#daniel bruhl x reader smut

[andy-15-07]

The News

Summary:Y/N anxiously prepares for Helmut Zemo’s return, holding a secret—she’s pregnant. When he arrives, they share an emotional reunion, and he’s overjoyed at the news of their growing family.

Paring: Baron Helmut Zemo x reader

Words count: 2594

Daniel Brühl Masterlist | Masterlist

The soft hum of the rain tapping against the windows filled the quiet apartment, adding to the warm, cozy atmosphere Y/N had tried to create all day. She had spent hours preparing for this moment—cleaning, cooking, and nervously adjusting everything in the living room a dozen times.

The smell of dinner—a mix of Zemo's favorite dishes—lingered in the air, and soft music played in the background, trying to mask the excitement and nerves building within her. Y/N checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time, her eyes darting to the time.

He should have been home by now.

Helmut had been away on a mission for weeks, leaving her with nothing but sporadic, cryptic messages that barely hinted at when he might return. But today was different. Today, she was certain he'd be home. She had received a brief text earlier that morning, "Coming home tonight. Don't wait up."

Of course, she couldn’t just go to bed, not with the news she had been holding close to her heart, a secret she had been dying to share with him. She glanced down at the little box in her hands, flipping it open and shut nervously. Inside was a tiny pair of baby shoes—white and soft, with delicate lace around the edges. She smiled softly to herself, a rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

She had found out a few days after he had left. The initial shock had been overwhelming, but the idea of them starting a family had slowly taken root, filling her with a joy she hadn’t expected. Y/N could already imagine Helmut’s reaction, the way his eyes would light up, the way he’d pull her into his arms, overjoyed at the news.

The rain picked up, drumming harder against the window, and she glanced outside. The city was dark, a few lights flickering through the sheets of rain, but there was no sign of him yet.

Minutes felt like hours, and the worry she had tried to suppress started to creep in. What if something had gone wrong? What if he was hurt? But no, she pushed those thoughts away. Helmut was too skilled, too careful. He always made it back to her, no matter what.

She placed the baby shoes back in the box, setting it on the coffee table and rubbing her hands together nervously. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting a warm glow over the room, but it did little to soothe her nerves.

Then, finally, she heard it. The unmistakable sound of keys jingling at the door, followed by the soft click of the lock turning. Her heart leapt into her throat as the door slowly creaked open, and there he was—Helmut Zemo, soaked from the rain, his hair tousled, but very much alive and home.

“Helmut!” Y/N exclaimed, rushing to him before he could even close the door behind him. She threw her arms around him, ignoring the dampness of his clothes as she buried her face in his chest.

“Schatz…” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion, but there was a softness in his tone as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in, as if grounding himself after weeks away.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. She had missed him terribly, every moment he was away felt like an eternity.

“And I missed you,” he replied, pulling back slightly to look at her. His dark eyes were tired but filled with love as he cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, meine Liebe.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection for this man she had chosen to spend her life with. But she could see the weariness in his expression, the way his shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of whatever he had gone through. She knew better than to ask about the mission, not right away. There would be time for that later.

“You’re soaked,” she said, her voice tinged with concern. “Come on, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”

He nodded, allowing her to guide him toward their bedroom. She helped him out of his coat and boots, and then he peeled off his wet shirt, tossing it aside. His body was as strong and lean as ever, though she couldn’t help but notice a few new bruises marring his skin.

Y/N frowned, reaching out to touch one gently, but Helmut caught her hand, bringing it to his lips instead.

“It’s nothing,” he assured her, his voice low. “Just a few scratches.”

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed with worry, but he gave her a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was trying to protect her, as always, but she could see through the façade. He was tired—emotionally and physically—but he was here, and that was what mattered most.

“Come on,” she whispered, tugging him toward the bathroom. “A hot shower will help.”

Helmut didn’t argue, and soon the sound of water filled the space as steam began to rise around them. Y/N stayed by his side, helping him rinse off the grime of whatever battle he had been through. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as she ran her fingers through his wet hair, massaging his scalp gently.

They didn’t speak, the silence between them comfortable and intimate, a reminder of how connected they were, even after all these years.

Once he was clean, she handed him a towel, watching as he dried off and wrapped it around his waist. His gaze softened as he looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he pulled her into his arms once more.

“Thank you,” he murmured into her hair, his voice filled with a deep, unspoken gratitude.

Y/N smiled against his chest, her heart fluttering with love for this man who was always so strong, so capable, and yet so vulnerable in moments like these. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him.

“I made dinner,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Your favorite.”

His eyes lit up, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “You spoil me, Schatz.”

“Only because you deserve it,” she teased, leading him back into the living room where the food was waiting.

They settled on the couch, plates in hand, and for a while, they just enjoyed the meal in comfortable silence. But Y/N could feel the weight of the secret she was holding, the news she was so eager to share. She glanced at the small box on the coffee table, her heart pounding in her chest.

Helmut noticed the shift in her demeanor, his brow furrowing slightly. “Is something on your mind, Y/N?” he asked, setting his plate aside.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to begin. But then she took a deep breath, reaching for the box and holding it out to him.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly.

Helmut’s eyes widened in surprise as he took the box from her hands, his expression curious as he opened it. His gaze softened instantly as he saw the tiny baby shoes nestled inside, his breath catching in his throat.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he looked up at her, his eyes searching hers for confirmation.

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m pregnant, Helmut. We’re going to have a baby.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, as if trying to process the words. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a smile so full of joy and love that it took her breath away.

“Meine Liebe…” he murmured, setting the box aside and pulling her into his arms. He held her tightly, his hands trembling slightly as he cupped the back of her head, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she clung to him, feeling his love and warmth enveloping her completely. “I was so nervous,” she admitted, her voice cracking with emotion. “I didn’t know how you’d react.”

He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands and looking into her eyes with a seriousness that made her heart skip a beat. “Y/N, there is nothing in this world that could make me happier than this news,” he said, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “You and our child…you are everything to me.”

She smiled through her tears, overwhelmed by the depth of his love. “I love you, Helmut,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“And I love you, more than anything,” he replied, pressing his forehead against hers. “Thank you…thank you for this gift.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other close, their hearts beating in sync. The rain outside had slowed to a gentle drizzle, the soft patter against the windows a soothing backdrop to the moment they were sharing.

Finally, Helmut pulled back, a playful glint in his eyes. “I suppose I’ll have to be extra careful on my missions from now on,” he said, a hint of humor in his voice. “I have more than just you to come home to now.”

Y/N chuckled, wiping away her tears. “Yes, you do. And you’d better keep that in mind.”

He smiled, leaning in to kiss her softly, his lips lingering against hers as if savoring the moment. When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with a tenderness that made her heart swell.

“We’re going to be a family,” he repeated, his voice filled with awe as if he was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea. His hand moved gently to rest on her stomach, his thumb tracing small, tender circles over the place where their child grew.

Y/N placed her hand over his, the warmth of his touch sending a wave of comfort through her. “Yes, we are,” she whispered, her voice full of love and certainty. “Our little family.”

Helmut’s eyes shone with emotion as he stared down at her, his usually composed demeanor softened by the weight of this new reality. He had faced countless challenges, confronted the most dangerous of foes, and yet, this moment—this simple, beautiful moment—was enough to bring him to his knees.

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “A family of my own… I never thought it would be possible after everything that’s happened. And now, here we are…”

Y/N smiled, her heart breaking and healing at the same time. She knew his past was riddled with pain and loss, and she understood how much this meant to him. “You deserve this, Helmut. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

He shook his head slightly, his expression one of disbelief. “I don’t know if I deserve it, but I’m not foolish enough to let it slip away. You and our child…you’re my future now. My purpose.”

She could see the determination in his eyes, the promise that he would do everything in his power to protect them, to give them the life they deserved. It was a vow unspoken, yet she felt it in every fiber of her being.

Helmut gently pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered again, the words heavy with gratitude. “Thank you for giving me this gift, for giving me hope.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with love for him, a love that seemed to grow stronger with each passing second. “You’ve given me so much, Helmut,” she replied softly, her fingers threading through his as they rested on her stomach. “This is our gift to each other.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the reality of their future slowly sinking in. It was a future filled with the unknown, but for the first time, they faced it together, not just as partners, but as a family.

After a while, Y/N broke the comfortable silence, her tone laced with playful curiosity. “So… have you thought of any names yet?”

Helmut chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, breaking through the seriousness of the moment. “Already? You’ve only just told me!”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and full of joy. “Well, we should get a head start, don’t you think? We need to be prepared.”

Helmut’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he considered her words. “True. But I think we should take our time. We have many months ahead of us to decide.” He paused, his gaze turning thoughtful. “But if I had to choose… something traditional, perhaps. Something with meaning.”

Y/N nodded, her mind racing with possibilities. “Something that honors your heritage, maybe? A name that connects our child to their roots.”

Helmut’s expression softened, a deep pride flashing in his eyes. “Yes,” he agreed, his voice low and serious. “Something that carries the weight of history, but also the promise of a new future.”

She could see how much this meant to him, and it warmed her heart to know that he was already thinking of their child’s legacy. “We’ll find the perfect name,” she assured him, leaning into his embrace. “One that represents everything we’ve been through, and everything we’re going to build together.”

Helmut kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering there as if sealing a promise. “We will,” he agreed. “And no matter what name we choose, our child will know they are loved. That is the most important thing.”

Y/N sighed contentedly, feeling a sense of peace settle over her. This was what she had always dreamed of—a life filled with love, a future full of hope. And now, with Helmut by her side, that dream was finally becoming a reality.

As the evening wore on, they talked about their plans for the future—the changes they would need to make, the things they would need to prepare for. They discussed where the nursery should be, what color to paint the walls, and how they would balance their new responsibilities. It was a conversation filled with excitement and a little bit of fear, but most of all, it was filled with love.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day caught up with them, and they found themselves curled up on the couch together, the warmth of the fire lulling them into a comfortable drowsiness. Helmut held her close, his arms wrapped around her protectively, his hand resting on her stomach as if to keep their child safe even in his sleep.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart swelling with love as she watched him drift off. There was a contentment in his expression that she hadn’t seen in a long time, a peace that came from knowing they were finally moving forward together.

And as she closed her eyes, her head resting against his chest, she knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—united by the love they had for each other, and for the family they were about to start.

In that moment, Y/N realized that the future was no longer something to be feared. It was something to be embraced, something to be cherished. And with Helmut by her side, she knew they would create a life filled with happiness, love, and endless possibilities.

As sleep finally claimed her, Y/N’s last thought was of the tiny heartbeat growing inside her, a new life born out of the love she shared with Helmut Zemo—a love that would carry them through anything.

The rain outside had stopped, leaving the night quiet and still. And in the warmth of their home, their hearts beat as one, full of love, hope, and the promise of tomorrow.

[nxtaliaistyping]

Need Baron Zemo to fuck me with the mask on :(

Authors note: omg i'm not really into the mcu anymore, but nothing can stop me thinking about this man I need him so badddddd (and daniel bruhl in general tbh)

18+ nsfw, villain kink, mask kink, fingering, rough sex, brief mention of killing

Thinking about being his girl, his pretty thing that sits in his lap while he drinks the most expensive wine in his expensive penthouse (just because he's on the run, doesn't mean he can't be in style)

You know who he is, the things he's done, but you just don't care. Not when he caresses you so gently, cooing soft words in your ear of how beautiful and enchanting he finds you, how much you fill the empty void left within him after Sokovia fell and everyone he loved was wiped out.

And if anything, he's too gentle. Not wanting to frighten you, the poor little lamb that you were, cuddling up to such a dangerous man every night. So he attempts to shield things from you, what he's done and what he's capable of.

But that changes one day, you feel the compulsive need to find out more about your lover, or at least see what he's like when he's the ruthless and strategic criminal that you've been told about. This leads you to following him, not an easy task, but you see how readily he is able to get his hands dirty. Tracking down some old HYDRA agent that has information that is useful to him, and you watch in slight horror and slight awe how he interrogates the man.

Although you have to look away at certain parts, hearing presumably the agent's body hitting the cold ground with a soft thud. While you try and leave quietly, you underestimated how much planning had went into his operation, because on your attempted escape you feel a large hand grab your upper arm, yanking you towards him with force and the start of a threat before he stops.

"dragă? what are you doing here?" he asks, his tone still slightly deeper than usual as you stare into his brown eyes; the only facial features visible while he wears the dark purple mask.

As you stumble over your words, telling him that you wanted to see the real him, he can't help but notice the slight flush of your skin, the way your chest rises and your lips part. In that moment he finally understands.

"Oh...I think I understand now. My little girl likes that i'm so dangerous, hm?" he asks, and you can hear the smirk behind his teasing lilt, his head cocked to one side as you nod, embarassed.

Soon enough, he has you pinned to the wall, hand stuffed between your thighs as he fingers your tight cunt from under your skirt. You whimper and whine at his treatment, and he revels in the fact you're so depraved, so naughty, and all for him.

"Do you like this, hm sreco? I was going to take this mask off, but I have a feeling that isn't what you desire." he rasps against your ear, and you nod breathlessly at how right his assumption was. All you can do is look up at him, clenching and making a mess around his fingers as you whine.

When he pulls his fingers away, he doesn't give you time to recover before you find yourself bent over a wooden crate and his cock is forcing its way in your pussy. He's never treated you as roughly as this before, but something about his girl loving how ruthless he is, wanting him to keep his goddamn mask on, flipped a switch in him as he starts a rough pace. The echoes of his hips slamming into your ass make you flush with embarrassment, gripping the edges of the surface for dear life, pretty nails he paid for digging into the wood.

"So filthy for me, my little girl is nothing but a slut." he groans out, squeezing your ass before giving it a harsh spank. The rhythm of his cock railing you has your eyes nearly crossing, as you try not to think about the fact you're fucking an older man after he's literally just killed someone.

When he cums, he buries himself to the hilt inside of you, feeling the way you tighten around him and squeeze every last drop out. As his breathing returns to normal, so too does his headspace as he rips the mask off quickly, pulling out to shush you gently and hold you in his arms.

"There we are dragă i'm here, i'm right here. I'm sorry for being so rough."

Taking you home, he'd spoil his good girl with a bath and food, but in the back of his mind he's already planning out how he can fuck you like that again.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙯𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨 | helmut zemo x reader

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

word count: 4.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Narrowly," you interjected.

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

"That's not—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what you want?” he taunted.

“Get the fuck off me!” you yelped.

“Make me,” he challenged.

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

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

“You wouldn’t,” you sneered incredulously.

“Wouldn’t what, dear?”

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

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

A little relieved, you started to catch your breath.

“I don’t need to.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And that time you shot me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“F-fuck you,” you stammered roughly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded weakly, biting down on your shaking lip.

“Then give me what I want.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[woods-and-adlers-left-hand-chap]

My current mood

[arcriotwrites]

~𝒯𝒽𝑒 ℬ𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓃'𝓈 ℬ𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎~

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

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

Author’s Note:

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

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

“What can I get you, Jester?”

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

“A dirty martini should be fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Calm down, darling. It’s just me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Never stray too far from me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What would happen if I didn’t submit?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please touch me, Baron.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, Bunny.”

