#zemo smut

[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.

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 8. Fucking Machine - Helmut Zemo

Kinktober Day 8. Fucking Machine - Helmut Zemo

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, bdsm, dom/sub, mouth gag, crying, begging, degradation, restraints, fucking machine, squirting, nicknames, no use of y/n

my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link 

“But- but I wan-want you”, the sob shook your chest, as you sucked in a deep breath, finally having the freedom to talk as your gag was removed, but your eye mask remained in place, soaked with tears.

Helmut tutted from somewhere to your side, “now, you know only nice gets get me, and what are you?” he asked in a condescending tone.

Trying to control your breathing, you took another deep breath, ashamed by your next answer, “a whore”.

“Yes, a whore who couldn’t keep her hands off of her cunt even after I instructed her to wait for me to get back. So some would say, you deserve this punishment dragă, if only you weren’t such a brat”. The disappointment in his voice was what upset you the most, kicking yourself for giving in to your desires so quickly.

The piece of material used as a gag was placed back over your mouth, cutting off any begging that you were about to continue with. You cried more like a baby, you knew you deserved this punishment but it was relentless, you should have known not to mess with your husband after the bad mood he’d been stuck in.

He had returned home, finding you in the shower, hand between your legs and you hadn’t even heard him come in to see you mumbling his name frantically trying to get off. His hand was on your arm before you could react, pulling you from the shower, water dripping everywhere and you knew better than to fight back.

You knew where he was taking you as he was tossed onto the bed, wetting the sheets. You’d expected him to position your body over his lap and spank your arse until you were sore and then fucked you nice and hard until he forgave you.

Instead, Helmut had handcuffed your wrists to the corners of the bed, eyemask and gag then attached so you couldn’t follow his movements or beg anymore that you were sorry, he’d heard it all before, you just couldn’t help being a brat sometimes.

Next were your legs, they too were strapped so that they were now spread wide for him to complete whatever plan he had decided upon. There were some shuffling noises and something heavy sounded like it was being dragged across the floor, you knew exactly what was happening, knowing how heavy the machinery was.

This led you to where you were now, you weren’t even sure how long it had been, hours? A few minutes? All you knew was that a dildo attached to the end of the fucking machine had been doing in and out of you for what felt like an eternity. Helmut continued to make sure you were lubed up well but every time you came - which seemed an excess amount - your cunt would contract so hard that the dildo would slip out and you would squirt all over it.

The machine was loud and your husband was in control of the remote, turning it faster and slower until you were quivering into an orgasm, time after time. Each thrust had you shifting up and down the bed, slowly at first, whirring with each movement and then an unnatural speed where the dildo turned into a blur and your cunt just had a constant pounding against all of those beautifully sensitive nerves until you were screaming and withering.

It went on and on, again and again, the machine fucked you all the whilst Helmut watched until finally…it all stopped. There was a ringing in your ears, dribble running down your cheek, you were well and truly fucked, you weren’t even sure if you could lift any of your limbs, and everything felt floaty.

Helmut knew you better than you knew yourself, knew the exact moment when you went from orgasmic bliss to one more thrust and you’d be passing out. He started by removing the machine, then undid your arm and leg straps, your gag and then finally your eye mask. You didn’t open your eyes at first but after a few taps on the cheek and a kiss on the end of your nose, you looked up to the man leaning over you with a proud smile.

“Talk to me princess” he encouraged, pulling you in close to his side so you could take in his warmth.

“I’m ok,” you mumbled just loud enough for him to hear, his hand softly stroking the side of your face, wiping away and the remnant of tears. “Intense but it was good”. Helmut didn’t respond, you held him tightly as sleep finally found you.

[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!

[loki-quinn]

Dom Baron Zemo aesthetic

@ironstrangefrostohmy @intheformofstars

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Intoxicating - Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader (NSFW)

Rated M for Smut

Tagging: @mysoulisasunflower   @sapphiredreamer26   @wolfers-stuff   @zemoshatz   @1deadpool26     @majestymoon    @purebloodwitch  @blackleatherjacketz  @ marvel-starwars-kenobi-zemo ​

It’s unhinged the way you feel about Helmut, the things you let him do to you. He’s a slow burn, a controlled fire that erupts through your senses eating up every essence of your sanity as he fucks you against the vanity in the bathroom of the manor house you are currently a guest in. There’s a party going on the other side of the door, but he is relentless. His gaze fixes on yours in the mirror, and he smiles, that deliciously sinful grin as his breath ghosts across your ear.

“You’re intoxicating.” He tells you, the fabric of your dress bunched in his fist. “I could fuck you like this for hours my love, keeping you on the precipice of pleasure.”

“Please Helmut.” You whisper, reaching behind you, your fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I need you; I need you to make me come.”

He arches his hips, the new angle hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, the one that makes you cry out in ecstasy. That familiar flush is creeping across your cheeks, you bring your hand up to your lips to cover your mouth, to hide the euphoric moans that punctate the air every time he thrusts into you. His hand grasps yours, fingers entwining as he pulls it away slowly steering it towards your clit instead.

“None of that.” He chides, his teeth grazing that deviant little area underneath the curve of your jaw. “I want everybody to know how good your Baron fucks you.”

His presses your fingers against that needy little nub, guiding them in slow circles.

“Come for me my love, I want to feel you clenching around my cock.”

You feel that moment of rapture coming, it builds, and it builds until it hits you like a force of nature, swallowing you up and drinking you down. It’s violent and consuming, coursing through your body like electricity as it sears through your synapses. It’s too much, you’re drowning in it as Helmut, threads his fingers in your hair and tilts your face back towards the mirror so that your eyes meet.

“Look at me.” He rasps against your throat, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Look at what you do to me.”

He buries himself right up to the hilt, hips stuttering as he spurts deep inside you and it’s the most sensual thing you’ve ever seen because it’s a moment where he allows you to see his vulnerability, his adoration, his bliss.

It’s exhilarating the way this man loves you, the way he forces you to abandon everything else to chase your pleasure.

“I love seeing you like this.” He tells you, his lips tenderly brushing over your shoulder, his gaze drinking you in through the reflection in the mirror. “So ruined, so debauched, filled with me. There’s nothing in this world more beautiful.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[volklana]

Honey Whiskey

Title comes from this song: 

Request:  An idea just wont leave my mind and I would love for you to write if its no trouble. What if during tfaws during Madripoor Bucky sleeps with Sharon and y/n is absolutely devastated, Zemo offers her the chance to get back at Bucky and jealous/protective Bucky ensues and reminds her who she really belongs to?

I kind of took it in a bit of a different direction but I still hope you enjoy xx

Warnings: Zemo x Reader//Bucky x Reader// Smut (With Both)//Angst

A/N:  любимая (pronounced lyubimaya) means darling.

         Not proof read but all mistakes will be corrected in time.

It was stupid to be crying in the bathroom.

There were so many bigger things at hand but here you were, holding yourself steady on the bathroom sink, tears streaming down your cheeks and forcing yourself to take deep breaths.

