#helmut zemo smut
Dinner before the mission —as you teasingly call it— is delicious and one you will never forget for more than the food.
He’s taken you to some place you don’t even think has a name and if it does only people in the know have ever heard it.
It’s a hidden, beautiful, old world new york spot kept secret behind a plain brick facade with interiors that couldn’t be built today because a corner of the place would cost too much to replicate. Everyone here looks like they commit the sort of crimes only the top one percent can get away with. A few even give off, “I might have killed more than one person vibes.” Not in that over the top look at me I’m a bad guy way, but it’s the little things. The tailored suits and million dollar haircuts and the beautiful women who clearly call the shots within their circles —the nods, smiles, winks, and looks— Zemo fits right in. But do you?
You’re a little overwhelmed, not that you would ever intentionally let them see it, but he knows, and while he may order you to your knees in the bedroom, he also genuinely wants to see you happy, so he makes you laugh through dinner and gets you talking about things you really enjoy until you’re relaxed and a little buzzed from the mind blowing cocktails.
Maybe that’s why you jump in your seat when the lightest of vibration begins just as you finish your chocolate desert, which was already like sex in your mouth.
You almost moan but turn it into a laugh while glaring at him, silently pleading “not again, not here!” With your eyes.
Zemo subtly puts a finger to his lips to tell you to stay quiet and you’re fairly certain the look you give him is why he laughs.
Sitting back, he keeps the remote safely hidden in his folded hands and enjoys the show.
You slam your own hand down on the table holding the edge. The couples around you glance over but no one cares, or at least you tell yourself that. And then he turns up the vibration…
At least he was kind enough not to let the hostess sit you in the middle of the restaurant. You’re near the back windows and you look out at the city before your eyes shut.
This time you just put your head on the table and bear down as a smaller but still intense orgasm takes you… you need to get these things off.
“Oh, are you feeling well?” The waiter asks in his pleasant overly eager to please way. “Would you like a digestive?”
You probably do look a little disheveled as you pick your head up.
“No. Just our check please.” Zemo answers for you.
Both men are looking at you in very different ways as you sit there breathing heavy, eyes half closed, probably a stupid smile on your face.
“Yes, of course?” The young man says eyeing you up and down. He smiles but he’s clearly confused as to why you look like you just, well…
“Please Baron, no more.” You beg taking a deep breath as you shiver and sit up.
He is sympathetic to a point and nods. “Yes enough for tonight, I don’t want you to become, desensitized.”
“Can that happen?” You whisper loudly glancing around to see if anyone is looking. You grab your water and take a nervous gulp.
Zemo gives a shrug and you catch a glimpse of humor in his eyes. “Don’t worry, I would never harm you, not like that.”
You just purse your lips and roll your eyes. He scolds you but it’s playful and your edge softens a bit.
“You’ve been very good today.” He says and lays his hand palm up on the table. You look down, his long fingers curved naturally until he straightens them and you slip your own hand into his. His hold is warm and strong and the touch of his skin is like white lightning, straight to your heart.
You try not to smile but it’s hopeless. “I told you I would be.” You answer lifting your eyes to look into his. You get a little after sex chill and it makes him smile.
“Tonight will be the real test.” He says and holds your hand tighter. “Remember, we play our games, but this is very real. I don’t expect trouble but it does have a way of finding me.”
He looks handsome in the dim restaurant lighting. Wearing a black cashmere sweater with the sleeves pushed up you admire his understated look. Of course he's still the fur trimmed coat wearing Baron you know and love —like…Just like. A lot —But it’s nice to see him like this too, all casually elitist.
“I promise.” You say looking at him again. “If trouble comes for you tonight Zemo, it’ll have to get through me first.”
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Grey || Chapter 16
Dedications: @kestiscroft Suggestive themes ahead.
I’d always remember when everything changed. That nightmare of a memory still haunted me to this day.
“It has been arranged for Helmut to marry Heike.” His father repeated himself. Meanwhile, I almost couldn't stand up, feeling as if my knees would buckle at any moment.
“No.” Helmut whispered, hardly sounding audible here.
“Please have security take Ms. Charles off of the premises. Now!” Heinrich ordered, leaving everyone speechless for many different reasons.
Before Hilda and Helmut could protest and try defending me out loud, other footsteps echoed from behind. I turned around, realizing that two suited guards walked in. One of the bastards already dangled handcuffs between his fingers.
“Don't you dare come near me!” I pointed forward, eying the guards with nothing short of venom in my voice. More people around only shouted in response, watching in terror as well as I found myself pinned, face down on the vinyl flooring.
The guard who cuffed me pressed his chest against my back, almost crushing. To make matters worse, his breath reeked of booze. His parted lips sighed out loud over and over again as if the monster actually took pleasure viewing my arrest.
“Let her go. Let her go. Dionne!” Between the slits of my own pained eyes, I could only watch Helmut addressed me.
Yet, his steps didn't stay close and moved away. I realized that my best friend exited instead of helping me rise from the vinyl floor.
Now, two decades later, even after learning so many kinds of truth, I still couldn’t believe him.
“You hate me.” I whispered later that night, sitting on my couch with lowered eyes.
“Never. We’ve discussed this already.” Z repeated himself and told another lie.
“I’ve said this too many times before, but you should be rotting in prison for the rest of your life by now. Let’s be real, it’s what you truly deserve after all.” I said, recalling the point we’d known too well.
“Baby...” He uttered my longtime pet name that had been used for him, all while showing off his Sokovian accent. No foreign languages were given to address me.
“Don’t call me Baby.” My voice croaked instead.
“I...” Z struggled once more, sitting across my living room as if he had just walked through and didn’t even know to use a chair.
“I’ll never be good enough for you. That’s the problem.” I said, confessing another fault of mine.
“You’ll always be…” His low rasp showed up again, but a tinge of melancholy layered for a second.
“How many times are we going back and forth? You chose the institution over me. I face-planted on the damn floor while someone handcuffed me and you didn’t even try helping!” I shouted, standing up with tears just flagging my eyes.
“After you blacked out that night, I exited the ballroom and punched that guard in the nose. Before ” Z failed to defend himself once again, still leaving me defeated and upset. No explanation would change the fact that he didn’t choose me, choose us.
“Like I’ve always said before, you still married Heike to save face. What does that say about us?” I shook my head, returning to my bedroom in hopes of shutting him out.
“I wanted to save you. My father would’ve killed you if we married. As I’ve told you, we’ve discussed this point already.” Z lied once again, still not convincing of what we both had known for too long.
“Did you even find Heike attractive?” I asked, honestly wondering.
"Yes, but my love wasn’t as strong for her and she knew.” Z explained, sitting back down in “his” chair correctly.
“You told her?” I questioned Z with an obvious point, knowing that Heike was present on the night that I’d been forced to ”leave.”
“She apologized profusely, but we still couldn’t back out of the arrangement. I’m sorry.” If Zemo truly meant something with this apology, it wouldn’t happen in the first place. I wasn’t stupid.
“Did you have ever feelings towards her during sex?” I reached for the jugular, finally addressing another elephant in this room.
“No.” Z admitted, not even breaking eye contact with me.
“Over time, I’m sure…” I attempted, trying to see if he was giving me the truth.
“No.” Z repeated himself, rising from the chair and daring to step closer. I allowed his movement, watching as he lurked those same footsteps and dwindled space between us.
A few seconds later, we were so close to each other that if his steps inched forward one last time, our noses would touch.
“Please move closer.” I whispered, daring him. This moment proved that despite my distance of logic, I wanted him, and still did.
“Are you sure?” He respectfully asked, noting how often I didn’t want him to stand this close towards me beforehand.
“Yes.” I consented, praying to the heavens above that he would brush his nose against mine and sent us back to the past.
At that moment, I wanted him to remember everything.
One final step gently pressed his clothed body against mine, finally prompting our noses to touch as expected. Even then, his brown eyes closed. My ears then heard the exact moment that he sniffled, also recalling memories that I shared in silence.
“This is how I would like to remember you.” Finally opening both eyes, he complimented me. Now, his voice spoke up using a much more quiet tone, almost whispering again.
I didn’t even flinch away as his left hand reached out to cup my cheek. Either one of us had leaned in yet, only waiting and basking in our closeness right here.
“I’ve missed you.” I admitted, allowing my words to match actions for once. Once again, I’d seen him, the actual person that I met and fell in love with.
“I’ve missed you too.” His words trembled again, but he still wouldn’t lean in and carry out the one move that would’ve tipped us both right over this proverbial edge.
“What are you waiting for?” I nearly taunted, noting the lingered expression on his face.
“I still won’t move any further without your consent.” His voice struggled for once, even as he wanted to stay cordial and respectful.
“You have my consent.” I repeated myself. His cologne, this woodsy blend of citrus and one last natural scent, wafted towards my nostrils.
At last, for the first time in twenty years, our lips met.
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| zemo x reader | fluff | smut |
soft dom zemo 🤍 ✨
cw: d/s, daddy kink, praise kink
Zemo walked through the door, closing it behind him quietly. He searched for you quietly, aware you’d likely be asleep at this hour. He found you on the couch, where you had attempted to stay awake for him.
A yellow knitted throw blanket was wrapped around you, and you were half sitting up, having fallen asleep mid-episode of a sitcom.
Zemo smiled at you, amused by your sleeping figure. He shut off the television before picking you up, carrying you to bed so you could have a proper night's sleep.
His heart melted as you snuggled into his chest in your sleep, unconsciously recognizing the presence of your lover. He kissed your forehead, brushing stray hair from your face. He listened to your steady breathing, contently watching you sleep before drifting off himself.
“Good morning,” Zemo greeted you.
You were yawning as you walked into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes sleepily. You looked darling, and Zemo watched you in adoration.
“What’re you doing?” You slurred softly, still half-asleep.