[therenlover]

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

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

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

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

Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 8,600~

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

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

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

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

“Apologies,” 

He didn’t mean it. 

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

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

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

They would see lovers.

The thought left a lump in my throat. 

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

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

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

“Bad?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I saw your concert,” 

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

“James mentioned it,” 

“You still talk to Bucky?” 

“Here and there,” 

The conversation lapsed into silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Cain misses you,” He continued. 

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

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

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

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

“And what of Brutus?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was why I had to leave. 

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

No. I couldn’t let it happen. 

Not again. 

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

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

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

“Um, who had the chicken alfredo?”

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

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

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

How had I not noticed his docility until now?

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

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

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

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

“Lost your appetite?” 

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

Finally, it came. 

“I’m sorry,” 

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

More, I would not give him hope.

“Come home, schatz,”  

There it was. 

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

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

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

“I know,” The words were a whisper. 

So this was closure? 

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

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

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

“I want to,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Realistically, I knew it wouldn’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodbye, Helmut,” 

“Sleep well, schatz,” 

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

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

I had done the right thing. 

I had to have done the right thing. 

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

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

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

We didn’t need words then. 

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

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

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

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

This time I didn’t want to. 

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

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

“Please, stop trying,”

With that, he caught me in another kiss. 

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

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

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

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

Ah. So that’s what this is. 

“Helmut, of course I do-“ 

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

The rest went unsaid. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shuddered at my attentions. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He grinned a crooked grin at his masterpiece.

“How was that, my love,” 

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

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

“Helmut,” My voice was hushed. Reverent. 

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

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

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

“Again,” 

“Helmut,” 

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

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

“Where are your condoms?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As always, Helmut followed me down. 

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

We only shifted apart when he slipped free of me.

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

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

I broke the peace between us. 

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

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

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

“Schatz, please,” 

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

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

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

“Sorry,” 

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

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

“Thank you,” 

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

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

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

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

---------

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

[addict-rat]

Night Ties

Summary: You were a very famous hunter monsters, one day you decide to go after a famous vampier, but he was very aware of that and he change all your life.

Paring: Helmut Zemo Vampire x F!Reader Human

Words count: 3595 words

Warnings: +18 explicit, mention of blood, poor written smut, p in v, spanks, unprotected sex, bitting, ropes, bondage, desk sex, a little CNC, bondage. fingering, dominant/submissive.

Author’s note: Holas, I was writting this long ago, but I kinda forget when I get obsses with Ch.ai and all that, but here it is, I might be writting more of Zemo in the future. Please feel free to write me for any mistake I made or any suggestion.

You had begun to make a name for yourself within the small towns that were frightened by all those over-natural beings. It was many of those people that lived dominated by supernatural beings, whether they were werewolves, witches, vampires, etc. However, among the people they were more feared and dominated by vampires and werewolves.

It was for that reason that you began to gain popularity, you were known as part of the good cause dedicated to killing or hunting such beings. Not only were you doing that, but they were very few, not many survived them, and for that very reason it was that very few wanted to take their lives to kill a few of them. The few people who did so had a reason to simply want to get rid of them.

You did it for revenge, your mother had been killed by one of them, all the people you lived in had been attacked by werewolves, but it was not them who killed your mother, you had managed to flee before they saw them. Deep in the woods when they thought the werewolves could no longer find them, they stayed for a moment near a river to grab strength and find safety, yet their mother heard noises in the distance, afraid that something might happen to you, I took her to a small cave near the river, told her to rest there and come out until there was sunlight. With the ingenuity of a child, he was obvious and did what I ask, when the light came out he called his mother without any answer from her, came out of the small cave, I looked for her by the gunmen until he found her pale and lifeless body.

She wasn’t looking to find the killers who killed her mother, because she knew she’d never find him, she knew it wasn’t human, what killed her, she knew it was what killed her, but again she wasn’t looking for her killer to never happen to anyone else. He was aware that he could not kill each of them, but with his perseverance and courage he could perhaps make more people unite and decide to end the dominance of these beings.

You had come to a small town where it was dominated by vampires, especially a special one. You knew how to deal with vampires, you’d learned from your group, they’d taught you their weaknesses especially. You could say that you were a little popular not only among humans but also within these "monsters", they had divided to hunt these vampires, it was expected that the majority lived in mansions or even castles, were arrogant and presumed most of them, but they were also intelligent, manipulative and persuasive.

You had decided to go ahead, you already had experience you did not believe that something could go wrong, so you had made a plan to get into that castle, which was simple, it was not like vampires had bodyguards or anything. They didn’t watch the whole castle, so you looked for a room that nobody had set foot in many years ago.

That’s how you ended up like this now, kneeling, your hands tied on a short chain that was stuck on the floor. You heard a few steps and saw a man dressed elegantly, his hair well-groomed. —What a foolish, hunter— he sneered, his voice echoing throughout the chamber. —I’m surprised you made it this far. You must be very brave or very dumb— You only stare at him as if you look could kill him. —Don't look at me like that, darling. Who are you to judge me? You are the one trespassing on my home. I could kill you right now for your insolence, if I so desired. But I feel... merciful— He say getting closer to him, in your position you have to look up to him, feeling like so insignificant in that position. —I don't know if you are brave or foolish, or just a bit of both— He was now very close to you, you feel his hand touching your cheek —You intrigue me.—

That took you for surprised other vampires they have just taken all your blood of your body and leave you completely drain. —How can I intrigue you? — Your voice sounds almost sarcastic, but there was confusion there. —Oh, little one, you’re so much more than “just a human”— He leans down and run a finger along your face, gently stroking your chin and jawline. —You have hunted my kind… Even I don’t really care about those ones, is really fascinating to see someone like you murdered that kind of vampires— He takes your chin tilting up so you can his eyes, his crimson red eyes, you could not deny that I cause you to send a chill in your spine. —But that doesn’t take the fact you’re very foolish to come to my home and try to kill me… You’re here not just by coincidence, I bring you here you alone… Ever since I found out about your existence, which wasn’t a year ago, I’ve been watching every step you take, every decision you make, piqued my curiosity, my dear… Of course I had to bring you here with me.—You feel his fingers caressing your chin as he doesn’t let you go, the two of them staring. —M-my friends… They know I’ll come here, they’ll get worried and they’ll come here to help me— Your voice trying sound convinced that they will come to rescue you. —Yes, they certainly would come here and try to rescue you… But let me ask you a question... Do you know how many hunters have entered my domain? How many have existed?… Like I told you, you’re here because I want you to be here alone, I know where your friends are, and I know who are with them, I can make your friends get killed right now, but I will not do that yet…—He says in a threatening voice —B-but there are a lot of people that know me… Th-they will get worried… And they know I’m here— You say with a desperation tone —Hmmm... I'm sure there are many that know you, yes. But what will they do about it, hmm? Come to my domain? The place where hunters never return from? I admire your courage, my love, but I do not think your "friends" are going to come rescue you... And talking about your friends, I know you love them because you see a family in them.— Your eyes get worried and surprised —What if we make a deal… You have two options, you can stay here and we both wait for your friends and I killed them one by one, slowly and painfully in front of you… Or you can save them by submitting to me and save them, but you have to behave or there will be punishments for you for your bad behavior… You’ll have to write a letter to your friends saying that you retired from vampire hunting, that you found love and now you’ll dedicate yourself to staying with him and pleasing him in all his spades… Now take your decision, but we don’t have all day, darling so you better hurry up— You couldn’t believe that not only he have trapped you, now you have to submit to him to save your friends, he’s using them to get you, and he’s achieved it. You don’t have any option. You regret coming alone and not waiting for others to accompany you.

He kneels before you, his head moves to your neck as you can feel his breath, he lift a trail of kiss on the side of your neck —Frist I want a little bite, I want to taste your sweet blood— his teeth and fangs brush in your neck, you can feel the sharp of his fangs on your neck, then you feel how his fangs they break through your skin, you bite your lip trying to not make any noise, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of the sound of your pain. He sucks your blood for a few minutes, you start looking dark circles as you feel more weak until you close your eyes and you remain unconscious.

When you wake up, you were laying on the ground, your hands remain tied, you tried to sit down but your body was so weak, you didn´t know how long you were there locked. You don’t have any other option, so you have to access his deal. He comes back after some time. —Did you take your decision?— He looks down at you, looking deep at your eyes, you only could nod —I’ll submit to you— Your eyes look down as you say that, he smiles at your choice, he kneels and take your chin looking at your eyes. —Good girl. I will untie you, I know you’re weak so you can’t attack me, even if you try you only have your hands to try it, darling.— He takes the handcuffs in your wrists, you don’t even try to do anything, he lifts you up in his shoulder, your tired eyes didn’t even look the way he is taking you, until you feel the soft mattress of the bed, after a few minutes you fall asleep.

You couldn’t believe after years of hunting and killing vampires you end up cleaning the castle of a vampire. You were walking in a corridor and open one of the rooms, you look around and see there were black curtains on the wall, that’s when you notice it wasn’t a wall is a window, you open the curtain and you realize it wasn’t evening yet, you calculated around 4 or 5 pm, that means the sun was still up. You haven’t noticed the time until right now, and after Zemo wasn’t around, you could escape you have a few hours before the sun sets.

You didn’t take too much to find a door that leads to the yard, and for your luck it wasn’t locked. You open the door and go out, you see your surroundings and walk through the yard, it didn’t take you long to arrive in the forest that surrounded the castle, you walk with joy to the forest, without noticing there were two deep eyes looking you walk in the forest.

One of Zemo’s butler have notified about your “escape”. —My Lord, the lady has run away to the forest alone, I think she’s trying to escape, but I don’t think she might go too far after the sun sets… I know the forest is very tricky for someone doesn’t know it— Of course Zemo knows the forest like the palm of his hand.

Zemo looks up at the butler with a sharp look. —Very good, I'll take care of it.— He says, as he stands up from his desk. —Thank you for the information.— Once the butler leaves, Zemo smiles slightly to himself. —Run away, have you, my love? So eager for danger, eh?— He thinks for himself looking at the window of his room.

When the sun went down, Zemo went out to look for you soon enough to find you, you were lost and your solution was to climb a tree to the top and see from above, which clearly did not work and only served to stay trapped in one of the branches, you couldn’t get off and you probably stayed there for a few minutes until I found you —Do you know what a stubborn and foolish creature you truly are, my love? — He gets close to you, but he did nothing to help you. —Can you help me please, sir? — You didn’t have any other option but plead for his help. His cold, dark eyes look down at you. —Why should I help you? You were so eager to leave. To run away. To defy me. And yet now, when you are caught, you beg me for help?— You weren’t in a position to act up and try to get the worst out of him —Don't worry dear, I already have an idea of what to do with you…– You watch him walk away, he didn't come back after some minutes, you were scared and cold, you couldn't see anything in the darkness of the night.—

Of course, he leave you in the damn tree for a few hours and then one of his servants brings you back to your room. You wake up in your bed, one of the servants enters after some minutes to your room, he was very nice to you, he serves you food and make sure you weren’t hurt last night. Until he mention that Zemo wanted to see you in his room after you have eaten, your face goes pale you know the reason why he wanted to see you.

You finish your food and get dressed before to go to Zemo’s room, with a soft knock at the door you make your presence noticeable to him, you heard him talk in the inside of the room, you open the door and Zemo look up to you to meet your gaze. –Do you want to see me, sir? – You asked when you enter into the room –Yes come here, darling– You obey and stand closer to him, he stands up from his chair behind the desk –So, darling… You have a bad behaviour last night, and you know the consequences of your bad behaviour– He moves behind you while he talks, you softly nod when he finishes, feeling his hands on your hips caressing slowly you feel your cheeks getting hot, you couldn't help but bite your lip when you feel his lips brushing your neck, leaving light kisses, You bite your lip as he moves closer to that sensitive spot on your neck, his kisses getting more longer as he was close to that sensitive spot, you almost moan when you know he was about to kiss you there but instead he pats your hips lightly and pull away slightly. –This is a punishment, my dear. I know you're enjoying this and maybe you get a little more if you behave after your punishment… Now bend over the desk. – He says in a commanding tone, you didn't hesitate and do it, one of his hands move to tease your legs, his fingers brushing your thighs lifting slowly the hem of your dress, your face now red for the situation, he saw the way you press your thighs together, his fingers move to pull down your panties slowly until the small fabric falls on the floor.

—Such a pretty thing… See how obedient you can be— You bite your lip when his hand starts to caress your ass cheek, in the unexpected moment he slaps your ass a little to hard to make you moan, Zemo smirk when he gets a reaction from you. You heard one of the drawers open, you couldn’t see what is going on, you just wait impatiently. Then you feel his hands covered in the gloves of leather caressing your thighs –Oh darling we gonna have so much fun– he leans closer to you in a soft whisper, his hot breath against your ear, as you feel his grown erection inside your ass —I want you to count this one, I want you to count 20 and then I’ll stop, but if you don't say it loudly and right I’m gonna start again. — He pulls away and his hand caresses your ass cheek with the glove leather then again he slaps your ass, the leather makes your soft skin sting —O-one… — a soft moan come out of your mouth.

The slaps get even harder when the number gets higher, making you more difficult to count right —I didn't hear you right, sweetheart he has to start again… — You were for the 17 slap after start over 3 times, his slaps get harder every time you make him repeat.

After several times, you finally reach to 20, you couldn’t believe how much your ass sting and hurt, you didn't have to look to see how red it was, as you couldn't believe how wet your inner thighs and folds were, you don't want to admit how turn it on you have get when he spanks you. Zemo look at you with satisfaction, he leans closer to you, a soft moan leaves your lips when you feel the rough fabric of leather caressing your inner thighs —Such a good girl… Already so wet for me, that was supposed to be a punishment not for you to enjoy— He chuckled softly, his hands moving to your wet folds, a soft moan leaves your lips as you feel his finger teasing your folds to your clit making slow circles, making you squirm under him, with a warning he push two of his fingers deep inside of you the leather glove makes his finger more thick, he moves his hands in a slow pace, he was enjoying the way you squirm under him, your little whimpers and moans. —You're so responsive— he murmurs, his voice dark and seductive. —I can feel every pulse, every quiver. You belong to me now, don't you? — His voice possessive close to your ear in a whisper —Y-yes, I’m yours… — You whine, you were so close to your orgasm. —That's what I want to hear— he says, pushing another digit inside you. —You're mine and you'll do as I say. — His fingers thrust into you in a faster pace, filling you up completely.

—You’ll cum when I say you can— With that he continues to finger you, his other hand moves closer to your clit, his fingers start rubbing that sensitive nub. Your walls squeezing his fingers as you were trying to not cum in his hand, not until he tells you that you can. You squirm and beg for him to let you come.

—Cum for me, sweetheart… Cum around my fingers. — And you did, you cum around his fingers with a loud cry, he continue milking your organs moving his fingers in and out while he continues rubbing your clit. He stops when you finally finish your orgasm, he withdraw his fingers slowly, a soft whine comes out of your mouth.