The worst part is you had seen it coming from the moment they locked eyes in Madripoor, their chemistry was undeniable. The stolen looks, the lingering touches and the sly smirks she threw your way when she realized you were wary.

But seeing her, sneaking out of his room, in nothing but his shirt certainly solidified it.

“Ooops,” she giggled, brushing past you with a shove, and you made it precisely to the close of your door before the tears fell.

You did your best to push your feelings aside, finding Nagle was way more important than whatever was going on with Bucky, Sharon and by extension you. 

Pulling up to Zemo’s apartment, Bucky suddenly fell back, and announced he was going to take a walk. You followed after him intending to ask if he was ok, until you caught up to him and he was on the phone. 

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” he laughed and you hung back a second, heart pumping a thousand miles an hour in your chest and slinked into an alley before he could see you, and it felt like you scrambled up the streets of Riga until you made it inside the door of Zemo’s apartment. 

And here you were, propped up on the washbasin trying to prevent the tears falling.

You washed your hands and as you were drying them the bathroom door swung upon and now you were face to face with a pair of brown eyes that for the first time since you’d met him seemed genuinely kind, Zemo. 

“What is this?” he said softly “Why do you cry?”

You scrunched your face, trying to answer but simply shook your head as the tears stung your eyes. 

He moved to cup your face and you found yourself quite unable to move away, trapped between his warm body and the basin behind you. He used his thumb to gently sweep away the tears that stained your cheeks and you felt so ashamed looking up through wet lashes to examine the eyes baring down into yours.

The overhead lights made his brown eyes seem like honey whiskey that you could easily drown in. And you kind of wanted to...

“No man on earth is worth these,” he said almost in a whisper, stopping to examine the perfect droplet on his finger.

His gentleness scared you, but then again he must have been kind once, he had been married, she had trusted him enough to carry his children, there had to be tenderness there, beneath it all.

“He loves you,” he said simply and you shook your head, “James who you cry these tears for, he loves you. He is not ready to love you the way you deserve but he does love you.”

You wanted to know how he knew these things but you didn’t trust your own voice, you wanted to argue that you couldn’t compare even an inch to Sharon and suddenly he was stroking your cheek again.

“She doesn’t want him,” he stated simply “It’s a cruel game she’s playing. The Captain chose you over her, chose to keep you by his side. So she is taking your James just to prove she can.”

“She wants to hurt me,” you whispered and his eyes moved to look directly into yours, and he nodded slowly, intently. 

“The way you hurt her.” 

 You wanted to argue that you hadn’t been the one to hurt her, but something else seemed more important in the moment.

“Hurt people, hurt people,” you stated looking up into his eyes and he hmmed.

“You were hurt,” you noted, brushing  your hand along his arm, “Behind it all you were hurt.”

He nodded. 

“You need to be careful with Sharon. I had everything I ever wanted, and I lost it all and so did she.” It was a warning. “She is dangerous.” 

“What about you?” you questioned gently, “Do I need to be careful with you?”

“I am dangerous, yes..but I will never hurt you.” 

His eyes flicked down to your lips and for a split second you wondered what it would feel like to kiss him, to fully immerse yourself in honey whisky and amber and bergamot

You startled at the sound of your name being called and you looked into his eyes sadly.

“Go, любимая,” he said sadly “They will be suspicious, I’ll stay just long enough to not arouse suspicions.” 

Bucky and Sam were going to do recon, Zemo had gone to shower and you agreed to stay behind with him.

Before they left, Bucky doubled back.

“Are you sure you’re okay doll?” he enquired tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear “You know you can talk to me about anything don’t you?” 

“I know Buck,” you sighed, unable to meet eyes, “I’ll talk to you when you get back, go on don’t keep Sam waiting.” you pushed and he seemed to accept he wasn’t going to get anything else from you.

Zemo emerged from his chambers in a navy bathrobe and your eyes immediately were drawn to a gold chain nestled in the hair on his chest.

You wanted to slide the robe open and watch it drop to the floor, you wanted to finish what you had started in the bathroom but the air was thick with things unsaid. 

“Whisky?” he asked gently and you nodded. He had left the door to his room open and while he poured you looked at the four poster bed draped in red and gold.

What caught your eye was a cloth bound, faded book on his nightstand and you wanted to see what it was.

“Go ahead,” he nodded, following your line of sight and when you picked it up you gasped.

“Is this a first edition?” you were almost too afraid to turn the pages and he scoffed in reply “Of course!”

You were holding in your hand a first edition of Dostoevesky’s The Idiot.

“The world will be saved by beauty,” you mused, holding the book out to him, and he quirked his head in amusement.

“You have read Dostoevsky?” 

“Of course,” you seemed offended.

 “Do you think it’s true? That beauty can save the world.”

“I believe so,” he said no hint of teasing, as he came to join you in his room, “You are very beautiful and you do your best to protect the world. And there are still so many beautiful things in this world. Sit,” he instructed and you sat gently on his bed as you accepted the glass of whisky he handed you. 

You looked at him for a long time and shook your head “Helmut, you could have had a good life. Look at this place,” you gestured around “You could have done some good.”

“I have no regrets, любимая. I did what I felt I needed to do to make sure nothing like Sokovia ever happens again. Now I live with the consequences.” 

You brought your knee up to rest your chin on, he couldn’t quite make out your facial expression.

“You are sad for me?” he almost gasped coming to kneel before you, realisation hitting him like a brick in the face

“Yes,” you replied sadly, “And I am sad for me, because now that I see you, I don’t think I can ever look away again.”

He surged forward to meet your lips pushing you down into the mattress behind. You gasped, grasping the material of his robe and as he climbed on top of you, gold chain dangling in front of your eyes.

You slipped your hands along his chiseled chest and pushed his robe down his arms until the belt gave way and it slinked off his body and tumbled to the ground.

“My god,” you mused as you drank in his body, chiseled and lean and powerful, and he had you in the palm of his hands.

He pulled the flimsy material of your top apart and slid his hands up under the band of your bra, fondling your breasts until your back arched off the bed, without warning that was ripped away too and he made quick work of your jeans and underwear kissing his way up your inner thigh and all the way up to your breasts which he absolutely devoured, you were sure you would be marked tomorrow with the way he nipped the supple skin.

That gave you a sick satisfaction knowing you might carry his mark with you for days and nobody would know but him. “So fucking beautiful.” he mused. 

He pushed your legs apart with his knee, “Tell me to stop, he panted in your ear “Tell me to stop before I can’t.”

“No, no,” you ordered, yanking on the gold chain to pull him closer “Don’t dare stop!” 

His thrusts were slow and languid, and he pulled one of your legs over his shoulder, relishing in the feel of you, he chuckled as your eyes rolled back in your head. Face flushed red from the action. 

Your eyes widened as his hand closed around your throat and he began to pick up speed, slowly. 

“Your life is in my hands, and you would trust me with it?" 