“Making you breakfast, pretty girl.”
You leaned up on your toes for a kiss, being happily indulged by Zemo. He carefully hauled you backwards, away from the hot stove.
“I don’t want my little love to burn herself,” Zemo explained to you, making you roll your eyes at his tendency toward being over protective.
His large hand grasped your jaw, holding your head to look at him. He didn’t hurt you, only displaying his strong dominance by manhandling you gently. His grip was only tight enough to hold you, putting you in your place without being harsh.
“Cut the attitude,” Zemo warned softly before holding you still so he could press a firm kiss to your lips.
“Yes, daddy,” you murmured, feeling especially submissive. He’d been gone on a work trip recently, and you were happily well behaved, loving the way he indulged you in attention and doted on you upon his return.
“Go set the table,” he nodded, and you did as he asked.
“Why don’t you come back to bed with me?” Zemo asked, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.
You nodded, gently laying a hand on his cheek and giving him sweet little kisses as you stood in the kitchen, the tile cold against your bare feet. He tapped your bum, signaling you to walk toward the bedroom.
Before you even made it there, Zemo was pulling your shirt over your head— one you had stolen from his side of the closet. Your breath hitched softly, your hands going to your chest to cover yourself as you walked through the house.
“No, my love, let me see your pretty tits,” he scolded, prying your hands away. You shivered, feeling a bit shy in front of him. You giggled as he mouthed at your chest, kneeling in front of you. The hair on his face tickled your skin, creating an odd sensation. He kissed down to your navel, kneeling before you in just loose gray sweatpants.
He hooked his fingers into your shorts, pulling them swiftly down your legs and tossing them aside. You were left in just your panties, barely covered by pale lilac fabric, plain except for a tiny bow sitting between your hips.
You were so innocent, and Zemo couldn’t get enough.
“Yours too?” You questioned, touching his waistband as he stood up.
“No, pretty girl, I’m going to leave mine on.” Zemo shook his head, sitting down on the bed, his back resting against the headboard. You stood beside the bed, unsure of what he wanted.
“Come here, why’re you being so shy?” He teased lightly, taking your hand and helping you onto the bed.
You were surprised as he pulled you to lay over his lap, your ass in the air as you bent over his thighs. Your arms folded under your head, and you turned to look up at him.
“Are you going to spank me, daddy?” You asked, a whine lilting your voice. You were startled, you’d been so well-behaved, and you didn’t feel like you deserved to be punished.
“No, of course not. I just want to play with you,” Zemo bent down and kissed your lips, easing the uncertainty in your mind.
“You need to relax.”
You nodded, exhaling a slow breath, trying to obey. The tension slowly left your muscles as he trailed fingertips up your bare spine, his touch finding the dips in your back. You gazed at him from under your lashes, admiring the gentle man who loved you. He smiled down at you, brown eyes locking with yours.
“I love these,” he mused, touching the lilac thong that curved along the swell of your ass.
You let him part your legs a bit, allowing him to see more of you. His strong hands squeezed the flesh of your thigh, pulling them apart on his lap.
Zemo couldn’t tear his eyes off of you. You felt him harden under your belly as he got a full view of your cunt practically spilling out of the thong. The fabric barely covered you, providing a filthy sight to Zemo.
His fingers dipped down, squeezing your puffy sex, cupping your mound and touching your lips. The action made you breathless, and he ran his fingers up and down the light cotton, until a dark patch started to form, your arousal soaking through your panties. He tugged up just slightly, monitoring your reaction at the pressure it put on your clit, the little bundle of nerves that was now throbbing with need.
You’d grown warm on his lap, despite being almost entirely naked. You felt observed, strangely aroused and overly shy as he practically inspected your pussy. You tried to swallow a small whine as the fabric pushed against your clit, biting back the noise.
“Daddy, why are you looking at me?” You whispered, squirming under his touch. You’d done your best to hold still and let him touch you as he pleased, but you were growing needy and embarrassed.
“Because you’re beautiful, little love. Do you want me to bring you pleasure? You’ve been so sweet, I do feel as though you’ve earned a reward,” he offered, the gentle gaze in his eyes completely sincere.
“A reward?” you questioned softly.
He hummed, nodding at you. You smiled shyly, lightly kicking your feet.
“You’re all wet, darling.”
You buried your face in your arms, sighing as Zemo ran his fingers over your sex before pulling the fabric down your legs. He prodded at your pussy, spreading your lips with his fingers and lightly pinching the puffy skin.
“Daddy, you’re teasing,” you accused, pouting a bit.
“What do you want?” He asked, a small smirk adorning his gorgeous features.
He wanted to hear you say it, trying to ease you out of your shyness.
“I want you to touch me properly, please,” you asked politely, pushing up on your hands to kiss him.
“I would be happy to, my love.”
You relaxed back on him, humming as he dragged his fingers through your folds, bringing them down to rub lazy circles on your clit. The small movements had heat spreading between your hips, tension starting to form.
Zemo eased off of the direct stimulation, pushing one of his longer fingers past your tight muscles, feeling your velvety walls swallow his digit. He slowly pumped it in and out, your body squeezing around him as he inserted a second finger.
He listened to the soft sigh that left your lips, morphing into a moan as he stroked forward, pressing against your g-spot. He relished in the mewels that escaped you, your back bowing as he rubbed your clit while moving his fingers inside of you, brushing sensitive areas that had you seeing stars.
“Oh... daddy,” you whined, the pressure tight in your abdomen, settled just above your sex. Your muscles contracted around his fingers, clamping down as goosebumps rose over your delicate skin.
“Are you close, darling?”
You nodded, unable to trust yourself not to scream if you tried to speak. You squirmed on his lap, your thighs shaking.
“Let go for me, pretty girl, I want to see you come all over my fingers,” Zemo encouraged, smirking as you squeezed your legs around his hands, trying to stop the stimulation as you came. Your fingers gripped the begging and you squealed, arching your back as you lit like a match, pleasure spreading through every inch of your body.
Zemo gently kept up his slow thrusts, his fingers dipping in and out of you, helping you ride out your orgasm, prolonging it as long as possible.
The tension in your muscles faded with your release, leaving you relaxed and dazed. Calm settled over you, deep breaths making your back rise and fall.
“That’s my sweet girl, taking my fingers so well. You look so pretty when you come. I’m so proud of you.”
You glowed at his praise, savoring the gentle moment with your dom. He took the time to carefully clean you up before pulling you up to sit on his lap. Your fingertips ran through his facial hair, beaming as he gazed at you with his kind brown eyes.
He pulled you into a kiss, strong arms wrapping around your back and closing you against his chest. His lips moved against yours perfectly, Zemo an expert scholar in your body and your kisses. He swallowed your quiet, happy sighs, enjoying the intimacy.
“I love you,” Zemo spoke, a Sokovian accent lilting off of his words.
He was massaging lotion into your body after a shared shower, protecting your skin from the dry air. A cup of jasmine tea was in your hands, steaming and filling the room with a sweet scent, mixing with the smell of your lotion.
“I love you too. I’m really happy you’re home.”
“I won’t leave for that long again. I missed you, I’ll stay local from now on,” he said, surprising you.
“You’re staying local? But you’ve always traveled with work,” you questioned, thinking you misunderstood.
“I have, but you’re everything to me, and I can’t stand to be apart from you.”
He melted at the grin that spread across your face, your joyful kiss tasting like jasmine. You leaned back into his chest, his arms snaking around you to hold you in a tight hug.
“I can’t imagine anything better than waking up to you every morning. So that is what I plan to do, as long as you let me,” Zemo said.
“I’ll let you stay forever.”
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Came for the Low
"How's the water?" Zemo called from outside the bathroom's double doors.
Christine opened her eyes, her head resting on the ledge of the large bowl shaped tub. The water was deep enough that she could float a few inches off the porcelain and she'd been nearly oblivious to the world outside of this room while she lay suspended in the warmth. But now he was here and the sound of his voice made her heart flutter as she blinked free of her daydreaming.
"It's perfect, thank you."
"You're very welcome." He said softly, his hand pressed to the wood.
She waited for more but there was only silence.
"Yes?" He replied instantly and she quieted her laugh. He was standing right outside just as desperate to hear from her as she was him. It was endearing to say the least.
She rubbed her cheeks, warm with the flush of the hot bath and his attention. Raising her chin from the water she called out to him. "Would you... would you come in?" Christine squeezed her eyes shut tight, nervous for his reply.
The day he brought her here to his apartment they'd ended up in his bed but he'd expressed a desire to make it purely about her and proceeded to make her come so quickly she still wasn't sure how he'd done it, but in the few days since with her sick, they hadn't gone any further. Now the deep ache for more had come creeping back to loom over them, waiting to be addressed.
Whether or not he meant to draw it out, waiting for Zemo to reply was excruciating. She thought he'd gone for a second but then his answer came with the opening of the doors.
Christine looked over, a little surprised by his sudden entry but that vanished as soon as she saw the look in his eyes telling her all she needed to know about how this would end.
"Do you need anything else?" He asked standing at the doors. "More tea?"
No. Just you, she wanted to say. You with your voice and your eyes and your skilled hands and perfect kiss... "I'm fine." She lied, drawing in her wet bottom lip, her big eyes looking up at him.
Zemo exhaled slowly feeling the need to care for her turning into something else. She was feeling better, he could see that the color had returned to her face and that spark of life burned bright in her eyes— like the tip of twin flames dancing in the dark— he smiled thinking of all the mysteries Christine still held. Of course right now, there was only one that he longed to solve, and the thought of how it would feel to be inside of her had him pressing against his pants. Breathing harder, he stood slightly hypnotized by the sight of her pert breasts just under the water while her knees poked up just above it, slightly apart. He could see the shadow of her curves...
