from my lips like a prayer. “Helmut,”

His cock bounced free, bobbing as he took a sharp, steadying breath. He placed his hand at the base and squeezed slightly. 

“Again,” 

“Helmut,” 

“Fuck, that’s good,” The trance broke momentarily as I gazed up at him, watching the sweat roll down his forehead in shining rivulets despite the chill in the air. He wiped at them with the back of his free hand and smiled sheepishly. “Scoot back and get comfortable, please. I don’t think I’ll last long,” 

I did as he asked, settling against my pillows on the still-made sheets. “Neither will I,” 

“Where are your condoms?” 

“Bedside drawer, way in the back. I’m on the pill too, so no worries,” 

He moved quickly, grabbing a foil package from the small pile I’d accrued, just in case. 

It felt odd to have him be the one using them. 

There had been a few other men who had been invited here, fewer still that made it to the point that Helmut and I were at now. Every time, though, I hadn’t been able to go through with it, because every time they had finally settled themselves above me, I would close my eyes and, just for a moment, see Helmut in their place. It was unsettling the first time, enough so that I sent the guy home right away. The next time, though, it was more thought provoking than anything. I chalked it up to him being my longest lasting sexual partner and left it at that, but now, watching him roll the condom onto his length and crawl into his position over me, I knew. 

I would never get over him, even if I tried for years. My heart had a space carved out in the shape of his own. No matter how long I stayed away, I would never find something quite like what we had. He was it. This was what people dreamed about. And to think, I had almost let it slip away…

He slid one hand into mine, lacing our fingers together in the gentle lamplight. “Are you ready for me?” 

“More than ready,” My thighs spread as I canted my hips up.

Physically and mentally and every other possible way I needed him. I was prepared. 

So Helmut pumped himself once with his free hand before guiding himself into my wet heat. 

It was impossible to last long once we were finally complete. 

Feeling him inside me was like knowing the truth of the universe. It was comfortable, and thrilling, and so deliciously enough. He filled me well, finding his rhythm as he swore and released my hand to prop himself up more comfortably. We were linked together like the final pieces of a puzzle. I closed my eyes at let myself relish in it. 

There was nothing left to worry over while Helmut was inside of me. All thoughts that weren’t of him were banished. It was something to be cherished, every thrust paired with a whispered confession of love from one of us, a fleeting kiss, a curse, a plea… We laid ourselves bare. I let my legs wrap around his warm, soft hips as he rutted into me, bringing a hand between us to circle my clit once more. Even after everything he refused to leave me behind while he chased his own pleasure. It didn’t take much to send me tumbling over the edge into oblivion. 

As always, Helmut followed me down. 

His thrusts quickened, then stilled as he came to rest upon me, panting and heaving and begging for breath. I didn’t care much. He smelled of cologne and sweat as I buried my face in his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could feel him soften inside of me but I was far too spent to urge him to move.

We only shifted apart when he slipped free of me.

Helmut quickly kissed my forehead and gathered himself up, shuffling to the trash can to discard the used condom and grab a tissue to wipe himself up. I didn’t let myself move an inch. If I moved, would the bliss run away? Would I realize what I’d done? I let myself lay instead, eyes closed, panting in the autumn chill as my lover approached and wiped up our beautiful mess as gently as he could manage. With one last kiss to my thigh, he discarded the rag, opened the window, and crawled back into bed with me. 

The process was indelicate, a lot of awkward shuffling of sticky limbs, but we were settled beneath the blankets soon enough. Helmut stroked his fingers down my arm languidly while kissing the back of my neck. 

I broke the peace between us. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what this means for us,” 

He sighed gently. His breath was soothing and familiar against my shoulder. “That’s not something we have to decide at this very moment,” 

“But I just don’t want you to think this means something… or at least something more than it does? If that makes sense? I don’t know,”

“Schatz, please,” 

“I want to keep my own place, at least for now. I don’t know what that means for when I’ll see you or if we’ll keep doing this,” I gestured vaguely to my nude body beneath the sheets, “or if we’re even a thing anymore, bu-“ 

Helmut reached his arm around us, placing a quieting finger over my lips and another soft kiss against my shoulder. 

“I swear, your mind sounds even louder than mine,” 

“Sorry,” 

“No reason to be,” His hand left my lips, running down to my stomach and pulling me back towards the softness of his chest. “As for your questions, I shall respect your wishes about distance and housing and labels, whatever they may be. That being said, as long as you’re still up for… this, as you put it, I will never deny you, no matter the distance. I would cross oceans for you,” 

A cum-drunk, half-asleep giggle escaped me as he nuzzled in, kissing my ear. 

