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f1yogurt · 2 years

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back again with a fic prompt <3

this one is a little out there.. Zemo grows up in a royal atmosphere, so being a young Baron in a strict regal household or castle would suck. I can't help but wonder if he would eye up a servent who works in their home similar to his own age..

Imagine.. Young Zemo flirting with/pursuing/crushing on servant!reader

I'm sure this has been done- I mean- he is royalty, he get what he want

Flirting with Royalty

Summary: A young Baron Zemo can't help but find himself attracted to one of the servants in his household, and his interest hasn't gone unnoticed by you. You have only been employed for a few weeks, and yet you already feel inclined to engage in a forbidden romance with the handsome baron.

AO3 Link - FLIRTING WITH ROYALTY – Link to my Fic Request Guide

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Helmut Zemo x Reader

Tags: Baron Zemo, servant!Reader, Flirting, Sparring, Banter, Mutual Pining

Word Count: 1.6k

Baron Helmut Zemo was bored. Growing up in a spacious castle had its perks, although often enough, he found himself longing for something new to do. Or at least, someone to share his adventures with. He roamed the vast, empty halls of the castle, brushing his hand along the wall that had pictures of every Baron Zemo before him. Helmut looked up at all of the old men who seemed to be glaring down at him, judging him as he lived out the Zemo legacy.

He sighed and looked away, strolling aimlessly through the corridor. Ah, well. In his spare time, whenever he had nothing else to do, he would go to the training room and practice sparring or new sword fighting techniques. Zemo smiled, and he decided that letting off a little steam in the gym would do him some good.

His feet led him down another corridor and to his room. Helmut paused at the door, which was open, and he watched as a few servants walked out carrying fresh linens. They must have changed his bedsheets this morning.

“Hello, ladies,” he greeted as he stepped into the room. You had been dusting a desk in the corner of the room, but at the sound of his voice, you turned around to glance at him. The other servants gave a cordial, “Good morning, Baron” and continued with their work, but Zemo gave you a cheeky smirk while the other women weren’t looking. You felt your heart flutter at his flirtatiousness. The baron then turned his back to you, and he walked over to his closet to begin sifting through his clothes.

“I think I will spend a few hours in the training room,” he announced as he pulled his sparring outfit from the closet. “Tell my father that I will be late to lunch, and not to wait on me.” A few of the servants nodded, and they slowly began to file out of his room to give Helmut some privacy.

“Of course, my lord, we will inform him,” one of them said, curtseying politely. You were about to leave along with the group, but then you paused. The young baron’s romantic interest in you hadn’t gone unnoticed for the past few weeks, and even though you were hesitant to reciprocate, his attentions thrilled you. The baron was a handsome young man, and yet…he was a baron. You were just a servant, and you couldn’t imagine what it was about you that had caught his eye.

After all of the other servants had left the room, Zemo closed the door and looked back at you. He was pleased that you hadn’t left, that you would stay to spend time with him. Alone. He decided that now wasn’t the time to be coy.

“Excuse me while I dress,” Helmut said, his words laced with cockiness. His gorgeous brown eyes were fixed on yours, and when you didn’t respond to his request, he slowly drew his shirt over his head. You wanted to avert your gaze, to be respectful, but you couldn’t help but steal a long glance at his toned torso. Despite being a baron, Helmut Zemo wasn’t an idle man, and his frequent training sessions meant that he wasn’t lacking for an impressive physique.

Helmut finally finished tugging his shirt over his head, and he chuckled to himself as he caught you staring before you quickly looked away. He grinned. Maybe this flirtation wasn’t one sided, after all.

“I thought that I would find you already in the training room,” he remarked curiously, quickly changing into his sparring trousers while you were turned away.

“I have duties there this afternoon, but I was filling in for one of the girls who usually cleans,” you said, sitting down on the bed, facing away from him. “I know your father hired me for my combat skills, but that doesn’t mean I can’t dust a desk or two.” Helmut nodded in understanding.