You close your eyes for a few seconds trying to get your breath –Don’t fall asleep already, sweetheart… I'm not close to finish with you. – You try to turn to look at him when you feel the tip of his cock on your swollen folds, he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pushed into you, filling you up with his length. You only could moan loudly and squirm under him. Your tightness around him felt incredible as he began to thrust slowly, taking his time to stretch you out. —So tight and warm for me… — His lips curled into a smile as he felt your pussy clench around his cock. He increased his pace, thrusting harder and faster. The sounds of their bodies slapping together filled the room, punctuated by your moans and gasps of pleasure. You don't want to admit it, but he was making you feel the pleasure you never though you could get. Zemo moves to kiss your neck and shoulders as he continues thrusting in you in a rough pace, his grip on your hips was strong, that's gonna leave you bruises the next day. You cry louder when you feel his fangs break the skin in your shoulder, taking your blood. —So sweet and all mine— he whisper on your ear after take some blood of your body, his hand move to your clit, he moan when he feel your inner walls clenching around his cock, he pick more faster and rougher the pace, you can feel the tip of his cock hitting om your cervix, making you squirm under him, you didn't even think straight in that moment he was fucking you deep and senses that you only moan and whimper, you have lost the count of how many times he had make you cum.

Seeing you all ruin for the pleasure just arouse more Zemo, he grabs your face making you to face him and he takes you in a messy kiss, with a deep thrust his cum inside of you filling you up with his warm seed.

Zemo stays inside of you for a few seconds as he catches his breath, you were laying on his desk, blushing and panting, he pulls out of you, his seed come out of your swollen pussy, dripping on your thighs and floor, your red ass checks just give him the imagination of you that he wants —What a messy girl you are, What you're “fans” will think of you? Their little hunter here on my desk all marked by me, you don't want they find out the truth about you? That you enjoy being my little maid and warm my bed. Don't worry, my love that's not gonna happen, because you're mine and you will stay here by my side—

You try to run away a few more times, but the punishment gets even worse with the time that you start to get used to stay around him, you even start to crave for his touch and his sweet words, you fall in love with him, and now you were tied to him for the rest of your life.

[rhey-007]

𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐥

Daniel Brühl x supermodel!reader | 18+ soft smut

Summary: You're a supermodel hired to model Zegna's new collection along side Daniel Brühl, but your session takes an unexpected yet pleasant turn.

Pairing: soft/sub/nervous Daniel x bubbly/full of energy reader

Warnings: 18+, soft smut, semi public sex (?), blowjob

___________________________________________

Daniel wasn't a model but he did pretty good on photoshoots when he was alone, at least he hoped so. With a partner though? That was a whole nother story. That is why he was a little stressed this time. He was going to work with one of the best, and prettiest, models in the world – Y/N L/N – for ZEGNA's new fall/winter collection.

He arrived to the set way ahead of time to make sure he would be ready when you arrive. To his surprise you were already there, waiting for him, getting your hair done.

„Daniel! "

You chirped happily, noticing him in the mirror in front of you. The man corrected his collar nervously with a smile before making his way over to you. Instead of shaking your stretched out hand, as you would expect, he kissed it gently as a gentleman should - which took you aback but you didn’t complain.

„I'm really happy to finally meet you”

„I'm glad to meet you too! "

Daniel's voice was like honey to your ears making your skin shiver. You took a better look at him as he stood near you. He was even more handsome in real life than you could've imagined. When he sat down you noticed his leg jump like crazy – he was stressed... You didn’t like that... Not because he could 'ruin' the photoshoot. No... You knew it couldn’t happen, he was too good at it. But because you were afraid of his well being.

„Hey... It's gonna be okay. You're gonna do great... As always "

You whispered with a chuckle, your hand making it's way over to his jumping leg and soothing it gently. Those actions made Daniel's heart go crazy. He felt like he would have a heart attack soon if you kept rubbing his leg.

„I hope so... Don't want to ruin your photos after all "

You gasped theatricaly.

„Oh honey! You're the star here! Not me. I should be the one scared. But I'm not, and neither should you. Cause I KNOW you're gonna do amazing! "

Daniel admired your enthusiasm and faith in him. It seemed as if you had it more than himself. He chuckled to your words while looking down and softly shaking his head.

„Okay, okay. Let's say I believe you”

„You have to believe in yourself and not believe me”

Through the whole preparation, the man noticed your flirty demeanour and affectionate touches. He didn’t mind that though, he found it nice to get attention from women - especially from you - and now he felt relaxed in your presence.

You were a flirtatious person who usually didn’t notice they flirt with everyone, but with Daniel? Ohh... You were heads over heals with that man - you were since you found out about him which was quite a long time ago - and you flirted with him purposely, hoping to take him out for dinner later.

„Tell me... Is there some lady Brühl waiting for you back home or can I steal you for a few hours after the shoot to go eat something? "

You asked between conversations. Daniel shook his head softly then turned to face you with a smirk.

„I guess you can be my lady for the evening”

He blurted our before realizing what he just said and after he did, he turned back to the mirror, dark blush on his face. What that woman did to him...

„I would be flattered, dear”

The cheerful smile on your face made Daniel's knees weak, good thing he was sitting or he would've fallen down right there and then.

When the photographer arrived you started your job. He put you really close to Daniel. His smell was intoxicating, making you crave for him even more, and the closeness made him even more nervous than before.

You were just supposed to be casual, relaxed, have fun with it, but Daniel was rather... Stiff... And not in the good way. So after about 10 minutes of work the man behind the camera sighed heavily signaling a short break.

„Hey... What is it? "

You asked Daniel, your voice soft, one of your arms resting on his shoulder while your hand played with the hair on the back of his head. He didn’t reply, looking around the room nervously and breathing heavily. His hand ‘unintentionally’ brushed against yours, making you grab it and interwine your fingers. You smirked devilishly and leaned closer, your lips almost touching his earlobe.

„Oh honey~ There’s no need to be so nervous. What do you say for this... I'll give you a little heads up, so you would relax and later you'll get an award if you do a great job, okay?’’

‘’Wha- What do you mean?”

“oh come on! You know what I mean~ I can feel you getting excited with my every touch”

You pulled closer, your bodies pressed against each other, lips almost touching. A blush spread across Daniel’s face, making you smile from ear to ear. His eyes avoided yours, he felt unprofesional, ashamed of his state, but you didn’t mind.

‘’Meet me in the bathroom”

You whispered and placed a soft kiss on his lips, before leaving. The man took a deep breath then followed in your tracks almost immediately. He didn’t even managed to knock on the bathroom door when you pulled him inside by his clothes and pressed against the door. You locked it then slowly dropped down to your knees.

„You have to be quiet... "

You whispered then started your sinful ministrations, without any objection from Daniel, to your surprise. With one swift motion you undid his pants and pulled them down, revealing a big bulge strained by his boxers. You bit your lip, looking up at the flustered man. His eyes were dark with lust, but his body didn’t show it, it was rather shy. You took a deep breath and freed his member. He was big, both in lenght and breadth, and you liked it... You liked a little challenge.

You licked it slowly from the perfectly trimmed bush up to the tip, then without any hesitation took him in entirely. The gagging motion signaling that it’s a bit too much made you pull away a little. You started to bob your head ahead and back, occasionally stopping to rub your thumb against his tip. You could see, and partially hear, that Daniel enjoyed it as he tried his best to quiet down his moans and grunts. You tried to be as fast as you could, as you didn’t have a lot of time, but also tried to tease the man, which you would usually do. You sucked him fast, almost bringing him to the edge to then pull away, smiling brightly and softly massaging his balls, then again and again.

Soon Daniel couldn’t take it anymore and started to quietly beg for the release. It made your panties even wetter than they already were. His pleas and cries filled the room and stroked your ego. You were so proud of yourself for being able to make one of the most handsome man in the world so vulnerable and crave for your touch. Soon you decided you tortured him enough. You went as fast as you could, massaging his balls roughly.

‘’Liebchen... I-I'm close...’’

Daniel breathed out before a loud moan escaped his lips and his warm seed filled your throat. You pulled away and showed him the mess he made in your mouth, before gulping down everything. You stood up, pulling his boxers and pants up.

‘’You did such an amazing job...’’

You praised with a warm smile, cleaned yourself up and left the bathroom after placing a soft kiss to the man’s cheek. You were really satisfied with your job as later, almost every photo came out perfectly.

After the photoshoot was done, you took Daniel out for dinner and late at night, he made you his lady Brühl, just as he promised.

[loki-quinn]

CA-CW Baron Helmut Zemo Aesthetic 💀

[blackleatherjacketz]

Dang. You haven’t? It’s the one I’m most proud of! Thanks for reading!

Point of No Return

Baron Helmut Zemo x Original Female Character

Summary: While preparing for a mission where she has to seduce their target, Zemo convinces her to show him how she plans on doing it.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Daniel Bruhl’s Magnetic Essence, Dubious Consent, Manipulation, Sugar Daddy Undertones, Soft Dom Zemo, Roleplay, Oral Sex (Male and Female Receiving), Vaginal Sex, Lingerie, Dresses, Tuxedos, Kissing, Face Holding, Teasing, Hair Pulling, Zemo’s Hands, Eye Contact, Classical Music References, Zemo Possibly Catching Feelings

Word Count: 3.7K

Tags: Thank you to @bullet-prooflove for helping me concoct this universe! @letsby @imadeadpoett @mrsmaxwelllord @genevievedarcygranger​

Read more MARVEL stories!

“How does it fit?” He doesn’t bother to look at her as she walks into his room wearing the gown he had made especially for her, one he was certain would fit every curve and angle of her body. He takes care to glance over just as she looks away, pretending not to notice how the vibrant color of the cloth complements the olive tones in her skin, accented only by the raven locks that cascade down her shoulders.

“Well enough, I guess.” She lifts her arms up, defeated by the fact that her chromosomes drew her the short straw in the group tonight.

She had dressed up a handful of times before; weddings, parties and funerals all placing her in dresses of varying lengths throughout her lifetime, but none of them were quite like this. None of them had clung so tightly to her skin, restricted her movement or made her feel so incredibly vulnerable that she questioned her ability to carry out her skill set in the presence of her colleagues… and him.

The baron looks up at her as she slowly turns around in front of him, noticing that the zipper on the back of her dress is still only halfway up. “You’re not zipped all the way.”

Keep reading

[andy-15-07]

A Love Unscripted

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

Paring: Daniel Brühl x reader

Words count: 2907

Daniel Brühl Masterlist | Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[scuttle-buttle]

Don't Let Go

Summay: Zemo keeps the holster on.

WC: 2098

Rated: E

Tags: smut, on the rough side, dom!zemo, some dub/con type vibes at certain points (but it is all consensual of course), tall!plus size!reader, body image issues about size, no stated use of protection, uh yeah

A/N: um. Look. Your guess is as good as mine as to where this came from and after me not being able to write for months. I started this in June, got stuck, stopped, forgot i started writing it, randomly was going thru my wips for #nostalgia today, and then this happened. Sad to report no further progress on Heist tho. I’m hoping very soon. Bone app the teeth?

🖤

You remember when you had the conversation. Only a few nights ago on a Friday, barely more than a week since first going on the run with him, you and the Baron drank a few glasses of his expensive scotch at the new safe house, and you had found yourself opening up about fantasies, or lack of.

"Come now, Schatz - there must be something you have been intrigued to."

A simple shrug is what you give. "Maybe a few times…. But it's not something I put much thought into or anything like that." You take a sip, the alcohol rough in its burn.

"Why is that?" he questions without missing a beat.

Meeting his gaze across the couch you see he's been watching you the entire conversation, as though there is nothing that even comes remotely close to being more important than whatever silly ideas you have to share. “I mean I’ve spent my whole life as this bigger, intimidating person. Hell, I’m taller than you, by what an inch and a half? And most people that much, if not more,” you lightly scoff and sip again from your tumbler of scotch. “It wasn't something feasible being bigger I guess-” you gesture to your torso “-so I dropped the ideas before it could really set in as something I wanted. I told you - I'm always on my own and having to do my own thing. Had to get a grip on my life and be an independent woman and all that," you chuckle.

Zemo had been more than thorough in acquainting you with the basics of intimacy the last week; yet he let you take the lead as much as possible. Almost entirely, truly. You weren't at the point of anything wild or experimental, nor were you brave enough to try going rogue. So it was easy, it was standard - not that you had any complaints. But Helmut was adamant that it was you who controlled how he kissed you, how he touched you, how he broke your body and soul piece by piece in the long hours of the night.

You look across the room into the flickering light of the fireplace. Quieter, you add "just once I’d like to feel like the small one in a situation, to have to look up to someone literally and figuratively, to not feel like I’m too big and to just be able to let someone else make the choice for me." Looking back at him and speaking a little more blase, you finish "but I don't know. That's about as far as I got."

“I like looking up at you, Schatz, it’s like looking at an angel,” Helmut whispers. Since you had unofficially gotten together after escaping Riga he was constantly praising and complimenting you. You always expected to feel like he was just flattering you, but he made it such a point to talk about your intelligence, kindness, generosity, humor, and how beautiful he found you in equal parts.

You don't bother fighting back your grin. “I’m sure you do, Baron.” Downing the rest of your drink you tell him you are tired and head off to bed with a kiss.

Helmut had business to attend into the late evening. You made yourself busy reading some old book from the safe house’s upstairs library. The sun set as you read. Oranges and pinks and purples cast the room in a peaceful glow as you engulfed yourself in tales of times gone by. Maybe three hours later you hear him call out for you, breaking you from your page; “Schatz, could you come down here?”

Excitement bubbles within you at his arrival. “Be down in a sec!” You closed the book and placed it on the desk. Wandering around in the darkness you think you hear him in the kitchen. You call out “Helmut are you-” as you reach for the light switch when a shadowy figure backs you into a wall, knocking the breath you had from your lungs. For a second you panic, heart beating wildly out of your chest, until you see a glint of that familiar chocolate in the shadow’s eyes. The white-knuckled grip you have on the fabric of his top relaxes.

Pressed up against the kitchen wall by the man, you can just make out that he's clad in his gear. A thick burgundy turtleneck covers the expanse of his broad chest, the leather straps of a holster secured around his shoulders. Sturdy combat boots brush the sides of your ankles from where he has trapped your legs between his. The shoes give him an extra inch compared to your barefoot state, in addition to the commanding way he carries himself at present. Even as his gaze is eye level with your own like this he looks as if he towers above you.

Searching his eyes as best as you can in the limited light, you attempt “Hel what-”

A calloused palm cups the skin of your cheek, his thumb pressing softly against your mouth and silencing you. He says nothing; you wait, swallowing in anticipation. The digit glides slowly along the seam of your lips before pushing slightly between. You don't mind the intrusion, instead finding the taste of his skin intoxicating as you run the tip of your tongue over him. Pupils flit from your own to where his thumb rests. Zemo sighs. Feeling the fire within your core ignite you decide to take initiative, giving a gentle nip before sucking delicately on the pad of his thumb.

There is no mistaking the way his eyes blacken. The softness in his tone doesn’t match the formidability of his presence as he whispers “My Leibling…”

Zemo’s body presses yours further into the wall with such force it tears a gasp from you; his lips and tongue ravage yours with such a ferocity unlike anything you’ve known. Hands clutch at your jaw like vices. The thought crosses your mind that perhaps his fingertips might leave bruises. Nevertheless, you can’t be damned to stop him, especially not when you feel the beginnings of his hardening cock pushing into your hip, or the wetness seeping between your legs.