“Thank you,” 

“No, thank you,” he matched my laughter with his own, “I believe this is what James would call post nut clarity,” 

“Now you ruined it!” I huffed. The faux anger only lasted a moment, though, before I was rolling to face him, cheek pressed to the soft, downy hair of his chest. “I love you, Helmut.” 

“I love you too, sweet girl. Now sleep. I’ll get up and deal with the dog once you’re resting,” 

For the first time in two years, I breathed in the scent of Helmut’s cologne before lapsing into a peaceful sleep.

---------

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into smut in literal years, and it was literally all written within a 12 hour period, so I hope any mistakes weren't enough to take away from your enjoyment. Comments are always appreciated, but never expected. See you on the next authors note!

[andy-15-07]

A Love Unscripted

Summary: Daniel and Y/N, co-stars on a film set, experience an intense connection that quickly blossoms into love. As they navigate their deepening relationship, they find that their off-screen romance becomes the greatest story of their lives.

Paring: Daniel Brühl x reader

Words count: 2907

Daniel Brühl Masterlist | Masterlist

It was a bright, crisp morning in Berlin, and the air buzzed with excitement as the cast and crew gathered for the first day of shooting. This was no ordinary film set—this was the next big project from a critically acclaimed director, and everyone knew it had the potential to be a masterpiece. The title of the film, still under wraps, hinted at a deep, emotional journey that would challenge both the actors and the audience.

Y/N arrived on set with a mix of nerves and excitement, feeling the weight of this opportunity. It was their first major role, and although they had done their fair share of indie films and theater, this was different. The script had resonated deeply with Y/N when they first read it, and they knew this role could be a turning point in their career.

As Y/N stepped out of their trailer, adjusting the costume that already felt like a second skin, they noticed a familiar face on set. Daniel Brühl was speaking with the director, his warm, easygoing smile lighting up his features. Y/N had always admired Daniel’s work from afar—the subtlety of his performances, the way he could convey so much with just a glance or a slight change in his expression. Meeting him in person, however, was something they hadn’t quite prepared for.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N walked over to where Daniel and the director were chatting. As they approached, the director noticed Y/N and smiled broadly. "Ah, Y/N! Perfect timing. Come meet your co-star."

Daniel turned towards Y/N, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. His eyes met Y/N’s, and there was an unmistakable spark—a connection that went beyond the usual pleasantries of a first meeting. Daniel’s smile widened, and there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put Y/N at ease.

“Hi, I’m Daniel,” he said, extending his hand.

“Y/N,” they replied, shaking his hand. The touch lingered a bit longer than necessary, and Y/N felt a strange but pleasant flutter in their chest.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Daniel continued, his voice smooth and genuinely kind. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”

Y/N chuckled, trying to ignore the heat rising to their cheeks. “Well, I hope I can live up to the hype.”

“I’m sure you will,” Daniel said, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s. “I watched some of your previous work. You’re really talented.”

Y/N was caught off guard by the compliment. “Thank you, that means a lot coming from you.”

Before the conversation could continue, the director clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s get started! We’ve got a lot to cover today.”

The first scene they were shooting was a pivotal one—an intense confrontation between Y/N and Daniel’s characters. The air was charged with anticipation as the crew set up the shot. Y/N took their position, trying to focus on the character’s emotions, but found themselves distracted by the fact that Daniel was standing so close.

Daniel, sensing Y/N’s nervousness, leaned in slightly and whispered, “Don’t worry, just be in the moment. We’ve got this.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath. As soon as the director called “Action,” the transformation was instantaneous. Y/N slipped into their character’s mindset, and the world around them faded away. The scene required them to confront Daniel’s character, emotions running high as they delivered their lines with a mixture of anger and vulnerability.

Daniel was incredible. His performance was raw, powerful, and it drew Y/N in, making it easy to react naturally. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and it crackled with intensity, as if they had known each other for years instead of mere minutes.

When the director finally called “Cut,” there was a moment of stunned silence on set. Y/N blinked, coming back to reality, and noticed that the crew was staring at them with something like awe. The director had a wide grin on his face.

“That was fantastic!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “The chemistry between you two is electric. If we can capture even a fraction of that in every scene, we’ve got something truly special here.”

Y/N glanced over at Daniel, who was still looking at them with that same warm smile. “You were amazing,” he said softly, his eyes full of admiration.

“So were you,” Y/N replied, feeling the flutter in their chest return.

As the day progressed, the initial nerves melted away. Daniel and Y/N fell into an easy rhythm, their connection both on and off-screen growing stronger with each take. Between scenes, they would chat about everything from their favorite films to their experiences growing up in different parts of the world. They discovered they had a lot in common—a shared love for classic cinema, a penchant for exploring new places, and a mutual respect for the craft of acting.