“Oh, that is very kind of you,” he said, tugging a shirt over his head. Helmut felt a sort of giddiness that he was unaccustomed to, simply at the thought of spending more time with you today. The training room had become his favorite place in the castle, mainly because he knew that you would be there.

Now fully dressed, Helmut walked around in front of you, heading into his connecting bathroom to stand in front of the mirror. Well, strutted was more of an accurate description, and you suppressed an amused grin at the way he practically preened at his reflection. You let your gaze roam his figure again, and you noticed how his outfit hugged his frame better than usual. It was as if he’d chosen the tightest shirt and pants imaginable just because he knew you were there, watching him.

“Baron, I will meet you in the sparring room in ten minutes,” you said, rising from your perch on his bed. If you stayed there one second longer, you would combust with the desire to splay your hands along his broad shoulders, or run your fingers through his soft, brown hair. Not that you thought Zemo would oppose, but you weren’t going to allow him the satisfaction of you giving into his charms that easily.

“Of course, I look forward to it,” Helmut said, his words sounding more distant as you walked to the door of his room. You smiled. The baron may have had the flirtatious upper hand this morning, in his own bedroom, but the sparring arena was your homeground. If Helmut wanted to flirt with you, then you were going to give as good as you got.

—

He met you in the gym ten minutes later, just as he had promised. When he arrived, you were busy polishing a few of the weapons that were available for use. After all, you were a servant in this household, although your main duty was to tend to this room and train the baron in his spare time. Not that Helmut needed much training, but there was always room for improvement.

Zemo grinned as he saw you, now decked out in your own sparring outfit as you picked out a sword. He swallowed as he gazed at your form fitting attire. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so bold to put on his tightest gear. He had wanted to flirt with you, but now he realized that he would need to work extra hard to not let any of his…physical attraction to you be revealed. “Alright, my lord,” you said, brandishing your sword of choice and glancing over at Helmut. “Are you ready?” Zemo smiled.

“As always, my lady,” he said, a flirtatious smirk on his face. The both of you donned protective gear, and then you stepped onto the mats. You and Zemo went through a few warm up exercises and stretches, and every once in a while, you would correct his form. Helmut had been training for a while now, and he was nearly perfect, but there were still a few things he could improve on.

“When you swing, let the movement flow,” you told him, demonstrating a move that he had just attempted. “Use the momentum to your advantage.” Helmut nodded and copied you, performing the steps a bit differently this time. Today, he seemed…distracted. You grinned, noticing how his eyes would unwillingly linger on you a moment too long. Good, maybe you’d be able to get back at him for teasing you this morning.

“Let’s go a few rounds,” you offered after you finished your warm ups. “Best three out of five?” Helmut grinned.

“If you last that long,” he teased. In response, you swung your sword in a side attack, which he defended easily. Helmut had a natural talent for this, which made it even more fun to spar with him. It wasn’t long until the two of you were breathing hard, and your muscles had the pleasant ache of exertion. Zemo had managed to win the first two rounds, but you made a comeback for the last two. Now, the score was even.

“Two to two,” Helmut said, somehow managing to sound cocky even while he was panting and drenched in sweat. “Winner takes all.” This time, instead of attacking first, you waited for him to make the first move. When Helmut lunged forward, you spun away to dodge his sword, and you managed to get behind him and swipe his legs out from under him. Zemo dropped his sword in surprise as he fell, and before he could think, you rolled over and had him pinned under you, your sword pressed lightly to his throat.

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?” you teased, a cocky smirk on your face. Helmut took a few moments to realize what had happened, but he didn’t try to push you off. Instead, his expression changed, and you watched as his gaze darted down to your lips for a brief moment before returning to your eyes.

“I admit, I was…distracted,” he said. You almost scoffed, but he sounded so sincere, so longing. Before you could think twice, you dropped your sword to the floor and leaned down to kiss him. Helmut made a noise of surprise, but after a moment, he relaxed and closed his eyes, savoring this moment that he had been waiting for so long.

