#earl grey zemo

[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.

[morguevampire]

Tag People You Want to Know Better!

I was tagged by darling @who-is-a-heretic-now <3

Favorite Color: black, even if it isn't a color

Currently Reading: Honestly a bunch of uni-stuff, academic papers and whatnot. I find myself very lazy with "real" books during the semester. So I guess currently I am reading stuff about Josephine Baker which is really interesting.

Last Song: Fuego by Vetusta Moral (currently on a Spanish indie trip)

Last Movie: Eismayer (R.: David Wagner) - in the cinema My Zoe (R.: Julie Delpy) - rewatch

Currently Craving: tbh a Schnitzel because I am hungover as fuck

Tea or Coffee: Coffee all the way - a viennese Melange (it's essentially a cappuccino but with less milk) I do like tea too and especially in the winter time I am a big Earl Grey drinker

Currently Working On: not crying hahahaha. No but I am working on a Zemo x fem!reader fic atm and otherwise in private I am working on a painting :)

no pressure tags: @babysuede @brandyscorner

[earlgreydream]

tame.

| zemo x reader | smut |

anon requested. bratamer!Zemo or something with Zemo and spanking

cw: spanking, whipping, degradation, gagging

“Turn it down, draga!” Zemo snapped, throwing his office door open to reprimand you.

You were stretched out on the couch, starburst candy in your mouth as you kicked your feet to the beat of loud bubblegum pop music.

You’d already been told twice to turn it down, and Zemo was at his wits end with your obnoxious behavior. He was in meetings, the underlying bass of the songs interrupting his important business.

“I did turn it down.” You rolled your eyes, practically sneering at Zemo.

“You keep up this attitude, and you’re on your way to my wrath,” he warned.

“Whatever,” you turned onto your back, draping your head off of the side of the couch.

He stared at you, trying to let his fury simmer down. He finally pulled the plug on your stereo, plunging the room into silence.

Zemo ignored your glare, unable to put up with your bratty behavior any longer. He returned to his office, apologizing to his client. They finished the meeting, and Zemo had his secretary cancel the rest of his schedule.

.

Meanwhile, you were tanning on the deck, completely bare. His clients got an eyeful as they passed your nude body on their way out, making Zemo seethe.

Before you could say something coy, Zemo’s hand wrapped around your bicep, dragging you inside.

“Helmut-”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’ve disrespected me, and yourself, and I’ve had enough!” Zemo snapped.

You dug your heels in, putting up a fight against his manhandling. You were in a mood, and you wanted to rile the stoic sokovian. Household staff avoided looking at your body as they passed, each person who got a glimpse of you— of what was his— only angered Zemo further.

“You think you’re earning yourself a good fuck, yes? That’s what you want?” Zemo snapped, practically throwing your body up against the wall, getting in your face.

You glared at him, caught in the truth. That was exactly what you wanted— Zemo to fuck you thoroughly. He made a noise of disdain, as if your very existence disgusted him.

“You selfish little brat.”

The blood in your veins turned to ice, and you started to panic, realizing you hadn’t earned the reaction you’d hoped for. His dark gaze frightened you, and you dreaded everything that was beginning to unfold.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you tried to backtrack, tears welling in your eyes.

“You will be sorry,” Zemo hissed, his chest heaving with labored breaths.

He offered no sympathy at the sight of your tears, knowing it was a ploy to get him to lighten your punishment. He wasn’t falling for it, not after how you’d repeatedly pushed his buttons and been disobedient.

“Don’t cry. I haven’t even hurt you yet,” he held your jaw in his hand.

A pathetic whimper escaped your lips, and he dragged you down a side hall in his extensive mansion, to a room you detested. Both of your wrists stayed trapped in one of his hands, while the other pulled a key from the top of the doorframe.

“No, I don’t want to go in the playroom,” you shook your head, struggling against his grip on your wrists.

He said your name in an eerily calm tone, dark eyes boring into you.

“Stop struggling.”

A strained whine caught in your throat, and he pushed you into the room ahead of him. The lock clicked behind you on the door, and your arms went around your naked body. The black marble floor was cold under your feet, contradicting the shame and dread that burned through your skin. Your eyes danced along dark walls, covered in instruments and toys hanging from hooks, to a large bed in the corner.

His hand pressed against your lower back, leading you to the middle of the room, under a honeycomb structure attached to the ceiling. He threaded red cords through it, barely looking at you as he did so.

“Give me your hand.”

You miserably placed your hand in his. Red cord was bound around both of your wrists, tied to the ceiling with just enough pressure to leave your muscles straining, and your feet unsteady.

“Zemo-”

“I don’t want to hear a word out of your slutty mouth unless it’s red.”

You pulled your lower lip between your teeth, falling silent. He walked over to a chest of drawers, pulling out tiny clamps from one of them. You squirmed even before he approached you, the chords rattling against the grate.

You couldn’t escape him, you could barely move even a few centimeters. Your lips were parted, shallow, anxious breaths being exhaled softly. Zemo carefully monitored your reactions, listening to the pained squeak that came as he closed the clamps around your nipples, the sharp pinch biting into your hypersensitive skin. A chain hung between them, and he tugged lightly on it, just to see your toes curl in pain.

You gave Zemo a wounded look, struggling to stay quiet. You knew the rules, making noise and protesting would only land you in deeper trouble. Zemo was angry, and it was not the time to test him. He traced his fingers up your side, smoothing over the curve of your body.

He broke away from you, walking over the wall where different paddles were hanging from hooks. You squirmed in dread as he took a woden one off of the wall, tiny holes in it because he knew it was the one you found the most painful. He reserved it for when you were particularly bratty, or just downright disobedient.

“Stand still,” Zemo broke you out of your spiral of pity.

You exhaled, letting your feet settle on the ground. You didn’t need to be told to count, a quiet “one” falling from your lips as he struck your ass with the wood. Your numbers got progressively more strained until you were sobbing them out, trying not to lose count as your ass burned completely raw. 

Your arms ached, held above your head as you struggled not to teeter, your feet unsteady on the cold floor. Zemo had ceased spanking you, letting you hang there. A cracked whine slipped out when he roughly pulled the nipple clamps off of you, sending a split second of blinding pain through your chest. 

“You don’t have to count these,” Zemo’s voice broke the silence, making you open your eyes. 

You shook your head, another round of tears slipping down your cheeks as he pulled a brown leather whip down. He waited for your safeword, but you didn’t speak, crying silently and turning your face into your arm. 

The leather cord cracked against your already painful skin, welts raising and making you scream into the gag Zemo had placed in your mouth. You bit down on the fabric, sobbing as he whipped you for what felt like hours, though in reality it was likely only a few minutes.

He said your name, calling out to you, but you hardly heard him over your heart pounding in your ears. Zemo pried the gag out of your mouth, tilting your head up with both hands. You blinked slowly, gasping as he released your wrists from the restraints. You collapsed, but he caught you easily, ready for it.

You were shaking in his arms as he carried you to your bedroom, gently laying you down on the bed, easing you to rest on your stomach. He kissed down your spine, laying his hand on your side. You turned your face into the pillow, ashamed of your behavior, and him seeing you so vulnerable. 

“Draga, it’s alright,” his voice soothed your insecurities, and you relaxed as he tenderly massaged cream into your burning skin. 

You sniffed softly, wincing as he gently pulled some silk shorts up over your bum. He buttoned the matching top around you, earning your thanks. You twisted to look at him, pulling him to lay down in front of you, still fully dressed in his suit.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, and he pulled you into his chest, letting you snuggle against him.

“I know, my love. It’s perfectly okay. All is forgiven,” he promised, kissing your head. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly for as long as he let you. He kissed the protests off of your lips when he stood up, promising he was just changing and then coming back. 

You laid in the white sheets, waiting for your lover to return. He slid into bed next to you, watching the way your eyes lit up at his arrival. He pressed a kiss against your mouth, smiling as you curled up to rest under his arm. 

“My darling.”

.

“Zemo?” you called, walking with a slight limp into the kitchen. 

“I’m here. You didn’t need to be up so early,” he said, looking out the window before kissing your cheek. 

“I wanted to see you,” you answered, happy you’d caught him before a day of meetings.

“See me? Why wouldn’t you?”

“Work...” you answered, looking up at him as if he’d forgotten. 

“I’m off today. What would you like to do?” he asked, turning around and placing a plate of pancakes in your hands. 

You gazed up at him, his smile reaching his dark eyes. He’d felt guilty with how much time he’d spent working. He knew that was the real reason for you acting out, and all he wanted was to make up for it and spend some extra time with you. 

“Would it be wasteful to watch films? And eat these?” You asked.

“That would be perfect,” he helped you onto the couch, making sure you were able to sit comfortably. 

You giggled as he forked a piece of pancake into your mouth, kissing the syrup off of your lips. You ate and watched the movie, gasping at the scary parts and laughing as Zemo covered your eyes. 

“I love you, you know?”

[hardlyinteresting]

Daniel Brühl Characters as starbucks drinks

these are just my opinions, don't hate me. LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT A PART TWO!!!!

Laszlo

3 shots espresso, steamed oat milk, 4 pumps brown sugar syrup, and cinnamon powder.

Equal parts bitter coffee, and sweet finish. A dash of spice. Warm and cozy.