During lunch, they found themselves sitting together, away from the rest of the cast and crew. It wasn’t intentional, but it felt natural, as if they had always gravitated toward each other. As they ate, their conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and the occasional teasing remark.

“You know,” Daniel said, leaning back in his chair, “I didn’t expect to meet someone who’s as passionate about cinema as I am.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth in their heart. “I could say the same about you. It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.”

Daniel nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s rare to find someone who really understands what it’s like to lose yourself in a role, to feel that connection with the character and the story. I can tell you’re someone who does.”

Y/N looked at Daniel, their eyes meeting once again. There was something in his gaze that made their heart skip a beat—an intensity, a depth that went beyond mere attraction. It was as if they were seeing each other, truly seeing each other, for the first time.

“I feel the same way,” Y/N admitted, their voice soft but sincere. “There’s something about this project, about working with you… It feels different. Special.”

Daniel’s gaze softened, and he reached across the table, his hand gently covering Y/N’s. “I feel it too,” he said quietly. “I think this could be the start of something really wonderful.”

The rest of the shoot passed in a blur. Days turned into weeks, and with each passing moment, Y/N and Daniel’s connection deepened. Their scenes together were electric, filled with a chemistry that was palpable to everyone on set. Off-camera, they spent more and more time together, often finding excuses to stay late after a day of shooting just to talk, to be in each other’s company.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of filming, they decided to take a walk around the city. The night was cool, the streets quiet as they wandered aimlessly, talking about everything and nothing. Daniel seemed more relaxed than usual, his usual charisma softened by the late hour and the intimacy of the moment.

As they walked along the Spree River, the moonlight reflecting off the water, Daniel suddenly stopped. Y/N, who had been in the middle of a story, turned to look at him in surprise.

“Is everything okay?” Y/N asked, concerned.

Daniel smiled, a little sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s just… I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

Y/N’s heart began to race, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation bubbling up inside them. “What is it?”

Daniel hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

The question caught Y/N off guard. They stared at Daniel, their mind racing. Did they believe in love at first sight? They had always thought it was something that only happened in movies, in the stories they told on screen. But as they looked into Daniel’s eyes, so full of sincerity and something deeper, something that felt a lot like love, they found themselves reconsidering.

“I’m not sure,” Y/N replied honestly. “But… I think I might be starting to.”

Daniel’s smile widened, and without another word, he took a step closer. The distance between them disappeared as he gently cupped Y/N’s face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring. Y/N’s breath caught in their throat as Daniel leaned in, his lips brushing theirs in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and full of unspoken emotions.

The world seemed to fade away in that moment. There was no film set, no crew, no cameras—just the two of them, standing by the river, lost in each other. The kiss deepened, and Y/N felt a warmth spread through their entire body, a sense of rightness, of inevitability, as if this was exactly where they were meant to be.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they shared a quiet moment of connection.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment we met,” Daniel admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled, their heart full. “So have I.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. It was a perfect moment, the kind that Y/N had only ever experienced in the movies they loved so much. But this wasn’t a script, and this wasn’t a role. This was real, and it was happening to them.

As they walked back to their hotel, hand in hand, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like they were living in a dream. But it was better than any dream they could have imagined—because it was real, and it was theirs.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of emotions, both on and off set. Their relationship blossomed quietly, just under the radar of the curious eyes of the cast and crew. Though they kept it professional during filming, it was impossible to hide the subtle glances, the shared smiles, and the way their hands would brush as they passed each other by.

Y/N found themselves falling deeper for Daniel with every passing day. He was kind and considerate, with a sense of humor that caught them off guard and made them laugh when they least expected it. They had never felt this way before, and it scared them as much as it thrilled them. But there was a comfort in Daniel’s presence, a sense of safety that made them feel like everything was going to be okay.

One afternoon, they had a rare day off from shooting, and Daniel suggested they explore the city together. Berlin was full of history and culture, and though Y/N had been there for weeks, they hadn’t had much time to truly experience it.

They spent the day wandering through art galleries and museums, stopping at cafes for coffee and pastries. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how Daniel seemed to know all the best spots, the hidden gems that only locals frequented. He would tell stories about the city’s history, pointing out landmarks and sharing little anecdotes that made Y/N feel like they were getting a private tour from someone who truly loved the place.

As the day turned into evening, they found themselves at a small, cozy restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. The candlelit atmosphere was intimate, and Y/N could feel their heart racing as they sat across from Daniel, the flickering light casting shadows across his handsome features.

“This place is beautiful,” Y/N said, looking around at the warm, inviting decor. “How did you find it?”

Daniel smiled, a little shyly. “I’ve been here a few times. It’s one of my favorite spots in the city. I thought you might like it.”