After a few moments that felt like an eternity, you sat up again, breathless from the kiss as well as the sparring exertion.

“Schatz, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for that,” Zemo admitted softly, gazing up at you as you pulled away. You smiled and brushed a rogue curl of hair off of his forehead, gazing into his chocolate eyes. This man was going to get you in so much trouble, but it thrilled you.

“This is going to be complicated,” you said, chuckling. Helmut just smiled.

“Perfect. My favorite kind of romance.”

#helmut zemo #baron zemo #my fanfic #tfatws #helmut zemo fanfic #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo fanfiction #baron zemo x you #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl fanfiction #daniel bruehl #daniel bruhl

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mrsmaxwelllord · 2 years

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a zemo fiction

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: no actual sex, but... explicit (18+ MINORS DNI)

A/N: 7 days in entebbe is daniel's hottest look and i cannot stop thinking about it.

...

Because you knew the thing you wished could happen wouldn't have a happy ending, you didn’t like what you saw in Zemo’s eyes every time he looked in your direction — and you looked back at him.

When you first met him in that damn garage in Germany, you only felt curious. It wasn’t always you got the chance to meet The Man that Broke the Avengers apart in person. Then you were too cautious to speak to him, it was only in Madripoor that you actually got to see the real Baron Zemo.

While playing Smiling Tiger’s eye candy, you had enough time to observe Zemo. Unfortunately, you were forced to conclude, quite fast, that his mannerism was undesirably attractive.

His confidence and boldness was captivating. And that damned beard of his. You thought he would shave it once he got hands in a razor, but he only trimmed it, leaving a kinda dishevelled look to it.

One could easily say you were mesmerised by his charm. You thanked God that Sam and Bucky were worried about the mission enough to not notice the looks you gave Zemo.

But you could tell that he observed you as well.

You just didn’t know if he was aware of the influence he had over you.

The day you arrived in Latvia, after Bucky decided to go for a walk, Sam left you in charge of Zemo and went to his room. You knew he was exhausted and you could tell he was going to drop unconscious the moment he hit bed, you were tired too but there was something you wished to do before sleeping. But contrary to what Sam planned, you had no plan of being someone’s babysitter.

As soon as you heard Sam locking his door, you went to the bathroom for a very deserving bath and Alone Time. You knew Zemo wasn’t an idiot, he probably had realised already you have been followed. You guess it was the Wakadans, but you had no clue how many people he made unhappy in his life. If he was interested in his well being, he would stay in the house.

So he did.

When you walked away from the bathroom, steam all around you, feeling the most relaxed you had been in weeks, he offered you cherry blossom tea. Who would have thought?

You accepted it and he poured you an expensive-looking cup. You turned in your seat to watch him. His coat you like so much was set in the chair beside yours, and he was only in a cashmere sweater.

You took your time with the tea, eyes never leaving the baron.

“Did you like it?” he asked, still not setting down or facing you.

You shrugged.

“It is okay” was your answer, just as suggestively as his question.

“Well. At least you trust I won’t run away”

You made sure to put the teacup down and turn around before properly answering him. “You know that I don’t. I just know you're not stupid enough to leave the security of your two guardian angels’ wings without a good reason.”

That made him face you. A displeased expression.

“James and Sam would soon shoot each other before willingly protecting me, draga.”

You gigled.

“That is not the point, is it?”

“It is not” he murmured, calmer. Then, after a moment of thought, he stretched out his hand to place it on your face.

You gulped. Then allowed him to do as he pleased.

However, the Baron didn’t do anything else. He held your face with both hands, caressing your cheekbones and jaw. Running his finger on the skin of your neck. Grabbing the hair in the back of your head. Touching your parted lips with his fingertips, his own mouth agape, humming a wantonly moan.

“My eyes haven't left you since I first saw you” he whispered, then he looked away from your mouth to your eyes. “I’ve been dying to kiss you.”

This was enough to make you melt under his cares, you had to hold back a cry. Instead, you parted your legs, making room for him, and he immediately took the place against you. You grabbed his wrist and the soft material of the sweater above his heart, urging him to keep going.