Zemo

2 Earl grey tea bags, 4 pumps of vanilla syrup, and steamed milk.

Regal. Hints of citrus, Italian bergamot, lavender, and vanilla. Sweet and warm. We know he has a sweet tooth.

Tony Balerdi

2 shots espresso with steamed milk.

European style. Simple. Sophisticated. Quick.

Alex Kerner

2 shots of espresso, 3 pumps of apple brown sugar syrup, steamed milk, spiced apple drizzle.

Warm, sweet, fall vibes. (I think it's all the flannel shirts, but I just think fall when I see him). Cozy.

[the-ravening]

Get to know me tag game

Tagged by my darling @unlikelymilliner, thank you! 💖💖

1. Favorite piece of clothing you own?

I have a pink leopard print sweater that’s really soft, so probably that. After working from home in pjs for two years, I don’t know if I can ever go back to fashion over comfort.

2. Your comfort food?

Whenever I get sick I mostly want to eat preserved egg congee and sometimes mac & cheese.

3. Favorite time of the year?

Autumn. Sweaters! Scarves! Layers! Also pretty leaves and migrating birds, I guess. And the relief of summer heat and humidity loosening its grip on the city.

4. Favorite song?

Emily by Joanna Newsom

Yes, it’s 12 minutes long and every moment of it is poetry. An excerpt:

Come on home. The poppies are all grown knee-deep by now. Blossoms all have fallen, and the pollen ruins the plow. Peonies nod in the breeze, and while they wetly bow with hydrocephalitic listlessness, ants mop up their brow. And everything with wings is restless, aimless, drunk and dour; butterflies and birds collide at hot, ungodly hours. And my clay-colored motherlessness rangily reclines — Come on home, now! All my bones are dolorous with vines.

5. Do you collect anything?

Not at the moment. Moved into a small condo last year and got more into konmari, so I try to steer clear of clutter. The last thing I was collecting was plants, but I’ve stopped buying them and got rid of some because I ran out of space.

6. Favorite drink?

I never liked earl grey tea until I tried Sloane’s Heavenly Cream, but now it’s my go-to tea.

7. Favorite fanfic (if you are comfortable)?

So many! The one I’ve been obsessed with this past month is Dysfunction by @sagegarnish, where Bucky cheats on Steve with Zemo and I continue to be very 🥵🥵🥵 every time I think of it (and I think of it a lot).

Tagging: (no pressure!) @shadowslament, @sokoviaaccordsarticle16, @kissthymouth, @sagegarnish, and anyone else who wants to do it ❤️❤️❤️

[earlgreydream]

gentle.

| zemo x reader | fluff | smut |

soft dom zemo 🤍 ✨

cw: d/s, daddy kink, praise kink

Zemo walked through the door, closing it behind him quietly. He searched for you quietly, aware you’d likely be asleep at this hour. He found you on the couch, where you had attempted to stay awake for him.

A yellow knitted throw blanket was wrapped around you, and you were half sitting up, having fallen asleep mid-episode of a sitcom.

Zemo smiled at you, amused by your sleeping figure. He shut off the television before picking you up, carrying you to bed so you could have a proper night's sleep.

His heart melted as you snuggled into his chest in your sleep, unconsciously recognizing the presence of your lover. He kissed your forehead, brushing stray hair from your face. He listened to your steady breathing, contently watching you sleep before drifting off himself.

.

“Good morning,” Zemo greeted you.

You were yawning as you walked into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes sleepily. You looked darling, and Zemo watched you in adoration.

“What’re you doing?” You slurred softly, still half-asleep.

“Making you breakfast, pretty girl.”

You leaned up on your toes for a kiss, being happily indulged by Zemo. He carefully hauled you backwards, away from the hot stove.

“I don’t want my little love to burn herself,” Zemo explained to you, making you roll your eyes at his tendency toward being over protective.

His large hand grasped your jaw, holding your head to look at him. He didn’t hurt you, only displaying his strong dominance by manhandling you gently. His grip was only tight enough to hold you, putting you in your place without being harsh.

“Cut the attitude,” Zemo warned softly before holding you still so he could press a firm kiss to your lips.

“Yes, daddy,” you murmured, feeling especially submissive. He’d been gone on a work trip recently, and you were happily well behaved, loving the way he indulged you in attention and doted on you upon his return.

“Go set the table,” he nodded, and you did as he asked.

.

“Why don’t you come back to bed with me?” Zemo asked, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You nodded, gently laying a hand on his cheek and giving him sweet little kisses as you stood in the kitchen, the tile cold against your bare feet. He tapped your bum, signaling you to walk toward the bedroom.

Before you even made it there, Zemo was pulling your shirt over your head— one you had stolen from his side of the closet. Your breath hitched softly, your hands going to your chest to cover yourself as you walked through the house. 

“No, my love, let me see your pretty tits,” he scolded, prying your hands away. You shivered, feeling a bit shy in front of him. You giggled as he mouthed at your chest, kneeling in front of you. The hair on his face tickled your skin, creating an odd sensation. He kissed down to your navel, kneeling before you in just loose gray sweatpants.

He hooked his fingers into your shorts, pulling them swiftly down your legs and tossing them aside. You were left in just your panties, barely covered by pale lilac fabric, plain except for a tiny bow sitting between your hips.

You were so innocent, and Zemo couldn’t get enough.

“Yours too?” You questioned, touching his waistband as he stood up.

“No, pretty girl, I’m going to leave mine on.” Zemo shook his head, sitting down on the bed, his back resting against the headboard. You stood beside the bed, unsure of what he wanted.

“Come here, why’re you being so shy?” He teased lightly, taking your hand and helping you onto the bed.

You were surprised as he pulled you to lay over his lap, your ass in the air as you bent over his thighs. Your arms folded under your head, and you turned to look up at him.

“Are you going to spank me, daddy?” You asked, a whine lilting your voice. You were startled, you’d been so well-behaved, and you didn’t feel like you deserved to be punished.

“No, of course not. I just want to play with you,” Zemo bent down and kissed your lips, easing the uncertainty in your mind.

“You need to relax.”

You nodded, exhaling a slow breath, trying to obey. The tension slowly left your muscles as he trailed fingertips up your bare spine, his touch finding the dips in your back. You gazed at him from under your lashes, admiring the gentle man who loved you. He smiled down at you, brown eyes locking with yours. 

“I love these,” he mused, touching the lilac thong that curved along the swell of your ass.

You let him part your legs a bit, allowing him to see more of you. His strong hands squeezed the flesh of your thigh, pulling them apart on his lap.

Zemo couldn’t tear his eyes off of you. You felt him harden under your belly as he got a full view of your cunt practically spilling out of the thong. The fabric barely covered you, providing a filthy sight to Zemo.

His fingers dipped down, squeezing your puffy sex, cupping your mound and touching your lips. The action made you breathless, and he ran his fingers up and down the light cotton, until a dark patch started to form, your arousal soaking through your panties. He tugged up just slightly, monitoring your reaction at the pressure it put on your clit, the little bundle of nerves that was now throbbing with need.

You’d grown warm on his lap, despite being almost entirely naked. You felt observed, strangely aroused and overly shy as he practically inspected your pussy. You tried to swallow a small whine as the fabric pushed against your clit, biting back the noise.

“Daddy, why are you looking at me?” You whispered, squirming under his touch. You’d done your best to hold still and let him touch you as he pleased, but you were growing needy and embarrassed.

“Because you’re beautiful, little love. Do you want me to bring you pleasure? You’ve been so sweet, I do feel as though you’ve earned a reward,” he offered, the gentle gaze in his eyes completely sincere.

“A reward?” you questioned softly.

He hummed, nodding at you. You smiled shyly, lightly kicking your feet. 

“You’re all wet, darling.”

You buried your face in your arms, sighing as Zemo ran his fingers over your sex before pulling the fabric down your legs. He prodded at your pussy, spreading your lips with his fingers and lightly pinching the puffy skin.

“Daddy, you’re teasing,” you accused, pouting a bit. 

“What do you want?” He asked, a small smirk adorning his gorgeous features. 

He wanted to hear you say it, trying to ease you out of your shyness. 

“I want you to touch me properly, please,” you asked politely, pushing up on your hands to kiss him. 

“I would be happy to, my love.” 

You relaxed back on him, humming as he dragged his fingers through your folds, bringing them down to rub lazy circles on your clit. The small movements had heat spreading between your hips, tension starting to form. 

Zemo eased off of the direct stimulation, pushing one of his longer fingers past your tight muscles, feeling your velvety walls swallow his digit. He slowly pumped it in and out, your body squeezing around him as he inserted a second finger. 

He listened to the soft sigh that left your lips, morphing into a moan as he stroked forward, pressing against your g-spot. He relished in the mewels that escaped you, your back bowing as he rubbed your clit while moving his fingers inside of you, brushing sensitive areas that had you seeing stars. 

“Oh... daddy,” you whined, the pressure tight in your abdomen, settled just above your sex. Your muscles contracted around his fingers, clamping down as goosebumps rose over your delicate skin. 

“Are you close, darling?”

You nodded, unable to trust yourself not to scream if you tried to speak. You squirmed on his lap, your thighs shaking. 