Finally, when the burn in your lungs becomes too great he breaks away and instead attaches his mouth to your throat. You have no doubt he can feel the pounding of your heart where he sucks and bites at your flesh. The Baron slides a hand under the edge of your top. His fingers are hot where they dig into your soft side. A feeble attempt to maneuver your hands to remove your shirt results in a tsk from him, his own larger ones moving to rip the fabric of your nightshirt right down the middle and exposing your peaked breasts to the cool air and his hungry stare. “Fuck - Helmut, what’s- ugh-” a particularly hard pinch to your nipple breaks your concentration, “what’s gotten in to you?” The question comes out as a moan.

Instead of an answer he tugs at the waistband of your shorts. With your reassuring nod he pushes them over your wide hips and thick thighs. Not a minute later he’s pulled a leg to wrap around his hip and opens you up to the grind of his still-clothed cock. “Don’t think, Leibling, just feel,” he commands.

The material of his pants rubs a delicious friction; your juices soaking through the fabric. You can feel the inferno growing. Breathy moans fill the near-silent kitchen. “Mein Gott, Draga I can feel how wet you are. Does this excite you? To know that you are enough to drive the great Baron Zemo to such primal need? To such depravity as to not even give you the luxury of a bed, but instead to have you right here and at my mercy?” He punctuates his statement with a harsh roll of his hips.

You whine in need. The pressure between your hips grows, you need him more than you can bear to think. Quickly you move to undo the fastening of his trousers between you. He does not stop you, only slows his movements to make it easier for you to work. When his bared cock finally rubs along your soaked core you manage to whimper a pathetic please. Helmut’s grip on your leg around his hip remains firm. He uses his free arm to place each of your hands on the straps of his holster along his pectorals. You pull on the leather as if to test its strength. There is barely enough room for your wrists between you where your chests are crushed together.

Suddenly Zemo drops as he leans to wrap his free hand underneath the leg that still supports your weight; his brute strength lifts you completely before you realize what he’s doing. “Wait no- Helmut I’m too-”

“No.” Zemo snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one fluid motion.

“Oh my god.” You sound pathetic as you keen at the fullness within you.

Both of his hands support you under the soft curve of your upper thighs. You tighten your legs around the small of his back on instinct. Panic surges through you despite the wonderful feel of him inside you. You aren’t small, you weigh too much, you’ll hurt him.

He jerks his shoulders minutely to bring your attention to where your fingers are wrapped around his holster straps. “Do not let go, Draga. Do you understand?”

“But-”

“Do you understand, Leibling?” he asks again, this time more demanding than you’ve ever heard.

“Yes.”

The first slam of his cock is fierce. It is precise. It is beyond any sort of pleasure you’ve ever felt, to have this man fucking you within an inch of your life as he all but cradles your body within the palm of his hand like it was your destiny to be there. Through all your sobs and cries of ecstasy he does not let up on the onslaught. Each thrust hits deep within you. His hips angle to brush your bundle of nerves with every movement. The peaks of your breasts tease and graze his sweater; probably an unfair advantage for him to be clothed and yet you at his complete mercy. You can’t fault how the sensation only heightens your euphoria. This time you know for sure his fingertips will paint your thighs with their memory for days to come; will create a masterpiece along the expanse of your skin that no Van Gogh or Picasso or Da Vinci could ever hope to produce.

Your release comes all too quickly at his attentions. Helmut doesn’t let up, nor does he seem to even break a sweat at his herculean task. At one point you swear you feel the leather straps start to give under the chokehold of your fists as he orders you to come again along his shaft, his words leaving no room for you to think otherwise.

Helmut reaches his own peak as your channel tightens around him, the growl of your name against your temple like a bolt of electricity. Hips slowing to a gentle roll, he does not pull himself from you, instead adjusting his hold under you to keep you pinned between his body and the wall. Your forehead comes to rest on his shoulder. The Baron drops sweet kisses to your temple, to your cheek, as you both come down from your high.

“Mmmm…Maybe you should put me down now? My legs are sore,” you mumble into his sweater, flexing your thigh and calf muscles where they still circle his waist.

“And if I do not want to? What then, my Leibling?” At your answering groan he hums in contentment before slowly removing himself from you, moving from the wall, and carrying you to the loveseat in the next room. Oversized boots thump with each step. The loose pants hanging from his knees slow his walk to a shuffle. He sits, situating you in his lap. Zemo looks down to see your fingers still wrapped around the holster. With a smile he says “you may let go now, Schatz. You did so well for me, such a good girl.”

It takes your digits a moment to cooperate as you untangle them from their place. “I’m not sure I can move my hands…?”

Helmut chuckles at your admission, taking your hands in each of his. He brings them to hip lips and places delicate kisses on them. Carefully he begins to massage your fingers and palms; “well, we must see to that, shouldn't we?”

(I'll be honest idk who is on my tag list for zemo since I haven't written for him in like 9 months sorrry)

Tag list: @ay0nha @livvyshmiv @fictionlandslanddreams @vinylrosess @typical-bistander @ntlmundy @dragon-baron @anteroom-of-death @somethingthatsaysbubbles @lieutenantn @multiversemarielle @trashbin2 @whatawildone @laura-naruto-fan1998 @greeneyedblondie44 @godidontevenknowwhat @lorna-d-m @hardlyinteresting @marchingicenotes7 @earlgreysandcloudydays

[mypoisonedvine]

you know your last zemo piece RUINED me I think about it at least once a day 😭 what about zemo/reader + 41? 👀 if you feel like it of course! I would read even your grocery list probably

okay well then eggs, milk, greek yogurt--

just kidding c: (not kidding that i need to buy greek yogurt tho. i ran out the other day)

41: "don't do that. don't act like you don't feel this too."

warnings: smut (18+ only, ever so slightly dubcon because of all of the denial?), fingering and overstimulation, glove kink, angst, enemies to lovers, descriptions of injuries and violence, reader is very generally implied to be an avenger?

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

"What are you doing here?" you asked sharply, pretending to be focused on your book even though your heart had been beating too fast to let you read another word as soon as he stepped into your room.

"I just wanted to speak with you," he said. You knit your brows together, because obviously you just want to talk, what the hell else would we be doing in here alone? but you didn't say anything. "About what happened today--"

"It doesn't mean anything," you insisted, rather dramatically flipping the page of your book. "You're an asset to the mission, my job is to keep the mission on track. That's it."

He didn't react, really. "I... never said it meant anything," he explained, "I simply wanted to thank you."

You cursed yourself internally, staring blankly forward at your book, trying so hard to ignore his dark form in your peripheral. Did he have to keep staring at you like that?

"So, thank you," he said.

"That's not necessary," you insisted, "I would've done it for anyone."

"You'd take a bullet for anyone?" he pressed.

You closed your book in frustration, finally looking back at him; you wished you hadn't. You couldn't even begin to react to everything you saw on his face, the way he was looking back at you... you stopped yourself before you even thought about trying to describe what emotion that could be. It took you a moment to even remember what you were going to say: "I didn't take a bullet," you corrected him, standing up off the bed, "I had Kevlar on. I just blocked it."

"Yes, Kevlar-- not magic," he clarified. "It must have still injured you."

You shrugged. "I'll live."

"May I see?" he asked softly, stepping forward until he was uncomfortably close to you, and you nodded slightly. You couldn't look at him as his gloved hand slowly pulled up the bottom of your tank top, until the massive bruise on your stomach was revealed. "Christ..." he whispered under his breath.

You shoved the fabric back down and wiped under your nose, trying to act normal and stern again.

"I didn't know you were wearing a vest," he explained. "The feeling that went through me when I thought you were really hit-- that you might..."

He trailed off, but you nodded, knowing what he meant.

"I haven't felt that feeling in a long time," he continued soberly, his gaze a little darker. "I never wanted to feel that again."

"Well, I guess I'm sorry if I... distressed you," you mumbled.

"Surely you know I'm not here asking for an apology," he scoffed.

"Then what do you want from me?!" you snapped.

"Don't ask me a question you don't want me to answer," he warned, and your heart jumped.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you mumbled, crossing your arms tightly and looking away.

He didn't answer, just stepped closer to you-- you wanted to step back, but the bed was in your way. Damn these insanely tiny rooms...

You looked back at him, trying to keep a straight face, hoping he couldn't hear your racing pulse somehow.

"Ask me again what I want from you," he ordered darkly, "if you really want to know."

You stammered a bit but eventually choked it out, almost a whisper: "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to promise you'll never do that again."

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it wasn't that. "What?"

"Never put yourself in harm's way like that again," he demanded, "I can't take it-- if you were really hurt, or even killed--"

"It's my job," you reminded him. "If my orders put me in harm's way, that's where I go. And my orders come from Bucky, not you."

"James doesn't care about you," he interjected sharply, and your eyes went wide. "And you don't care about James-- not in that way, at least."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," you blurted out, not sure what else you were supposed to say to that.

"Don't do that," he pleaded lowly, shaking his head. "Don't pretend that you don't feel this, too."

You tried to step away but he grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you back into him-- closer than ever; his other hand came up to hold your face, a gloved thumb tracing over your cheek as you looked back at him.

"I can't watch you get hurt again," he breathed, "least of all for me. Just let me protect you."

"I don't need your protection," you assured, "I can fend for myself."

"But do you want to?"

When your mouth opened with a little gasp of denial, he took the opportunity to kiss you-- hard and passionate, pulling your body close to his.

You put your hands on his chest like you were going to push him away, but you found yourself melting into it instead, and your fingers weakly clutched at the fur lapel of his coat.

"Fuck," you mumbled against his lips, kissing him back with more intensity than either of you expected. Weeks of tension finally broke as you clawed at each other, falling onto the bed and struggling with a mess of bulky clothes.

His kiss moved to your neck, his teeth digging into your skin until you whined. "Would it be wrong of me," he wondered, "to be responsible for another mark on you?"

"Shut up," you hissed, 'cause how the fuck could he be all poetic and shit right now? You could barely even think straight-- clearly you weren't thinking straight, because you were in bed under Zemo of all people. "I can't fucking stand you sometimes."

"I know," he mumbled against your skin, his hands moving down your waist until he could start opening your belt.

"But I wanted you so fucking bad..."

"I know."

He slipped his hand into your pants, cupping your sex for just a moment, before roughly shoving two fingers inside you-- with his fucking leather glove still on. You moaned low and loud, tossing your head back as he stretched you on those fingers, the intrusion thick and sudden and making you insanely desperate.

Your back arched as he thrusted those fingers inside you, your legs spreading naturally as your body craved more. He pulled away from your neck to stare down at your face, mesmerized by the way you responded to him.

"O-oh my god," you gasped, "fuck--"

"Right there?" he assumed as he curled his fingers against your spot, making you shudder and hold tight onto his arm.

"Yes, yes!" you whimpered.

"Quiet, draga," he cooed, "James is only one room away--"

"Fuck, j-just fuck me," you begged, "I need you-- just fuck me, please."

"No," he denied flatly, though it clearly pained him to say it. "One of us has to stay in control."

You whined in frustration, amazed at how much he could say in so few words. I'm in control right now. I wouldn't be able to control myself if I was inside you. I wouldn't hold back, and everyone would hear us. You couldn't pick which underlying meaning was the one that made you that much more wet all of a sudden.

He purred through a smile as he rubbed harder against the spot inside you, moving his covered thumb to press to your clit as well. "I can feel how badly you need this-- it must have been so long since anyone pleasured you, hm? And you must have known I could take care of you."

Your legs were shaking already, your hand reaching up to hold onto his shoulder, then weaving into his hair. You tried to pull him down for a kiss, but when his face came close to yours, he stopped and stared right into your eyes-- and his other hand grabbed yours and pinned it down roughly beside your head. You bit your lip, hating how much you loved the helplessness you felt right then.

"I just need you to come for me now," he explained with a growl. "I need to watch you give into it."

"I-I'm close," you nodded, and he smiled again.

"I know," he said, making you feel a little stupid for even saying it. "Show me. I want to see what it looks like when you let go."

With your one free hand holding tightly onto the sheets, your hips started to rock up into his touch-- or maybe trying to get away from it, the feeling was so intense. Either way he had no trouble keeping you where he wanted you, shoving his fingers deep until your eyes rolled back. You knew you were saying his name, you heard it echoing around the walls, but you refused to believe that it was really you begging for him like that. You would've given him anything he wanted right then, just to get through that feeling and let ecstasy wash over you: thankfully, all he wanted was exactly that.

It was actually quiet at first, you were holding your breath without really meaning to; only when you just barely started to come down from the high did you make a sound again, a moan going out along with a big exhale of everything you'd been holding in.

Except the feeling didn't stop, because he didn't. Actually, he started going even harder.

Your eyes shot open and your body rocked. "F-fuck, fuck!" you yelped, both your hands tightening into fists before the unrestrained one grabbed at his wrist to try to slow him down-- which obviously didn't work.

He was biting his lip and flaring his nostrils from the force of it, staring down at you with fire in his eyes as he kept going.

"Oh my god," you sobbed, "I-I can't-- fuck, I-- oh!"

You wouldn't really call it a scream... he would, but you wouldn't. You might have said it was more like a high-pitched moan or maybe just a loud whine, but really, to anyone else who heard it (which may not have just been Zemo) it was definitely a scream. A scream of overwhelming, painfully-perfect pleasure. And only when your whole body was a shaking, useless mess did he stop moving his fingers inside you and gently pull them out.

You were so exhausted, going limp against the mattress and fighting to blink your eyes open, that you didn't even really notice him bringing his soaked glove to his mouth and getting a taste of you, humming contentedly.

It was only when he let go of your wrist and stopped hovering over you, sitting on the bed with a sigh, that you really noticed him again and (mostly) came back to reality.

His hair was messed up, and his face was flushed-- and you'd tugged his shirt to the side and exposed more of his chest. Only now did he look even a quarter as affected by this as you were. "There will be a time and place for more, draga," he promised you with a sigh, "soon."

"When?" you asked, and he smiled a bit deviously at you before wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and kissing you again-- sweeter, slower, but with a hint of dominance as he gently bit on your bottom lip.

"Whenever my patience runs out," he answered with a grin.

[ebiemidnightlibrarian]

In Noctem | Father Romero x Demon!Reader | English

(this GIF doesn't belong to me, credits to the owner (if you're the owner, please, tell me, so I can give you the credit))

SUMMARY | MY MASTERLIST

Warnings: Religious Images and Symbols, Disrespect for Religion, Catholic Guilt, Breaking Celibacy Vows, BDSM (Soft), Smut, Choking Link, Priest Kink, Blood, Masturbation (implicit), Oral Sex (afab), Heresy, Descriptions of Body Horror, Demonic Mythology, References to Dante's Inferno.

Note: Skin, hair and body tone descriptions were purposely vague so that everyone interested can have a turn.

Again, English isn't my mother language, so I'm sorry for any orthography or writing mistakes you might find. If you feel comfortable, you can tell me what you have found wrong, so I can fix it.

Word Count: 7.6K

A/N: Here is my contribution to the spooky season! Enjoy!

THE NIGHT MASS had just ended when the brown-haired young priest felt a dark shiver in his core, creeping up his spine, shivering every golden thread on the back of his neck. Some of the last of the faithful who had attended Mass were leaving the church, the mahogany pews gradually emptying once more that day. The lights were off and only a few punctual candles illuminated the church's wide nave with their flickering light, allowing the place to be engulfed in darkness.