"Yes, I trust you," you panted honestly and he took his hands away completely, looking at you with an expression nothing short of adoration, before diving down to meet your lips again. You clasped his gold necklace in your hand for something to grasp as he pounded into you as you came undone, and ever the gentleman, once you had taken your turn he came after you. 

You were close to sleep when he nuzzled into your hair "This is my only regret. That I will never get to do this again… not with you." 

You didn't know how to respond so you simply placed a kiss to his chest. 

You knew he was right, there was no way you would get to do this again, as soon as Sam found Karli, Zemo would be headed straight back to jail.

 He was twirling a piece of your hair around his finger, content just holding you close, before you broke the silence.

“Would you like another glass of whisky?” he hmmd against your hair and you clambered out of the bed, picking his discarded robe off the ground and tossing it on, you reached for his glass on the nightstand and placed a kiss to his lips.

You had been right, his eyes were honey whisky and you had gladly drowned in them.

You filled up two glasses from the decanter on the island, and you heard his door close.

“You are so impatient Baron,” you giggled, turning around to come face to face not with honey whisky eyes, but cold, startled blue ones, Bucky.

"What the fuck is this?" he was seething, chest visibly rising and falling rapidly. 

You were like a deer caught in headlights, too stunned to move a muscle.

“This is what’s been wrong with you? You’re hung up on that piece of shit? God!” he actually fumed “I left Sam on his own to come home and check on you because I was worried about you and all this time you were fucking him?” 

“James,” Zemo’s voice startled Bucky from behind, “It wasn’t like that.” 

Bucky moved so quickly it was like a blur and suddenly his metal arm was around Zemo’s throat and he pushed him back against the doorframe, “You fucking touched her, I told you I would kill you if you touched her! I told you she was mine!” 

“Bucky,” you rushed trying to force yourself between them “Bucky, stop! Please!” You managed to get a hand on his chest and he allowed you to push him backwards, slowly releasing his hold on Zemo’s throat. Keeping your eye on him as he gulped in air, you kept your hand on Bucky’s chest, and he laughed suddenly.

“She actually cares, oh this is priceless. Tell me doll, how does it feel to be nothing but a conquest? To be a pawn in a game you didn’t even know you were playing?” 

You looked at Zemo but he was refusing to meet your eye.

Was it true, he’d done all this for some sick joke? Or to get one up on Bucky?

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Is it true? It was just a game to you?” you asked, voice so small you were ashamed and he lifted his eyes so quickly to meet your eyes, he began to shake his head but the way you were looking at him, so small, he couldn’t lie.

“Initially, yes. But I cannot deny that you got under my skin and I grew to care for you. Nobody could fake this past night we spent together.”

You hugged the fabric of his robe tighter around your body suddenly feeling way more exposed than you would have liked.

Your eyes were burning with red hot tears and you willed them not to fall.

Bucky huffed out a laugh again and you met his hard eyes, finding no compassion there, “I’ve always been a joke to you Buck haven’t I?” 

You weren’t sure why in this moment it was Bucky you were mad at.

“You give me just enough to keep me holding on, and then fuck the next woman that comes your way, but it’s okay because you know I’ll be there to pick right up where you left me.” 

“What on earth are you talking about?” he demanded, taking an angry step towards you.

“Sharon,” you offered meekly, taking a step back from him as shock crossed his face, “Yes James, I knew. I knew the moment it happened, that has been what’s wrong with me these past few days. I've been hung up on you. You James, not him.” 

He couldn’t answer you, eyes scanning the room for some inspiration on how to respond.

“I’m done being a joke to men like you,” you directed at them both and Zemo took a step towards you only for Bucky to turn on him in warning not to come closer. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you wiped swiftly at the tear that rolled down your cheek,” you sighed before laughing at your own stupidity, “Fellas, it was fun while it lasted.” 

You sidestepped Bucky who reached for you as you made to move by and you didn’t spare Zemo a second look.

Neither of them tried to stop you leaving when you pulled your suitcase out the door and got into the taxi waiting outside. 

You cried so much in the first few days you were home, you honestly had no tears left to cry. 

You really missed Nat, she had always been the one you went to with boy trouble, she always knew how to kick your ass into action. 

You’d seen the news the night before which meant Sam and Bucky would be home soon and you were not ready to face either of them, in fact you were actively dodging Sam’s calls which really wasn’t fair.

You heard his shuffled footsteps behind you, he wanted you to hear him, otherwise he was well capable of sneaking up on you.

“Why are you here?” your voice came out shakier than you wanted but you didn’t turn around.

“I needed to see you,” he pleaded.

“Buck,” you sighed, fumbling with your key in the lock before finally getting your apartment door open and stepping inside, Bucky followed suit closing the door behind him “I’m not doing this again. Whatever this toxic thing is, I don’t want it anymore.”

“Will you look at me?” he begged and you shook your head quickly.

“I can’t,” you cried. If you looked at him all your resolve would melt. 

“Y/n, look at me please”

“Doll,” he begged, turning you to face him but you refused to meet his eye, arms folded across your chest to protect yourself, “Hey,” he pleaded, hooking his index finger under your chin and rubbing your bottom lip with his thumb.  

“Will you please look at me,” he whispered and finally you allowed yourself to meet his eyes.

“I handled this all wrong,” he whispered again, continuing to brush his thumb gently over your lip “So wrong doll. And I am so sorry.” You wanted to lean slightly into his touch but you also wanted to protect yourself. 

 “I was scared,” he began but you rolled your eyes, he gave you a pleading look and continued “I know you don’t want to believe it but I wasn’t ready doll, I wasn’t ready to open myself up to being hurt. That’s the truth. It was a cop out, but I was scared.”

“Scared that I would hurt you?” you laughed incredulously, and he removed his hands from your face and looked genuinely upset.

“Yes,” he answered honestly, “Raynor she said I shouldn’t do this unless I was fully willing to be open and vulnerable with you. And I was afraid If I opened myself up to you-showed you all the ugly parts, it wouldn’t be enough. I was scared that I would not be enough for you. Those other girls didn't matter. Sharon didn’t matter. I’ve always been yours, Always. I’ve been yours from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

He truly looked upset, tears in his eyes and biting his cheek.

You  honestly felt shell shocked and just about spluttered out “All this time I thought I wasn’t good enough for you! And you, you let me think that back in Riga. God!” you huffed “This is such a fucking mess!” 

“I was out of line, I said things I didn’t mean because I was hurt.”

You hugged your arms around yourself “I was hurt too.” you cried and Bucky was before you in seconds.

“Tell me what to do, because I’m yours doll. I’m yours!” he was begging.

“Show me,” you panted pulling him to you “Show me you're mine” 

He surged forward and pulled you to him in an instant and threw you over his shoulder and you squealed as he plopped you down on the bed.

He made quick work of both your clothes and catching your hands in his metal arm he trapped your arms above your head. He kissed his way down your neck, stopping to inspect a little mark just above your left breast, you watched his expression turn almost animalistic as he realised just who had given you that mark, he bit down and sucked hard on your neck, spurred on by the sounds he was eliciting from you.