“Helmut” you called, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue. But you were not able to formulate a sentence, so you simply pulled him to you.

When his mouth first met yours, it wast with a sigh. You were desperate for it and you could tell he was as well, but he didn’t rush anything: he was calm, testing. His kiss was slowly taking you in, tasting you and savouring the moment.

He flexed the hand on your hair, managing to arch your neck so he could deepen the kiss. You could only whimper against him. Helmut used the opportunity to use his tongue on you.

His hand ran down your neck, pulling away the collar of the robe, exposing your shoulder. You were slowly losing your mind to the emotions. Wherever he touched goosebumps erupted, guiding your focus to where he wanted.

Helmut interrupted the kiss for a fraction of seconds, just so he could take a good look at your discomposed face — hair out of place, glassy dreamy eyes and slightly open, flushed and wet mouth — and resumed kissing you with a new intensity to it. Neither of you could hold back the moans.

Especially not when he reached to your thin pajama top and groped your breast. You managed to arch your back even more and accidentally break the kiss with a whimper, when he found your niple and meanly squeezed it.

“Hulmut, please” you cried, begging for him to… stop it, keep going? You couldn’t tell what you were asking for.

He chuckled darkly and began a trail of kisses from your cheek to your neck. Then, grabbed your hips tightly and pulled you flush against him and his hardening dick.

The feel of his teeth against the soft skin of your neck was driving you insane with lust, you could only hold onto him for dear life. You weren't even remembering Sam in a room somewhere or the explanation you’d have to give the boys for the lovebites on your neck and shoulders. You could only feel Helmut’s lips and the way they made you pulse with desire. You never felt so vulnerable under one's ministration before, so eager to receive whatever one gives you; you usually are more… active.

Helmut lips were on the cleavage of our top, so close yet so distant to where you desperately wanted and needed him, aware of your needs and thoroughly teasing you. Your back was just as arched as it could be, your eyes rolling, and you just grasped his hair to guide his lips where you wanted them.

You were almost succeeding in your task. Almost. When the main door was opened by Bucky.

In record time you and Helmut walked away, each to the opposite side. You managed to lock the door of your room in time to hear Bucky ask about Sam and tell Helmut about the Dora Milaje.

#helmut zemo smut #baron zemo fanfiction #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #zemo x you #daniel brühl x you #daniel brül x reader

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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Saintly | Helmut Zemo x m!reader (🍋)

Anonymous asked: Z-zemo smut 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 I- this man needs to make me get on my knees and then tilt my chin up and praise me until I die or something

I want him to make me cry from feeling too good 🙏🏻🙏🏻

summary: it’s a special night, and all Zemo wants to do is to make you feel like you’re in heaven

tws: swearing, spanking, anal sex, praise kink, religious imagery

word count: 1509

MINORS DNI

You were always so eager for Zemo, always begging and pleading for the most simple of touches, the most gentle of his kisses and the most sweet of his slaps and bites that he so eagerly landed against your skin every single time that you simply looked at him; he always loved it so fucking much when you were on your knees for him, when you were so fucking eager just to be there and just to watch him, whether he was touching himself while he looked at you, or whether he had… other plans for you.

Tonight, though, he had… a few plans for you; with you on your knees, all lubed up and already so eager for him that you were practically crying for his attention, for his touch and for his kiss. Already so fucking desperate and so fucking needy for him. The carpet dug into your knees, leaving imprints on your skin as the cold air hit your skin and the handcuffs that bound your wrists behind your back bit into the soft flesh, and when his thumb gently ran along your bottom lip, you could not stop the whimper that left the back of your throat.

“Such a good boy,” Zemo said lowly, his voice thick with amusement and that fucking stupid smug attitude. “Aren’t you? Hmm?”