Patiently saying goodbye, Father Mateo waved to a couple of ladies who had greeted him on the beautiful Mass. His deep ebony brown eyes then caught a subtle movement of a pale figure to his right. Turning his warm gaze to said figure, Mateo caught sight of the angelic face of the young woman who was a novice at the nearby convent.

The young woman rarely missed a Mass for Father Romero, even though she was sometimes late or needed to convince the matron that she would not be long. The nuns of St. Agnes had their own mass in the convent, but the novice never took pleasure in any of them as with the masses of the priest in the church next door. For her, Mateo Romero had a special way with words, one that made a heat rise within her, at her core. The novice always felt closer to God in that church, listening to the young priest's sweet words of faith.

“Good evening, Father Romero.”, she smiled gently, a gentle blush covering her cheeks, her habit white as milk, pure, a rosary tightly wrapped in her hand. Approaching slowly, the priest greeted her with a smile.

“Good evening.”, said the priest in his husky, lilting voice. “What can I do for you, my child?”, he asked, his words echoing through the empty church. He studied her with his eyes, a spark behind them.

The young novice couldn't help but think that the priest looked too attractive for a clergyman, especially when he wore the White Robe to masses, her heart skipping a beat at the thought that permeated her mind. Not looking him in the eye, as the worn rosary in her hand suddenly looked very interesting, she continued.

“I… I'd like to confess, Father”, she says, the blush on her cheeks turning almost scarlet in the half-light. Mateo could barely contain his soft laugh, laced with the young lady’s shyness. He always referred to her as if there was a huge gap between their ages, but she was only a few years younger. For him it was a way of reminding him that she was not reachable.

“You know you must go to the convent, don't you?”, the priest uttered, his tone still gentle but almost patronizing as he gently rebuked her. Hands clasped in front of him, settling into a comforting posture, Father Romero kept a friendly smile in the curve of his thin lips.

“Yes, I know… but I thought, since I'm here…”, the young woman begins, her sweet, gentle voice trembling slightly with anxiety. She lifted her almond eyes to the clergyman in front of her, for a split second making eye contact, her cheeks burning a red that stood out with the excess of white on her robes.

“I won't scold you for that, after all, it's my duty to listen to you if you wish so.”, The soothing cadence in the male timbre made the young novice calm down slightly. “After you.”, With a deft flick of his wrist, Mateo pointed the way through the pews to the small confessional booth to the right of the altar, in the corner. Taking a long breath, the novice nodded, nervously clutching the rosary in her delicate hand.

The sound of footsteps reverberated off the walls. The young woman dressed in white had the impression that she could only hear her own footsteps. Father Mateo had a feather-light step, almost as if he floated as he walked. The novice could hear the irregular beat of her heart above the rhythmic floor, the blood rushing through her auricles.

Mateo swallowed hard under his clerical collar, his Adam's apple slowly rising and falling. He saw the novice daily, at least twice a day; at morning mass and evening mass. His daily torment to focus on the sermon as a good Christian, a good God-fearing pastor. Oh, how she was a sight for sore eyes, but also fuel for the impure fire that burned within him whenever he rested his brown orbs on her. The white tunic he wore felt strangely warm, muffling the heat of his body beneath his cassock.

As they made their way to the mahogany casing of two cabins, a pair of glowing aureate orbs watched them from a corner soaked in darkness. The glittering spheres were soon adorned with a pearly smile full of sharp teeth.

Mateo felt the burning of eyes on the back of his neck.

The novice crossed herself with the sign of the cross and waited for the priest to enter the confessional so that she could do it herself. Entering the small darkroom, the young woman knelt in humility and listened intently to her own laboured breathing in that tiny confined space. She almost had the impression that at any moment, the cubicle walls would be so close together they would crush her.

Father Romero heard the rustle of the novice's clothes as she settled herself in the next cabin. He took a long breath. Inside the confessional, the infernal heat he felt seemed even worse, as if his own body was being consumed by flames. Carefully so that the young woman on the other side of the trellis would not notice, Mateo removed the white tunic, wrapping it minimally in his lap. Now only the blackened cassock remained.

There was a long silence.

The young novice held the trembling rosary tightly in her hands. Maybe not a good idea, she considered. The white noise of her blood running fast like horses at a racetrack reverberating against the walls and coming back to her. She had no reason to fear the man beside her. Even though she was only eight months into her preparation to profess, she had already learned that the priest would not judge her or reveal her secrets, he couldn't. She also knew that what mattered most at that moment was complete and absolute honesty.

She didn't commit many sins, not even the venial ones, however, since she'd laid eyes on the ebony-haired priest, lust had been her most present companion, the only sin that had sunk its claws into her. The impure thoughts that permeated her innocent mind night after night, robbing her of sleep and causing her to sin against her and against God every time she slipped her fingers into the throbbing heat between her legs…

A throat clearing came from the other side of the trellis. How long have I been silent? Clearing her throat, the novice clasped her hands together and looked up at the incomplete image of the priest's profile through the trellis.

“Father?”, she murmured in a shaky voice, considering her sins made her feel the familiar heat spiral in her belly. Another brief silence fell, the priest's slightly heavy breathing could be heard.

“Yes, my child?”, the comforting tone given to the priests sounded through the holes in the trellis, except that there was a certain tremor in his voice that was unusual for him. The heat in the wooden cabin seemed to emanate from hell itself. Cold sweat broke out on his pale forehead, the soft, dark strands of his hair sticking to his damp skin.

“Would you mind saying the Serenity Prayer? It's unusual, I know, but… I think… I need some confidence, for what I'm going to say.”, An embarrassed laugh escaped the novice's rosy lips. She, despite it being dark, still felt eyes on her, blood running down her neck and into her cheeks, painting her an embarrassed red.

“Okay.”, a moment of silence followed, a deep breath from both of them reverberated in the small confessional. “Grant us, Lord, the serenity necessary to accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the ones we can, and the wisdom to distinguish one from the other.”, Mateo felt his breath drain away in such a short prayer. Just the close presence of the novice was all it took to make him almost delirious. Heat, heat as if his body were on fire. Every soft, pure word that escaped the novice's lips made him even more uneasy.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”, She took a deep breath, the rosary marking her threads in red, round spots on her palms by the force with which she held it. “I-It's been seven days since I confessed.”, Her sweet voice died in her throat.

Maybe I shouldn't do that, not with him-, her thought was cut off by the priest's heated tone, his comforting voice.

“How do you feel, my daughter?”, asked him in his slightly breathless, smoky voice. He waited for an answer. The clerical collar of the cassock nearly choked him, anxiety filling his chest under the watchful gaze of the novice watching him…and the hungry gaze of the hidden shadow.

“Well, anxious… anxious about what I have to tell you, and honestly, now that I'm here I wonder if I should.”, a nervous laugh leaves the young woman. Her eyes had grown used to the pitch in the cabin, and now she could make out the priest's flushed face through the trellis. He had thin lips parted as he drew in a generous breath of air, and his golden eyes were engulfed in an almost hungry darkness.

“You know you can trust me, I'm here to guide you, nothing you've done or said will be judged. Confess whatever is weighing on your mind, open your soul and your heart, my child, let God weigh your sins.”, he murmured in a way to comfort her. The priest leaned close to the trellis as he spoke.

The spicy smell of sandalwood, the sweetness of bergamot and the smoky smell of myrrh from the thurible invaded the young lady's nostrils. The novice felt her tense shoulders relax a little, and she moved her face from the trellis towards the comforting scent of the priest. Maybe she just needed his confirmation. Taking a long breath, the young woman wiped the sweat from the palms of her hands in her white robe and raised them again in prayer.

“Father, I have sinned against my vows… I have sinned against God and the most holy church.”, She swallowed in her shame. “I met a man, Father, a good man…”, the novice's voice cracked. How can I tell this without him knowing it's his I'm talking about? The thought suddenly occurred to her. Even so, she continued before she could stop herself. “H-he's kind to me, even when I'm being silly, or even when I say something I shouldn't…”, Another pause occurred, the novice moistened her lips, suddenly dry with worry.

Mateo felt the bitterness of bile boil in his throat at the thought of the novice falling for a man, for a man other than himself; jealousy. What a ridiculous feeling for a priest to have! Jealous of a girl he could never have, let alone a novice! For God!

Something inside him seemed to move, a weight in his chest, sinking deeper and deeper, making it difficult for him to breathe. Moistening his thin lips, Father Romero tensed his jaw and muttered a restrained 'go on'.

“I-I'm sorry, it's just that… well, there's a problem Father, he's a man of the clergy, a servant of God.”, Servant of God? He thought, the words echoing in his mind. Surely the novice shouldn't be talking about himself, isn’t? A childish glee welled up in the man's chest at the possibility, a gentle ardour in his heart, contrasting with the hellish flames that seemed to surround him in that little cabin soaked in dimness.

“He is such a good man, Father, so good. He cares so much for his congregation, even though he is always busy, he finds time for everyone who needs it. Whether it's a word of comfort or just a word of advice or conversation…”, the novice's gentle voice shivered at the memories of their peaceful meetings with the man in the cabin next door, the subtle little touches. “I ended up… falling in love I believe… Oh, but he's always so kind and has the sweetest smile I've ever seen.”, Mateo could hear the smile in her voice, so sweet it brought the warmth of his chest to his own cheeks. “I fear I feel jealous and resentful whenever I see his kind attentions in others than me…”, the novice, had her monologue interrupted by the smoky cadence of Father Romero's voice.

“Don't be afraid to be jealous or resentful, my child, it's natural, don't be afraid to be punished by God for feeling that way. You know, God made us in His image and likeness, every so-called flaw is there for a reason. Don't blame yourself, there's nothing to be ashamed of, God loves you anyway.”, the words of comfort escaped in a torrent. The novice felt the sparrow on her chest beat uncontrollably. “Even in the darkest moments, you can count on Him…and me…”, the breathless whisper slipped from the priest's lips without his consent. Romero begged her not to hear him.

Only the rustle of clothes and slow breathing answered him.

“I-I pray for him every night, Father… I pray that one day he will notice how I see him, that he will somehow know what I feel. I know it's a foolish wish, but I can't help it…”, the novice takes a long, shaky breath and continues. “He visits my thoughts at night, Father, in these thoughts he is no longer a clergyman, and I am no longer a novice… I often imagine how his hands would feel on me… These unholy thoughts haunt me, Father… there are nights when I dream of the heat of his body against mine…”, the familiar coil of heat tightened in the novice's core. The blush streaked across her cheeks. The novice was silent. Only their breaths answered the endless questions they had for each other.

Mateo trembled, at some point in the novice's anxious account he found himself in slightly tighter pants. The sweet, innocent voice of the young woman in the next cabin awakened the fire inside him, smouldering. The novice's sweetly breathless tone called his name. Taking a deep, gasping breath, the priest implored, his voice husky deep, his Spanish accent thicker than when he normally spoke, shaky words trickling past his thin lips.

“Stop.”, he asked, a shivering hand ran over his sweaty white forehead and smoothed his damp hair. “Please stop, I-I can't-”, the young novice felt her chest tighten at the desperate cadence in the priest's voice. “I mustn't hear this. Please leave.”, The drops of sweat ran icy down the young man's temples and the back of his neck, the cold dampness accumulating on his clerical collar.

“F-forgive me, it wasn't proper I-”, the young woman's apology died in her throat as Mateo's smoky, anxious voice cut her off. The sparrow eagerly on her chest beat its wings in anguish.

“Please leave, I-I need to pray.”, nervousness was stamped in Romero's voice. The novice's name slipped from his tongue in a distressed plea, Mateo didn't trust himself when he was in the girl's presence, he feared he wouldn't be able to contain himself if she remained, especially after such a confession.

The novice then understood that he knew who she was talking about. A wave of heat descended through both their bodies. Looking at the dark decal of the priest's silhouette through the trellis, the young woman noticed the slight bulge in Mateo's black lined trousers. A breathless moan left her as the novice pressed her thighs together under her habit to ease the stinging pain at the apex of her legs.

The pair of aureate orbs watched the celibate couple in ecstasy.

Rising from where she knelt and straightening to leave, the novice shivered, the joints of her knees cracking with the sudden movement. Before withdrawing from the haunted wooden cubicle, she felt compelled to whisper the priest's name in a seductively accusatory tone.

“Mateo, I wouldn't mind if you decided to visit me tonight, or in any other. Reciprocity must be considered… God would not condemn us for that.”, having said that, the novice strode off, without waiting for an answer from the priest. He was an intelligent man, her message was clear to a good connoisseur.

After the novice left, Mateo prayed fervently in the confessional booth until he almost fainted. When he crawled into his little parish room it was past midnight, the phalanxes of his fingers burned from the force with which he had held the rosary, his knees complaining of the hours kneeling against the hard wood in penance. Removing his sweat-soaked liturgical robes, he collapsed onto the bed, enjoying the cool night air against his warm skin.

Facing the ceiling, Father Romero entered a state of semi-consciousness in the darkness of the room. At some point, he can't remember, Mateo fell asleep. His sleep was restless as lusty nightmares sifted through his mind.

The young priest wondered what it would be like to touch the novice. What her skin would smell like, whether her hands were soft or calloused. What would her hair smell like, what colour would it be, was it brown? Red? Blond or black as coal? Would her breasts fit in his hands? What would the valley taste like between them? Mateo imagined what heavenly sounds she would make when he kissed her, when he placed himself between her thighs and tasted the sweetness of her nectar.

The shadow watched the young priest's lovely restlessness. Approaching the male figure stretched out on the bed in slender, infamous movements, the humanoid creature straddled its legs and sat down on the stiff bulk between Mateo's legs. Its sharp, pearly smile adorned its dark face, sordid intent in the golden gleam of its eyes.

Father Romero imagined the novice astride him. He could almost feel her pulse around him, her wet heat pressed against his length. The weight of a body on his, gentle hands holding his shoulders, he would sink his face into the valley of her breasts and inhale the scent of her soft skin…

An animalistic noise, like a growl, reached his ears, Mateo tried to move, but he couldn't, his limbs were glued to the mattress, as if gravity had sunk him into the bed. He felt paralysed, a moment of panic settling in his chest as his consciousness recovered.

He wasn't with the novice, he was alone, in his room in the parish, and something weighed on him in the darkness.

Even his mind's incessant orders for his body to move, he remained paralysed, nothing moved. In his mind, Mateo was screaming to wake up. Anxiety and panic rising in his chest. Wake up! Wake up! His inner voice roared in his head. A frightened shiver ran over his skin as the young man felt frigid claws seep into his shirt, sharp griffins scratching the warm white skin of his chest.

Opening his eyes even a fraction, Father Romero froze at the sight of an infernal creature sinfully rubbing itself against his rigidity. A moan escaped his thin lips, and his ebony orbs watched the dark figure's demonic gaze climb up his torso and lock into his eyes. The shadow tilted its head with interest, watching with a wide, satisfied smile the young priest's chest rise and fall in ragged breaths.