“Nobody but me ever gets to mark you like this again,” he growled before he picked up a ferocious pace. You managed to wrangle free and he allowed you to flip him over so his back was pushed into the mattress, and you climbed on top.

You ran your hands from his muscled torso all the way up his chest and stopped to wrap your hands around his neck, “Who do you belong to?” you whispered, stilling all action. He groaned and shifted his hips in an attempt to get you to move. 

You squeezed slightly tighter and god damn he made the hottest noise you had ever heard, begging from somewhere in the back of his throat.

“Who do you belong to Buck?”

“Fuck! You...doll. Belong to you,” he moaned “Please, please,” and with that you began to move your hips in ways that had the supersoldier crying out your name, hand fisted in your hair to expose the soft skin of your neck to him, he suddenly rose up and bit down again before he suddenly reached his release.

“Fuck!” he cried out again, collapsing back onto the bed pulling you down with him. 

You were making some lunch when he emerged from the shower, towel wrapped around his waist and he began rummaging through his rucksack. He pulled out a square parcel wrapped in brown wrapping  paper, and seemed to be hesitating giving it to you before finally conceding to whatever mental battle he was going through.

“As much as this literally, and I mean literally kills me to admit, I truly don’t believe you were just a conquest to Zemo. I promised him I would give this to you and to prove my devotion to you, I am keeping my promise.” 

You gingerly unwrapped the parcel, and felt your eyes water as you realised what it was. The first edition of Dostoevsky’s The Idiot that you had picked up from his nightstand. There was a little note scrawled in beautiful cursive writing on a piece of parchment inside “любимая, my feelings were real, and the night was beautiful. And I do believe your beauty can save the world. HZ.”

  Tagging: 

@spookyparadisesheep   @jbbarnesgirl   @salvatoreitmeanssaviour@princesscornbread   @loki-laufeyson-1054 @firstcashheroathlete @missvelvetsstuff     nana1000night   sapphire-rogers   @sarahrogersevans   @steverogerssimpp @spudinthemud   @mrsragnarlodbrok @buckgasms @miss-patriciah-maximoff   @hellomissmabel  @knittingknerdy @shamvictoria11 @buckysberrie @assembletheimagines @dearthofequanimity @wellthatsrandomkek @mitra-k-w @nikkitia7 @fantasticimpaladoctor @feelmyroarrrr @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @andhiseyesweregreen @frickin-bats @buckyywiththegoodhair @iiharu-kunii @bellenuit45-blog @james-bionic-barnes @avengerofyourheart @jaegers-and-kaijus   princess76179   brasspistol  thelittleredrobinhood  

[kebabnikan]

[blackleatherjacketz]

Work of Art

Baron Helmut Zemo x Original Female Character

Summary: Zemo is interested in how his new partner would look after certain *activities* while Sam and Bucky are out running errands.

Warnings: NSFW! 18+, Explicit Smut, Hand Kink, Eye Contact, Hand/wrist Kissing, Soft Dom Zemo, Zemo Being In Love With Gustav Klimt’s Artwork, Intellect Kink?, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Finger Sucking, Zemo Describing Klimt’s Paintings in Great Detail, Colors

Notes: I had a sex dream about Daniel Bruhl as Zemo last week, and I haven’t known peace since. I had to change a few things for logic reasons, but here it is. Also, this is just as much a love letter to Gustav Klimt as it is to Daniel Bruhl. Enjoy!

WC: 2.1k+

Read more MARVEL stories!

Tags: @bullet-prooflove @skittle479 @genevievedarcygranger​

The setting sun of the unfamiliar country shines through the windows and into the living room, casting a rainbow of light through the glass teapot that separates him from her. It expands across the table and onto the floor, stretching beyond where they sit in reds, greens and blues until disappearing just short of the door in a purple haze. He stares at her from behind the plume of steam that rises from the pot, two identical cups filling nearly to the brim as he studies her every move.

“Darjeeling?” He raises his eyebrows with the question, the chestnut hues of his eyes glinting amber in the warm evening light.

“Please,” she nods, scooting forward in her seat to finally enjoy his company without the judgment of her two partners. She hopes she can figure out what it is about him that makes her pulse quicken and her stomach flip every time he gets close to her. Was it his accent? His title? His intellect? Maybe it was a combination of all three. “Thank you,” she nods again.

“Of course. You know, unlike our mutual friends, you strike me as a woman who appreciates the finer things in life.” He starts, setting the pot down before sliding one of the saucers across the coffee table toward her.

“Is that so?” She leans forward to touch the handle of the mug he pushes in front of her, deciding to brush her fingers over his knuckles in the process.

He pauses as she touches him, lips parting and breath stilling as he tilts his head to the side as if to think through his next move. She knows that everything within his grasp holds the potential of turning into a movable piece on the giant chessboard of his life, a game he aims to win at nearly any cost. But she also knows that he was willing to dominate the kings and queens of the board to avenge a lost love, a result of passion and attachment, a sign of weakness. She hopes to use those long, deep stares he’s been giving her these past few days to bind him to her, to distract him long enough to spill some of his secrets and place a crown on her own head.

“I can’t imagine James or Sam would be able to appreciate a good cup of tea or glass of wine the way you and I would.” He keeps his hand beneath hers as he straightens his posture, now looking her in the eye through thick and heavy lashes. “Or a work of art.”

“Art?” She holds his stare in return, continuing to trace the hills and valleys between his fingers as the tiny hairs on the back of his hand stand on end. “I wouldn’t think that you, of all people, would support the arts.”

“On the contrary.” He releases his grip on the mug’s handle and weaves his fingers between hers, deftly stroking her palm with his thumb. “Anything can be a work of art if you choose to see it that way: the fall of an empire, the structure of a building, the curves of your face.”

Her mouth falls open as he continues to caress her skin, a thousand tiny tingling sensations spreading out from their point of origin as he presses into the heel of her hand. He scoffs as a knowing smirk tugs at the corners of his lips and brings her hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss into her palm. “Are you familiar with the works of Gustav Klimt?”

“The Austrian impressionist?” She whispers, wondering where he could be going with this. “The painter?”

“A symbolist, actually.” He encircles her wrist with his opposite hand, his fingertips soft and gentle as they trace the veins that snake their way up the back of her arm. “A common mistake.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” She mutters with the little air she has left in her lungs as he strokes her arm like a trained masseur.

She watches in amazement as he opens his mouth to kiss her palm once more, this time a little deeper, a little longer as his tongue briefly parts his hungry lips. She leans forward as the tingling sensation shoots up her arm and into her chest, extending far beyond the trail his mouth leads as he kisses his way down her wrist. She can almost feel those eyes of his travel up her shoulder, noting the goose flesh racing up her axilla into the pounding pulse of her neck. His glare is nothing short of magnetic, drawing her in like a sailor to a siren as they quickly darken with desire. She isn’t entirely sure now if this seduction plot was a plan of her own, or if he’d merely tricked her into thinking it was her idea to begin with.