"I'm feeling much better. Just like you said," She gave a small smile. "But I was hoping that when I said for to you come in..."
Not another word was needed. Zemo unbuckled his belt with ease in answer. Christine held her breath as she watched him pull the thick black leather from the loops and drop it to the ground before quickly unbuttoning his pants. He reached and pulled his shirt off over his head revealing a thin silver chain around his neck and a patch of chest hair that made her smile.
Zemo raked his hair from his eyes looking at her with a dark sort of intention before stripping down the rest of the way.
She pressed her lips in a tight smile under the water. He was hard as stone. With a true blush she looked away—shy to stare—but it was impossible not to. Her gaze came back quickly to take him in. It seemed all of that calm bravado was not just a show, his swagger came with back up, she grinned covering her face for a second to keep from giggling... not now Christine, she silently scolded herself and watched as he came to her and got into the tub.
Settling in the still hot water he gave one sigh as Christine opened her mouth to say something but he was there, grabbing her arms and guiding her towards him. The momentum of the wave pushed her onto his chest and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as her lips found his instantly.
She drew her knees in to straddle him and Zemo grabbed her hips, his fingers pressing into her flesh as he brought her closer until she pulled from his mouth, rising to look down at him.
The heady look in his eyes—everything about the way he looked at her— told her to do it, so she reached between them and found him quickly.
He gave a sharp inhale when she stroked his solid length once, down and back up to graze her thumb over the curve of soft skin. His eyes shut for a moment like he needed to steady himself before looking at her again.
Christine raised up onto her knees, the touch of his skin tickling hers, making them both tense.
"Yes?" He asked her with a breath.
She nodded quickly, "Yes" Her mouth opened with anticipation as she took her hand away and held onto his shoulders.
Pushing her hips down he raised his own pressing up and into her, both of them moaning with the sheer relief of it finally being done.
All those days at the camp. The looks, the touches, the understanding coupled with the fear of what was happening and being perfectly powerless to it— this was the culmination of wanting him, and needing her—finally.
Christine laughed between gasps, a happy, breathy sound that made him throb inside of her. He slid his hands up her back, holding her shoulders, kissing the tops of her breasts and she hissed when he moved beneath her, the reach of his cock so deep it ached.
A year? Has it really been that long, she wondered quickly. Yes, it really has been twelve months... not to mention that rushed encounter had done nothing for her. With Zemo, she felt every inch of her body responding to his. Her walls pulsed around him in reply to being filled, the feel of him overwhelming in a way that made her sigh as she dropped her head back, chills running down her arms as he kissed her neck.
Zemo swore in Sokovian, resting his face against her chest, enjoying the way he could feel her mold to his size. Her heart was pounding in his ear as she curled her arms around his neck, raising her head to rest it against his. She sank her fingers into his thick hair with a soft humming moan and slowly, as the initial surge of excitement and pleasure subsided, he started to move again.
She bit down on her bottom lip holding him so close, Christine worried she would hurt him but the Baron only seemed to need more. He started by gently teasing— lifting her as he pulled out stopping just short of leaving her body. It was enough that when he pushed back up and in, she could do nothing but grip his shoulders and bite harder, moaning from the intensely wonderful sensation.
Pulling her face down to kiss her again, he gave in and stopped playing, driving into her tight walls without concern for the waves he made until she could do nothing but take it with her eyes shut and her cries loud in his ear.
She leaned back breathing hard and Zemo reached for her, stroking Christine's neck, sucking and biting at her breast until she was making enough noise to wake the old neighbors in the apartment above.
With one wet hand, he slid his fingers across her lips, opening her mouth, moaning when she sucked at his index. He smiled and pulled his hand free, holding her throat, not enough to hurt, just to show her —you are mine and I am yours.
If a year seemed long, add the many since he'd last touched his wife or any woman at all. God he'd forgotten how warm and soft they are.
He moaned with a hard thrust, his eyes shut and Zemo saw her for a moment, blonde and brilliant, and it stung his heart but the memory was gone as he choose to focus instead on the woman he had, not the one he lost.
This glorious woman was here, and she wanted him.
He opened his eyes to watch her, the way water droplets laced her collarbones, how he could see her pink tongue between her teeth, and the way she licked her lips slowly as she moaned his name... this beautiful, perfect woman rode him like she wanted to suck the life from his body through his rock solid co...
"It's okay" Christine whispered with a breath. She could see him trying to hold back and it was painfully sweet but unnecessary. "Come. I want you to come." She managed while rocking her hips in rhythm with the waters flow.
He looked up at her face, saw how she wanted to make him feel as good as he had done to her and gave into it.
Shutting his eyes again he thought to apologize for how tightly he held her hips but he could hardly breath she felt so good. With his mouth against the flat valley between her breast he pumped into her until he came in an explosive rush that pulsed for so long there was nothing to do but hold onto her, his head swimming and his body buzzing from the high.
When he did finally relax and look up, she was waiting with a smile and stroked his hair back, softly gazing at him.
Something had passed between them, something so much more than sex. And as they shared breath and space he felt it hit like a thunderbolt to the chest. For a few seconds he let the feeling linger between them before pushing it aside. He was not ready to feel this for anyone just yet, no matter if it was happening or not.
Christine smoothed her hand down his cheek and under his chin raising his head to kiss him "I hope you have a maid..." She mumbled.
He held her head kissing her harder, his tongue gently playing with hers before he sat back. "Why?" He asked reveling in the sight of her looking so beautiful with the glow of sex on her skin, tendrils of her black curls stuck to her neck—he watched a fat drop of water race along the inner curve of her breast with a resulting throb inside of her.
Christine looked around at the puddles surrounding them. "I mean I've always wanted an indoor pool but..." She bit the corner of her lip with a worried grin.
Zemo laughed and shrugged. "Why would I need a maid, I have you."
She gasped and slapped his shoulder playfully "Bastard!"
Still laughing he sat up,wrapping his arms around hers, holding her tight. "I'm sorry. I couldn't resist. Misogynist humor is so absurd" He said with a chuckle and she tried to slide away but he held her firm. "No no, listen." Zemo looked up, letting her go to reach and tap her lips and chin with his finger, trailing a strand of her hair. "You are—important to me. I—I never imagined you being here but now that you are..." He looked away and she sensed the seriousness of what he was saying.
Christine raised her hips letting him slip from her body and pushed back to sit between his legs. "I know. I feel the same way. And it's happening so fast but—I don't mind." She admitted and raised her eyes with a look of hope as she found his.
He felt the squeeze at his heart and smiled. "I don't mind either."
She giggled, surprising herself as her heart soared with the first solid beats of love.
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The Long Journey Home
Chapter 7: We who have lost everything don’t fear death, we remember it
The process of draining the tub seems to be going quicker than the process to fill it, though that could have been due to how far the faucet had been turned. You lift your travel bag up onto your shoulder, tucking your dirty clothes up with the towels piled in the floor by the door. The temptation had been there to rush through the process of cleaning up, wanting to seek out The Baron to continue to explore this new connection to him – but the moment you sat down and leaned back that battle was lost.
It has been a long time since you could enjoy the luxury of a warm private bath – with or without the added pleasant burn of muscles used and sated by sex. There might still be the faint whiff of it in the bathroom, mingled with the scent of the aftershave Helmut had applied, the soap he’d used in the shower, and the refreshed floral scent from your bubble bath.
As you exit the bathroom something new greets your nose: the smell of spice. There’s also the occasional clack or rattle of a cooking utensil colliding with a pan, accompanied by the flux of low conversation. You pause to set your bag down at the mouth of the hallway leading to the guest rooms. The issue of who sleeps where will be addressed in due time. Sam and Bucky have returned.
As always - [ find the story on AO3 || Wattpad ]
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| zemo x reader | smut |
cw: highly dubcon (kinda noncon), abduction, mentions of torture, forced breeding, dark!zemo, lactation kink
“You think you’re something, no?” The mocking laughter was dripping in cruelty.
You bit your tongue so hard you tasted blood. Your eyes stayed trained on a crack in the floor a few feet ahead of where you were kneeling on cold cement.
You didn’t react when a hand cracked across your face, knocking you to the side, trying to pull an answer out of you.
“They’ll come for me. The avengers won’t leave me, they’ll come back for me!” You spat, looking up into cold brown eyes. They were empty, soulless in fact. His gaze iced your soul, sending a chill down your spine.
“My darling, not even god himself can save you now,” he sneered.
“You’ll join us, Y/N. You’ll become well acquainted with your villains when you realize there’s no other option.”
You should your head, screaming against the gag that was shoved in your mouth, silencing your vengeful yells.
. . .
Months. You had been abandoned for months.
After being abducted on a mission in Sokovia, your team had never returned for you. Or if they had, they never found you.
You’d been locked in a cold, cement chamber. You were left alone, only fed and given water as little as necessary.
Helmut Zemo was determined to break you.
. . .
Three months later, the door opened, light pouring onto the cement floor.
“Submit to me, and I’ll let you out of this cage,” Zemo knelt down, his thin lips curving into a lopsided smile.
“You’ve spent months here in this filth. Don’t you want to be cleaned up and fed and doted on? You are so pointlessly resistant.”
“Please get me out of here,” you begged weakly.
All of your resolve had crumbled. Your team never saved you, and you were all out of options. The only thing standing between you and getting out of this cell was your own stubbornness, and you were ready to give it up.
You felt like your mind was fracturing, and you were left numb, pliant for the sadistic baron. You decided you didn’t care what “submit to me” meant— as anything would be better than your current situation.
A leather-gloved hand was held out to you as chains were removed from your wrists. You hesitated before taking it, letting the baron pull you to your feet.
That was the first time you realized how much bigger Zemo was than you. He was tall, broad, and strong, with a dominating presence that overpowered you.
And cold, empty eyes.