“Let go for me, pretty girl, I want to see you come all over my fingers,” Zemo encouraged, smirking as you squeezed your legs around his hands, trying to stop the stimulation as you came. Your fingers gripped the begging and you squealed, arching your back as you lit like a match, pleasure spreading through every inch of your body. 

Zemo gently kept up his slow thrusts, his fingers dipping in and out of you, helping you ride out your orgasm, prolonging it as long as possible. 

The tension in your muscles faded with your release, leaving you relaxed and dazed. Calm settled over you, deep breaths making your back rise and fall. 

“That’s my sweet girl, taking my fingers so well. You look so pretty when you come. I’m so proud of you.”

You glowed at his praise, savoring the gentle moment with your dom. He took the time to carefully clean you up before pulling you up to sit on his lap. Your fingertips ran through his facial hair, beaming as he gazed at you with his kind brown eyes. 

He pulled you into a kiss, strong arms wrapping around your back and closing you against his chest. His lips moved against yours perfectly, Zemo an expert scholar in your body and your kisses. He swallowed your quiet, happy sighs, enjoying the intimacy. 

.

“I love you,” Zemo spoke, a Sokovian accent lilting off of his words.

He was massaging lotion into your body after a shared shower, protecting your skin from the dry air. A cup of jasmine tea was in your hands, steaming and filling the room with a sweet scent, mixing with the smell of your lotion. 

“I love you too. I’m really happy you’re home.”

“I won’t leave for that long again. I missed you, I’ll stay local from now on,” he said, surprising you. 

“You’re staying local? But you’ve always traveled with work,” you questioned, thinking you misunderstood.

“I have, but you’re everything to me, and I can’t stand to be apart from you.”

He melted at the grin that spread across your face, your joyful kiss tasting like jasmine. You leaned back into his chest, his arms snaking around you to hold you in a tight hug. 

“I can’t imagine anything better than waking up to you every morning. So that is what I plan to do, as long as you let me,” Zemo said.

“I’ll let you stay forever.”

[earlgreydream]

abandoned.

| zemo x reader | smut |

dark!zemo

cw: highly dubcon (kinda noncon), abduction, mentions of torture, forced breeding, dark!zemo, lactation kink

“You think you’re something, no?” The mocking laughter was dripping in cruelty.

You bit your tongue so hard you tasted blood. Your eyes stayed trained on a crack in the floor a few feet ahead of where you were kneeling on cold cement.

You didn’t react when a hand cracked across your face, knocking you to the side, trying to pull an answer out of you.

“They’ll come for me. The avengers won’t leave me, they’ll come back for me!” You spat, looking up into cold brown eyes. They were empty, soulless in fact. His gaze iced your soul, sending a chill down your spine.

“My darling, not even god himself can save you now,” he sneered.

“Fuck. You.”

“You’ll join us, Y/N. You’ll become well acquainted with your villains when you realize there’s no other option.”

You should your head, screaming against the gag that was shoved in your mouth, silencing your vengeful yells.

. . .

Months. You had been abandoned for months.

After being abducted on a mission in Sokovia, your team had never returned for you. Or if they had, they never found you.

You’d been locked in a cold, cement chamber. You were left alone, only fed and given water as little as necessary.

Helmut Zemo was determined to break you.

. . .

Three months later, the door opened, light pouring onto the cement floor.

“Submit to me, and I’ll let you out of this cage,” Zemo knelt down, his thin lips curving into a lopsided smile.

“You’ve spent months here in this filth. Don’t you want to be cleaned up and fed and doted on? You are so pointlessly resistant.”

“Please get me out of here,” you begged weakly.

All of your resolve had crumbled. Your team never saved you, and you were all out of options. The only thing standing between you and getting out of this cell was your own stubbornness, and you were ready to give it up.

You felt like your mind was fracturing, and you were left numb, pliant for the sadistic baron. You decided you didn’t care what “submit to me” meant— as anything would be better than your current situation.

A leather-gloved hand was held out to you as chains were removed from your wrists. You hesitated before taking it, letting the baron pull you to your feet.

That was the first time you realized how much bigger Zemo was than you. He was tall, broad, and strong, with a dominating presence that overpowered you.

And cold, empty eyes.

. . .

You didn’t know which was worse: being in a solitary dark cell, or being Zemo’s toy, decorated and attached to his side like a pet.

You’d gotten so used to the feeling of his hands on your body, you almost craved it. You were starved for affection, for touch, for interaction, and Zemo was the one satiating your needs.

“Come here, little one.” 

You rose from your seat on the chair in the corner, approaching Zemo. He was lounging on his bed in a white bathrobe, an arm tucked behind his bed. The baron watched you walk over to him, having no reason to disobey. You’d abandoned all of your resolve, and you went to his side when asked. 

If you behaved, he didn’t torture you. You’d learned after your first attempted escape, you were far better off just doing as he asked. When you obeyed Zemo, you were awarded the liberty of being dressed and fed, and he wasn’t violent with you. 

You flinched when he reached up and touched your face, turning your head away. 

“Get on the bed.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, opening your eyes to look at your captor. 

“Get in the bed on your own, or I will force you.”

You crawled onto the mattress, letting him push you onto your back. It seemed to appease him a bit, because he lifted your hips and put a pillow under you, carefully smoothing his hands up your legs. 

“Aren’t you going to get a condom?” you asked weakly as he dropped his robe and pulled your knees apart. You’d stopped resisting, looking up at the blond in concern.

“No, my darling, I’m going to breed this little body of yours, and let you carry my heir,” he said, making your body feel frozen. You couldn’t swallow the knot that swelled in your throat, choking on the fear his words instilled in you. 

“Don’t cry. You’re going to look gorgeous when you swell with life,” Zemo said, sliding his hands up your body and kneading your breasts roughly.

“And these... My heir may have to share,” he growled, lightly biting your skin. 

“Zemo, Zemo, please. Get someone else, I don’t...” you sobbed, weakly pushing at his chest. He gripped your wrists in one hand, easily overpowering you with his size. 

You despised how good of a fuck he was. He filled you perfectly, even more so when he wasn’t protected. You tried to block out who it was, just feeling another warm body. 

Zemo at least had the grace to make you come first. 

It made your body relax around him, clouding your mind with happy chemicals as he emptied his seed in you, buried so deep he was practically shooting into your cervix. 

He didn’t let you up, forcing you to lay with your hips elevated, staying buried deep in your sex. He hushed you, though not harshly. 

“I know it’s frightening, but just take it. Be my brave girl, Y/N.”

“You’re sick.”

“Oh, darling, you don’t know the depths of my depravity.”

You didn’t doubt him.

. . . 

Zemo had been informed by several of his employees that you wouldn’t stop crying, and they kept asking to sedate you. He’d harshly declined, reminding them of your pregnancy. 

Finally, he left his work, going to see what the problem was. Since you’d been carrying his child, you’d become more docile, and even less resistant to him, as if the part of him growing inside of you had plunged you fully into stockholm syndrome. 

“Y/N. Whatever is the matter?” Zemo entered his chambers, which had become yours as well. 

You looked up at him, wrapped in a knitted blanket, curled up on the corner of his couch. He knelt down in front of you, and an outsider may have thought he was caring. Really, he was worried about his heir, your extreme stress becoming problematic. You didn’t matter to him.

“You will answer me, unless you want to sit back in that cell.”

“I’m lactating too early and it hurts,” you confessed in embarrassment, tears spilling past your waterline. 

Zemo pulled your shirt off of you, freeing you from the constraining fabric. You let him inspect you, begging softly for help.

“Please do something, I’m in pain,” you begged, choking on your words.

He hummed, having half a mind to let you sit and weep. He watched you for a moment before an alternative came to mind. 

“Come here,” he commanded, sitting beside you. 

He helped you onto his lap, easing you to straddle him. He carefully squeezed your breast, earning a pained whine. Nothing happened at first, and you squirmed in discomfort. You cried out when milk started to drip from you, easing the painful pressure. 

“Zemo?” you questioned softly in embarrassment as he leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking the milk into his mouth. 

You were horrified, but you couldn’t deny him as the pain began to dissipate. It was terribly arousing, and you carded your fingers through his hair, your dark, twisted, unhinged lover. 

When he moved to the other one, you had stopped crying, soothed by the relief from pressure and pain that had been plaguing you for days. 

“Better?” Zemo asked, pinching you enough to hurt. 

“Yes, thank you.”

“I expect you to be good for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

[earlgreydream]

discipline.

| zemo x reader | smut |

requested. one shot about him like the Bucky and Loki safeword fic

cw: spanking, mentions of pain, use of safeword

a/n: I love this one 🤍

“You’ve made me incredibly angry with your behavior today.” Zemo’s words hung heavy in the air.

You wouldn’t even look at him, your gaze fixed on a point in the Baroque painting hanging on the opposite wall. You sat silent, your arms crossed over your chest in defiance.

Zemo’s emotion was pouring off of him in waves, the steam practically visible. You didn’t care how angry you made him, you were in a terrible mood and you wanted it to seep out and spill over everything. Your emotions were screaming inside of you, and you wanted to be destructive. You wanted to make Zemo as angry as you felt.

“Look at me when I am speaking to you!” Zemo grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him.

You instinctively raised your hand to strike him, but he caught your wrist in a tight grip just before you could hit him. Your heart stuttered when you saw the look in his eye, and you knew you’d overstepped your boundary.