Those golden orbs were as deep as abysses, Mateo thought that if he got any closer, those eyes could swallow him whole and send him into the depths of hell. With the movements of its obscure hips slowing to a stop, the demonic shadow moved tortuously, climbing the priest's youthful body. Its dark claws had a ferrous smell that reminded of blood. Mateo wanted to scream, but not a single noise other than his panting breath escaped his lips. The amber orbs of shadow engulfed his entire field of vision, the creature was so close to him that the priest was able to feel the vernal ardour that emanated from his body, almost homogeneous in the darkness.

The priest, with a disorderly thrust of his hand, turned on the gaslight at his bedside. The blackened entity disappeared from above his body, its bizarrely wide smile appearing a moment later in a dimly lit corner of the room.

Its brooding form was voluptuous, the way its silhouette crossed its legs seductively, its dark claws extending beyond its long fingers. The curve of its bare breasts clouded by wounds, cut parallel, the yellowish and blood-stained scarlet bones of its ribs, exuberantly exposed as if they were royal adornments. Long hair that stretched in waves halfway down its spine, each bony disc of its spine bared. The crimson red lips and the uneven pearly teeth, canines, and wisdom teeth as sharp as spears. A turned pair of horns adorned its head. The heavy breathing made the man shiver.

The aureate eyes still sparked on the priest.

The man's trembling hand ran to the rosary at his neck, sitting on the bed soaked with the remnants of his restless sleep, Mateo whispered the purge prayer he had learned so many years ago and never expected to use.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…”, the Latin words poured out of his mouth with fervour. A sibilation near a snake hiss resonated from the creature comfortably seated on the ground.

“You don't know how to play…”, the silhouette's voice was amused, almost sweet, the forked tongue of the shadow made room for its red lips with contempt. “You won't get much by saying those words, Father, it's just that, words.”, A disdainful laugh covered the prayer of the man huddled on the bed. The shape rose from its place on the floor and began to move lazily around the room.

“Who are you, demon?”, asked the young priest's hoarse, trembling voice. Each dancing step of the shadow toward him made him shiver and shift uncomfortably on the mattress. Chills ran terribly through every limb of his body, the young man could feel the cold bones.

The creature sneered as it allowed its hungry golden eyes to roam over the priest's form, he shivered in alarm at the sight of the demonic shadow. The silver cross of the rosary burned in his steady palm. There was a terrified sparrow in his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe. The demon sprawled across the bed, close enough that the clergyman could once again feel the heat emanating from its lascivious silhouette. Briefly escaping the creature's unholy heat, Mateo slid off the bed, his bare feet hesitantly touching the carpeted floor of the parish.

“I asked who you are, unworthy.”, the clergyman's whisper expressed order, as if he were the one in control of the situation. The demon laughed once more, an oddly healthy blush darkening its cheeks.

“I am the materialization of your lust, Mateo. The novice…”, a hand, claw, gestured towards the man of faith. “… your beloved novice has provoked my coming to you, your impure desires for her have brought about my coming.”, the disdain in the hellish creature's warm timbre sent a shiver down the parson's spine.

“Unholy creature…”, muttered Mateo, stepping back, his head moving incessantly in a negative nod. “Lies, lies flow from your demon mouth, I never did anything to the novice, ever.”, the outraged look of the priest never left the evil figure straddling his bed.

A derisive laugh echoed through the church structure into the young priest's bones.

“Hypocrisy doesn't suit you, Father. You know, there are no secrets for me. I've been in every dark corner of your mind, in every one of your dreams. I've peeked at everything and I know everything, don't deny anything to me. All the lies you've told, all the secrets you've left out, every impure, dirty, perverse thought that's ever passed through that pretty little head of yours, I know.”, Another sneer was present as the demon navigated around the frightened form of the priest, its humanoid shadow close to his ear. “I also know all the messes she wanted to do to you, daddy…”, the predatory voice of the entity didn't finish the biting whisper, the bachelor interrupted her abruptly.

“Don't say such nonsense! NO! She is pure, a good girl in heart and soul, her desires are perfectly natural, but she had the strength to resist them. I will not believe your lies, spawn of Satan!”, moving away from the place where he had been trapped between the bedside table and the shadow protruding, he took a deep breath. The once firm and reassuring voice failed to utter the words.

The shadow's pearly, toothy smile widened impossibly and its bizarre glowing eyes even more intense.

“Oh, Mateo… you can't be so innocent and believe that one of those 'good souls' in the convent next door will actually go to the so-called 'place of eternal bliss', can you? We know all good girls go to hell…”, the grimly dangerous and evil whisper resounded. The dark claws savagely caressed the young priest's flushed cheeks, scratching the pale skin, painting it with rosy marks.

“Blasphemy! A thousand times blasphemy, devil! God will always protect the good from the wicked, He has a good place kept for all who repent. A place of light you'll never reach, creature.”, Mateo spat the words out roughly. A swift flick of the demon's wrist landed a hard slap against Father Romero's face. His unsteady breath caught in his throat at the deadly glare the beast had given him.

“I am your death, Mateo, I was sent to take you. Where you are going is not a good place, I assure you, because that is where I came from.”, The threat danced hidden in its words. Romero shuddered and tried to pull away, only to be stopped by an inflexible barrier at his back. Trapped between the wall and the warm body of the creature that had positioned itself between his legs. “The second circle of hell awaits you, Father.”

“This is absurd! Demons don't come for mortals, that's not written, I had nev-”, the eager sigh left the young parishioner's lips as the insane depth of the entity's eyes became all he could see. Their bodies so pressed together that they could be one.

“Oh, Mateo, Mateo there is so much unwritten, so much that a mere glimpse of reality would destroy your poor mortal soul…”, a disdainful laugh reached the priest's ears. The golden orbs swallowed every coherent thought that the man of the clergy may have. “Would you like to glimpse what awaits you, good father? Do you want to hear the screams of the damned and the sultry smell of hell? The sickening sounds of bones being crushed by the incessant wind and the cry of more than a thousand souls torn apart by love? The playful moans of whores and the mournful wail of lovers? I can show you… I can guide you as Virgil guided Dante…”, the demon's sly whisper was sweet, tempting. The strangely comforting touch on his face, soothing the throb where he'd been hit.

Mateo leaned toward its crimson lips in a strange attraction. Those profane lips were magnetic, the young priest wondered what they would taste like. When their mouths were mere inches from touching, the demon turned away from his touch, an almost shy smile adorning its face.

“I cannot touch you if you don't give me a name.”, The words ran from its forked tongue like honey, its breath smelled of wine. “Mateo…”, continued the demon, its seductive voice a mere breathless whisper. “Say my name.”, Its voice, seemed to echo around the room, the order implicit in its command.

Mateo then somehow knew, his tongue sliding into his mouth, the tip tapping briefly behind his teeth as he serenely uttered the creature's name.

“Asmodeus.”, a Cheshire cat grin spread across the demon's face in understanding.

Gentle lips sealed with his.

The chaste kiss turned hungry, the creature greedily nibbled at the priest's lower lip, its sharp teeth breaking the delicate skin, the metallic taste of blood flooding its mouths. Romero shivered on a wave of pleasure as he felt the shadow's hand palm his still clad cock beneath his pants, he closed his eyes in appreciation. The demon swallowed his moans as it found an appropriate rhythm for its pulse strokes. Down a hungry trail of kisses along the jaw line and the column of the young priest's neck, the creature pressed against the firm thigh between his legs. A strangled gasp escaped the demon's scarlet-stained lips, a coil of heat forming a tiny bit in its lower belly.

Mateo opened his eyes with a guttural moan that resonated in his chest. His vision caught the youthful human form bathed in half light that the demon now displayed.

Her lacerated flesh had given way to soft, warm skin, her long claws shortened into dark, pointed nails, her wide smile torn across her angelic face was still there, but much more subtle, there were no more horns now and her golden orbs showed an inviting, cosy glow, like two pieces of gold.

Moving a firm hand up the side of the creature, the woman, now in front of him, Mateo squeezed the flesh of her hips, his brown eyes almost eclipsed with desire. The constant movements of the demon's pulse built a heat in his core. Her warm lips left dark marks across the young priest's white, spotted neck. A strangled moan escaped him as she bit down with particular force on the sweet spot where his neck met his shoulder.

Guilt filled Romero, the woman's open-mouthed kisses spread across his torso. Warm hands that pooled with the unholy heat of hell seeped under his shirt, the touch almost searing his white skin. The sharp edges of the nails left pinkish traces in their path. The young priest shivered as he felt the woman's fingertips curl into the waistband of his trousers. His member throbbing for contact.

Using her hips to press the priest where he needed it most, the demon used both hands to free Mateo of his clothes. The slightest touch of her fingers set fire to every corner that brushed the priest's skin. Goosebumps ran down his arms as the creature's warm breath spread across his bare shoulders as she lovingly sucked at a bruise on his wrist.

Leaving a trail of kisses down Mateo's chest and sucking dark bruises on her way, the demon stared hungrily at the lascivious stiffness between the priest's legs. Looking up through her long lashes, she parted her crimson lips and took in the regal outline of the fabric. Saliva and pre-cum soaked the fabric of his pants. The creature smiled minimally, being able to feel the heat emanating from him so well. Every lascivious noise and deep moan nearly made her come apart as she pressed her thighs together to ease the throbbing ache between them. A wave of pleasure coursed through the priest's body, his head lolled back against the wall and his mouth opened in a steady, husky moan.

“Oh my God…”, a languid, uneven sigh escaped him. His dark brows drawn together in effort, he'd never been touched, not once.

“Do not say His holy name in vain.”, A mischievous laugh emanated from the demon kneeling between his legs. Moist heat pooled between her thighs, every lilting noise that escaped the priest's thin lips sent a wave of delight to the creature's belly.

Infiltrating her slender fingers into the hem of the male figure's pants, she lowered them to mid-thigh. The woman's heavy, burning breath swept the sensitive skin of the lad's cock, a noise of pleasure reverberating in his throat. Carefully, Asmodeus guided the young man's cock into her mouth, outlining the flat of her tongue along its length. She could feel his pulse racing against her lips. The creature hungrily slid the tip of its tongue against the holy man's swollen, sensitive tip.

The acidic and slightly sweet taste invaded her red lips after a while, taking him into her mouth. He sounded so good to her ears. With particularly strong suction, he thrust against her face involuntarily. Repeating the gesture, the demon felt his cock twitch against her lips. His heavy breathing and guttural moans made her want to feel him inside.

Continuing the circular motions with her tongue, she felt his thighs tremble slightly as she ran her sharp nails over the pale skin. Pulling her mouth away from him for a moment, the creature gazed at his face, shrouded in the lustful mist of pleasure. Rising without warning, the woman laced her fingers in the priest's ebony waves and pulled him to her lips. Mateo could taste himself on her tongue. A husky gasp caught in his throat as he felt himself throb painfully. Before he could wrap his arms around her tenderly, Romero felt his back being pressed against the softness of the mattress. In order to continue kissing her, the young parish priest pulled her onto his lap. Using inhuman strength, Asmodeus pushed him onto the bed once more.

“Be good father, or I'll tie you up.”, the biting tone was lewd, setting the clergyman on fire.

Moving away from him, the shadow crept across the room with movements so fluid it looked like smoke on water. Her deft fingers caught on a chair in the corner, the purple girdle that Mateo wore over his cassock. A devilish smile once again spread across the entity's handsome features at the blasphemous idea that popped into her mind.

“Gird myself, Lord, with the girdle of purity, and extinguish in my loins the fire of passion, so that the virtue of continence and chastity may reside in me.”, the words of faith flowed from her demonic tongue with contempt. “What a hypocrisy…”, a nasal half-laugh, left her as she approached the priest with the liturgical girdle in hand. “Today, Father Romero, your chastity belt will have a much more…useful use.”, Her naked figure climbed onto the bed, straddling the holy man's hips for the second time that night.

Mateo's Adam's apple rose and fell slowly, his wide dark eyes watching in awe every subtle movement the lust demon made. The white chest speckled with a handful of auburn hair and flecks in an adorable constellation lifted and fell at an uneven pace. Extending the belt, the entity looped the priest's neck in a knit, the tightness of the noose lasciviously restricting the air in his lungs. He tensed his jaw in an unsuccessful attempt to contain a guttural growl as he felt the trickle of heat from the demonic woman pressing against him. One more loop, — this time looser —, around the column of his throat, and the warm whisper of the creature's boiling breath on his flushed cheeks caressed his ears.

“Give me your wrists, Father.”, she asked, the superior order hidden in the intricacies of the words.

Obediently, Mateo raised his fists in prayer. Her wide approving smile told him she approved of the submission of the gesture.

“I'll burn in hell for this.”, The young parson's trembling voice resonated hoarse with lust, the girdle loop tightening and marking the pale skin of his wrists and neck.

“Did you forgot Father? I came here to take you even before you give in to me. Before begging for my attentions like a whore.”, The insults made him vibrate against her. His swollen member throbbing painfully pressed against the weight of her hips, nestled deep in the damp slit.

Pulling hard on the knot of the girdle, testing its snare, the demon had its golden eyes engulfed by a heretical fire.

“Now, I'll make use of that chaste mouth of yours, heathen.”, The word echoed in his mind, a blazing fire burning in his lower belly, he could be undone with just her words.

With languid movements she climbed up his body, placing a knee on either side of the young priest's head, she tightened the knot of the girdle wrapped in her hand. Mateo salivating at the sight of the wet intimacy in front of his face, moistening his thin lips, he gasped heavily, the noose at his throat pulling him toward her.

A deep growl vibrated in the creature's chest as hesitantly and inexperienced Mateo traced with his hot tongue a streak in the damp crevice of the demon. Waves and waves of pleasure reverberated through the female figure, virginal strokes against her most sensitive spot making her shiver. The fiery spiral building inside her. Mateo was inexperienced, but his hunger made him a devoted lover, he paid attention to every shudder and moan she produced, aware of what made her hips rock against his angelic face more eagerly. He smiled proudly as he made her scream as he invaded her drenched core with his tongue.

Pulling his face away from her centre, the female figure slapped him two hard slaps on each of his cheeks, giving them a lovely crimson hue and warming his skin.

“Keep your arrogance to yourself and work, priest, arrogance makes us proud and pride is a sin.”, the timbre of superiority she wore made him moan against the soft flesh of one of her thighs where he had deposited a humble kiss.

Turning his doe eyes once more to her, through his long lashes he fed on her vision, tasting her sweet juices again. Her voluptuous body shuddered, the exposed breasts he so craved to sink into his face, to kiss and taste, vibrated with ragged breathing. Romero felt on the edge of the abyss, about to fall. The obscene sounds of his sanctified mouth against her heat and the whining noises that escaped her crimson lips made him rigid as a rock. Dragging his slightly crooked teeth across the sensitive bud, Mateo sucked his tongue into the boiling interior and repeated the action.

The apex formed a tight spiral in the woman's belly, its loud growls making the young priest's hips hit the air. Her ridge came, and she rode his youthful face flushed with exertion. He drank her juices hungrily, the acidic sweetness of her bathing his lips and chin. Descending from her top, the demon hung hungrily over the priest, her back arched in delight as she placed one hand supporting her weight above the lad's messy hair and the other over his heart, which throbbed madly like a sparrow caged in his chest.