Y/N reached across the table, taking his hand in theirs. “I love it. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Daniel’s eyes softened, and he squeezed Y/N’s hand gently. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say,” he began, his voice serious.

Y/N felt a flutter of nerves in their stomach. “What is it?”

Daniel hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but… I can’t help the way I feel. From the moment we met, I felt this connection between us, something I’ve never experienced before. I don’t want to scare you off, but I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in their throat, their heart pounding in their chest. They had felt it too, but hearing Daniel say it out loud made it all the more real, all the more intense.

“I feel the same way,” Y/N admitted, their voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been trying to make sense of it, but… I think I’m falling for you too.”

The relief in Daniel’s eyes was palpable, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He stood up from his seat, moving to sit beside Y/N, and pulled them into a gentle embrace. Y/N melted into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against theirs, the steady beat of his heart under their cheek.

For a while, they just sat there, holding each other, letting the world outside fade away. It was as if time had stopped, leaving just the two of them in their own little bubble of happiness. They talked quietly, sharing their hopes and dreams, their fears and insecurities. It was easy to be vulnerable with Daniel, easy to let down the walls they had built around their heart.

As the evening wore on, they decided to head back to the hotel, their hands intertwined as they walked through the quiet streets. The city was alive with the soft hum of nightlife, but Y/N only had eyes for Daniel, who looked at them with such affection that it made their heart ache in the best possible way.

When they reached Y/N’s hotel room, they lingered outside the door, neither of them wanting the night to end. Daniel brushed a strand of hair from Y/N’s face, his touch tender and full of longing.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly, his voice full of emotion.

Y/N nodded, their heart racing. They opened the door, leading Daniel inside, and as soon as it closed behind them, he pulled them into a deep, passionate kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of all the emotions they had been holding back, all the desire and affection that had been building between them since the day they met.

They stumbled toward the bed, their lips never breaking contact, and as they fell into the soft sheets, Y/N knew this was where they were meant to be—wrapped in Daniel’s arms, lost in the feeling of being loved and cherished by someone who saw them for who they truly were.

The night was a blur of whispered words and tender touches, of shared laughter and quiet moments of connection. When they finally drifted off to sleep, tangled up in each other, Y/N felt a peace they had never known before. It was as if all the pieces of their life had finally fallen into place, and they knew, deep in their heart, that this was just the beginning of something truly beautiful.

The next morning, they woke up to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. Daniel was still asleep beside them, his face peaceful and relaxed, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile as they watched him. They had never felt this content, this happy, and they knew they had found something special, something worth holding onto.

As Daniel stirred awake, his eyes meeting Y/N’s with a sleepy smile, they leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Good morning,” Y/N whispered, their voice full of affection.

“Good morning,” Daniel replied, his voice husky with sleep. He pulled Y/N closer, his arms wrapping around them as if he never wanted to let go. “Last night was… incredible.”

“It was,” Y/N agreed, their heart swelling with emotion. “I don’t want this to end.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Daniel said, his gaze serious. “I meant what I said last night. I’m falling for you, Y/N, and I want to see where this goes. I don’t care about the logistics or what anyone else thinks. All I know is that I want to be with you.”

Tears pricked at Y/N’s eyes as they looked into Daniel’s sincere gaze. They had been so afraid to let themselves fall, but now that they had, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“I want that too,” Y/N said, their voice choked with emotion. “I want to be with you, Daniel.”

He smiled, a smile so full of warmth and love that it took Y/N’s breath away. “Then let’s make it happen. We’ll figure it out together.”

And so, they did. As the film production continued, so did their relationship, growing stronger with each passing day. They faced the challenges together, navigating the complexities of a public relationship in a private world, but nothing could diminish the connection they shared.

When the film finally wrapped, and it was time to say goodbye to the set and the characters they had brought to life, Y/N and Daniel knew that this was just the beginning of their story. They had found something real, something lasting, and as they walked hand in hand into the next chapter of their lives, they knew they were ready to face whatever came next, as long as they were together.

In the end, it wasn’t just a love story scripted for the screen—it was their love story, one that would continue to unfold in ways they could never have imagined. And as they looked into each other’s eyes, they knew that this was the greatest role they would ever play, not as actors, but as themselves, deeply in love and ready to take on the world, side by side.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Dancing in the Dark (Helmut Zemo)

Summary: you're tired of the responsibilities of the royal family. Tonight, you just want a night to yourself.

WC: 900ish

Warnings: None, fluff, maybe a smidge of self cdoubt?

Read on AO3!