Zemo’s patience with you was nearly unending. He put up with a lot— far more than any other dom you’d ever heard of. It took significant effort to rile the sokovian, but once you did, there was no going back.

“Zemo,” you started, the word coming out broken from your strained voice.

“You are never to strike me. We do not use violence to communicate, do I make myself entirely clear?” Zemo’s tone was dangerous, burning through you like acid.

You felt sick.

“Yes, sir,” you answered meekly, suddenly very ashamed of yourself and frightened by his tone.

A sharp sigh left him, brown eyes holding an intense gaze on you. His expression was filled with disappointment and anger, and he wrestled within himself to keep from lashing out.

“Why have you acted this way?” Zemo finally settled on the question, silently waiting for your answer.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, and he tilted your chin up.

“You’re really going to test my patience?” It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I just feel bored and annoyed and I wanted to get under your skin,” you confessed, knowing from experience that honesty was the best route to take with Zemo.

“You’ve intended to antagonize me?”

So many questions. You hated being interrogated.

“I expect an answer.”

“Yes,” you sighed, exasperation edging at your tone.

Zemo was floored by the amount of disrespect he was receiving from you. It was out of character, but you were going to extremes today. Usually when you decided to act bratty, a single swat would take care of the behavior.

Now, you’d surpassed being a brat and Zemo was overwhelmed by your behavior. He held his will, trying not to show how much you’d managed to get to him.

You stood in his office, where you’d interrupted his work, and he was leaning against the edge of his desk, standing in front of you.

Both of you jumped when the door opened, breaking the suffocating tension between you.

“Sam, James, is it terribly important?” Zemo asked, his tone impatient.

“Yes, we need to talk about the reintegration strategies,” James nodded, earning a sigh from the baron.

“Y/N. Sit in that chair, and do not move.” He pointed to a brown leather chair in the corner of his office, and you gave him a sullen look.

After a brief hesitation, you obeyed, sitting down. You listened to them for a while, completely lost on what was being discussed. Zemo kept eyeing you as you shifted and squirmed, restless and anxious.

You felt trapped under his gaze, and you were fed up with being made to sit through the meeting. You stood, avoiding eye contact with Zemo as you left the office, blatantly disobeying his command.

He didn’t make a scene, not in front of the two men. Your sex life and dom and sub dynamics were kept private. Of course, living together, the men knew, but Zemo tried to limit those interactions when you had an audience.

Zemo watched you leave the office, fighting to contain himself and his frustration. Both James and Sam looked uneasy, but Zemo just ignored their discomfort, sending the tension between the two of you.

Once the meeting was done, he sat at his desk for a moment, gathering himself. He cleaned up his work before going to search for you. He found you at the table on your laptop, and he reached over you and closed the screen.

You stopped breathing for a moment, knowing you were finally about to face the consequences of your actions.

“Come with me,” his voice was low, and his hand went to your back, pushing you to stand and walk with him.

“Are you sorry for the way you’ve acted, or are you just sorry that you’re being punished?” Zemo asked when you murmured a nervous apology.

“Both.”

“Undress.”

He locked the door to your suite, ensuring you wouldn’t be interrupted by any unwelcome visitors. He slid his jacket off and rolled up the sleeves of his button-down before turning to watch your dress fall from your figure. It pooled around you at your feet, and you earned a hard stare as he waited for you to finish stripping.

“What’s your safe word?” Zemo asked as he closed your wrists together in leather cuffs.

“Draga.”

He tugged you forward by your bound wrists, causing your body to fall against his broad chest.

“You understand I am not doing this to be cruel?”

“Yes, sir.”

He bent you over the edge of the table, the glass top freezing against your skin. Your hands pressed against the glass under you, your head resting on the tabletop. It was just too high, your toes barely finding footing on the ground, leaving your entire backside on display and not awarding you any protection.

Zemo stared at you for several minutes, allowing you to grow even more uneasy. He saw goosebumps ride over your skin at the sound of his footsteps. You weren’t afraid of him, but you dreaded being punished, even though you knew that’s where you’d end up. You needed it, you couldn’t deny that, but it was always miserable.

He went to a box that kept your sex toys and various instruments inside, pulling it from the closet. You squirmed on the tabletop when you saw what he’d selected.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, pushing yourself up with your hands.

“Get back down,” Zemo ordered sternly, completely fed up with your shit.

You were already in over your head, and you obeyed, not wanting to push the baron into torturing you further than necessary.

“No,” you choked as he unscrewed the jar he held.

His hand came down hard on your ass, just at the top of your thigh, pain blooming under the impact.

“Unless it’s your safe word, you will keep your mouth shut.”

You nodded meekly, biting back a cry of pain as he rubbed capsaicin cream on your sex, making you feel like you were being set on fire. He reserved it for your severe transgressions, knowing it hurt instantly and would leave you crying until he cleaned it off of your skin.

Your breathless gasp of pain hurt Zemo, and he was thankful you weren’t looking at him when he physically winced. He was serious about respect, and you needed to be punished, though he hated seeing you in pain, especially when you didn’t want it.

You flinched as he struck you with the leather strap in his hand. It was far more forceful than when he was spanking you for pleasure, the leather biting into your delicate skin. There was power behind his aim, practiced so he didn’t leave you injured, but enough to truly instill his discipline.

You dragged your fingers against the glass under you as he delivered several blows in fast succession. You felt like the burning in your skin was swallowing you, the pain receptors in your brain screaming. You forced yourself not to cry out, your breathing hard and unsteady. Tears slid down your cheeks and collected on the glass under your head as pink welts rose on your skin, white hot pain streaking through the skin as he hit the same spots.

Zemo swallowed thickly as you finally screamed, the burning on your clit and sex becoming so intense that you couldn’t contain the expression of pain. You writhed each time he hit you, physically unable to remain still.

You didn’t want him to be disappointed in you. You regretted your behavior, and you felt small and weak underneath him as he disciplined you. The pain scared you, fraying your nerves. You waited until it started to numb, but it never did. 

“Draga!” You shouted, the word sharp in Zemo’s ears. 

He set down the strap and immediately cleaned the capsaicin cream from your skin, the burning subsiding on your sex. Your ass and the back of your thighs were still horribly painful, red welts raised over the rosy, bruised skin that was hot to the touch. 

“I’m going to untie you in a second, my love, just hang on for me,” Zemo said softly, his tone soothing. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you started to sob, the dam breaking. You folded in on yourself, weeping as Zemo gently rubbed your tender skin with pain relief gel. 

“It’s alright, my love. I need you to breathe, you’re okay,” Zemo helped you stand, making sure you were steady on your feet before unbinding your wrists. 

He held your face in his hands, and you leaned into his touch, gazing up at him with tearful eyes. 

“I won’t disobey you like that again, please don’t hit me anymore,” you begged, your voice raw from crying. His heart broke at your words, though he knew it came from your subdrop, and you were confused, stuck in a cloudy head.

“I’m not, my love. We’re done, you took your punishment so well. I’m not angry, I just want to hold you. Will you let me?” Zemo asked, and you nodded, letting him pick you up. He was careful not to touch you anywhere that hurt, carrying you to the couch in the corner of the room. 

He settled with you on his lap, your head buried in his chest. His arms snaked around you, holding you securely and gently rocking you, trying to calm you down. 

He relaxed when your breathing evened out, and your eyes brightened. He handed you a glass of water, quietly encouraging you to drink. Your hands were no longer so shaky, and he brushed hair from your face.

“How are you feeling?” Zemo asked, setting the glass aside when you handed it back to him. 

“Sore.”

“I’m sorry, love. I never meant to take it too far. Is there any way you could forgive me?”

You offered him a soft smile, knowing he feared truly hurting you. You touched his face, leaning up and giving him a kiss. Your fingers traced the curve of his jaw as you quietly told him that you loved him, and you were okay.

“I love you, more than anything. I hate to show you anything less than adoration.”

“I know. I won’t make you have to,” you promised, earning another kiss from your boyfriend. 

The kiss slowly deepened, and you parted your lips, moaning softly. His tongue grazed yours before it became more sensual. His hand slid between your legs, gently stroking through your folds, replacing the discomfort with soft pleasure. He swallowed your tiny moans, easing two fingers past your tight ring of muscle as his thumb toyed with your clit. 

“I want to make you feel good,” Zemo hummed, kissing down your jaw and throat. His lips pressed against your skin, making your arousal grow in a tight knot. Zemo’s fingers stroked your g-spot, knowing every inch of your body, expertly drawing pleasure from you. 

“Zemo,” you whined into his neck, your face squeezing in as you felt pricks of electricity run through you. 

“Let go, baby. I want to hear those beautiful sounds,” he hummed, his voice low. Your fingers gripped his white shirt and you came with a shudder, endorphins replacing the pain signals in your mind. You melted into Zemo, mewling softly as he continued to slowly finger you until you’d stopped shaking. 

“Feel better?”

“Yes,” you sighed, laying your head in the curve of his shoulder. 

“How about we clean up and have some dinner?”

You nodded, letting him carry you to a hot shower.

[earlgreydream]

leather gloves.

| zemo x reader | smut | fluff |

anon requested. p,, please,, can you write something w Zemo spanking the reader,, I’m so parched

dom!Zemo getting frightened when he learns you’ve put yourself in danger

“You put yourself in danger! How could you have been so careless with your safety!?” Bucky screamed at you.