Her hot puffs of breath swept the young parson's skin, damp with sweat and fluid. Bending over him, she peered intently at the rose that covered Mateo's cheekbones and neck, he watched her in ecstasy with his deep-set eyes half-closed. The dim light reflected a blind glow in the juices of her deliverance that painted so adorably the young priest's thin lips.

Romero was lost in the vivid fire of the creature's aureate orbs. At that moment nothing else seemed to matter, he had given himself to the devil body and soul. He wouldn't mind spending eternity drowning in those eyes.

Sliding a sneaky hand down the clergyman's eager torso, she caressed his hip bone and revelled in the strangled gasp that left Mateo's lips as she embraced the priest's swollen length. Very deftly she guided him cautiously to her entrance, brushing her wetness with it, listening pleasurably to the hoarse moan that slipped down the priest's sweet tongue and sank into him, watching him bite his lower lip in a failed attempt to contain his noises of pleasure. She felt so good around him, comfortably throbbing, vibrating with the stretch.

Mateo arched his back and rolled his eyes as she slid easily past him, riding at a slow pace. He had been on edge for so long, he didn't know how much more he would take. Unexpectedly gently, the demon untied the girdle of the priest's wrists with a flick of her fingers.

Dark nails that were once claws carved a thin cut into the clergyman's wrist. The sting of pain did not help the priest to contain himself, a low hiss escaping him. Scarlet blood ran in a trail down her target forearm, the creature's infernally hot tongue traced the crimson path across the skin, collecting. Sandalwood and blood mingled into a sweet, ironic taste in the demon's mouth. The slow thrust of his hips elicited deep moans from the cleric.

“L-our father… wh-… in heaven…”, the prayer melted away on his tongue, his soul too given up to be saved. His mind too lost on the hard, vague strokes of the woman's hips to regret it.

Running her nails over the sensitive skin of the priest's torso, she trailed kisses down his throat, the clicking of the wood of the bed, timed by her movements, joined with the watery sounds from where their bodies connected in an unholy symphony. Dark bruises formed under his jaw line, the cut on his wrist regurgitated blood greedily from the racing pulse, the entity's lips wrapped around the bloody wound, sucking hungrily. Oh, how sweet he was! So pure, so chaste. The simple idea of ​​corrupting him made her milk him in a shiver of pleasure. The spiral of lustful heat was gradually tightening in her core once more.

Mateo matched the woman's hips with effort, her hard thrusts carrying him to his release. The feel of her velvety walls welcoming him so deeply made him arch his back beautifully in awe. Running his strong hands, now loose, through the soft flesh of the entity's thighs, the priest moaned softly as he pulled her against him, going deeper. His restless hands stroked every part they could reach. Hungry, Romero captured one of the creature's breasts in his lips, sucking reddened marks, nipping at the skin and licking the valley between them, tasting the forbidden fruit.

Tipping her head back as the cleric's firm hands pressed eagerly into the flesh of her hips and his thin lips feasted on her bosom, the creature hissed sacrilegious as she held him. Mateo had been close for so long, she wouldn't stop him much longer. Moving quickly, the demon slid her hands over Father Romero's arms, until his beautiful hands, intertwining their fingers, Asmodeus pinned the priest's wrists above his tousled brown hair and took aggressive thrusts against him.

The young priest's guttural moans fanned the fire in her heart. Connecting their lips once more in a heated kiss, Mateo screamed hoarsely, intoxicated with the excessive stimulation. When the woman's sharp fangs sank into his lower lip and the metallic taste of blood soaked through his senses, a sure move of the creature's hips unravelled it. His hot charge painting the inside of the woman's velvety walls.

The demon didn't stop its movements.

Overstimulation tears ran from the corners of his brown eyes, sliding down his temples and getting lost in the dark strands of his locks. The excruciating pain of the coarse thrusts of her hips gradually turned pleasurable again, his length hardening within her heat unnaturally, as the glowing eyes of the demon looked deeply into his soul.

The demon smiled in ecstasy, sinfully seeking its own deliverance as it fed on the elder's pain. Her hot tongue traced the gleaming marks of the priest's tears, the salt from them burning down her throat. Pure tears, the creature reflected. The initial sweet rejoicing of the first instalment of the parish priest's soul. His salty taste, the pleasurable toil, was all she needed to reach the pinnacle again. Her walls so warm and inviting crushed him with the intense climax.

Mateo buried his face in the crook of the woman's neck and let out a tearful moan as he precipitated one last stammering thrusts, tearful he broke free inside her, his sore throat muted. His remaining breath was stolen from his lungs by a deep kiss. The taste of his tears and his blood mingling on their tongues.

His heartbeats quieted. The sparrow caged in his chest soothed, and the hellish warmth of the demon resting on him warmed his body. Regaining control of his mind, Mateo sobbed, the remnants of his faith getting the better of him, the priest prayed in a whisper to himself.

“Lord, I'm sorry I offended you. I hate all my sins because of your just punishment. But above all, because they offend you. Lord, who is all good and deserving of all my love. I am firmly resolved, with the help of your grace, to sin no more and to avoid the approaching occasion of sin… Amen.”, The words that once had so much meaning escaped his mouth worthless, the glittering pity that cascaded down his doe eyes salted the red lips of the devil that heretic was placing a kiss on the presbyter's damp temple.

Father Romero willingly entered the devil's arms and welcomed them as an old friend. From that day forward, every sin would be a gift, every sacrilege a pray.

Mateo became haunted in every sense of the word.

[rumblelibrary]

OMG.

Just the way you use the words, describing his little gestures and quivers. I am sold. The way it is just so easy to imagine him move around that desk.

Now that I got my sight on Padre Domingo, bless his heart, all those years spent as an altar girl will come to hunt me in my sleep.

temptation incarnate ch.1: temptation

summary ↠ (part 1 of a multi-part series) for the longest time, you could only imagine what it was like to make love with the young priest at your parents' church. thankgully, he's been thinking the same, and his curiosity gets the better of him. pairing ↠ father daniel gonzález-domingo (priest!daniel/padre domingo) x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 5.4k warnings ↠ explicit language, semi-public heavy petting, discussions of virginity and loss thereof, religious themes, slight degradation/mocking, implied slutshaming slight misogyny a/n ↠ i know yall horny mf have been waiting on this, so, enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio!

You had admired him ever since he started preaching at your church. And that was saying a lot; you didn’t quite care for the church or for anybody who worked for it. Something about Father González-Domingo was different, though, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. Maybe it was the way that he was so much younger than your previous priest. Maybe it was the way his face was always darkened by facial hair, almost like he didn’t care enough to look truly presentable for Sunday morning mass. Maybe it was the way that, whenever he greeted you as you walked in and shook your hand, he smelled like cigarettes. He was just different, and you liked that.

You liked a lot about the priest. You liked his dark brown eyes, his tan skin, and his dark hair. You liked his voice, smooth and comforting as he preached about whatever it was that Sunday. You liked the way that he always talked about his childhood growing up in Europe, dividing time between Spain and Germany. You could just imagine Father González-Domingo in his hometown of Barcelona; he seemed the type to say hello to everybody and greet everyone with kisses on the cheek. You liked the little freckles and moles on his face; especially the one that peeked out from under his white collar. It was unfair how handsome Father González-Domingo was, but at least it spurred you to go to church with your parents. Before him, there was no reason, but now…

You watched Father González-Domingo as he spoke. That Sunday, he wore his black robes, a red stole around his shoulders, the white collar gleaming. The sun was shining through the stained-glass windows, throwing blues and greens onto him. He looked like a painting, so beautiful and graceful. He spoke with his hands, as Spaniards were oft to do, but you hardly paid attention to his words. At the moment, he was just reciting passages, and you didn’t care too much for that. It was when he actually started his lecture that you tuned in (or, rather, tuned in as much as you cared to). However, he spoke a certain word that made you snap back into your body and focus entirely on him. He had said whore; as childish as it was, it made you pay attention.

“... ‘That sitteth upon many waters’,” Father González-Domingo said. “‘With her, the kings of the earth committed adultery, and the inhabitants of the earth were intoxicated with the wine of her adulteries’.” His dark gaze swept the room, almost like he was studying everybody before him. It was intimidating. You could hardly sit still with the fire that had bloomed in your stomach, but your mother’s presence next to you kept you stationary. If your mother knew that the only reason you came to mass with her was to ogle the young, hot priest, you would be damned straight to hell by her. The man paused for a moment and bit his bottom lip as he looked down at the lectern to his notes, and he looked back up with seemingly renewed energy. “‘Then the angel carried me away in the Spirit into a wilderness. There I saw a woman sitting on a scarlet beast that was covered in blasphemous names and had seven heads and ten horns. The woman was dressed in purple and scarlet, and was glittering with gold, precious stones and pearls. She held a golden cup in her hand, filled with abominable things and the filth of her adulteries. The name written on her forehead was a mystery: babylon the great, the mother of prostitutes and of the abominations of the earth.’”

Your rosary sat tucked in your fist, and you chanced a glance downwards at it. White and gold, each bead crafted of pearls; your grandmother had gotten it for you as a birthday present. You couldn’t remember which birthday— perhaps thirteen, when you became a “woman”— but it hardly mattered. But the pearls. The image that came to your mind was of the woman, the Whore of Babylon, holding aloft a golden cup with your rosary submerged in blood-red wine. Then, the image of Father González-Domingo came to you, wrapped around your body and kissing your neck as his fingers played with the rosary and the golden cross that nestled perfectly between your breasts. From there, your mind had his hand, warm and rough and larger than yours, cup your breast and capture your nipple between his thumb and index finger. You imagined that it would hurt; he would make sure it did. Then, his breath was on your ear, his voice deep and rich with his half-Spanish, half-German accent. “It has to hurt, my child,” he whispered to you, and his lips pressed to your shoulder. “Pain purifies you. The more pain you feel, the more your sin is forgiven.”

You swallowed thickly and looked back up to find those dark brown eyes fixed on you. He was speaking, never having skipped a beat, but he was looking at you. Watching you, almost. You couldn’t have possibly done anything wrong. The burn of shame, ravaging you for reasons unknown, came to you, and you lowered your head again. You quickly gathered up your Bible and tried to act like you were following along in the text, but your brain was moving far too quickly to even see the words on the thin page before you. There was no possible way that he knew what you were thinking, but you couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. Would you want Father González-Domingo to know you thought that about him? Surely, no, because it would be too embarrassing on your part. It’s not like he could ever indulge you in that anyway, even if he wanted to, and you doubted that he did. Perhaps you were overthinking it. You were the youngest there, barring the young children that were dragged along by their mothers, and probably the closest in age to him (you actually didn’t know how old Father González-Domingo was, but you imagined that he couldn’t be much older than you, maybe ten years your senior at the most); it wasn’t absurd to think that he was looking at you because of that. Indeed, it was absurd at all to even think that the glance that you had shared was anything but a chance moment.

Your heart and stomach seized inside you, and your fist closed tighter around your rosary. You knew that, when you released it, you would have an imprint of the cross and Jesus on your palm, but you didn’t quite mind it. Of course, by now, Father González-Domingo had moved on and his gaze was off of you, and a quick glance at your watch told you that there wasn’t that much time left in the service. He would finish his sermon, the congregation would sing one last time, there would be a prayer, and then you were free to go home and hate yourself for your insecurity. You felt that awful pinprick in your eyes, the tell-tale sign of impending tears, and you pressed your hand to your eyes to alleviate it. No crying, not in church. You just had to wait until mass was over, and then you could at least go cry in the bathroom. But absolutely not in the sanctuary. You might as well never come back. And what if Father González-Domingo caught you crying? The thought of that shame nearly made your tears come full force, but you bit the inside of your cheek to stop it.

The hymn came quickly, and you struggled to even remember the words. You were too overwhelmed with the thought of him. You imagined a hole in the earth opening up beneath you and swallowing you in one piece; at least, that fate would be less embarrassing than Father Gonzalez-Domingo catching you having impure thoughts about him— during mass, no less. Then, the closing prayer, and you squeezed your eyes shut as Father González-Domingo blessed everybody and bid you farewell. Your legs felt weak as you stood and you started to follow your father out of the pew, but a voice— the voice, his voice— stopped you. “Y/N! May I speak to you?”

You turned to find Father González-Domingo approaching you. His face was a bit darker, holding something there that you were a bit afraid to figure out, but you clasped your hands in front of your body. “I’ll be right out, Papa,” you told your father, and he gave you a quick little smile before patting your back and departing with your grandmother. “Hi, Father. Is something the matter?”

The priest regarded you with a quiet smile, and he placed his hand softly, carefully on your lower back. “Might I speak to you somewhere privately?” Father González-Domingo asked, leaning in just a bit to lower his voice.

You furrowed your eyebrows, but nodded all the same, and you allowed him to lead you out of the sanctuary. “Has school started back yet?” he asked, his eyes looking at you. It felt less like a look, though, and more like an observation. He was watching you, completely.

You shrugged. “Not for me,” you replied. “But I think the high school started back last week or so.”

“Ah, very good,” Father González-Domingo said with a curt nod. “And where do you go to school?”

“Just the state university,” you said. “About an hour out of here.”

“Might I ask what you’re studying?” Father González-Domingo asked.

“Nothing really specialized,” you said. “I haven’t declared my major yet.”

“Just core classes, then?” Father González-Domingo asked, and you nodded. “Very good. Do you live here, with your parents?”

“Usually, I live in student housing,” you told him. “I only live with my parents during breaks and stuff.”

“Do you go to mass when you are there?” Father González-Domingo asked. His accent seemed thicker, somehow, now that he was speaking just to you. You liked it, and you liked the way it warmed your stomach. His voice made your anxiety and fear wash away, as was the job of a priest, you assumed. He could have been talking about anything, though, and you were sure that you would feel at ease in his presence.

“Umm…” You started. “No. I don’t.”

“May I ask why?” Father González-Domingo asked.

“I can’t find a church I like,” you said, and Father González-Domingo gave you a teasing smile. His lips were pink, maybe a little chapped, but still looked soft.

“Lying is a sin, my child,” He said and gently nudged you with his elbow.

You rolled your eyes and leaned into his joking attack. “Alright, fine,” you sighed. “I just don’t believe in this, you know? I never have, and I can’t see myself going to church if I don’t care for it.”

“So why come now then?” Father González-Domingo asked. He stopped just in front of a door, and the small golden plaque on the wall beside it read ‘Father Daniel González-Domingo’. Daniel. It suited him.

“To please my parents,” you said, and you watched Daniel extract a ring of keys from what you assumed was his pants pocket underneath his robe. He quickly slotted a key into the lock and pushed the door open, and he ushered you into his office. The place exuded him entirely, messy but organized. Books were stacked on the corner of his desk, and a crushed package of cigarettes lay haphazardly overtop several sheets of paper with messy cursive scrawled across it. Behind the desk, just under an ajar window, was a small table, with something on it that was covered by what seemed to be a bath towel, grey and pilling at the edges.

You took a seat in the open chair across from Daniel’s desk, and you watched him shrug out of the red stole and black robe and hang them up in a small little closet. Under the robe, he wore black pants and a black buttoned shirt, that white clerical collar still snug in his shirt collar. He ruffled up his dark hair a bit as he sat down heavily in his office chair, and he looked at you expectantly. “That’s it?” he asked. “To please your parents?”