. . .
You didn’t know which was worse: being in a solitary dark cell, or being Zemo’s toy, decorated and attached to his side like a pet.
You’d gotten so used to the feeling of his hands on your body, you almost craved it. You were starved for affection, for touch, for interaction, and Zemo was the one satiating your needs.
“Come here, little one.”
You rose from your seat on the chair in the corner, approaching Zemo. He was lounging on his bed in a white bathrobe, an arm tucked behind his bed. The baron watched you walk over to him, having no reason to disobey. You’d abandoned all of your resolve, and you went to his side when asked.
If you behaved, he didn’t torture you. You’d learned after your first attempted escape, you were far better off just doing as he asked. When you obeyed Zemo, you were awarded the liberty of being dressed and fed, and he wasn’t violent with you.
You flinched when he reached up and touched your face, turning your head away.
“Get on the bed.”
“I’m sorry,” you breathed, opening your eyes to look at your captor.
“Get in the bed on your own, or I will force you.”
You crawled onto the mattress, letting him push you onto your back. It seemed to appease him a bit, because he lifted your hips and put a pillow under you, carefully smoothing his hands up your legs.
“Aren’t you going to get a condom?” you asked weakly as he dropped his robe and pulled your knees apart. You’d stopped resisting, looking up at the blond in concern.
“No, my darling, I’m going to breed this little body of yours, and let you carry my heir,” he said, making your body feel frozen. You couldn’t swallow the knot that swelled in your throat, choking on the fear his words instilled in you.
“Don’t cry. You’re going to look gorgeous when you swell with life,” Zemo said, sliding his hands up your body and kneading your breasts roughly.
“And these... My heir may have to share,” he growled, lightly biting your skin.
“Zemo, Zemo, please. Get someone else, I don’t...” you sobbed, weakly pushing at his chest. He gripped your wrists in one hand, easily overpowering you with his size.
You despised how good of a fuck he was. He filled you perfectly, even more so when he wasn’t protected. You tried to block out who it was, just feeling another warm body.
Zemo at least had the grace to make you come first.
It made your body relax around him, clouding your mind with happy chemicals as he emptied his seed in you, buried so deep he was practically shooting into your cervix.
He didn’t let you up, forcing you to lay with your hips elevated, staying buried deep in your sex. He hushed you, though not harshly.
“I know it’s frightening, but just take it. Be my brave girl, Y/N.”
“Oh, darling, you don’t know the depths of my depravity.”
You didn’t doubt him.
. . .
Zemo had been informed by several of his employees that you wouldn’t stop crying, and they kept asking to sedate you. He’d harshly declined, reminding them of your pregnancy.
Finally, he left his work, going to see what the problem was. Since you’d been carrying his child, you’d become more docile, and even less resistant to him, as if the part of him growing inside of you had plunged you fully into stockholm syndrome.
“Y/N. Whatever is the matter?” Zemo entered his chambers, which had become yours as well.
You looked up at him, wrapped in a knitted blanket, curled up on the corner of his couch. He knelt down in front of you, and an outsider may have thought he was caring. Really, he was worried about his heir, your extreme stress becoming problematic. You didn’t matter to him.
“You will answer me, unless you want to sit back in that cell.”
“I’m lactating too early and it hurts,” you confessed in embarrassment, tears spilling past your waterline.
Zemo pulled your shirt off of you, freeing you from the constraining fabric. You let him inspect you, begging softly for help.
“Please do something, I’m in pain,” you begged, choking on your words.
He hummed, having half a mind to let you sit and weep. He watched you for a moment before an alternative came to mind.
“Come here,” he commanded, sitting beside you.
He helped you onto his lap, easing you to straddle him. He carefully squeezed your breast, earning a pained whine. Nothing happened at first, and you squirmed in discomfort. You cried out when milk started to drip from you, easing the painful pressure.
“Zemo?” you questioned softly in embarrassment as he leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking the milk into his mouth.
You were horrified, but you couldn’t deny him as the pain began to dissipate. It was terribly arousing, and you carded your fingers through his hair, your dark, twisted, unhinged lover.
When he moved to the other one, you had stopped crying, soothed by the relief from pressure and pain that had been plaguing you for days.
“Better?” Zemo asked, pinching you enough to hurt.
“Yes, thank you.”
“I expect you to be good for me.”
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This might be SO random, but hear me out. I'm house sitting for my cousin and it's this sort of sketchy apartment complex and I just walked her dog (a chihuahua) in the dark and these guys walked by and I felt ~uncomfy~ so now I'm back up and feel paranoid because I'm hearing noises/making up scenarios and checking every closet/locking all the doors etc etc (because now I'm spiraling into ghost/supernatural territory) (1/2)
pt. 2 [cont] “So I was wondering if you could do a zemo thing where reader gets spooked in the middle of the night and he sleepy goes and checks the house/under the bed/the closet and then comforts them and promises to protect them (I know cheesy, but folks it's a spooky one out there)(ps I'm asking a whole bunch of people I followed because I am SpoOked rn and want all the comfort I can get) (2/2).”
helmut zemo mini fic
a loud crash echoes through the empty hallway as you instinctively switch on the light in the bedroom, almost shrieking as the light envelops the room. peeking through the doorway, you find yourself absolutely alone, wondering what happened. your mind raced with the thoughts of what could have happened, who, if anyone was out there, and the worries started to set in.
after tip toeing out to the master bedroom, you grabbed the nearest item you could, a special edition of a novel helmut had bought you for your birthday. you tightened your robe, clinging it close to you as you gripped the book, preparing to step outside of the bedroom. after taking a deep sigh, you ran out into the hallway, darting towards where the sound had echoed. “whoever you are, get out of my home! i have a gun, and i know how to use it!” you shouted, peeking through your closed eyes out of fear to see the lights on in the kitchen, grocery bags, and a bouquet of flowers. your mind began to wonder, if someone were to break in.. why would they treat you first. a fit of giggles emerged from the kitchen, and footprints followed after as helmut stood in the kitchen, tightening the apron around his waist. “you have a gun? are you hiding things from me?” he laughed, walking towards to pull you into the light. “set the book down, i won’t attack. unless you want me to. but that will have to be after dinner.” he smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your temples before grabbing the book from your hands and placing it on the coffee table.
“what was that crash, and where did you go helmut! i wasn’t in the shower that long!” you complained, smacking his arm. “i went to pick up dinner, and when i came back, i accidentally dropped the bottle of wine i had bought. luckily, i got it all cleaned up, but, now there’s nothing to drink.” he expressed, pulling out the many boxes of take out. “i’m glad you’re okay, and it didn’t hurt you, but next time announce you’re home! you could have gotten killed if i hadn’t noticed you!” you scoffed, playing into his games. “i’m home, schatz!”
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When i was in undergrad I'd get really overwhelmed when writing papers (which was all the time as a history major) so I'd listen to Tchaikovsky on repeat. I essentially have all of the nutcracker memorized.
Here I am today using my man's Tchai to help me write zemo smut 😊
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It is 3pm, I have a charcuterie board, some turkish delight, and a bottle of champagne and I'm ready to write for our boy Zemo
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I'm having thoughts about a sequel to my zemo x plus size reader fic No One But Me but I'm afraid that after being in such a niki lauda simp zone I'm not doing to be able to write it correctly
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Check out my other blog!
I made an account just for my newest story, if you'd like to finish it there, check it out!
I think I just can't let go of these stories even when they're done... good thing the internet understands!
Imagine an undercover mission with Zemo as an ally at a posh criminal underground party where there's s ball dance.
Your target is a Russian mafia boss who is also attending the party while waltzing with someone in the ballroom.
Zemo who has been eyeing you the whole night, asks you for a dance to get closer to the target. You reluctantly agree.
"You're remarkably good at this," his husky voice whispers in your ear.
"I'm insulted that you would think otherwise," you reply.
"Forgive me, but I merely thought that someone of your..." he glances a part of your thigh where your knife is concealed behind your velvet dress.
A glance that lasts too long.
"... predisposition, would not care for the subtle intricacies of the now unfortunately uncommon art of ballroom dancing," he finishes, still not taking his eyes away from your thigh.
Just then, you 'accidently' stepped in his foot, your stilleto heel digging into his polished leather shoes.
"Well, as you can see, Baron, this is only a few of my surprises."
His eyes met yours and you would be lying if you didn't admit to a the tiniest flutter in your stomach. You expected him to back away but instead, he only smirked and roughly pulled you closer.
You gasped at the suddenness and stared into his once chocolaty brown eyes which were now dark as the night.
He leaned closer until you could feel a whisper of his lips near your cheek.
"Ah, Kroshka, it pains me to imagine what else."
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ok but imagine gang leader!zemo and reader,,
you're riding his cock when there's a knock on zemo's door and someone barges in (maybe a henchman or a gang member). they try to inform zemo about something important but stop when they see what's going on,, “o-oh, sorry boss, didn't know you had company” and tries to back out the room, but zemo is a cocky fucker and only smirks and orders them to stay,, you're trying to hide in his neck and getting all shy when really you only clench tighter around him.
zemo would notice this, “oh? does being watched turn you on, love?” you can deny it all you want, but he will use this against you,, manhandles you onto your hands and knees and plows deep into you.
he would grab ahold of your hair when he notices your head is down, “do not look away. keep your eyes on them or you don't get to cum, understand?” and all you can do is moan wantonly. he'd smack your ass and growl, “have I made myself clear?” and you scream yes, nodding furiously.
his henchman would be flustered, but you can tell they're affected by what's going on. zemo would glare; a little warning for them not to try anything.
when you're so close to the edge, zemo would lean in close to your ear, but loud enough for the other person to hear, “now, ask them if you can cum” ,, your face would grow hot with shame, but your need to let go overrides your embarrassment,, “I-I n-need to cum” you would sob. a resounding smack would fill the air, “where are your manners? that's not how you ask. AGAIN!”
you lock eyes with them, pleading, “please, please –oh fuck– let me cum, I've been so good to your boss! can I?”