You fell back against the wall and slid down it, covering your head with your arms and weeping into your knees. Bucky punched the wall above your head, making you nearly jump out of your skin.

You sobbed violently, frightened and anxious. Bucky was seething with fury, and Sam slapped the table on the other side of the room. You trembled, trying to curl up into a smaller ball, wanting to sink into the floor and disappear. 

“You’re untrained! You said you were going to the bodega for fucking tea! And what were you doing instead, on some kind of mission to kill Karli? Did you seriously think you had a chance?! You lied, put yourself in danger, went on a death mission... you’re lucky that you’re alive! You wouldn’t be if we hadn’t gotten there!” Bucky’s voice thundered through the room, jarring you.

“I just wanted-”

“You wanted what?!” Sam shouted angrily.

“I didn’t... want to run anymore,” your voice was raw and meek.

Ice-cold terror shot down your spine as footsteps echoed into the room. You didn’t dare look up, not wanting to face the source of the noise.

“Leave us,” the Sokovian spoke.

The doors slammed behind Bucky and Sam, trapping you alone with Zemo. He crossed the room and knelt in front of you, brown eyes boring into you. The tension was thick, your sobs the only noise.

“Are you harmed?” Zemo asked finally.

“N-no sir,” you forced out.

His hand grasped your jaw, tilting your face up to force you to look at him. You were shaking as your body wracked with sobs, and you wanted to sink back away from him.

“Do not ever lie to me again.”

Zemo struggled to control the anger and fear in his voice. Mostly, he was thankful that you were unharmed, that Bucky and Sam had found you before the rogue soldiers could kill you. Zemo had been gone on a private affair, and you’d convinced Bucky to let you go down to the bodega for some tea. He’d made you call Zemo, and you’d sweetly asked for permission from your boyfriend. He’d granted it, believing your lie. Really, you’d snuck down an alley, armed with a handgun, going after your enemy.

Panic had surged through him when he was informed of the situation. It was replaced by fury when he found out you were fine, but had lied to him and broken his rules. Zemo was strict with you, to protect your safety. You knew this, you knew exactly what risks you were taking by disobeying him. Killing your enemy who’d sent the four of you on the run would be worth whatever consequence and discipline Zemo administered, but you’d failed. Now, you were at the mercy of his wrath for nothing.

“I’m sorry,” you wept, tears pouring down your cheeks as you looked up at Zemo, unable to free your jaw from his grip.

“You will be. I’ll give you a reason to cry.”

You closed your eyes as another sob bubbled up in your throat at his words. You knew it wasn’t a threat, but a promise. Your head dropped when he let go of your jaw, and he laid his hand on your back.

You were covered in dirt and blood, thankfully not your own. He fought off the emotion that washed through him, and the desire to cradle you. He wouldn’t discipline you when his anger and fear were still raw and driving his emotions, and he decided it best to clean you up first.

“Come with me,” Zemo commanded.

You took his hand, letting him help you to your feet. You kept your eyes trained on the floor as he pulled you from the safe house kitchen, leading you back to the master suite you’d been sharing over the last few weeks.

Your throat ached from crying, and misery settled over you as the doors closed behind Zemo. You felt like you could be sick from anxiety, and his hand went to your lower back, pushing you toward the tub in the middle of the room. He turned on the water before unzipping what was left of your torn suit.

“You’re not injured?” He looked to be sure, not wanting to hurt you.

“No sir.”

“Get in,” Zemo lifted you into the tub and you inhaled sharply as your skin came into contact with the icy cold water. You knew better than to complain, and Zemo helped you clean up as you continued to cry.

You gasped as he took the faucet and sprayed the cold water over your body, washing away the blood and dirt, leaving you shivering. You sighed in relief when he shut off the faucet, helping you out and wrapping you in a towel.

“Please forgive me. I’ll never lie to you again, I’ll never put myself in danger, I’m so sorry,” you stammered out, looking him in the eyes as you trembled before him.

Zemo pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you and cradling your body against his.

“You frightened me, I was worried. I know you won’t do it again. I’m no longer angry, my dear.”

You clung to him tightly, hiding your face in his chest. He held you, thankful to feel your heartbeat against his body. Zemo gently led you to the bed, sitting on the edge and positioning you to stand between his legs.

“You gotta breathe,” Zemo’s leather glove clad hands held yours against his chest, calming you down from your ragged breathing.

“I’m sorry-”

“You don’t need to be frightened of me.”

You knew that. You knew you couldn’t escape your fate, and panicking and crying was only prolonging your own misery, and Zemo’s too.

You weren’t afraid of being punished, you just hated the disappointment and anger that preceded it. You tried to calm down for him, but your mind was racing.

“Please do not make me put this off until the morning. I don’t want to do this to you, but I can’t just let you lie to me and break the rules,” Zemo’s tone was eerily calm, granted, he had a lot of practice. You rarely behaved— but being screamed at by Bucky had kept you in line, as it was almost worse than anything Zemo would ever do to you. That’s what had started your meltdown.

You exhaled softly as Zemo kissed you. It calmed your spinning mind, and you let him pull you over his lap. He tossed your towel aside, and you tensed as you felt leather smooth up the back of your thighs.

“Tell me your safe word.”

“Draga,” you answered, letting the top half of your body rest on the mattress.

You jolted forward at the first sharp impact. The leather gloves increased the pain, and you were biting back whimpers almost immediately. Zemo’s force and strength never wavered, even when your self control gave way to crying. He spanked you roughly, watching as arousal smeared on the inside of your thighs. 

Your skin was glowing red with heat, and you couldn’t keep yourself from squirming, trying to wince away from his touch. Zemo scourged you severely, and as much as you hated it, it ignited warmth deep inside of your belly. 

“Please-” you whimpered pathetically as he slipped his belt off, the muscles of his arms flexing under the white button down that was rolled up to his elbows. 

“My dear, I will give you five more for every word that isn’t draga,” Zemo’s belt cracked against your already burning skin, a sharp sting shooting up your spine. It ripped a scream from you, and you gasped as leather fingers slipped through your folds, feeling how soaked you were from the punishment. 

Zemo’s black Louis Vuitton belt bit into your skin as he whipped you nine more times, his other hand gently holding your back down as you tried to writhe away from him. 

“It’s alright, you’re done,” he said softly, pulling you up and being careful not to brush your painful skin. 

“I’m sorry, Zemo,” you hiccuped softly, and he shook his head.

“No, my dear, it’s over. Don’t apologize, it’s forgotten.” 

Zemo kissed you, calming your leftover anxieties. Your arms went around his neck and you clung to him. He softened, pulling off the leather gloves and rubbing your back. When you pulled away, the brushed the tears off of your face, kissing your cheeks sweetly. 

“Lay on the bed, let me clean you up,” his voice was much softer, and you did as he asked. His touch was tender and soothing, easing the pain he’d inflicted earlier. 

“Are you going to let me hold you?” Zemo asked, kissing up your spine. You turned your head, accepting the kiss that was planted to your lips. Zemo worried you’d push him away after what he’d just put you through, but you pushed up onto shaky knees and hugged him.

“Of course.”

He got up and put the jar of salve away before stripping down and climbing into bed with you. You winced a bit as the cool sheets settled over you. Zemo murmured an apology against your lips before pulling your leg over his. He laid you on his chest, positioning you so he could roll his hips into yours, slowly filling you up. You moaned as your intense sexual frustration was satiated, feeling him gently fuck up into you. Your gently tugged at his blond hair, moaning into his neck. You pressed heavy kisses to his throat, and he murmured quiet praises in Sokovian. You let yourself melt into the lazy sex, all of the fear, agitation, and anxiety vanishing with the slow thrusts. 

“May I?” you asked breathlessly.

“Whenever you’d like,” Zemo kissed you, groaning as he felt your walls pulse around him before heavy waves of sleepy euphoria rolled over you. Almost immediately after orgasming, you drifted off on his chest, falling into a sedated sleep. 

Zemo looked over as you rolled onto your back, immediately waking up from the pressure. You moved onto your side and rubbed your eyes, a small yawn leaving your lips. 

“Good morning, my dear.”

“Morning,” you hummed, your voice raspy from your sore throat. He frowned at the sound, leaning over and kissing your eyelids, making your lips turn into a smile. 

“Let me see,” He gently pulled you toward him, inspecting your raw skin. He grabbed the jar from the bedside, putting another layer of its contents on your backside. You jerked, whining a complaint as Zemo touched you. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. 

“You’re not still mad?”

“No, my dear, never with you. However, I do expect you to apologize to James and Sam.”

You got up and brushed your teeth, tying your hair onto your head. He sat on the bed, watching you move, able to tell you were sore. 

“Yes, sir.”

He pulled a loose white eyelet dress over your head, trying to spare you from further discomfort. He tossed on joggers and a t-shirt, walking to the kitchen with you and immediately going to make you some jasmine tea for your throat. 

“Y/N?” Zemo prompted you.

You looked up at Bucky and Sam, both men still looking displeased with you. When you didn’t speak, Zemo swatted you. You gasped and grabbed the edge of the counter at the small reminder to be good. 