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The ballroom glittered under a sea of chandeliers, the air thick with the scent of roses and the sound of laughter and music from the band playing in the corner of the room, out of the way of the main floor. You moved through the throng of elegantly dressed guests, a soft smile on your lips as you greeted some of them. Tonight was the annual royal gala, an occasion that filled the palace with nobles and dignitaries from across the realm. Waiters and maids filtered through the floor, in between dancing couples and people enjoying the food served.

You were supposed to be enjoying yourself, but your mind wandered, even as you smiled through conversations and greetings. Beneath the layers of silk and satin, you felt a sense of confinement, a weight of expectation. As the daughter of the king, you were expected to make a perfect match tonight. But you could hardly keep the forced smile on your face.

Across the room, you spotted him. Helmut Zemo—charming, enigmatic, with an air of confidence that drew you in like a moth to a flame. He wore a tailored suit that accentuated his sharp features and exuded a magnetic presence that was hard to ignore. But you knew him to be a lowly nobleman.

With a determined breath, you weaved your way through the crowd until you stood before him. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief as he offered you a knowing smile.

"Princess," he greeted, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "There’s no way you know I could be the princess from a first glance."

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “Oh, but I do. I’m just surprised that your father allows you to roam so freely among us common folk.”

A playful smirk danced on your lips. “You think I’m just another noblewoman, don’t you?”

“I know you’re more than that,” he replied, his voice low. “You’re not just a title; you’re full of life, a spirit that can’t be contained.”

Your heart raced. No one had ever seen beyond the crown. “And you? You’re just a man with a past, a shadow among the light. You're not exactly a charmer, Helmut.”

Zemo chuckled softly, his expression shifting to one of sincerity. “Perhaps I am. But tonight, I’m simply a man captivated by a woman who defies expectations.”

In that moment, the music faded into the background. The world around you disappeared, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of understanding. You felt an irresistible urge to break free from the confines of your title, to embrace the connection you felt with him.

“Would you care to dance?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took your hand, leading you to the dance floor. As the music swelled, you moved together, lost in the rhythm. Zemo’s hand rested at the small of your back, grounding you as your heart soared.

“Tell me,” he said, leaning closer, “what is it like to wear a crown? To be a symbol of power and responsibility? To have the townsfolk adore you, watch over your every move?”

You hesitated, the weight of your answer heavy in the air. “It’s isolating. Everyone sees the princess, not the person underneath. They see me as a spoiled brat because of what I was born into. I long for freedom, for the chance to be… just me.”

He paused, studying your face. “Then why not take it? Defy the expectations. Be who you truly are, not who they want you to be.. Why not take the chance to run away?”

His words resonated deep within you. You had spent so long being what was expected, but with Zemo, you felt the pull of possibility, even if only for a moment. The music slowed, and the moment hung between you like a secret waiting to be shared.

“I could never abandon my responsibilities,” you finally replied, though uncertainty tinged your voice.

Zemo leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, sending a chill down your spine. “Responsibilities can be shared. You don’t have to carry the weight alone.”

With a sudden spark of courage, you pulled back slightly to meet his gaze. “And what would you know of responsibility, Helmut?”

A shadow flickered across his face, but he quickly masked it with a charming smile. “Perhaps more than you think. I’ve learned that sometimes, letting go is the greatest act of courage.”

In that moment, you saw a glimpse of his own burden—a life lived in shadows, shaped by loss and ambition. You realized that beneath the facade of the charming man was a man who understood the complexities of life in a way that few others did.

As the music faded and the dance came to an end, you took a step back, breathless. “Maybe there’s a part of me that wants to let go, even if just for tonight. I don't want to worry about hiding away from responsibilities, or which parliament I have to meet with... Tonight, I just want to be me.”

His gaze softened, and he brushed a thumb across your knuckles. “Then let’s make this evening unforgettable.”

You felt a thrill of excitement mixed with fear. Could you truly embrace the freedom Zemo offered, even if just for a night? With a nod, you took his hand, ready to step into the unknown.

[arcriotwrites]

~𝒯𝒽𝑒 ℬ𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓃'𝓈 ℬ𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎~

Helmut Zemo x AFAB reader (gender neutral names) 18+

Warnings: Swearing, smut, choking, teasing, hand kink, fingering, oral (female anatomy used), established dynamic, brat taming, dom!zemo, use of petnames (Bunny, Darling, etc.)

Author’s Note:

I am back with another one! I feel like Zemo doesn’t get enough love as it is so I’m writing for him😤. I’ve had this idea for a long time and finally have found the brain power to write it. This is an 18+ fanfic, PLEASE TAKE THE WARNINGS SERIOUSLY! Enjoy!