You drummed your fingers along the spine of your Bible, and you amended, “To keep the peace. They’re paying for my tuition, I can’t exactly make them too mad.”

“I see,” Daniel said softly. “Do you believe in God? In any capacity, I mean, not just in the Catholic way of thinking.”

“Why are you asking me this?” you asked. “Why does it matter?”

Daniel pressed his fingertips together, his eyes studying his desk, and he finally looked up at you. “I would just like to know, if that’s alright,” he said. “I am a man of a certain faith, but theology as a whole fascinates me. I just like to know people’s thoughts.”

You pondered it for a moment, trying to put your thoughts into words. You had never been asked anything like that before, and the fact that your hot priest was the one posing the question did not make it easy to succinctly arrange your ideas. “I think that God exists,” you began. “But I’m not sure how or in what capacity. Like, there has to be something bigger than us, you know? I’m not sure I believe in the whole all-knowing man thing, though. I… I’m not sure. I’ve never really thought about it before.”

Daniel pondered that for a moment, his eyes never leaving you. Finally, he clicked his tongue, and he said, “I saw you crying during mass. I assumed you were getting emotional over my sermon, and I only wanted to speak with you to calm your nerves. But, if what you’re telling me is true, that wasn’t it. What is the cause of your distress, my child?”

That terrible and unholy flame in your stomach caught light, and you lowered your gaze from his. You felt like his dark brown gaze would actually set you aflame. “I wasn’t actually crying, Father,” you said. “But… It was the image of her, she just… I can’t explain it. She just affected me.”

“She? The Whore, do you mean?” Daniel repeated, an amused smile hinting at his mouth. Your face must have fallen without you realizing it, because the small smile escaped from Daniel’s face. “I’m not making fun of you, I promise. It’s only that the story and image of The Whore affects me deeply as well. What about her affected you?”

You shrugged and tried to distract yourself by messing with the sleeve of your dress. Even though it was the fall, it was still hot out, and your dress was hardly anything more than a sundress. “The thought that she never really dies,” you said finally. “She just keeps coming back with a new visage. It’s… I just think that’s really cool.”

“She only comes back with a new visage to tempt men away from God,” Daniel told you, but you knew that well enough. “Is that the part you find compelling?”

You swallowed thickly and shook your head. “No, no,” you said quickly. You tried to ignore the way he seemed to be staring holes into you, and your fingers fiddled with your rosary. “No, it’s the-the never really dying part. Reminds me of Hinduism and reincarnation, ya know? It’s just cool. What do you like about her?”

Daniel leaned back in his seat a little, giving it a few tentative half-twirls before standing up. “I was told that I couldn’t get rid of this when I was given this office,” he started, tilting his head as he examined the pilling towel. “But, in all honesty, and if you’ll excuse my language, it creeps me the fuck out. I feel like He’s always watching me, and I don’t care for that too much.”

“What is it?” you asked; you had to remember to bring him back to the Whore after whatever this tangent was was finished.

“It is a rather unnerving painting of Jesus Christ,” Daniel said. “His eyes follow me.” With that, he carefully lifted the towel up to reveal a painting, and you averted your gaze from it. He was right; it was creepy and overbearing, and the eyes did seem to follow you, like the Monet paintings you had seen in New York.

“God,” you huffed. “Big Brother Is Watching.”

“I have to scold you for that,” Daniel said softly, and he lowered the towel back over the painting.

“For what?” you asked.

“For daring to bring up Orwell in my presence,” Daniel said with a crooked smile, and you laughed softly. “No, it’s the ‘taking the Lord’s name in vain’. I have to advise against doing that, especially in a church, of all places.”

“Oh, right,” you said softly. “Sorry about that.”

“All is forgiven,” Daniel said, and he settled himself on the edge of his desk, mere inches from you. Maybe it was because you had never properly seen him without his robes, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of his arms. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and you shivered at the thought of what it would feel like to have his arms around you, and those big tanned hands on your skin. “When it comes to the Whore, though, I find the same thing compelling. She returns with a new face and new temptations to lead men astray, and it’s a reminder of how vigilant one has to be. You can’t just trust any pretty face that smiles at you, because she might be out to corrupt you.”

“That must be an awful way to live,” you said.

“It’s not conducive to much of a life outside the church,” Daniel agreed, and he leaned back on his hands. “But that’s the life I made for myself, and I’ve never wanted much else than that.”

“Much else?” you repeated. “But that means you did want something more, at least at one point.”

“Everybody has doubts,” Daniel shrugged. “I prayed about it for so long. I still do… If this is the life I really want. Maybe it’s what works for me now, but what happens in twenty years? I won’t have a wife, or children to carry my name. If it weren’t for my brother and sister, I would be the end of my family line. And that frightens me.”

“Have you gotten any answer?” you asked. “When you prayed about it, I mean.”

Daniel sighed, and he slapped his hands onto his thighs. “You know,” he started, his dark eyes narrowing. “Not a single one. But I suppose that God works in mysterious ways. He’ll give me His answer when He sees fit.”

“Do you want children?” you asked. You shifted in your chair a bit, and you found that you didn’t entirely hate the warmth growing in your thighs. He couldn’t possibly be telling you any of this in an effort to seduce you. Of course he wasn’t.

“I’ve always liked the idea of it,” he said, absently scratching his chin. “Do you?”

You blinked a few times at his forwardness, and you carefully replied, “I mean… I’m still young. I have time to decide.”

“But if I asked you to decide right now,” Daniel said. “What would be your answer?”

“Yes,” you said instantly, and, for the first time, you dared to look him in the eye. “I would say yes. I do want children.”

“And that’s the difference between you and me, querida,” Daniel replied, tilting his chin down. “You know what you want. Even if you don’t think you do, you do. When push comes to shove, you can make up your mind.”

“What’s stopping you from doing that?” you asked. “From making up your mind, from knowing what you want?”

“I do know what I want,” Daniel said. “But the problem is that it goes against everything that has been put in me. Celibacy and a life devoted to God is not what you need when you want a family, when you want more than going home after mass to an empty parsonage.”

“So you do want a family,” you said carefully.

“Maybe a family is a bit of a stretch,” Daniel said. His mouth screwed up for a moment, then he peered over his shoulder to the covered painting of Jesus, and he sighed. “I just want to fuck a woman. Christ, how long’s it been…? Ten years, at least.”

You wanted to be taken aback by his statement, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be. You had been holding your breath ever since the conversation had softened from priest to patron to what felt like friend to friend, and you carefully set your Bible aside. “Is that really it?” you asked. “Father, that’s…” you paused to gather your thoughts, and Daniel stood up and moved back behind his desk.

“Bad,” he said quickly. “Irresponsible. Blasphemous. You should go.”

“Father,” you began again. “It’s not bad, or irresponsible. Thoughts are one thing, actions are another—”

“Why do you think I brought you here?” Daniel snapped. His soft jaw was set, and he ground his teeth as he retrieved the carton of cigarettes. “God, I tried so hard not to give in to temptation, but you— And that dress— You need to leave before I do something that we’ll both regret.”

You took a deep breath. Your suspicions were confirmed, and you would have been quite pleased with yourself, if it weren’t for his unwillingness to give in. “Alright,” you said softly, carefully settling your rosary around your neck for ease; less things to carry meant a quicker escape.. “I-I’m sorry, Father Daniel, I didn’t mean to tempt you. I… Have a good day, then.”

Then, as you reached for your Bible, he moved back to you. His hand wrapped around your wrist, his grip tight and bruising, and you took a deep breath of him. He smelled of cigarettes, as he always did, but there was something else there. It was sharp and bitter, and you cast your glance down to the white collar that sat against his neck. “Father, have you been drinking?” you whispered.

“Don’t call me that,” Daniel snapped. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

His gaze was sharp, and you felt small. He had been drinking, at the very least, and was now lecturing you about tempting him. “Is this why you preached about the Whore today?” you asked.

“I thought that, by confronting temptation, it would go away,” Daniel said through gritted teeth. “But it only made it worse. You have no idea how much willpower it’s taking not to...”

“Not to what?” you asked. You carefully wet your lips, and you took note of the way that Father Daniel watched your tongue. “Say it, Daniel. Please, I want to hear it.”

Daniel drew in a shuddering breath, and he said, “I’ve dreamt about making love to you. Would you want me to do that?” His hands carefully went to your waist, hesitating for a moment before fully grasping you, digging his fingers into your flesh. “Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

You nodded, and your hand slipped from his face to his chest. “Please?” you asked softly, and you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

He watched your face for a moment, then he looked down at your body and that thin little dress you wore. You could tell that he was fighting something inside himself, and he finally let out a soft groan. With that, Daniel pulled you into him and pressed his mouth to yours. You melted into his body and gave a gentle gasp when he tugged your hips against his, and you laughed despite yourself. You could feel the beginning of his erection through his pants, and the thought that you had done that to this holy man made you moan.

Quickly, Daniel pushed you to the desk, and you settled against it as he wound his arms around your waist. His kiss was heavy and demanding, and your hips bucked up onto his when his kisses moved to your neck. He was breathing heavily, panting almost, and his hands moved from your waist to grab at your breasts. “Mierda, querida,” he whispered, graveled and low, and he went to slip your dress off of your shoulders. His hands were shaking and he seemed frantic in his attempts to undress you, and you took fistfuls of his hair and tugged his face from your neck.

“Stop shaking,” you whispered. “You’re okay, I swear.”

Daniel’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, and his hands fell from your body. He took your wrists in his grasp and brought them to his neck, and he gave a little sigh. “Wanna know a secret?” he asked, and you nodded quickly. “Would you like to guess how many times I have sat right here and thought about you as I touched myself?”

“How many times?” you asked.

Daniel captured your mouth in a kiss, and your fingers deftly tugged the white collar from his shirt. You set it down beside you, then started to unbutton his shirt as he broke the kiss and answered you. “Too many times to count,” he said. “I tried to keep track, but I lost the number once it exceeded the rosary.”

“Really?” you asked with a quiet laugh.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Daniel said. “Especially not about this.”

It only took a few of the topmost buttons on his shirt to come undone in order for you to see his chest. As you had suspected, it was dusted with dark freckles, and you pressed your mouth to his neck, right where that mole that you had coveted for so long was. He titled his head back, giving you ease to reach his throat, and he let out a strangled moan at the feeling. A small part of you pitied the poor man— ten years had to have been a long time to go without sex— but a different part of you was filled with excitement. You were the one to break the streak, the celibacy that was expected of a man of his position. But you had heard the rumors about the Spanish and, even though Father González-Domingo was only half Spanish, that seemed to be the dominating side.

Daniel gave a little gasp when you pulled away from his neck, and his fingers went to the little red mark that you had made. “You goddamn whore,” he chuckled. “You left a mark.”

“Is that a sin?” you asked.

With surprising strength, Daniel captured you by the thighs and threw you onto the edge of the desk, and he slotted himself between your thighs. You could feel his strong hands and bruising fingers kneading your flesh as his kiss found your mouth again, and you moaned when he ground his erection against your core. It didn’t surprise you that he was already stunningly hard, but it made you gasp all the same. “Do you like that?” he whispered, moving his mouth to your ear. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you sighed. Your hands carded up through his dark hair and tugged him back for a kiss, and one of his hands wound your leg around his waist as the other went to your neck. You nearly thought that he would close his fingers and test your will, but his fingers tangled in your pearl rosary instead.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he whispered to you. You nodded quickly, letting out a whimper when he tugged you fully against him by the golden cross at the end of your rosary. “How many times?”

“I-I don’t know,” you told him. Daniel let go of your rosary and instead took your face in his hand, forcing your head up to look at him, and you shivered at the intense dark gaze he had fixed on you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that his eyes were fully black, like that of a demon. But he was no demon, not that you could tell.

“Too many times to count?” he huffed out a laugh. “Exceeding the rosary?”

“Definitely,” you laughed softly.

“Have you ever thought of me as you touched yourself?” Daniel asked.

“N-No,” you stuttered out, and he set a gentle kiss onto the corner of your mouth.

“Oh, no,” he whispered, almost sympathetically. “Lying is a sin, my child. And lying to me, of all people? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Can I repent?” you asked eagerly.

“Perhaps,” Daniel said. He settled a kiss onto your lips, softer and more restrained than before, and your stomach sank when you thought that maybe he was being gentle because he was bringing it to a stop. “Would you sin again if I let you repent?”

“No—”

“Another lie,” Daniel said. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? I should punish you instead of letting you repent.”

“No, please,” you said quickly. “I’ll be good, I’ll do what you ask. Please, Father, I’ll do anything.”

He gave you a smile and kissed you again. This kiss was deeper, his tongue pressing into your mouth and drawing out a moan, and his hands took the edge of your dress and started to tug. He pulled it up past your hips, and he pulled out of the searing kiss in order to remove the dress entirely. Daniel placed his hand flat on your back and kissed you once more, following you as he pushed you to lay flat against his desk. The wood was cold against your back and you shivered, and he laughed gently. “Need me to keep you warm?” he asked.

“Yes, Daniel,” you sighed, running your fingers through his short hair once more. “Please.”

“So much begging, it’s cute,” Daniel said. “A little pathetic, actually. Do you usually beg this much?”

“I’ve never made love,” you laughed lightly. “I wouldn’t really know.”

Daniel froze. You could hear his breath catch in his throat, and he carefully said, “You’re a virgin?”

“I… Yeah,” you said slowly. “I thought you would’ve figured that out... ”

He stepped away from you, giving you his hand and helping you sit up. “I didn’t,” Daniel told you. “I… My morals are loose, but I couldn’t… I can’t be the one to desecrate you.”

You scoffed. “Desecrate?” you repeated. “You say that like I’m anything worth being holy.”

“You are,” Daniel told you, and you believed him. At least, you believed that he thought you were. “I worship you, my dear. But I… I can’t take your virginity. I can’t allow myself to do that. I-I’m sorry—”

You shushed him and pressed a sweet kiss to his mouth, and you said, “It’s okay, I promise. It was wishful thinking that you’d fuck me anyway. It’s honestly better if we don’t.”

Daniel nodded, pursing his lips. “You should go,” he said softly. “Your family is waiting.”

You nodded in agreement, but you couldn’t control the sick feeling that overcame you as Daniel helped you back into your dress. In the moment, the prospect of fucking him had been searing hot, enough to make you burst into flames, but now you were glad that he couldn’t go through with it. You would have regretted it, you were sure of it. You wouldn’t be able to return to the church or even see him again, and you doubted your ability to do any of that even following the intense moments you had already shared. Other than that, he was a fucking priest. It went against his entire job. All signs pointed to no, and you were relieved that Daniel had at least been able to read those signs.

You gathered up your Bible and tugged nervously at your rosary, and you watched Father Daniel redajust his clothes and slip the white collar back into his shirt. His cheeks were a bit red and, when he turned his head to look at you, the mark that you had left peaked out, already turning a bit purple. “Peace be with you, my child,” Daniel told you.

“And also with you, Father” you muttered, and you fought back tears as you escaped.

[addict-rat]

Your Eyes Betray You

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

Words count: 2880

Paring: Helmut Zemo x F!Reader

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

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

My masterlist.  

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

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

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

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

Helmut Zemo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What..."

You couldn't finish.

"Shhh."

"Don't shhh to me"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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