Either way, she sees no reason to pull back now.

“Klimt was a genius,” he stands up from his seat on the couch, keeping his fingers clasped in hers as he makes his way around the coffee table, pushing it aside. “He found beauty in nearly everything he saw.” The baron kneels in front of her, pushing the table back even further with his body as he finally settles at her feet.

“The symbolist parts of him were found mainly in his landscapes.” He pulls his hand away from hers, releasing it only to touch the intricate pattern of the dress that barely covers her thighs at this angle. He takes his time tracing the dozens of beaded triangles on the expensive cloth he picked out just for her to wear, hoping she appreciated it. “The concentric circles of trees in the forests, blades of grass in the meadows, the tessellation of leaves,” he elaborates as he smooths his hands down her legs, resting them both gingerly on her knees. “And the flowers in bloom are all different representations of the masculine and feminine.”

His chest expands as he pauses for a moment to take her in, the object of his desire, before exhaling and proceeding with his lesson. He slides his thumbs between her knees and pushes them apart, forcing her skirt to ride even farther up her hips as his lips curl into a smile. “But Klimt’s most famous paintings featured gold leaf and the women in his life.”

She swallows hard as she looks down at him for the very first time, his tall stature always drawing her chin upward to get a better look at him until now. This angle seems to suit him, the fading sunlight catching in his hair as it falls from behind his ear in front of his forehead. She can practically feel her bones shaking in anticipation as he holds her knees in his palms, that confident smirk painted permanently on his lips.

“Klimt knew that a work of art shouldn’t be rushed.” He glances up at her, sliding his hands over the tops of her thighs at an agonizing pace. “That something so beautiful should be studied at length before he would dare put it on canvas.”

She holds her breath as he ignites a fire beneath her skin, spreading her legs as the warmth of his hands ventures up toward her center. She can feel that fire rise up into her belly as his fingers tease the fine hair on her thighs, reaching the hem of her underwear as she finds herself rocking into them, silently urging him to pull that final barrier between them apart.

“He had many lovers, most of whom he painted,” He pulls back the cotton between her legs, sliding his fingers between her moistened lips before gliding them up and down. “Only after bringing them to a state of elation.”

“Yes,” she breathes out as he fondles her, his fingers the most skilled she’s ever felt in her entire life. “I remember that.” She moans as he stokes that heat, spreading her moisture over the length of her sex as he keeps his eyes on her.

“Good.” He increases his pressure on his way up to stimulate her clit as her hips begin to move in tandem with his hand. He grins like the Cheshire Cat, the skin around his eyes wrinkling as he persists in his carnal efforts. “They say his painting of Judith captures her at her most vulnerable state.” He slides his fingers inside of her walls, standing up as he pushes on her bud, rubbing a deep tantric rhythm into her core.

“Oh!” She utters, grabbing onto his shoulder as he continues his ministrations. “Baron!”

His smile widens at the mention of his title, but he only continues his lecture. “Lips flush, cheeks rosy, eyes heavily lidded,” he turns to sit down next to her on the couch, keeping his fingers warm inside as he whispers into her ear. “When I first laid eyes on you, I knew I had to see you like that.”

“Yeah?” She gasps as he lifts her leg over his lap, stretching her muscles as he delves his fingers even deeper inside of her. “Oh!”

“Yes, and you’re almost there, my love.” He curls his fingers upward, grabbing onto the base of her neck with his opposite hand as he sends messages of bliss all the way up her spine and into her brain. “Tell me when you see gold.”

She nods as he speeds up his handiwork, the sound of her slick the only thing she can hear besides her own shallow breaths and the beating of her heart. She can feel him push that final signal up through her, each of them building on top of the last like a line of dominoes bringing her closer to the edge. She looks down as he nearly breaks his wrist trying to please her, knocking down every one of them in succession as if they were laid out in an intricate shape painted by Klimt himself. Dozens of branches split off from her center, spiraling as they fall into her arms, legs and feet before curling in on themselves as her body shakes from the euphoria.

Her orgasm continues to spread through the tips of her fingers and the roots of her hair as she finally turns to look at him. She can feel those golden stems of ecstasy grow and brighten within her, splitting in half, breaking free until they reach every inch of her body through his magic fingers. She cries out as he doubles her pleasure, wrapping her foot around his leg to keep herself steady as her entire body begins to seize in his lap.

He moves his hand from the back of her neck to her jawline, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him as the sun shines one last time through the stained glass windows. Its yellow rays hit his eyes at just the right angle, illuminating the amber of his irises into a vibrant gold as he unravels her completely.

“I see it,” she confesses, now putty in his hands. “I see the gold.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, slowing his rhythm between her legs before planting a kiss onto her cheek. He pulls his thumb off her bud, careful not to get anything on her dress as he slowly drags his fingers up and out of her silky spent sex before bringing them up to his lips. “I knew you would.” He takes his time tasting her, those golden eyes of his rolling back into his head as his lips reach his knuckles.

She shivers as she watches him savor her, this deadly powerful man literally brought to his knees for nothing more than a chance to experience her beauty in person, to sample the fruits of his labor. Part of her now wishes that he could be someone else, someone who isn’t so devious, so wild and unpredictable, but she knows that’s part of what drew her to him in the first place.

He opens his eyes and draws his fingers from his mouth, letting go of her chin and stroking her hair with a newfound sense of adoration. “You look just like her now, a true work of art.”

She lets the echo of her climax shake its way through her, consciously calming her breathing as he combs through her hair, watching his chest rise and fall as a guide for her desired rate. She unhooks her foot from his calf before letting her hand drift down his neck and chest, reaching down between his legs to return the favor.

“Ah!” He stops her, clicking his tongue as he grabs her wrist. “You should rest before they get back. Drink your tea. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

[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.

[marvelslittlewhore]

How I think Zemo would teach the reader how to jerk him off.

WARNINGS | 18+MDNI! smut, handjob, praise

NOTE | I also wanna say I'm very gay so I may not get some stuff right. -MaKayla 💜

котенок = kitten

You трахни котенка, если ты не перестанешь, я кончу = fuck kitten if you dont stop im going to cum.

я собираюсь кончить- в кончить- = i'm going to cum- I'm cum-

            ◃◦---------------●--------------◦▹

Zemo definitely sits in a big, luxurious chair. It doesn't matter where he just has one in every room. And in any room and chair, he'll take you in.

He would be spread his arms on the arm rest, scooted to the edge of the seat, and legs spread really wide. He'd make you undo his pants. He wants you to get comfortable with the feeling of taking his cock out.

He'll would slowly instruct you. "OK котенок now take my cock out, it's ok," he'd say it to you softly he doesn't want to scare you away. He looks at you, and you look like a frightened puppy.

First, he jerks himself off to show you what it looks like but he makes sure not to cum yet. Zemo wants you to make him cum. He wants you to work for it.