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A Little Respite. Helmut Zemo x Reader. Smut, handcuffs, oral (m receiving), biting, face slapping, bruising. He likes the handcuffs. Just a little bit of me fucking around.
He grunts but it’s not like he minds it. On the contrary, he flows like silk under your hand, and only when he’s secured to the wall does he rattle and jerk. You’re pretty when you struggle. It’s a conceit, because he’s slippery and smart, wily with a capacity for no-holds-barred destruction, and yet he’s here.
Zemo is here because he wants to be, because he craves the bite of cuffs around his wrists. And he craves it from you, despite (or perhaps because of) the soft-and-gentle approach you take in all things. More flies with honey you tell him, before you slap him right across the cheek. It’s a sharp crack and a red mark left behind, but more importantly it’s a soft and needy unh that slips out from between his lips and curls into your ear. So fucking pretty when you’ve got my mark.
And oh that’s something that grips him right between the legs; when he’s dressed down and barefoot like this you can see the way he strains against his fly. You could nearly count his heartbeats by the pulsing of his cock. He’s strong and fierce and broken; he burns with need and anger, with anguish, with long and lonely nights and the bare brush of starlight across your naked shoulders. Why here?
No reason. Nostalgia, perhaps. He’s evading again, slippery like he always is; if you got a straight answer out of him it would be a miracle, and if he shared an honest emotion you might drop dead from shock. But he can’t quite hide the little shards of truth that glitter in him; he brokenly reflects all the fear and hate and loss and
oh my god. It’s a pin on a map, a glittering star so far away it’s nearly beyond thought. It’s Zemo laid bare despite his efforts, and when he knows you know it cuts him like a knife. You—
I wish. By rights you should just leave me here.
Fuck that. No. Listen. None of this is gonna fix it, but you know I’m with you all the way. So let me at least distract you. We can think about it tomorrow. He’s flagging but it’s such a little thing to bring him back; all it takes is the press and grind of your palm and he’s straining against his cuffs again. Soon his belly heaves with the thick harsh breaths of a man in need; he doesn’t ask because he never does, but you give him what he wants anyway.
You drop to your knees and open his fly, a little rough and careless but he likes it that way. For all his smooth talking slick demeanor he still carries that roughness, that primal take it all that served him in the years between the Fall and the Dissoluton. In that gap between eras he was radiant in his hate, seeking his vengeance with the two-edged blade of animal rage and cold calculation.
Never should have worked.
And yet, indeed. Don’t get distracted. He tastes of soap and salt and musk, and when you swallow hard around him the ripple of your throat has him writhing. He sinks into the pleasure because he cannot hide from it; he comes unspooled and how it hurts him, this vulnerable state. He’s almost grateful for the hissing pain of too much sensation when you continue to suck him after, twitching his hips but not hard enough to move you. No. It hurts him but he needs it. This is his gasping breath after months underwater; this is the smell of oak and water that clings to him beneath the remnants of prison soap.
Much as I enjoy this, we should move. He’s retreating, putting back those walls, but he leaves a window cracked for you. After all, you’re gonna get inside him anyway.
Just one more thing. The last thing is your mark upon his thigh, a thick dark bruise blooming around your bite. Tomorrow there will be a pale circle where your teeth clenched around his flesh; he will feel the ache of it with every step and remember you belong to me.
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Not me checking every hour to see if you’ve posted the happy birthday sequel.
If not you then who?
Now I feel bad because I actually got called into work after someone got sick and am just now posting the sequel 12 hours later. Sorry, anon!
The Greatest Gift of All
would you write a zemo x male reader fic? it could be zemo trying to manipulate a prison guard with sex, but genuinely enjoying the experience more than he thought he would. (only if you feel confortable with it, ofc ^^)
Um yes?? I loved this so much, I honestly feel like there’s nothing Zemo wouldn’t do to get what he wants and he give me huge bottom vibes in this situation.
Full disclosure though, I don’t have a penis so I can only hope this is accurate 🙈 I haven’t added my usual taglist either cause I’m not sure if you guys are interested in male!reader stuff
Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Male!Reader
Word count: 2.5K
Summary: You’re a prison guard in the Raft and Zemo suggests a mutually beneficial arrangement
Warnings: Smut, abuse of position, anal sex, anal fingering, spit play, dirty talk, minimal prep tbh
Minors, do not interact
If Helmut Zemo was famous for having one thing, it was a plan. That man was always prepared, and if he wasn’t, it didn’t take him long to come up with something. Even now, locked in the Raft, Zemo had nothing left to do but think. He knew he wouldn’t escape without outside help, that much was clear but what was wrong with ensuring he got a little extra special treatment while he was inside? Even a few extra minutes of hot water in the shower block would be nice, or a new novel to read every now and again. Things that were minor but would improve his quality of life so significantly if he could just find a way to make it work.
And that was how he had come up with his plan, seducing you. He absolutely wasn’t against trading sex for favours and it didn’t hurt that he found you quite easy on the eyes but truthfully, he had never been with another man before, not like that at least. That was irrelevant though, he only had male prison guards tending to him so the option to carry out his plan with a female guard wasn’t even on the table. Not that he even really found that he cared. You were attractive without a doubt, slightly bigger than him and he couldn’t deny that he found the authoritative way in which you carried yourself somewhat sexy.
So that was how it had started, light jokes, building up that friendship, not diving in straight away with suggestions of anything untoward. Discussions about what you did after your shift ended, about your parents, your hobbies and interests, Zemo carefully dropping hints that he had now read the same tattered book fifteen times during his stay here. Planting seeds in your head that there were ways in which you could help him out if you ever felt so inclined.
Of course, you had a feeling from the outset that his intentions were less than proper but it was hard to ignore he was a good looking man. Where was the harm in letting it progress a little further? It was wrong, so wrong but you had to admit, you found yourself stealing little glances at him in the open shower block, rivers of hot water running over his taught body, down his back, over his perky ass, cock jutting out nicely from between his legs. He knew you were watching, almost taking pleasure from your hungry gaze. It surprised him just how often his cock twitched, swelling to half hardness of its own accord when he knew you were watching. He couldn’t help putting on a little show for you, rubbing the soapy bubbles over his firm body for just a while longer than usual, head tilted back under the spray of water, almost pornographic gasps escaping his parted lips when the water began to run cold. He knew exactly what he was doing. And God were you tempted to give in. No one would ever know, you could easily rewrite the footage on the security cameras and edit the time stamps so even if the footage was pulled for some reason, it would only show whatever you wanted it to display. And clearly Zemo would have no objections to keeping any little arrangement private. No one would believe him if he tried to threaten you with exposure, plus he would lose out on the additional perks you were willing to provide.
With everything reasoned out and justified, it was like your mind was made up. You just needed your shifts to rotate onto nights, knowing there were less officers on duty to complicate matters. In the meantime though, Zemo had ramped his teasing up to 1000, touching your thighs gently whenever he could, ghosting his fingertips over your shoulders, complimenting your physique whenever he saw you with the sleeves of your shirt rolled up. He knew he was weakening your resolve and he loved it, deep down hoping that you would keep all the frustration pent up and so would take it out on him when the time came.
What he hadn’t anticipated was the effect seeing you get more frustrated would have on him. He didn’t expect his prison uniform to feel a little tighter around the crotch when he saw you were on shift, nor did he expect the urge to touch himself at night to thoughts of you naked, slipping into him, both of your bodies sweaty, grunts filling the air as you tore pleasure from one another. He put it down to subconscious mental preparation, his brain preparing himself for what was coming. He found you attractive but that didn’t mean he was attracted to you. At least that’s how he was justifying it to himself.
After three weeks of more intense flirting on both of your behalf’s, your shift schedule changed, meaning you were rotating onto nights with three days on shift followed by three days off. You couldn’t have possibly missed Zemo’s smirk when he saw you head into the compound at 8pm. Of course he knew exactly how to work this to his advantage, having noticed that there were less guards on the night shift, given that there was less need to interact with prisoners.
Zemo’s cock had been at full hardness that night in shower, the urge to wrap his hand around himself was almost overwhelming. You were doing your best not to act like you were watching, trying to ignore your own cock stirring pleasantly in your dress trousers at the little groans spilling from his lips as his hand ghosted over his length. He made sure to deny himself though, gratefully taking the towel from you and wrapping it around his soaked body, a light flush dusting his cheeks from the hot water, coupled with his arousal.
“Would you visit me tonight if you get a chance?” He had purred in your ear, pressing his wet body so close to you, making sure you felt his hard length poking your thigh.
“I’ll see what I can do.” You nodded, Zemo clearly loving how your voice got deeper when your head was clouded with need. With that, Zemo gave you a little smile, drying himself and dressing into a fresh pair of prison issued pyjamas before exiting the shower block.
The night was quiet after that, your head spinning slightly from the invitation. If you were going to do this, now was the best chance you would get. So without thinking much more, you switched the camera in Zemo’s cell off before you pushed yourself up from the security desk, heading the short distance down the hall. Your keys jangled in your hands as you unlocked the door. In such a high security prison, you could never be too careful, every single security measure being taken. Magnetic locks could be easily overridden so there was nothing as safe as a good old fashioned lock and key. There was no harm in having both.
“I was beginning to think you were not coming to see me.” Zemo’s drawl so confident it was almost perverse, especially given how it was so laden with arousal.
“I’m here now, aren’t I. What did you have in mind?” You asked, hoping your voice had managed to carry all the confidence you had tried to instil in yourself.