The bright lights and loud music of the bar seemed to welcome you in. Wolfman’s Bar sits along a quiet street in Madripoor, if there is such a thing as a quiet street here. The entrance is in a back alley, needing strict access to even enter the bar. You step onto the concrete sidewalk, knocking firmly against the heavy metal door. The metal vibrated with the bass of the music, your attention on the man as he opens the door. He takes one look at you and steps aside, welcoming you in. A smirk rests on your lips as you saunter in, noticing many people turn and whisper to each other upon your arrivals you pull the maroon leather jacket off of yourself and drape it over the back of one of the barstools, taking a seat. The bartender comes over to you almost instantly.

“What can I get you, Jester?”

The name rolls off his tongue with a hint of fear and you can’t help but feel proud.

“A dirty martini should be fine.”

You watch as he quickly shuffles off to fulfill your request. As you sit there, you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket, you pull it out to look at the text.

Carlos: Slight trouble with current mission, need 2 more days to fulfill your wishes.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you type back, your back straightening slightly.

Me: You have one day. If the money isn’t transferred by this time tomorrow, the hunt is on.

You let out a deep grumble as you hit send, sliding your phone into your pocket once more. You tap your fingers in your lap as you wait for your drink.

You suddenly feel a hand between your shoulder blades, your right hand flying to your thigh, pulling your handgun from it’s holster.

“Calm down, darling. It’s just me.”

His voice hits your ears like a drug, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You turn around to see him. Before you stand Baron Zemo, or at least what everyone here knew him as. You knew him as Helmut, being the only one who is allowed to use his first name.

“Welcome back, Helmut. What brings you to my domain?” You ask, a smirk settling on your lips as he sits on the barstool next to you. You clip your gun back into the holster that is strapped to your thigh. As you do so, the bartender sets your drink down in front of you and you nod a thanks at him before taking a sip.

“I had some time off so I figured I’d pay you a visit. I heard the Powerbroker has taken a step back huh?” He asks, his eyes never leaving you as you set your drink back on the bar top.

“Yep. With Selby dead thanks to you and the Powerbroker regaining a home in the US, that leaves Madripoor with no leader, at least until recently.”

As you speak, you can’t help the proud smile that falls on your lips. You run your fingers along the base of your martini glass, wiping off a smudge. You turn to look at him once more, noticing confusion evident in his eyes. You let out a soft laugh, seeing the wrinkles of his face deepen as he puts on a curious expression.

“What do you mean by that, darling?” Your smirk only deepens at his question, finishing your drink swiftly before standing from your chair and grabbing your jacket from the back of it.

“C’mon. We can talk more at my place. I got a nice house in high town.” You say as you start to walk out of the bar. You feel a hand on your wrist pull you back. As you turn you almost slam into his chest.

“You know the rules. Follow them.” His voice sounded deep and gruff in your ears, his tone commanding. A shiver runs down your spine as you remember what he told you during his last visit.

Never stray too far from me.

He chuckles deeply as he watches you process what he said. You swallow hard, nodding before turning and starting to walk towards the exit, slower this time. You look back at him every few seconds to make sure he is right behind you. As you exit the bar, he grabs your hand. The feeling of his hand in yours has your mind fogging a bit, the feeling so familiar yet from so long ago.

Once you reach your house, you bring him inside, shutting off the security system. As you flip the lights on, you see him taking off his coat, draping it over the black armchair in the foyer. You walk into the living space, glancing around as you light the fireplace. The warmth of it makes you hum slightly as you feel arms wrap around your waist. You look down and see the deep purple sleeves and aged hands that rest near your stomach. A smile breaks out onto your lips as you lean into his touch.

“I missed you, Baron.” You whisper softly, hearing a slight hum vibrate through his chest. You always knew that name affected him and now was no different.

“I missed you too, Bunny.” As the petname rolls off his tongue, you can feel your mind fogging again, just like it had earlier when he grabbed your hand. He always called you that. To him you were something delicate, something to handle with care. No matter how wild you could be, you were always his soft, delicate bunny.

You hear him chuckle as your eyes close, not having noticed you were now fully leaning into him, a blush creeping up your neck and to your cheeks. His voice is husky now, his accent thick.

“Did my Bunny miss my touch hmm?”He smirks as he speaks, you’re able to hear it in his voice. All you can do is nod, scared that your voice will betray you if you try to speak but he cuts you off in your actions.

“Ah ah ah, words, darling. You know how this works.” His tone becomes authoritative, causing you to shutter against him.

“Yes, I did.” You say, your voice coming out soft and obedient. It was as if your body was acting out of need, not want. You needed his hands on you, you needed him to keep speaking to you like this. A part of your brain flips, starting to drift in thought.

What would happen if I didn’t submit?