Zemo grabs your hands and places them on his cock, when he does he hisses and you jerk away.

"Did I do something wrong!?"

"No котенок your hands are just very cold."

"Sorry, Baron."

He'd grab your hands again. This time, he was ready for the coldness.

Oh, might I add Zemo is a very vocal man during anything sexual.

He'd place your left hand on his thigh while the other was wrapped around his cock.

Zemo would put his big hand over yours to slowly start you off.

He showed you to slowly go up and down and when he moaned louder to start going faster. Then he started to show you to twist your hand slightly.

"That's it котенок, good girl, now on your own." He'd put his arms back on the arm rest.

You'd slowly started to jerk him off, going up and down, and a slight wrist flicks here and there.

"Now котенок start playing with my balls with your left hand but keep jerking me off."

You took his balls in your hand, fondling them.

"'M I doing it right?" Your words started to slur the more horny you got from watching your man pant and moan

"котенок you're doing it so right, oh fuck".

You wanted to start going faster so you did.

In the spur of the moment, you put his balls in your mouth. You licked and sucked at them while you used 2 hands on Zemos cock.

"Fu-, oh fuck. Kitten, you've gotta slow down. You're going way too fast."

You wanted to be naughty. You wanted to go faster.

"трахни котенка, если ты не перестанешь, я кончу." He was too lost in his pleasure to speak English.

"я собираюсь кончить- в кончить-"

He is cumming in second all over your hands and on himself.

He had finally come down from his orgasm high.

"Good job котенок you did so good, good girl."

            ◃◦---------------●--------------◦▹

Taglist

@lokigirlszendaya

[bucknastysbabe]

The Call Girl - H. Zemo

Kink Bingo - Spanking

Rating: Explicit

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

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

сладкий - sweet

хорошая девочка - good girl

теплый - warm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The soldier snorted, “Bad luck huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded, a strangled whimper of ‘yes’.

“хорошая девочка,” he said.

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

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

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

You gulped and replied, “теплый.”

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

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

Crack. One.

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

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

Crack. Crack. Two, three.

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

“Doing so well.”

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

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

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

“So close.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You yelled, “Youyouyou Helmut!”

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

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

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

[hope-to-hell]

Winter’s bite. Helmut Zemo x Reader. Smut, bondage, s/m dynamics, brief wounds/broken bones, post-unsnapping. This is a conversation, a persuasion, an attack on dignity and a breaking-open of the hollows left inside those who were gone-then-not. Zemo has some trouble dealing with loss.

—-

Hey, yeah, listen. I know it’s been a while, and I guess maybe you’re not so thrilled to see me but here we are and you said talk, so I’m gonna talk and you’re gonna listen; maybe you’ll find those little tells you’re hoping for. There’s been all this running and hiding and yeah, sure, a little bit of dying— but don’t hold it against me. It’s like this: here one minute and gone the next, which doesn’t matter much because if you’re nothing then you’ve got nothing to worry about, ya dig?

Well. Until everyone and their dog gets unsnapped and suddenly you’re looking at your own shinbones all wet and sticky because you were thirty feet up the side of a building that doesn’t exist anymore. Listen, I didn’t want to see my own marrow and I know you don’t want to hear about it either, but I’m one of the lucky ones. Lot of people were falling out of the sky, you know. They came back but their airplanes didn’t. And there’s others, too: so many of us were in the wrong place all of a sudden, part of the miraculous rebirth for less than a heartbeat before dying in some stupid way or other.

Maybe we just should’ve stayed gone. Maybe then there’d be at least an ending even if there was never any closure, but like. Coming back has been this weird no-man’s-land where I’m legally dead, physically alive, and mentally still five years in the past. So yeah. Maybe bringing us back was a mistake. Z doesn’t agree, but then again he’s real close with loss; he wears it on his chest in bloody ribbons and he’ll tell you no no, nothing personal, don’t take it so hard when he’s stepping on your neck. ‘Course it’s personal, though. It always is with him: he’ll take your eye for a slight, and for losing a loved one? Christ, he’ll burn the world. Don’t make him angry, and for fucksake don’t take from him, because he’s got a long memory and a hell of a lot of imagination in the whole pain-and-suffering department.

So anyway. I’m laying there with pins in my legs and my ears all full of beep beep beep every time my vitals go a little wacky, and this motherfucker comes strolling in with a face like he’s filing taxes— you know, that neutral if I must with just a tinge of murder underneath— and all he says is hmm. No hi how are you, no thank the stars you’re safe, just that look. He’s gonna take whatever’s in his head and let it eat at him until it all comes pouring out, and when it does— oh, it’s really gonna be something.

Like now.

Do you know why you’re here? he’s asking, but it’s not a question, not really. It’s a trap. Not like there’s anything to do but see this through; he’s real fucking good with rope and he’s made sure to get the knots right over the most painful pressure points. And it’s cold; everything he says hangs solid in the air, like he could grab hold of his you were gone, you left and drive it deep, past bone and meat right down to where my heart’s beating hard enough to crack ribs, and listen. Listen. Fuck. I know maybe this part makes you feel all icky but you’re gonna hear it anyway. And hell, maybe it’ll get you feeling all antsy. Maybe you’ll be jerking off to this in the middle of the night. I don’t mind.

I just wanna make sure you know he waited til all my bones were knitted together, all those strands of shredded muscle repaired and revitalized— and I don’t want to see another treadmill as long as I live; I walked backwards on that fucking thing for hours— he waited with the patience of a thousand fallen saints so he could wake me up one midnight with his gloved hand heavy over my mouth and and his breath carrying ice into my ear. You are well, he said, like he was talking about the weather, but you know it’s always winter wherever he goes. You are well, you are whole, but through all those years there was a rift in the world in the shape of your flesh.

So, anyway. Buckle up, big guy; I know you’re desperate to know where he’s gone, and I know it’s more than anger, more than vengeance; you think I can’t see it but it’s all over your face. You’re not as good a liar as you ought to be after— well. Don’t let me get off track here, not when I’m about to get to the juicy part. Now, where was I? Right.

So there I am buck-ass naked— ha— with my knees going all pitted from kneeling on concrete, tied up tighter than anything, and he’s even got mirrors all around because you know how Z is. You know he wants you to see exactly what he’s doing to you from every angle but it’s more than that: this way he can see the effect of every little thing he does, every tiny detail he adds to make sure he’s got you exactly where he wants you to be. If I could move enough to look down, I bet I’d see rice all over the floor, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it was thousands of tiny garnets. Like I said, details. If he’s gonna make it hurt, you can bet he’ll do it beautifully.

Have you ever been fingered by a man in leather gloves? Listen. It’s— it’s a lot, especially when he’s crouched down right there with me, one hand wrapped around the ropes at my back and the other one two fingers deep and thrusting hard. No warmup, no preamble, just the sound of his boots, then that nasty spit-slicked do you understand grief? Have you felt the bile that chokes, or the bruises that bloom across your ribcage from the inside?