“How about a mutually beneficial arrangement? You get complete access and I get a few, shall we call them, home comforts?” Zemo’s voice came across light and airy given the circumstances, like he wasn’t offering himself up for your enjoyment.
“What kind of access?” You quizzed, noticing how he raised an eyebrow at your expression of interest. He gave you a little smirk before placing a hand on the front of your trousers, cupping your cock gently.
“I see how you watch me.” He taunted, squeezing a little harder, his fingers feeling out your length. “I know your cock twitches when you think of me. Tell me, do you touch yourself, hm? Do you go home and think of me? Do you cum over your hand to thoughts of me in the shower?” You hoped to God his questions were rhetorical because you couldn’t find it in yourself to answer, not really wanting to give him the satisfaction.
“Are you going to tell me you don’t enjoy it too? We both know you get hard as soon as you see me watching. What were you thinking about in the shower earlier? Rock fucking hard and no one even touching you. You thinking of me? Of how I’m gonna pound that ass of yours?” Now it was his turn to be left speechless, blood rushing to his cock at finally getting to hear you whisper something so filthy in his ear. It sounded even better coming from you. You pressed two fingers to his lips making Zemo quite surprised at how quickly he opened his mouth to accept them. His tongue felt sinful, hot and wet, his eyes burning with more lust than he had even thought possible.
“Better get them nice and wet, they’re gonna be stretching you out in a minute.” Your little promise had him whimpering, tongue working your fingers for all he was worth. His cocky, confident attitude was almost entirely gone, need taking over. You pulled your fingers from his mouth, noticing how he was practically itching to get undressed, needing to touch you or have you touch him.
“God you’re needy, get undressed and bend over.” You noticed how he stripped in practically no time, prison uniform falling to the floor, cock thick and proud, entirely hard with anticipation. His length was impressive, you had to admit, veins running along his shaft, head angry and weeping precum.
“You really fuckin’ need this don’t you?” You grunted, bending him over, swiping one wet finger over his puckered asshole. He hissed out at the contact, his body reluctantly accepting the finger as you pushed in to the first knuckle.
“Please, ah, more.” He pleaded, trying to rut back against your finger, taking as much as he could despite the pain. You gave in, pressing deeper, noticing how every extra movement from you earned a groan from the shorter man.
“Feel good? Just wait until it’s my cock instead.” You whispered in his ear when your first finger was fully seated inside him. He actually fucking whimpered at the thought. You couldn’t help but feel proud as you pulled the finger out, lining the second up beside it before pressing in once more. It was such a tight fit, two fingers feeling like it might split him in two. Zemo gasped and groaned, palming his weeping cock, wondering if he’d ever been this hard in his entire life before.
“Oh oh, please, need more.” He couldn’t find it in himself to even care about how needy he sounded, no shame or embarrassment ever crossing his mind.
“You think you’re ready for my cock?” You teased, pulling out of him completely before unbuckling your belt, pushing your trousers and underwear down to your ankles. Zemo watched as you gave yourself a few lazy strokes, his mouth watering at the sight of the cock he’d been dreaming about for far too long.
“You really are gone, aren’t you? You need this. You think this is for my good? We both know you’re the one aching to get fucked.” You taunted, loving his little groan and how quickly he nodded in response.
“Go on, spit on cock, get it nice and messy.” He could never even have dreamed you’d talk so filthy to him and he could hardly believe how quickly he wanted to do whatever you asked of him. He wasted no time, turning over, sinking onto his knees and practically worshipping your cock with his mouth, looking up at you with those big brown eyes. He was so determined to make you feel good, bobbing his head sluttily, almost your entire cock down his throat. His gasps filled the room, his own cock aching from being neglected for so long. After a little while, you grabbed him by the hair, pulling him off you and flipping him around so he was bent over the bed, ass in the air.
“You ready?” You teased, head of your slick cock rubbing against his hole.
“Yes, please mph, so ready.” He agreed, doing his best to press himself back down onto your cock. You couldn’t help but pull back just a little, spitting on his tight hole for good measure. He groaned at the feeling of your spit dripping down over his tight ring of muscle before you pressed your cock back into place, splitting him open with once quick thrust. Zemo yelped out, fingers clutching the bed sheets as you began to rut against him, filling him in a way he could never have believed. Little cries and chants of your name slipped from his mouth and God, were you ready to pound into him. His perky little ass was so tight and it was so damn exciting to see how badly he needed this.
“Please fuck me.” He hissed out, low and needy, gasping when you began to establish a decent pace. With every thrust his cock rutted against the bedsheets, precum staining them, not that he cared in the slightest.
“You’re so big, feel so full.” He almost whined, making you speed up just a little, knowing he was getting close. Your cock dragging against him was torturous, knowing his couldn’t reach for his own cock to ease his need.
“You’re close already? Knew you wouldn’t last long. Want you to feel all of me.” He groaned at your words but groaned even more as you changed angle, your cock now nailing his prostate with every thrust. He was a goner, eyes squeezed shut painfully tight, sobs and broken Sokovian falling from his lips, cum spilling from the head of his untouched cock as his whole body tightened, milking your orgasm from you too. You fucked him through your high, cum spilling into his clenching hole.
Your bodies were both sweaty and heaving as you pulled out, dressing yourself again quickly. You admired how his asshole twitched when you pulled out, wishing you were still inside him. Zemo looked absolutely blissed out, completely wrecked by a kind of pleasure he hadn’t felt in years.
“I’ll get you fresh bed linens.” You promised, noticing how he barely even nodded in response before you headed off out of his cell and down the corridor.
Yes, this absolutely could end up very beneficial for both of you.
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Happy birthday sequel coming tomorrow (:
Spoilers without context and they aren't in order.
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The Long Journey Home
Chapter 6: We are all collateral damage in someone else’s war
Of the three of you in the place Zemo and Sam are the ones more in need of a wash and change of clothes, though that doesn’t stop Zemo from offering you first refusal. You shake your head, watching as he sets your bag down with care on one of the stuffed pieces of furniture. Both of you look expectantly at Sam, watching as he makes a little circuit of the room before claiming a barstool at the kitchen countertop.
“I’ll wait till Bucky gets back.” He waves his hand in Zemo’s direction, “Someone needs to make sure you won’t try to pull anything.”
If Zemo takes any offense he keeps it masked behind a pleasant expression. “I understand.” He pauses to dip his head, dropping his shoulders in a hint of a bow as he sweeps his arm out to reference the rest of the yet-to-be-explored space, “In that case – make yourselves at home.”
As always - [ find the story on AO3 || Wattpad ]
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Hot and Cold. Helmut Zemo x Reader. Smut, temperature play, ice play, ropes, restraints, oral. It’s never just as simple as being tied up and fucked.
There’s ice in you and it extends to his hand, to the soft sweet please that drips from your lips like snowmelt, that falls into his ear and makes him smile before he whispers
because Helmut Zemo is a sorry bastard man, an irredeemable asshole, and you tell him this while he’s stroking ice over the ropes wrapped over and around your legs in their double loops, ropes that hold you open and helpless, ropes that catch and caress you in their web.
Patience. It’s so much and yet it’s not enough, one lonely piece of ice melting rapidly away inside you, meltwater dripping onto towels. It’s a filthy and alluring feeling that contrasts so deliciously with the hot air, with the sweat that beads along your brow. And along his as well: his hair is damp and sticking to his forehead, all his clothes discarded and in his scarred softness he is perfect; he trails the ice over his own chest to watch his nipples peak. And slowly, like syrup, he tilts his head and says don’t you wish this was inside you?
Yes. Please. You know I want it. Why keep me waiting?
If you have to ask. But he is merciful; he joins the pantheon of gods with his next action, which is to trail the ice back down your thigh before pressing it inside you.
Fuck. It’s a sudden burst of cold that spreads out into a chilly ache; you imagine the ice inside you clinking softly together when really it must be rubbing, grinding like sea ice, like the shores of the Great Lakes in winter. And god. It’s so fucking good. It’s sweet in its deep pain that seems to spread throughout your bones; it makes slick seep from you along with meltwater as the towel collects it all.
And Zemo is tilting his head again, considering. How about your ass, darling? Do you permit it? Of course. You’d let him do anything right now, drink on sensation and lust, desperately twitching your hips with what little leverage remains. Oh you sweet little thing. Aren’t you desperate? I think I will. And he takes another cube in his hand, trailing it down your belly, through your folds, and even further, till it presses up against your ass.
Oh, your little hole’s so greedy. I could stuff you full and freeze you from the inside and you’d beg for more.
You would. And for all your cursing you fucking know it. Push out. And he feeds the ice into your ass. His hands are cold when they stroke against your thighs; he bends to lap the water that drips from you and his voice is soft and deadly. When I suffered thirst in the endless desert you came to me; when I cried out with a voice like dust you gave me water; when I wept you caught my tears and made them pure. His mouth and chin are wet; when he rises to kiss you deep he tastes of you and of the cold clear nothing left in the wake of ice.
It’s summer now but Helmut is a man of winter; he belongs in heavy fur-lined coats and boots with spikes for treads. He belongs on his knees in the snow, crimson spreading out around him and in its violent hue you read the outcome of the fight. Don’t think about that. I know where your mind is. And of course he does, because he’s Zemo; he brushes fingers over the scar that cuts across his hip and says it was always them or me. Win or lose is half planning and half luck.
But if it’s luck—
Shh. And he reaches for the ice again.
In the end you’re full and filthy, ice continuously melting and dribbling out, soaking the towels and making you shiver. It’s a blessed respite from the heat and it ratchets your need higher; he says oh darling, you’re so cold inside. You must let me warm you.
Fucking smooth talker.
I’m a baron. It’s my job. And it’s halfway true; how many times have you imagined him dressed to the nines for some stuffy royal function, calculated and formal, perhaps in his dress uniform? How many times have you ridden your hand to the thought of him dragging you into a dark alcove with his thigh between yours?