A small smirk crawls its way to your lips, slowly sliding yourself out of his arms. You turn to look at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. You watch as he looks you up and down, as if examining his prey. He seems to scoff slightly as you look at him, determination evident in your posture.

“Actually, I don’t need your touch. I am perfectly fine getting off by myself.” You spit out, smirking the entire time. You knew the words you spoke weren’t true, all those late nights whimpering his name into your pillow out of frustration. You watch as he raises his eyebrows, shaking his head as he smirks.

“Oh is that so, bunny? So you weren’t frustrated with my absence? You didn’t miss my hands tracing your body, feeling every inch of you? You didn’t miss me leaving marks on your thighs, owning every inch of you?” As he speaks, he takes steps closer to you, starting to walk you back against the wall. He towers over you now, your back flush against the wall as you realize he has trapped you just as he planned. “You didn’t miss the way my tongue felt as I licked that pretty pussy clean?” He whispers in your ear now, his voice deep and gruff. His words have you leaning your head back against the wall as you close your eyes, taking a deep breath to try and stay nuetral. You feel his hand wrap around your hip, his thumb digging into your side. God his hands always interested you. They were so callous and rough from his work, covered in scars from the countless fights he got into. Despite this, he always touched you with the softest touch. The veins that ran down his forearms and into his hands always had you mesmerized, remembering all the countless nights you spent tracing them when you couldn’t sleep. Though there was another side to those hands. The way they held a gun so steady, he could get a headshot from a mile away. The way that they ran down your sides and to your legs, spreading them open as they had many times before.

As your mind started to drift, you could hear him chuckle. You hadn’t noticed you had zoned out, blushing deeply when you noticed you are gripping his sweater. You blink a few times, slowly letting go of his shirt, clearing your throat.

“Still trying to be defiant.” He states it as a fact, not a question. The disappointed tone in his voice makes you falter slightly, like your brain is fighting itself. Without any time to prepare, his hand comes up around your throat, squeezing the sides in a tight grip as he presses you back into the wall harder. “Come on now. You know exactly where this would get you, pinned to the wall, unable to breathe. Hm? Did you want this? Did you plan this since you saw me? Planned to work me up so that I’d fuck you senseless hm?” His angry tone makes your head spin. You can’t tell if it’s the lack of oxygen or the way you can feel his hand sliding from your waist to the front of your shorts that is making you feel lightheaded. You can feel him undoing the button and zipper, anticipating his touch. You craved it. Him feeling how wet you are because of him, his finger teasing your clit until you are sobbing, begging him to fuck you. Yet as your mind reels, his hand comes to rest back on your waist, his grip on your throat loosening slightly. You gasp, feeling your lungs burn as you try not to cough. He smirks, chuckling at your red face as he runs his thumb over your cheek.

“Look at you. You’re so desperate aren’t you? It’s taking everything in you to not fall to your knees and beg me to take you right here right now. I can see it in your face. I can see it in the way your hips pressed against my hand when I undid your shorts. You need me so badly yet you won’t say it. You know the rules, Bunny. I won’t do a damn thing until you ask me to.” His voice is stern, a teasing tone tagging onto it as he reminds you of the rule you hated most. You hated asking him, vocalizing your filthiest desires seemed like a nightmare. You swallow hard, feeling his hand against the front of your throat. You clear your throat, your eyes glazing over as you look up at him, deciding that your current aches are far more important than the anxiety rising in your belly.

“Please touch me, Baron.”

Your voice comes out just above a whisper. You watch the smile spread across his face, a mischievous look falling over his eyes.

“There you go. You did such a good job, Bunny. Come on, let your Baron take care of you.” He speaks softly, his tone completely different than the stern one he held moments ago. He takes your hand, leading you over to the leather couch that sits in front of the fire. He takes a seat, spreading his legs open. “Take those shorts off for me, darling.”

You can tell it’s a command yet his voice comes out gentle. It’s as if he is silently letting you know you can back out. He was always doing that, making sure you were ok and comfortable, letting you know you could stop at any time. You nod softly as you slide the shorts down your legs, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side. You watch as his eyes fall over you, his tongue poking out to lick his lips.

“God… I missed looking at you.” He whispers out, breathless. You blush deeply, the red tint now spreading to your ears as he looks at you like a predator watching its prey. “Come here.” He motions with his fingers as he speaks, adjusting how he sits to sit back further on the couch. You walk to stand in front of him, your hands clasped behind your back. You feel your mind fully leave, any thoughts you had fog over and the only thing you can focus on is him.

He suddenly grabs your waist and turns you around, pulling you to sit In between his legs on the couch, your back flush to his chest. His cologne fills your nose like a drug, making you hum in delight. He lets his hands roam you, sliding down your back and around your waist, finally rest on your thighs. You can feel yourself squirming slightly, the puddle you sit in becoming uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to take care of you, Bunny?” He voice is soft in your ear, the words spilling from his lips like a prayer. There he goes again, asking you if you are ok without being direct.