Five years. Maybe I can’t fathom it, but fuck can I ever feel it; the next time he moves that hand there’s another finger and he’s got to be spreading them wide as he can because between that and the leather I’m gonna split apart. Five years. Can you picture it? God, I hope you can. I hope you think about it later, when you’re alone and needing to get off so bad. Maybe I’ll think about you thinking about me and him, touching myself and feeling your eyes on me even from another room. Would you like that? Or would you like it better if I was bound, squirming and helpless, desperate for what I can’t have?

Either way, I want this right at the front of your mind: Zemo with his punishing hands, composure in shreds, pulling me apart from the inside and neither of us has any words left, just these snarls and whimpers all mixed together til it doesn’t matter who they’re coming from anymore. He made me come, of course he did; he ripped it right out of me with a twist and shove, every bruise tied together with this bright-burning silver thread.

You know I couldn’t help leaving; we’re alike in that regard, but has anyone ever given you what you’ve needed so badly since you came back? No. I can see it: you’re so full of guilt you haven’t earned, and sorrows you haven’t let yourself begin to feel. But you can take that rawness and put it to work; you’re a good man who got a bad deal and you have to know that. I see it; he sees it.

He’s on his way; any minute now those doors will open and he’ll be there with that half-smile, the one that says I’ve got a little secret; for all your efforts, you can’t find him until he wants to be found. You’ll see him dressed for the cold, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of his left hand. It’ll look artless, casual, but you know what it’ll mean. He’ll make you an offer— and you really, really oughta take it. After all, I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t worthwhile. And yeah, I know you were expecting to have to pry it out of me, maybe reach down deep for those parts of you that you wish you’d burned away, the parts of you that get answers out of tight lips, but here we are. Everything is on the table— well, not everything; there’s got to be something left for later, but I think you’ll find it in your favor— and everything I’ve said tonight is true.

It still aches, even now. I can still feel the stitching along the sides of his fingers, not to mention all those tiny pocked bruises on my knees, all those knots pressed deep, his coat buttons imprinted on my spine from where he fell against my back and let his words fall wetly on me. I will move heaven and earth to keep you here. You mustn’t doubt that. And I believe him, James. I really do.

[celestialsarcasm]

hard to hate you

baron zemo x reader

Rating: Explicit

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

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

Word Count: 1.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[backstagebasterd]

Hotel Love

Pairing: helmut zemo x m!reader Warnings: unprotected sex, spit kink, teasing, praise kink

The evening at the hotel lobby went splendidly. Beverages were bought, cheers were shared, moves were made, and just like that-- you had him wrapped around your fingertips, willing to do anything you wished. Helmut Zemo took you to his room. A large modern suite with tables, lights, and extravagant decor; a king-size bed between two sizeable nightstands were off to the side. He softly shut the door behind you as you took in the contents of the room; mesmerized, fully aware that only the wealthy could possibly afford to dwell in a place of such luxury. He smiled at you with a smug sense of pride-- he had wanted to impress you in every way possible, and he knew it was working. Before you knew it, Zemo was pressing his lips into yours. He had his hands at the back of your head, pulling you in. Kissing you with such a passion that-- up until this moment-- you had never come to know. His lips made love with yours tenderly, bringing you to unwillingly, yet needily, moan into him. Zemo’s tongue began to part your lips, and you let him, without an ounce of hesitation. Your mouths mushed together, you felt his tongue against yours, his spit entering your mouth. Zemo broke the kiss momentarily, allowing both of you a chance to catch your breaths. A string of saliva remained between your mouths as you panted in close proximity. But as soon as both of you were barely rejuvenated… Zemo had you pushed against a wall. His mouth clashed against yours, bringing both of you back to where you left off. His kiss was sloppier, wilder. He kissed you with every repressed bit of need from within him. His mouth went rogue. He began to moan into the kiss with you. Your heart pounded inside you as he kept making love to your mouth, almost devouring you.

Zemo’s hands began to fall onto your shoulders as the kiss broke, leaving both of you breathless. His hands wandered from your shoulders, across your shirt, slowly falling towards the hem. “May I?” Zemo asked. You nodded, allowing him to undress you, just as his lips had already undressed your final sense of dignity. - You laid on your back in Zemo’s king-size bed, your body sprawled naked, waiting for him. Zemo was nearly finished undressing as he slowly approached you, stopping for a moment to take in the view. ”You look beautiful as ever my love.” He muttered as he crawled onto the bed. He stopped in a kneeling position before you, between your legs. You revel in the sensation of his bare thighs meeting your own, the relief of being released from the confines of your clothes, to be able to touch his skin, and for him to touch yours. ”I’ll make you feel incredible draga.”Zemo was kneeling between your legs as he dropped down to kiss you one more time. ”Will you be a good boy for me?” He asked teasingly. ”Of course my love.” ”Then open wide.” Zemo spat inside your mouth and returned between your legs. He lifted your legs up and over his shoulders, allowing him a clear path to your entrance. He began to sink his cock inside you, filling you up inch by inch, moment by moment, giving you a chance to adjust to his girth. You moaned like an animal as he sheathed his cock inside you completely. “That’s it. Good boy.” Zemo exited and entered your hole slowly and repeatedly. Each and every time you’d sound, Zemo would reply with a praise; calling you a good boy or his draga, telling you just how well you’re taking him in. But you needed him to fuck you, to ravage you just as he did when you kissed earlier. ”Please go faster..” You pleaded, interrupting a praise. ”You want it faster?” ”And harder.” ”Are you sure, my love?” You mustered up a quick affirming reply, and at that, Zemo obeyed.

Zemo began setting a quicker pace, each thrust brushing your prostate and providing you with just the perfect amount of pleasure and pain. Every time he humped into you was faster and harder, just as you’d asked him to. You began leaking precum onto your stomach as he fucked you, you could feel your orgasm building up and Zemo kept praising you. “Fuck, I love how tight you are baby.” ”Such a good boy…” ”You’re taking me so good baby, so good.” The room was filled with lewd sound: your moans, Zemo’s praising, the slapping sound of your thighs and his crotch clapping together;  all happening as your orgasm grew nearer and nearer. ”I’m gonna cum baby” You whimpered pleadingly. ”Not yet darling, wait for me.” He teased. You held on to your orgasm, almost merely clutching to it as you waited for Zemo’s own. He thrust into you even faster-- a brutal pace-- chasing his orgasm to offer you relief. ”Almost there darling.” Zemo said, panting as the sound of flesh clapping onto flesh grew louder and louder as he pounded into you mercilessly. ”Cum for me.” Zemo told you, and you both released. Zemo’s cum filled your walls as he continued to weakly hump you through his orgasm. Your own release exploded onto your stomach-- some of it managed to reach Zemo’s face. The both of you ended up exhausted, panting on hitched breaths. Zemo gently unsheathed his cock from inside you as you feel his cum slowly drip from your hole onto the sheets of his luxurious bed. Both of you were dripping with sweat and semen as Zemo pecked a kiss onto your lips and invited you for a bath.