Wish I’d known you then.
No you don’t. Because then you couldn’t have had me.
He plunges inside and the heat of him is like a brand; he cuts through the cold and wet and leaves burning trails with every relentless thrust.
Like slag at the ironworks.
Like sparks from campfires. Can’t you let me find you beautiful? Because he is beautiful in his many sorrows and his tiny precious joys; he is beautiful in the way he plans and perseveres, and in the way he moves in you. What you were— fuck— and what you are is all a tangle. But it’s all you. And it is, it is; he may be a mess of a man but he bears the shards of greatness; he fucks and his mind is half on you and half on his next maneuver. He may be without a barony or country but he is still a mover and manipulator; he may have retired from his unit but he still carries the violence of the fight within his veins. He’s still a man, still Zemo, still the kind of fuck that leaves you breathless and aching.
And filthy wet, and dripping with water and come. When I brand you from the inside, remember that it’s because you’re mine.
And when it’s over, when he frees your legs and cleans you, his hand lingers a moment on your thigh. Thank you, he doesn’t say, but still you know he means it.
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A Man After Midnight - Sugardaddy!Zemo x Reader
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Summary: After escaping the RAFT, Zemo hides out in Italy. Reader is a student studying abroad in Rome, but has spent much of her time working in order to pay for school. One day after work she runs into a man while grocery shopping....
Warnings: Smut - unprotected sex, age gap, dubcon & daddy kink (if you squint), sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship dynamics. Alcohol use. Public displays of affection. Italian translations by Google Translate and being an avid fan of The Sopranos.
A/N: This was a request I got on AO3 I took some liberties with. Please don’t try to poke holes in some of the logic in this story (i.e., Zemo going out to a club while he’s on the run), it’s just supposed to be fun. I meant to post this awhile back but it needed more work and I got super busy. Also, I made a playlist for this story, which you can check out here. Please enjoy!
Pocketing the map she’d been using a bit self-consciously, she stopped herself outside the small market. She was nearly successful, finally, at navigating from her flat to the closest place she knew to grab groceries, only having to look at directions once.
Studying abroad was supposed to be fun — at least that was what she had been told — but so far all she’d been doing was working overtime just to scrape by, and hardly had much time to explore the city. But how else was she supposed to afford living and studying in Rome without a proper job? Most of her classes were online, as it encouraged her to spend more time experiencing Italy, but it only gave her an excuse to spend more time at the office, putting in extra hours wherever she could.
It was easy to pick up ingredients for dinner every few days, and once she arrived at the grocer she set about getting all the things on her mental checklist. Mind spinning with thoughts of work — which was a competitive, paid internship she’d scored — her attention was everywhere except in the moment; hastily gathering the produce she needed.
There were a few emails she’d have to answer when she got home, a few files to review before she could even think of her meal and –
Letting out a grunt, she abruptly collided with a broad chest just as she was rounding the corner her way to check out. Tomatoes, apples, and oranges collided with the floor, she’d forgotten the canvas bag she usually carried her groceries in, and had been overly confident about what she could balance in her arms.
“Mi dispiace,” she apologized profusely, using the limited Italian she knew, barely regarding the man in front of her as she knelt to collect the items that had been sent rolling in every direction. “I’m so sorry.”
The man would step around the mess and continue about his day, she figured, but in her flurry to collect everything, a hand holding a bruised tomato was suddenly in front of her face.
Glancing upwards at the outstretched hand, she was taken aback when she saw the stranger’s face, becoming lost in golden eyes, which were sparkling, attentive, gazing at her coyly.
“You might want to get a cart next time,” he said, voice low and even. His accent was European, but she couldn’t place exactly what it was from. However, she had heard enough Italian accents to at least recognize that this was different. It didn’t matter though, because his husky intonation was the most agreeable sound she’d heard since she first arrived in the country. He didn’t seem angry, if anything, he was amused. “May I help?” he asked, gesturing to the groceries in her arms.
It took her a moment to respond as she was too busy checking him out; he was good-looking, and had a vaguely familiar face, though she didn’t know exactly how. Perhaps he resembled an actor she’d seen in a movie somewhere, but she wasn’t going to let it qualm her.
“Oh please, you don’t have to-“ she began.
“It’s the least I could do.” She didn’t argue, and how could she? It seemed almost rude to refuse.
“I take it you aren’t from here…” he stated plainly.
“You can tell?” she asked sarcastically.
He chuckled, a pleasant sound. “Neither am I.”
They made their way to the register, and he paused to grab a bottle of wine off the top shelf of the rack, not bothering to look at the price, although she did, and tried not to gawk when she saw it. There was a short line at the register, and they filed behind other patrons.
“My name is Helmut,” he offered his hand, and she shook it, giving him her name in response, which he repeated once before offering a soft smile. “What brings you to Italy?” he asked, chatting her up. Normally she shied away from small talk, but right now, she really didn’t mind it at all.
“I’m studying abroad,” she answered.
“Sounds educational,” he winked. “Have you seen anything interesting yet?”
She shrugged wondering how much she was willing to share. “Uh, well...it’s a little embarrassing but...not really. I scored a sweet internship, so I’ve mostly just been working.”
“Well don’t work too hard,” he chided. “There’s so much to do here, you won’t want to waste the experience.”
“I know,” she said. “Do you live in town?”
A somewhat sour expression crossed his features, his brows drawing together, eyes narrowing, but then he blinked and it was gone. “No, I’m in town for business, I’m staying just outside the city.”
“Oh nice,” she said, and she realized that she had made it to the front of the checkout line, where Helmut helped her place her items on the counter. The cashier bagged them quickly and she paid, taking the tote in her arms.
“Well it was nice meeting you,” she said, turning to find him watching her attentively, seemingly zoned out or lost in thought, though there was something quite intense in his gaze.
“You as well,” he answered. He paused then, eyes raking her up and down quite brazenly, and she thought maybe he was going to ask her something else, but appeared to decide against it. “Enjoy your time in Rome,” he finished.
“You too.” The cashier pulled his attention away and she left. So far, most of the people she’d met had been friendly, and she didn’t think much of the interaction, leaving him behind in the market as she began the short walk home.
She lounged in a chair by the window in her little bedroom, feet propped up on the windowsill, watching the last sliver of sun slipping carefully under the cover of the horizon, the sky changing colors, from blue to red, to pink, to yellow before her eyes. Her cheap bluetooth speaker played an old Eagles album, and her hands worried about the handle of a mug that contained the remainder of a cheap bottle of Merlot. It wasn’t even a week night, but she was going to have to go to work early the next day just to get a few hours in. There was a good chance she’d be the only other person in the office, but she didn’t have much of a choice, as she needed the extra hours if she wanted to make rent the following week.
The trip was only possible because of a scholarship she’d gotten, but it was barely enough money to cover school, let alone rent and other living costs. The other students in the program had help from their families, or had money saved up, but unfortunately, she didn’t have such luxuries.
The city went on without her that night, and she could hear the chatter of people on the street, out getting dinner and drinks, pregaming before heading out to the clubs. She closed her eyes, taking another sip of wine. She’d have to start getting ready for bed soon, but she was savoring the only bit of city life she could have right now.
That was until her roommate, Tiff, came tearing into the room, wobbling in precariously high heels and a skimpy, skintight dress, a watered-down drink in her hand.
“Uhhh, please tell me you’re going to change,” Tiff scolded, incredulous. She opened her mouth to speak but she was cut off. “Wait...don’t tell me you forgot..”
“Fuck,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut, head lolling backwards. “That’s tonight?”
“Yeah, it’s Friday!” Tiff exclaimed.
“I can’t, I have to go in tomorrow.”
“Okay well, you’re coming anyways.”
“I could barely afford it even if I wanted to.”
“Who cares? I’ll spot you, but we’re not leaving without you.”
Despite her insistent protests, her roommates were convincing, and thirty minutes later she found herself on the sidewalk, huddled in a group, headed to a club she’d never heard of. Clad in a borrowed dress that was much shorter than anything she’d ever worn before, throat still burning from a shot of garbage vodka they’d taken just minutes ago, she planned on only staying out a few hours before heading home so she could make it to work the next day.
She’d been in the city for about a month, but it was her first time out, and as she waltzed with her friends down the street, she was struck by its beauty, the crowded sidewalks filled with people headed to various bars and clubs, dressed in varying degrees of formality. For the first time since she had arrived, she felt carefree, happy, excited. At this point, she didn’t care what the plan was, she was just relieved to be out of the cramped apartment and boring office.
The club her friends had picked out was packed, crowded, playing music she didn’t recognize but could easily dance to. It was a little overwhelming, and their group flocked to the bar to get a drink, leaning over to catch eyes with one of many frazzled bartenders.
Scanning the crowd, it was full of people she didn’t know, which was more comforting than anything else, compared to the pubs back home. That was, until she locked eyes with a man at the end of the bar. Wearing a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his long fingers were wrapped around a tumbler filled with ice and amber liquor. She was struck by him instantly, not just by his handsome, confident looks, but….where do I know him from? His eyes narrowed at her kindly as a smile quirked at the corners of his mouth, oh god, he was so hot and she was so-
“What are you gonna get to drink?” her friend smacked her on the arm, and she turned away from the pleasant stranger, as Tiff bobbed her head to the music obliviously, and took in the scene around her.
She shrugged. At this rate, it didn’t seem like the bartender would ever notice them, and she’d practically forgotten about getting a drink, even though she felt like she’d need one soon to tolerate the crowd, which was growing increasingly rowdy. Turning her attention back to the man at the end of the bar, she was disappointed to find him gone. Maybe it had been her imagination, but she couldn’t hide her disappointment.
Sighing, she leaned further over the bar, hoping the bartender would be forced to acknowledge them, until she heard a deep voice in her ear.