“Yes, Baron. Please.” Your words come out broken, not expecting to hear yourself sound so desperate. When you speak, you feel his hands grip your thighs, gently spreading them apart.

“There you go. Let me control you, bun. Just relax ok? I’ll take good care of you.” His voice fills your ears as you feel his middle finger lightly drag up your underwear. As his touch reachers your clit, you jump in his lap, slamming your legs shut out of shock. You hear him chuckle as he pulls your thighs apart again, continuing his feather light touch over your underwear. “Look at you.” He presses his finger into the wet patch that had soaked through; “so wet for me already.” You nod quickly at his statement, feeling your hips rise, trying to chase his touch. Both of his hands grip your hips, slamming you back onto the couch. “Stay still.” His tone is stern, dangerous. The contrast in his gentle touch to his aggressive tone makes you whimper.

“Give into me, bunny. Come on. You almost had it, then you got too greedy. I will touch you however and whenever I want.” His tone is soft, gentle, as if trying to coax your body into doing as he says. You relax back against his chest, resting your head back onto his shoulder. “There you go.” His touch returns to your clothed pussy, rubbing gentle circles against your clit, feeling the wet spot grow as he does so. You can feel his shit eating grin against your head, placing a kiss to your forehead. You let out a breath you hadn’t noticed you had been holding, soft moans leaving your lips. You bite your lip as his speed and pressure picks up, your legs starting to shake at the shocks that run up your spine. As it begins to be too much, he withdrawals his hand causing you to whine in protest.

“Sshh bun, you’re ok, patience.” His tone is gentle once more, soothing your aching body back against his chest. You feel his finger slide your underwear to the side, his finger starting to run up and down through your wet mess. He hums in approval as he slowly traces around your entrance, feeling how your body quivers against him. You moan as he finally touches you, finally feeling what you have needed for the past 7 months. Finally having what you dreamed of every night.

He slowly pushes the tip of his middle finger into you, going in and out slowly, gently.

“You’re so tight, darling. Is all of this mess for me hmm?” His voice is teasing, slowly putting more of his finger into you with every push. All you can do is nod, moaning as he pushes his finger fully into you. “Your body missed me, darling. I can feel it in how your walls throb against my finger.”

His statement makes me shiver, feeling his other hand slide up your chest to your neck, gripping your jaw gently and pulling your head back so you look at him. As he does this, he rapidly picks up speed, sliding a second finger into you. “If you didn’t miss me, bunny, then how come your pussy is making a puddle on this couch for me hm? How come your body is shaking in pleasure as if you haven’t felt this in months hm?” His tone is still gentle, almost mocking you as you moan loudly against his neck. The pleasure mixed with his words makes you writhe in his lap, gasping as tears start to roll down your cheeks. It’s too much, the way he taunts you, teases you while fully handling your body in anyway he wished.

As it all builds, you feel your climax reaching its peak, desperately needing the release you had waited months for.

“Baron please! Don’t stop…. M-I’m close.” You gurgle out, your body shaking against his as he fingers you relentlessly.

“Come on, give it to me, Bunny. Show me how much you missed me.”

At his words, you cum, feeling your hips stutter against his hands as he continues at a brutal pace. You gasp and moan against his skin, eventually biting into his neck as you groan. As you come down from your high, he slows down, eventually pulling his fingers out of you. He examines the glistening digits, seeing your gaze on his hands. You watch as he slides his fingers between his lips, sucking them clean. The sight has you squirming, seeing him savor every inch of you. He pulls his fingers from his lips and wipes them on his dress pants. He smiles softly down at you as you look at him dazed, your head empty.

“Do you want me to clean you up, darling?” The question doesn’t process in your brain for a few seconds yet you find yourself nodding without hesitation. He picks you up, laying you on your back on the couch. You look down at him as he crawls down your body, sliding his tongue over the mess on your thighs. The feeling makes you gasp, shivering against the cold leather. You watch him as he makes eye contact with you, sliding his tongue up between your folds, watching you as you moan. His slides his tongue over your clit, noticing how you jump at the contact. He smirks against your pussy, licking at you slowly and gently. Once he decided it was enough torture, he sits up.

“Come here, Bunny. Let yourself doze off, ok? That was a lot after our long break hm.” He says, chuckling as you shakily crawl over, curling up against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, the sound making you smile. He was really here, he was truly here to take care of you after so much time apart.

“I love you, Baron” the words come out of your mouth as you doze off, the last thing you hear before sleep takes you;

“I love you too, Bunny.”