He let his grip fall to your chin, grasping it between his forefinger and thumb as he tilted your head up ever so slightly, just to look into your eyes and to see how fucking eager and desperate you were for him; by now, he would have covered you in bruises and bite marks. By now, he would have made you beg for him to go further, to make you bleed, to make you squirm for him as your voice became strangled, hoarse, muted from the way he gripped your throat so tightly. But tonight was different, tonight was a lot more special than most. An anniversary. A night where he wanted little more than to treat you like the fucking prince he wanted you to be.

“Always good for you,” you breathed out with a nod. “Always.”

“Bend over my desk,” Zemo growled, tilting his head so that he could gesture to it. “Now.”

You swallowed thickly, waiting for him to pull away before you did as he said, bending over the dark brownish red wood, you waited for him to unlock the handcuffs before you could stretch your arms over it, and when he locked them to the drawer closest to you, you couldn’t help but to growl softly under your breath. You licked your lips, shaky breaths leaving you as you readied yourself for what he was about to do.

“You’ve been a good boy,” he praised once more, coming to stand beside you and running his hand up and down your ass. “Tell me - what do you want me to do with you?”

“I want you to fuck me,” you could hardly get the words out, nodding and trying your best not to wriggle your ass just so you could feel his skin on yours. “Please, Baron. I want you to fuck me.”

“Say it again,” Zemo hissed, getting behind you and rubbing your ass again, ready to slap it at a moment’s notice. “C’mon, be a good boy and say it again.”

“I want you to fuck me,” your voice was getting weaker by the moment. “Please, I want you to fuck me.”

Slowly, his movements calculated and almost tortuous as he lined himself up behind you, Zemo pressed his body against yours, groaning softly before he eased himself into your ass, clenching his jaw as he grabbed the back of your neck with one hand and letting his other hand rest on your hip. “That feel good? Hmm, mein Prinz?"

“Yeah,” you could hardly speak, pushing back against him and trying to fuck yourself against him, but when he delivered a harsh slap to your ass, you bit your lip, and whimpered softly under your breath. “Do that again, please… please, Baron.”

Zemo couldn’t deny such a sweet little beg, bringing his hand down against your ass once more, harsher this time, before starting to pick up his pace; snapping his hips as he pounded into you, his grip around the back of your neck getting harder as he forced you to stay still against the desk, not caring that you were starting to sweat and to lose your ability to speak. All he cared about was claiming you, making you his as much as he could.

“Sehr gut,” he breathed out, biting at the inside of his lip. “Such a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

Shit, he made you feel so good, the way he seemed to hit all the right and sweet spots of your ass and make you pant and moan for him, coming undone in just a few moments, you couldn’t stop yourself as your eyes welled up with tears and you pressed your forehead against the dark wood of the desk; all you wanted was for him to make you cum, was for him to make you feel like you meant every-fucking-thing in the world to him. All you wanted was for him to claim you. To fucking ruin your body so that only he could ever make you cum, could ever please you. Ruin you so that no one’s touch could ever make you feel a damn thing, except his; your Baron’s.

Your Baron. The only man who could ever drive you so fucking wild in so little time.

Zemo didn’t let up, though, slapping your ass again and digging his fingernails into the flesh at the back of your neck so much that you could only squirm and beg softly for him to keep going, begging between soft and gentle sobs; he was pounding into you so well that all you wanted was to cum. All you needed was for him to keep praising you, keep slapping your ass while he pounded it. All you needed was him.

“Good boy,” Zemo praised softly. “You’re so, so good, mein prinz… fuck, I might have to make you cum more than once tonight - would you like that?”

“Later,” you couldn’t whimper out anything else, your voice so hoarse and so strangled and so raw that just the single word made it scratch the sides of your throat.

“Later it is,” he promised you softly, growling softly as he kept up his quick and harsh pace, slapping your ass. “Fuck, you’re being such a good boy… sehr gut.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back, trying so desperately to fuck yourself on his cock despite the fact that he was holding you down by the neck, all whimpers and moans and grunts and growls; release starting to build up as you let out a string of howls of his name under your breath. It sounded like a fucking prayer. Like you were begging him to cleanse every sin you had ever committed. Every sacrilegious act washed from your bones. Every time you called his name, it sounded little more than like a prayer. Like he was a Saint. Your Saint.