“I’m sorry. James, Sam, I should never have lied to you or sent you out to look for me. Please forgive me. It won’t happen again,” you apologized.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” Sam finally relented, and Bucky nodded.

“I’m glad you’re safe. You really frightened me.” Bucky squeezed your arms gently. You mouthed a small thank you, and Zemo put steaming tea in your hands. 

“James?” Zemo asked, catching the brunette’s attention. 

“If you ever yell at Y/N like that again, you will wish that I killed you. Got it?” Zemo threatened, startling him.

[earlgreydream]

| baron zemo |

One shots:

mischief in madripoor. (s) you cause mischief on a night out in the city, pulling Sam, Bucky, and Zemo into a night of deviance

guide me. (s,f) Zemo shows you how to take care of yourself when he’s gone on business

leather gloves. (s,f) requested. You put yourself in danger, scaring Zemo into teaching you about safety 

florist. (s,f) requested. zemo takes your virginity and ties you up

abandoned. (s) your captor forces you to carry his heir (dubcon/noncon)

gentle. (s,f) soft dom zemo returning from traveling

discipline. (s) using your safe word with Zemo

stranger. (s) requested. you try to steal from Zemo at a club, thinking you’ll get away with it 

tamer. (s,f) requested. Zemo tames you when you’re a brat 

little rewards. (s,f) requested. Zemo caring for sick reader

Blurbs:

yes, sir. (s) requested. you act up in a club, and Bucky and Zemo punish you

humiliation. (s) requested. you disobey Zemo, and he humiliates you as punishment 

coat. (f) requested. daddy!Zemo gets you a coat that matches his for your birthday 

reckless. (s,a) requested. Zemo and Bucky rail you after you get reckless on a mission

Series:

stranger

[earlgreydream]

humiliation.

| zemo x reader | smut |

anon requested. dom Zemo + talking down to reader during an argument and then humiliating her about being turned on by it 😳 perhaps while he fucks her throat 😳😳

a/n: don’t even look at me right now

cw: humiliation, semi-public, degradation, punishment, light slapping, suggested denial, d/s, etc... (all consensual)

“Do not test me right now.”

“I can handle myself, you didn’t need to intervene!” You snapped back at Zemo.

“You can’t! Do not be reckless!” He shouted at you.

“Zemo-”

You were abruptly interrupted by his hand around your throat, forcing you down to your knees.

“Do you see how fucking easy it is to control you?!” Zemo thundered in a dominating display of strength.

Your eyes widened, shocked by how easily he could manhandle you and get you to drop before him. You had overestimated yourself. You certainly thought that you were stronger than you were proving to be.

You were ashamed that the force made arousal flood through you, awakening a part of you that craved to be dominated. Zemo noticed, like he noticed everything.

“And you like it, don’t you? You filthy little slut, you love this!” Zemo sneered.

“Answer me!” The hand around your throat squeezed in a threat.

“Yes, sir...” another wave of heat washed through your body.

“What are you? I want to hear you say it.”

You swallowed hard, fighting back your tears as you submitted to the Baron.

“I’m a... a filthy little slut,” you forced the words past your lips, utterly humiliated.

You were mortified that this demonstration was turning you on, that you were growing aroused from it. Your eyes snapped to Bucky and Sam, who were leaning against the wall with glasses of bourbon, watching the scene unfold before them.

“You like it that they watch too? You really are a whore. Let’s give them something to look at, then!” Zemo ripped your dress from you like it was nothing.

Your cheeks burned in humiliation as Zemo bared your body in front of the other men and tapped the head of his cock against your lips. You didn’t part your lips immediately, still trying to wrap your mind around what was happening. Zemo was angry at you for going against orders and nearly dying when you weren’t strong enough to fight, and now, you were mostly naked on the floor, in front of the three men you worked for.

“Open your mouth or I’ll spank your soaked cunt in front of them too,” Zemo growled.

The threat had you immediately obeying, letting him bury himself down your throat, fucking you at a brutal pace that had you gagging. You’d let him fuck your mouth before, but never in such an aggressive, primal manner.

“You’re a weak, dirty little slut. You can’t fight us, or our enemies; it took nothing to bring you to your knees. Maybe we should just keep you here as our little toy, sucking cock is all you’re good at.”

Tears blinded your vision as he drilled into your throat, making you choke around him. His hand gripped your hair, holding your head still, the other slapping your tits, making you jolt and squeal. You could hear the other men touching themselves to the sight of you, moaning when Zemo was rough with you. You obediently kept your hands behind your back, not wanting to further your punishment.

You had completely soaked through the cotton that hugged your sex, dripping on the floor and making a mess. Zemo pointed it out, loving to humiliate you and watch your body react to it.

A startled gasp escaped you when Zemo tugged your head back by your hair, just as he started to throb. You flinched back from him as he came all over your face and chest, making your skin sticky. It mixed with your tears, and you looked even more pathetic than before.

“You’re going to kneel here, covered in my come, and think about how you’ve acted. This is how disobedient, reckless little sluts are treated until they learn their place!” Zemo snapped, sending a shudder rolling down your spine.

You closed your eyes, the cold tile floors biting into your knees. You would’ve been freezing if not for their gazes on you, keeping your body hot with embarrassment. Zemo knew exactly how to ensure you wouldn’t disobey orders, putting you in your place, and on display for everyone to witness.

Zemo made you kneel there, in the middle of the living room, for hours while they worked, openly staring at you every once in a while.

“Go clean yourself up,” Zemo ordered as they finished working and headed toward the kitchen to make dinner.

You scrambled to your feet, nearly toppling over as unsteadiness knocked you off balance. Zemo’s cold gaze sent you running for your shared suite.

You retreated to the safety of your shower, washing away the shameful punishment of your behavior. You spent longer than necessary under the water, taking the time to recover from your fractured headspace.

You changed into a robe, wanting to stay warm before Zemo expected you naked in your bed that night.

You jumped as he grasped your jaw, making you look up at him.

“You do not disobey me from now on, or this evening will feel like a blessing. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you didn’t hesitate, your voice broken from your raw throat.

“Good. Now give me this,” he pulled the tie of your robe open. He landed a slap to your ass as you made your way to the bed.

“I’m going to ravish you.”

[earlgreydream]

florist.

| Zemo x reader | fluff | smut |

anon requested. Zemo is a mob boss and the reader is a cute little florist who is always happy and all and she is a virgin but Zemo is really experienced. The reader wants to try it, and Zemo asks her is she’s sure and then she wiggles a lot and Zemo asks is he can tie her up because we ✨kinky✨ and she agrees and then after they try it the reader loves it and then Zemo sings her bah bah black sheep as a lullaby after wards as he holds her in his arms

The sweet aroma of roses welcomed the dark mob boss with the bloody hands. It surrounded Zemo, delicate and familiar, much like you. The bell chimed as he pushed open the door to your shop, leather boots tapping on swept tile floors.

“I’ll be with you in a second!” You called, bent down behind the counter, looking for white ribbon to tie bouquets.

“No rush, darling,” Zemo spoke evenly.

At the sound of your boyfriend’s Sokovian accent, you stood up. His heart softened when you beamed at him, a bright smile crossing your face. He loved your cheerful demeanor and your sweet personality. You brought the scary criminal so much joy, balancing the darkness with your light.

“Hi,” you breathed, walking around to greet him properly.

“Hello my beautiful darling,” he kissed you deeply, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“What brings you here? I thought you had big important meetings?” You asked, sliding your hands into his blond hair and dragging him back to your lips before he could answer.

“I just wanted to see my girl,” Zemo murmured into your neck, adding to the fading love bites that were already there.

“I’m your girl,” you giggled happily, squealing as he lifted you to sit on the counter.

He squeezed your thighs, his hands resting just below the hem of your sundress. You pressed little kisses to his lips, delighted by him visiting you in your flower shop.

“I was hoping I could come over tonight?” You asked shyly, your fingers toying with the blonde hair at the nape of his neck.

He hummed thoughtfully against his forehead, thinking through the plans for the rest of the day. He supposed that he could send someone else to the deals, already shifting his schedule around in his head. Zemo loved to indulge your every whim and desire, even if it were as simple as being together.

“I’ll be there,” he kissed you, feeling you smile into it. It made his heart swell as he melted at your innocence. Your hands smoothed down over his blazer, feeling his well formed muscles under the fabric.

“I’ll take you home today.”

You smiled, enjoying being carted around in one of Zemo’s many fancy cars. Your scary, dangerous boyfriend was a stark contrast to you, the innocent, sweet florist. He loved to spoil you and treat you like his princess, and he was soft for you. You adored him, and even though he could be intimidating at times, he was always sweet to you.

“I have some people coming in to pick up bouquets. I’ll see you later?” You inquired, and he pecked your lips.

“Later,” Zemo’s voice was low.

You watched him go, returning to your work and finishing up bouquets for happy couples to pick up.

“Thank you!” You called after the last people left.

You flipped the sign on your door to ‘closed’ and started to put away everything that was left out. The sound of a sports car rolling up outside caught your attention, and you grabbed your bag.

You were so excited to be with Zemo that you struggled to lock the finicky door, laughing at yourself.

“Hi, my love,” you smiled, stepping into the car with white leather seats. Zemo took your bag and set it in the backseat, his hand going to rest on your thigh.