[loki-quinn]

Dom Baron Zemo aesthetic

[hommoturttle]

a Fanfic I'll Never Write

(a/n: i don't intend to really finish this, nor do i know where i was going with it. haha)

pairing: TFWS! Bucky x Reader

warnings: sexual content, bdsm aspects, alcohol, mild misogyny (you really have to squint), story starts in a very random place so I'm sorry if at first it doesn't make sense. let me know if I miss anything else also, this has NOT been beta read, i own up to all mistakes and incorrect grammar

"no. no! anyone but her!" bucky yelled at sam and Zemo holding his hands up to further prove his protest.

**********

the bar they walked into was loud. the way it was designed was like someone hadn't grown out of their 12 year old emo phase. black walls, floors and tables. the bar counter was the focal point with thousands of light up skulls that changed color with the music that was playing. fake spiderwebs and Victorian portraits hung on the walls with pictures of someone called BeetleJuice. "he looks like you before coffee" Sam mocked Zemo pointing to those pictures.

the patrons of this bar were also dressed in all black, a few had neon colored hair that Bucky had to remind himself this wasn't the 40's anymore. people had the right to look however they wanted, even if he still found unnatural hair colors weird.

surrounded by a crowd at the bar was the woman they were looking for. but what they saw her doing nearly gave bucky a heart attack. the poor old man that he was.

Y/N Y/L/N was topless laying titts up on the counter while some punk was pouring hot candle wax on her. the crowd was hollering and whistling in excitement. "has she always had her nipples pierced?" Zemo asked noone in particular. Bucky was this close to crushing his windpipe for staring at his girl.

just because he left her so she could live a life without his baggage didn't mean he had stopped thinking of her as his girl.

Y/N arched her back and stuck her tongue out. a different man poured his drink down her throat and tried to touch her without his permission. Bucky saw red, but before he could go play hero Y/N had sat up and started twisting that guy's arm behind him.

"did i give you permission to touch me? last i checked pet, i hadn't. you gonna make it up to me? how bout an apology." Y/N bit his ear and shoved him to the ground.

the man instantly fell to his knees, placing his hands on his thighs with his head facing downward. "forgive me mistress, i need to be punished so badly! let me please you!"

Sam and Bucky looked at each other in confusion. Zemo though looked like he had gotten what he wanted on Christmas morning.

Y/N cocked her head to the side and lifted her foot so it rested on the man's crotch. he whimpered and had a blissed out look on his face. "kiss it."

the man instantly did as she said kissing her foot with the utmost reverence. Y/N held her head up while looking at the man in disgust. she pushed him off her and slapped him across the face. "you're pathetic. a real man wouldn't be a spineless twat like you are now. strip and meet me on the stage pet. i feel like teaching you a lesson."

the crowd around the pair cheered with more hollering and whistles.

"what kind of bar did you say this was?" Zemo asked Sam seeing as how he was the one to bring the trio there.

"i..i was told it was an alternative bar. you know, for goths or something." Sam was stuttering and blushing slightly. Bucky never took his eyes off Y/N. he knew her too well. he could see she was just putting on a show, but wasn't really getting any enjoyment from being this dominant. he knew what kind of submissive she usually was. he had spent hours learning.

was it weird that thought brought him some comfort?

"come on" he told his awkward group as he made his way to the bar. there was a woman behind the bar with only a little more clothing on than Y/N. she had curly brown hair and harsh blue eyes that showed how unkind life had been. "what can i get you?"

she sounded exhausted and more than ready to go home.

"how often does she do this?" Bucky asked the woman, not wanting to waste her time even more so.

the woman gave him a small once over with an eyebrow raised, but didn't say what she was thinking.

"she's one of our regulars. she does this when she's pissed of about something usually. the wax thing is new though. not complaining about it, it's just new." the woman shrugged her shoulders. Bucky nodded.

"so, can i get you anything to drink or are just going to be pervy?"

"i'll have a Vodka Tonic if you would be so kind." Zemo ordered his drink. "and your name so that i don't feel like i'm disrespecting you madam."

the woman chuckled “you wouldn't be the first man. my name is Sami. i'll get that drink going for you." she turned to sam, "anything sound good?"

Sam ordered a beer but wasn't paying much attention to her. he was focused on Bucky wondering what was going through his head. bucky didn't want to see Y/N or bring her onto this mission. last he heard, the pair had a falling out caused by Bucky, but here he was staring at her like all he wants to do is take her in his arms and never let go. Y/N still hadn't noticed the trio, too busy hitting a poor, near naked man with a ridding crop on a stage for the whole bar to see.  Sam just had to laugh at the scene.

just when he thought this was going to be a moment of calm in a world of crazy, Bucky started walking towards the stage and he didn't look happy.

"bucky! don't... you...don't!"

it was too late, the super soldier stood right in front of the dominatrix with a defiant look in his eye and his arms folding across his chest, metal arm shining in the lights. Sami the bartender thought he looked equal parts dangerous and sexy. Sam just thought he looked stupid.

Y/N though....

Y/N thought he looked beautiful. all rough, dark, and commanding. it didn't take away the hurt though and that pissed her off.

Y/N jumped of the stage to stand right in front of him, one had murder in their eyes, the other possession. "what the fuck are you doing here Barnes?" Y/N's voice sounded like pure venom.

Bucky gave a soft, sad smile. "it's good to see you too doll."

*****

after that awkward reunion, everyone sat down in a corner booth of the bar away from prying ears and leering eyes. Y/N still hadn't put a shirt back on. Bucky swore this woman was gonna be the death of him. "so let me get this straight, you break him out of a high security prison,"

Zemo had the nerve to smile.

"you thought you made the right choice in giving up the shield, so now it's in the hands of the human version of moldy blue cheese,"

Sam folded his arms and rolled his eyes.

"and you still can't look me in the eyes, but you want my help with 'terrorists gone wild'."

Bucky stared at the table even harder.

"we understand that we're asking a lot from you Y/N, but we could really use your help." Sam tried pleading with her, though he wasn't happy with what she said.

Y/N sighed and leaned back in her seat, rolled her head side to side to try cracking her neck. it didn't work unfortunately.

"I’m in. but lets get one thing straight,"

she turned to look at Bucky. "after this, don't ever think of pushing me away again to hurt yourself further." Bucky finally met her eye and saw her big (Y/E/C) eyes filled with anger, concern, and love. how a woman like her could ever love a broken shell like him, he'd never understand.

"I promise." those words were barely spoken over a whisper, but they were felt like bombs.

Sam, and even Zemo, felt like they the uninvited 3rd wheel intruding on a moment they weren't supposed to be.

"Sami! mind pouring me a drink to go?" Y/N called out.

Sami rolled her eyes but had a soft caring smile on her face as she grabbed the rum behind her. "you owe me!"

TAGLIST: @buckle-up-buttercups @whovianhalfblood @gideonknave @roulu @itsbobbi