The one who could rid you of your sins. The one who could answer every and any prayer. And shit, when you called his name like that, even Zemo had to admit that he felt a little godly. He felt like he wasn’t just any god, but your god; like only he could ever be the one to forgive any of your sins. No gods and no masters could ever come close to him; he was your Saint. He was your saviour. His touch was holy and his words were commandments. A Saint, a saviour, the only one who could have you down on your knees begging for forgiveness. The only one that mattered. Divine. Angelic. Heavenly.

“That’s it,” Zemo praised softly. “Cum for your Baron, mein prinz. Be a good boy and cum for me.”

You weren’t ever going to disobey such a commandment, letting yourself go, become undone; letting all those sins wash away as you howled and moaned and let him deify you. Make you holy. Sanctify you.

You didn’t want him to stop, though, you didn’t want him to ever stop, and when he started to fill your ass with his cum, you couldn’t help but to wish that he could have kept going; that he could have washed you of your sins completely, that he could have made you feel like a divine being - like him.

Letting go of you, Zemo pressed his forehead against the back of your neck as he doubled over, letting his hands lay limp either side of you as his hot breath traced your skin.

“Such a good boy,” Zemo whispered. “All mine… only mine.”

“I wanna keep going,” you said softly. “Please, Baron?”

“Give me a moment, mein prinz,” he couldn’t help but to laugh softly. “We’ll go for round two once I’ve caught my breath, ja?”

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 1 year

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Delays/HC Requests Open

Heyo!

Still writing and working, but I won't be posting til after the 3rd - at the earliest - because I have a big work assignment and a new client who has dropped a slurry of test articles in my lap.

Not sure what my schedule will be like with the new client, so even after the 3rd, updates may be choppy choppier for a hot minute as I adjust.

Your patience is appreciated. I may post teasers as I go, and my inbox is always open for everything except story requests (for the moment - still playing catch-up on a few very, very, very, very old ones).

Actually, on that note, I think I'll accept head canon requests for a bit. I've never done head canons. These are open to any OC/Reader or canon character I've written. (Here's my master list)

#journal shit #sandman fanfiction #cod mw fanfiction #baron zemo fanfiction

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post-tenebras-luxious · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Heike Zemo/Helmut Zemo Characters: Helmut Zemo, Heike Zemo, James "Bucky" Barnes, Yelena Belova, John Walker (Marvel) Additional Tags: Multiverse, jailbreak, angsty sex, these two really love eachother, family fic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mentions Pregnancy, mentions character death, probably more passionate than angsty Summary:

This is a little bit of a mulitiverse What If and an exploration into what I felt like had to have been a passionate marriage. I am a die hard for Zemo and wanted to explore his feelings for his wife, and who she could be as a character. I don't care if he has a past and makes catastrophically questionable decisions, I want this man to have a happy ending.

#helmut zemo fanfiction #helmut zemo smut #helmut zemo #baron zemo fanfiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #zemo smut #zemo fanfiction #daniel bruhl fanfiction

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therenlover · 8 months

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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!

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #daniel brühl #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #daniel bruhl x reader #zemo smut #marvel smut

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bullet-prooflove · 1 year

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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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#baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo smut #helmut zemo x reader #zemo smut #zemo x you #zemo #baron zemo x reader #zemo x reader #helmut zemo fanfiction #helmut zemo x you

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1800jjbarnes · 3 months

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JJ — She/They/He, Polyamarous, 02, INFJ

18+ PLUS BLOG, MDNI

Requests : Open

Tag List Available

Masterlist

WHO I WRITE FOR

x Female Reader | x Male Reader | x Gn Reader | Ships

IMPORTANT DATES

Joined Tumblr — March 20th, 2023

First Fic Posted — March 23rd, 2023

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blackleatherjacketz · 1 year

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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+