You were practically anxious with excitement. Zemo had been caught up in copious amounts of work recently, leaving little time for your relationship. You were far more innocent compared to him, and the two of you had been taking things slower. Now though, with him gone frequently, you wanted more intimacy when he was around.

Zemo carried your bag inside for you, his free hand tightly holding yours. You were pushing your boyfriend up against the wall as soon as he was out of his coat and shoes.

“Y/N?”

“I can’t wait any longer Zemo. I need you,” you informed him, your pupils dilating with lust.

“You have me,” he responded calmly, wanting to hear you say it.

“No, I want you inside me. I want to have sex, I want you to take my virginity!”

The corners of his lips turned up into a smile, but he was hesitant to just give in. You’d gone quite a long time preserving your innocence, and Zemo didn’t think you’d be best off losing it to him.

“Are you sure?” He questioned, entirely serious. He never once pressured you, and he didn’t want you to feel as though you had to give him your body.

“I am.”

You looked him in the eyes with utter certainty. His hand went to your waist, pulling you into a needy, passionate kiss. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and his hand traveled downward, gripping your ass through the thin fabric of a sundress.

Zemo swept you off your feet, carrying you to your bedroom. He couldn’t hold out anymore, you just looked so divine with your dazzling smile and tiny dress.

“I will do my best to be gentle, darling,” Zemo promised as he crawled over your now-nude body. Kisses had been pressed to every inch of your body, Zemo drawing out the foreplay to try to help you relax as much as possible.

“Please, I need you!” You writhed before he’d even touched your core.

He watched you squirm, even as he gently held you still. Zemo dipped down and kissed your collarbone, making you claw at his back.

“My sweet darling, you simply can’t hold still. Do I need to tie your hands up?” Zemo asked, teasingly nipping at your skin.

He was surprised when you nodded, willing to try it. You wanted your dominant boyfriend to exert his power over you, leading you and showing you pleasure.

He retrieved a silk tie, binding your hands to the intricate bedpost.

“Say the word and I’ll free you, darling.”

“Yes, Zemo. Just please fuck me, I want you so bad,” you begged, lightly tugging at the ties on your wrists.

He knelt between your legs, brushing the tip against your soaked folds. You shuddered when he tapped your swollen clit, a choked moan leaving your lips. You were practically throbbing with need, salivating from the sight of your well-endowed boyfriend.

He held your hips and carefully eased into you, studying your face. You gripped the silk that restrained you, startled by how painful it was. You expected it to hurt a bit, but not near as much as it was.

“Zemo!” You gasped with watery eyes.

“I know, darling. I’m so sorry, just try to relax. It’ll feel better in just a moment,” he promised apologetically, his heart aching at the threat of your tears.

Sweet kisses were pressed to your lips, and you were thankful for the security of the ties. Zemo’s fingers danced and stroked your clit, trying to get your body to ease up.

“Want me to untie you?”

“No, no, please, just move—” you gasped, arching your back as he rolled his hips forward.

He built up a steady pace as he fucked you, stretching your tight pussy and drawing pleasure from you. You were better than anyone in the past, taking him and begging for more as he pushed his cock inside of you.

“That’s it, darling, cry out for me,” he groaned, further aroused by the sound of you shouting his name.

“Zemo! Please, faster!”

He obliged you, increasing his pace. He felt himself twitch, getting close to the edge. He was mindful that this was your first time, and he focused on making you come first.

The blonde leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, licking over the hyper-sensitive peak and nipping gently. Mewls escaped your lips and your body trembled at the combination of that, with the tight circles being traced on your swollen clit. Your walls caught on the veins of him, his tip brushing against every invisible, sensitive area inside of you.

You threw your head back and screamed as your body ignited with warmth, pleasure spreading through you like wildfire. Your hands yanked at the silk that kept you from touching him as you grappled for something to ground you.

The sight of your rapture had Zemo spilling into you, coming with a force that made your body shudder around him. Sokovian profanities echoed in your innocent ears, your chest rising and falling under his heady gaze.

“Zemo, I need to touch you,” you breathed, and your hands were freed.

You dragged your fingers through his damp hair, pulling the baron down to you. Your lips were captured in a heavy kiss, arms wrapping around your wrecked body.

After a bit of cleanup and adjustment, you settled into his lap, clad in one of his warm sweaters. Be gently rocked you, singing softly in Sokovian, bringing you down from the aftershocks of the intense sex.

[earlgreydream]

stranger series masterlist

chapter 1

[earlgreydream]

rings (2).

| bucky x reader | smut | 

anon requested. write another mafia!bucky fic

Two months, and you still hadn’t quite gotten used to him.

.

James Buchanan Barnes had made you his plaything. After you’d wander in on a mob meeting in the back of his Romanian restaurant, you’d been whisked away into a world of money, sex, and blood.

“Can’t let you go, I want to keep you,” his voice had been hot against your neck, preying upon your sexuality.

.

Now, you were in the lounge of one of James’ oversized penthouses.

“Please,” your voice was weak and shaky as you gazed helplessly at the blonde.

“He said not to let you off until he was home,” Zemo’s heartless response made you sob.

You were kneeling on the floor, straddling a Sybian at James’ command. He’d left you there when he’d gone out, telling Zemo to watch you. He certainly didn’t mind the show, and he knew you would never disobey James and try to get up, no matter how much the constant stimulation rattled you.

Zemo leaned against the wall with a drink, watching you suffer. You looked so divine in a tiny white silk shift that covered nothing. James preferred easy access and to show off his toy, and loved the way you looked in the lingerie he dressed you in. A delicate silver collar was clasped around your neck, a little ring resting just at the base of your throat. It matched the glittering diamonds that dripped off of you, all gifts from James for good behavior.

All of it reminded you, and everyone, that you belonged to him, his toy to play with, his doll to dress up.

“Fuck!” You screamed, falling forward and catching yourself on your hands, shaking as you struggled to hold yourself upright. The toy you straddled ripped a fourth orgasm from you, searing through your sex. You were soaked, filthy, under the heavy gaze of a very aroused Sokovian.

.

“Hey, babydoll,” the voice was deep, rippling through you and fracturing your senses, filling your thoughts with visions and memories of him.

Ringed fingers grasped your jaw, tilting your head up. You trembled under a stormy silver gaze, James’ eyes nearly blown black with lust.

“My pretty little toy, you’re being so noisy. Good girls are quiet. Have you been driving Zemo mad with all those little whimpers?” James’ thumb smoothed over your lips.

“M’sorry,” you murmured mindlessly, your head empty and cloudy.

“Oh, doll, you will be. Open.”

You relaxed your jaw, letting Bucky fuck your mouth. His fingers gripped your hair, holding your head still as he buried himself in your throat. You managed not to choke, accustomed to sucking him off daily, sometimes more than once.

“Pretty girl, use your mouth for what it was intended for.”

His fingers brushed away the tears that leaked from your eyes, and he smiled down at you, pleased with your performance. Your choked scream echoed around him as he pushed you down firmer against the cruel vibrations.

He rolled his hips forward, gripping your hair and forcing himself deeper inside of you. Zemo smirked, increasing the vibrations on the toy, making your body jolt. James was overwhelmed by you moaning around him, hollowing your cheeks and squeezing your eyes shut.

He came down your throat, pulling out and watching you smile. Pride bloomed in his chest, and he gently stroked your cheek, gazing down at you. He loved your little sigh of relief as Zemo shut the toy off.

You were hauled to your feet, barely able to stand on your own. When you turned, you saw that Sam and Steve, two of Bucky’s associates, had also bore witness to your defiling. Heat spread through your skin, your pink blush contrasting against the thin white silk that adorned you.

“She was obedient?”

“Yes, sir,” Zemo nodded.

James’ smile soothed every fraying nerve in your body, making every second of discomfort worth it. His fingers brushed against the silver around your neck, before tugging you forward by the circle. You moved easily, entirely submitting to his will.

A heavy kiss was placed to your lips, tasting like smoke and bourbon. You held his arms for balance, feeling lightheaded and airy.

“I might collapse,” you whispered and he broke away.

“You can’t take all the pleasure, doll?” James teased, tapping the soaked area between your legs and making your knees weak.

“No, sir, I can,” you insisted, desperate to please the mafia boss.

He looked satisfied with your answer, and granted you privacy from the lustful eyes of his soldiers. Your head rested on his chest as he carried you out of the lounge to rest.

.

Your eyes fell shut as James’ fingers combed through your clean hair. His touch went to the silver around your neck, the constant reminder of him.

“You look lovely,” James praised, making you blush.

“All for you.”

He smiled, impressed by how well behaved you were.

.

After your encounter at the Romanian restaurant, he’d torn you out of your old life of stress, work, grades, and worrying.

All of that was alleviated, in favor of being James’ plaything, spoiled rotten and adored by the stormy-eyed mafia don, and his loyal soldiers.

.

His touched traveled down the curve of your body that was draped over his lap, your arms folded under your head. He spoke quickly on the phone in Romanian, on a business call. You adored when he spoke in the foreign language, a sexy accent lilting on his words.

James’ fingers toyed with the diamond bracelet around your wrist as he spoke, tracing the veins on your hand. He lifted your arm and kissed the palm of your hand, pressing his lips to your smooth skin.

You smiled dreamily up at him, brushing your fingers over the well-groomed scruff on his face. He smiled against your hand, listening to whoever was speaking on the other end of the line.

James studied you, your sweet body draped over his lap, dressed in a clean white button down. You were nearly asleep, drowsy on his lap. He’d cared for you and cleaned you up, and now let you rest on him while he finished working.

.

Typically, he’d let Zemo look after you until he was finished, tending to your very need. He’d teased you all evening, making you sit on the sybian for hours, just to see if you’d continue to be good.

You’d surprised him by holding out, and now you were rewarded by your current position. Warm happiness washed through you when he hung up the phone, leaning over you and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re finished?” You questioned, threading your fingers through his long hair.

“Yes, I’m all yours now, doll.”

The words made you smile, and he traced the curves of your face, delighting in your soft laughter.

“It’s cold,” you giggled when the silver rings brushed against your soft cheeks.

“Yeah?” He laughed, pulling you up against his chest and kissing you all over.

You settled with your back against him, sat in between his crossed legs on the bed. You were still a little sensitive and tender form earlier, and he was mindful of that, just like every other detail and need of yours.

“Was Zemo terribly cruel to you?”

“No, no. I prefer you though.”

“You’re flattering me. What is it you want, doll? The keys to an Audi?” James teased, nipping lightly at your jaw.

“I was hoping for a white one,” you giggled, pouting your lips, earning a kiss.

He hummed, kissing down your throat and pulling the silver between his teeth.

“Whatever you want, you’ll get, doll.”

[earlgreydream]

stranger.

| zemo x reader | fluff | smut |

zemo blurbs ❤️

anon requested. while out clubbing the reader gets a little cozy with Zemo only to kiss him as a distraction to steal his wallet.

a/n: i took this in a smuttier direction than intended 

cw: very slight dubcon, edging

You selected your victim for the night. He was tall, handsome, and very, very wealthy.

Baron Zemo was in the club you frequented, sitting on a black velvet couch, watching his colleagues gamble. A drink in hand, cards in the other. He was laughing and talking, looking beautiful, and easily manipulated.

You stood at the bar, your red dress clinging to your body in all of the right places. Seductive jazz was played by a live band in the club, the music notes surrounding you with a buzzing, sensual energy.

Dark eyes met yours, brown with bits of gold mixed in them. He was beautiful, so much so that you almost stopped yourself from manipulating the sorry bastard. But, he was rich, and you needed money.

You flashed him a small, seductive smile, setting your empty glass down on the bar top. He stood from the table, falling straight into your trap. 

Sometimes it was too easy with presumptuous strangers. 

“Can I buy you another drink?” The baron asked, leaning next to you on the bar. His smile was charming, earning a smile from you. 

“Cherry Coke vodka, please,” you told the bartender, and he happily obliged you.

“Are you here alone? I’ve seen you standing at this bar.” His accent was thick, but his english was spoken well, easy to understand through the Sokovian lilt.

“All by myself,” you chirped, lifting your new glass to your lips, tasting the bubbly sugar on your tongue.

“Would you like to come sit with me, Miss…?”

“A stranger. I’d be delighted,” you glowed under his smile, deceiving the baron.

“Zemo. Lovely.”

His hand was warm on your lower back, leading you to the table he’d formerly been playing at. You slid close to him in the half-circle of seats, smirking as he picked up a stack of cards that were dealt to him.

“So, what do you do, Zemo?” you asked, pretending not to recognize the royalty. 

“I play cards,” he grinned, thinking he was coy. His hand came down to rest on your thigh, as high as your dress would allow. He squeezed your soft skin, marveling at how stunning and flirty you were.

You hummed, trailing your manicured nails down his expensive leather coat.

“How do you play?” You asked, your lips almost brushing against his ear, pretending to play dumb. 

You flashed doe eyes at him, giggling as he pulled you closer.

“You’ve got to make the matches,” he said, teaching you the rules of the casino game.

You kept refilling his drink, managing to barely touch your own. You needed him as relaxed as possible, easily distracted if you wanted to successfully rob him. You didn’t think it would be hard, but having an intoxicated victim certainly helped. Especially when the Sokovian was so much bigger than you.

“Dance with me, Zemo!” You said, touching his face and giggling.

“Dance with you?”

“Yes, I love this song. Come on, please? I’ll show you a good time…” you whispered, lightly nipping at his earlobe.

“Alright, alright,” he laughed, managing to charm you.

You took his hands, leading him to move to the music. You turned your back against his front, rolling your body, feeling his hips grind against your backside.

A couple of songs later, you were feeling each other up, his hands under your tight skirt in the corner. You saw your opportunity, sliding his wallet out of his jacket with practiced ease.

It really was too easy to steal from stupid, rich men.

Zemo was distracted by your lips against his, your kiss rough and wild. You moaned into his mouth, allowing his tongue past your lips, hungry and tasting of bourbon.

“Shall we go somewhere more private?” He growled into your neck, the missing wallet hidden under your dress, unnoticed by the baron.

“Yeah, just let me use the bathroom first,” you spoke.

He nodded, and you slipped into the single-room. You locked the door, opening the wallet to find it full of credit cards, and a generous amount of currency. You grinned, slipping it back into the garter on your thigh before hurrying to the window. 

Your smooth getaway became complicated when you found the window locked. You swore, trying to pry it open. Upon several failed attempts, you sighed, giving up. You had never had a problem with the window before, but it was just your luck that it would jam when you needed it to.

You exhaled, taking a deep breath and coming up with another plan. It was going to be fine, you would just have to slip out the front of the club. You swung the door open, gasping as you saw the baron leaning in the doorframe. 

“My darling, you didn’t possibly think you were going to leave here with my wallet, did you?” he asked, smirking. 

Your jaw dropped, and you stepped back, attempting to put distance between you. Perhaps you had underestimated the Baron. 

He stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and clicking the lock into place. You were trapped in the small room with him, your chest heaving as he stared you down with dark chocolate eyes. You felt cornered, your heart racing in your ribs as you were sealed in with the stranger.

“Answer me, darling.”

“I don’t know where your wallet is,” you stated before you thought.

“No? So you won’t mind if we check under that tight little skirt of yours?” He stepped toward you, your back hitting the cold porcelain sink. His words sent heat through your belly, all of your senses heightening as you felt trapped, the dangerous, seductive man stepping toward you. 

“Z-Zemo...” you stuttered as his hands went to your sides, forcing a knee between yours. 

“What should we do if I find my wallet, hmm?” His fingertips trailed up your sides, causing you to shudder.

“Take off your dress.”

The command send chills down your spine, but it burned through your center. You felt like you were on fire, trapped like prey under an incredibly sexy predator.

You hated yourself for being aroused, you should’ve tried to make a run for it. But you couldn’t deny that the young royalty had you hesitating in your step.

Your fingers found the hem of your dress, slowly peeling it from your body. He looked down at his wallet that was held to your inner thigh by the garter, taking it and sliding it back into his jacket pocket.

“You believe you’re so clever, don’t you darling? Nobody’s ever put you in your place before.”

You were shaking, but your thoughts were too clouded to decipher whether it was from fear, or from the raw need that was burning through you. You needed him to touch you, here, in a tiled washroom in the back of a club.

“No, sir,” you finally spoke, gasping as he tore your thong from your hips, flipping you around so you were leaning over the sink. 

You reached out, your palm pressing flat against the mirror for leverage, seeing him tower over you from behind. The sound of his belt buckle hitting the tile floor had the hair raising down your spine, your anticipation causing pangs inside of you. 

This was wrong, filthy, and you needed it.

“I’m going to fuck you like the thieving whore that you are.”

You bit your lip so hard it nearly drew blood, your fingertips clawing at the glass of the mirror as he slammed into you without any preparation. Your choked cry was like music to him, encouraging even harder thrusts. Zemo’s hand gripped your hair at the base of your neck and forcing you to watch him fuck you in the mirror, your breath fogging the glass. 

Your hips hit the cold porcelain, bruising under his force. His hand was tight on your waist, destined to leave fingerprints on your skin the next morning. Your legs were shaking from trying to hold yourself up while he railed you, the blistering force making stars dance behind your vision. 

“Look at you, getting fucked in the back of a club. You should feel ashamed,” he mocked you, earning a whimper in response. 

You tried to tell him you were close, your muscles tightening around him. You shrieked when he pulled out, removing all stimulation from you before coming over the back of your thighs. 

“Zemo, I haven’t come!” you whined, turning around, gripping the sink to hold yourself up. 

“Did you think that you would be rewarded? You’re lucky I’m not having you hauled out of here in handcuffs,” he snarled, gripping your jaw. 

“Clean yourself up.”

Your jaw set, glaring at him. 

“You’re going to fuck me like a whore and then leave me unfinished?”

“I’m just treating you as you deserve. But if you’re interested...” he handed you a card with his number printed on it. 

You stared at him, and he took a moment, letting his eyes trail down your body. Your dress was gripped in your hand, and you burned under his gaze. 

“Just making sure you didn’t manage to get anything else from me.”

He fixed his belt and slipped from the bathroom, leaving you alone and wanting. 

.

You laid in bed, holding up the card, memorizing the numbers. You flipped it over, sitting up when you saw the writing on the back.

I do hope you use the number. I may have a proposition for you about another way to make your income. - H.Z.