“What a pleasant surprise,” it was a low purr that sent shivers up her spine, and she turned around to find the man now standing behind her, lips curled in an ornery grin.
She felt herself smiling like an idiot, absolutely taken, especially as she now recalled how she knew him, the same man she’d met in the market earlier that week. He had been stately before, but she realized she’d been too flustered to discern just how fine he really was.
“Helmut!” she exclaimed.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me,” he said.
“How could I forget?” she blurted, and then felt her cheeks warm, embarrassed at her overt display of enthusiasm.
But he seemed to like it, and smiled even wider in response. “How serendipitous it is to find you here. I’m glad to see you experiencing the nightlife.”
“Yeah,” she appreciated him up close, and felt somewhat awkward trying to figure out what to say next besides just oogle.
“What are you drinking?” he asked, eyes flickering to her friend as well, who had just caught on to what was happening.
“Uh, vodka soda,” she said without thinking, her usual drink of choice when going out. “If we ever get a drink.”
“Allow me,” he leaned over the bar, raising his hand.
As if on cue, a bartender approached him, and as he was ordering, Tiff elbowed her aggressively. “Holy shit, who is that?” she asked, checking him out, and her eyes drifted down to the curve of his ass in his dress pants. Nice, her friend mouthed, nodding in approval.
Shrugging, she was too taken aback to tell the story, and before she knew it, Helmut pressed a cold glass in her hand, offering another drink to her friend who took it graciously.
“It’s on me,” Helmut said before she could open her mouth.
Now, she was able to give him a real appraisal. Stubble covered his jawline, dark hair falling onto his forehead, and she noticed, for the first time, the fine lines around his eyes and mouth. He was older than her, much older – she had to guess maybe somewhere in his forties – but it hardly mattered because he wore it well. If anything, he couldn’t have been more becoming if he were any younger. The dark dress shirt he wore was unbuttoned at the top, revealing just a bit of his bare chest, but not hardly enough, she thought.
The bartender sat down a round of shots as well, ones he must have ordered. “Please, let’s toast,” he lifted the small glass. She didn’t dare ask what the shot even was, and Tiff just kept elbowing her aggressively, like she couldn’t believe what was happening.
“Salute,” the three of them clinked the glasses together and threw back the liquid. It was smooth, expensive, nothing like what she had taken before she left her place that night.
Helmut threw back the rest of his drink as well, and his eyes fixated on her.
“Come dance with me,” he commanded, and tilted his head in the direction of the dance floor. She froze, turning back to Tiff to ask silent permission.
“Will you just have some fun? I’ll find the others. Go on, he’s hot.”
She couldn’t disagree, and took his outstretched hand hesitantly. It was cool from the drink, but felt so nice.
“You aren’t working tonight?” Helmut teased, and she was surprised he’d remembered anything from their brief conversation in the store earlier in the week.
“No, but I have to go in tomorrow,” she rolled her eyes.
“On a weekend? It doesn’t sound like you’re taking my advice.”
“I’ll be short on rent if I don’t, “ she regretted the words the second they came out of her mouth, but she’d never been a great liar. Still, she doubted he wanted to hear about her financial misfortunes. As she expected, a look of discontent crossed Helmut’s features and she figured this would be the blow that startled him away, but it wasn’t, and his expression neutralized quickly.
She didn’t recognize the music, all sung in various languages she didn’t understand, even the songs in Italian she only half comprehended, but it didn’t matter. Helmut’s arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close to him, and she felt her heart rate increase, echoing in her ears, even louder than the bassy club hits. His proximity was intimidating, almost suffocating. She wasn’t used to attention from men like this, and as much as she liked it, she herself wasn’t quite sure what to do. One wrong move might turn him off entirely, and she didn’t want to make a fool of herself.
Finally finishing her drink, she discarded the glass on an empty tray passing by. Her hands rested stiffly on his shoulders, and he pulled away slightly to smile at her. “You don’t do much dancing, do you?” he asked.
She shook her head no, struggling to find words. You idiot! She practically screamed at herself, feeling heat rising up her neck. “I’m sorry,” she managed.
“Don’t apologize,” he said gently. “Here,” Guiding her hands, he laid one on the arm that he had wrapped around her waist, the other to his chest, her thumb mere inches from his exposed skin.
“You can get as close to me as you’d like darling,” he hummed. “I don’t bite.”
His hands were big, the one spread across her waist, thumb lazily grazing her ribcage, warm and gentle, her stomach fluttering at the contact as they began to move in time to the music. There was something almost protective in the way he held her, which had her reeling, despite how little they knew each other.
Helmut’s stubble tickled the side of her face as he talked to her while they danced, and she wondered if he was doing it because he could tell she was nervous. She hoped not.
“Sweet girl,” he murmured in her ear. “Don’t tell me this is your first time out since you’ve been in the country.”
She grimaced, glad he couldn’t see her face. “I’ve just been so busy.”
“You can’t spend all your time working.”
“I don’t have much of a choice,” she was embarrassed truthfully, but she wished they could change the subject. It was clear she sounded like a stick in the mud.
“I might be able to help you,” he purred. From her spot, her chin over his shoulder, against the side of his face, she couldn’t really read him, but she was beginning to feel tipsy from the drinks she’d had. “But enough talking about work.”
It wasn’t clear what he meant, and she didn’t want to press him, didn’t think she would have the audacity to even if she wanted. Instead, she let the liquid courage seep slowly into her veins, the rest of the club, the noise, the lights blending together into a more tolerable backdrop. When she leaned in closer to him, he matched her enthusiasm. Drowning in his scent, expensive cologne, cigar smoke, and whiskey, she gathered he was a man who liked the finer things, the watch adorning one of his wrists could probably pay her rent for the entirety of her stay in Italy and then some.
Growing more and more bold, she moved her thumb over to dip underneath the shirt he was wearing, hesitantly touching the bare skin there. Her thumb began toying with the fourth button of his shirt, and he pulled away slightly to look at her then. Freezing, she wondered if she’d crossed a line.
But instead, Helmut quirked an eyebrow, amused. “Would you like to see more of me already?”
“Just a little,” she felt small, demure in his presence, but there was something kind of appealing about it. Watching her, she unbuttoned the shirt carefully, pushing the fabric aside to splay her palm against the broad expanse of his chest, which was searing hot and damp with perspiration. She gently raked her nails back and forth.
“Oh draga, you aren’t as shy as you lead others to believe, are you?” he smiled at her.
She shook her head no, and at this point the two of them were closer than they’d been all night, his lips just inches from hers. Lifting her chin, she let her eyelids flutter closed halfway, hoping he’d give her what she wanted, and he did, tilting his head down to slot his lips against hers.
Whatever she’d been expecting, he blew that out of the water, the searing heat of his mouth against her own was like stepping into a sauna, sucking the air from her lungs and buckling her knees, a jolt of lighting hitting her stomach and radiating all the way to her core. He was so passionate, so confident. She didn’t need to worry about what to do next as he took the lead, his tongue sliding against her lower lip, one of his hands on the back of her neck, the other on her jaw. Even if she didn’t want to give in, she’d have no choice in the matter, and surrendering to him felt euphoric.
No one had ever kissed her like this before, and definitely not in public, but that hardly mattered because the last thing she wanted to do was stop him, and she let her hands roam, wrapping around his broad shoulders and tangling in his hair.
When his hands pulled her closer, tilting his head and deepening the kiss even further, she let out an unbridled moan into his mouth. It’d been so long since anyone had paid her attention, and now, this, one of the hottest men she’d ever met was making out with her - passionately - in front of hundreds of people.
He pulled away suddenly, she was a panting mess, lips swollen as she sucked in greedy gasps of air while she could, though she’d much rather be deprived if it meant he was going to kiss her like that again. She thought she’d done something wrong until he spun her around and grabbed her hips, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back so her ass was flush against him.
He pressed his hips forward, gripping her own with bruising intensity, so she could feel him hard against her and she moaned, plainly, unable to help herself, head lolling back against his shoulder.
In her limited years of life, she never imagined herself in this situation, which made it all the more thrilling. They were invisible among the crowd of people and she felt giddy, delirious. Grinding against him to the music, she threw an arm behind her to grip at his neck, which allowed him to press hot, searing kisses along her sensitive skin as she keened back into him. His lips locked with her own again and she moaned into his mouth.
“You little tease,” he growled, his words had desire settling in the pit of her stomach as one of the hands on her waist slowly drifted up her ribcage and cupped the soft flesh of her breast through too many layers of her clothes.
With every touch of his greedy hands, she was growing impossibly wet, he devoured her shamelessly, for anyone there to see. But no one around them seemed to care.
There was power and powerlessness in her current state, all at the same time. He was cursing in a language she’d never heard before, the one hand that wasn’t on her breast ventured to grapple along her thigh where her dress stopped short. They explored her bare skin, torrid and rapacious, her self-control waning with every press of his sticky palms.
“You look incredible in this dress,” he cooed. “If I fucked you in it right now, I don’t think anyone would know.”
The precipice between her legs ached at his words, clenching around nothing. And Helmut seemed to know exactly the effect he was having on her, but it only seemed to spur him on as he whispered absolute filth in her ear.
“Do you want me as badly as I want you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she cried out as his hand slipped underneath the fabric of the skirt, no one would even be able to see him squeezing and pinching at the inside of her thighs, harsh enough to leave marks behind.
When his knuckles grazed the front of her panties, she could tell they were already damp. He was so, so close to where she wanted him most but he was holding out, refusing to give her what she needed. “You’re so wet for me already,” he chided.
“Helmut, please,” she whined, a simpering mess at this point. She hadn’t even drank that much, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been with anyone, and she knew with certainty it wasn’t this hot, hell, she probably hadn’t even gotten off. Mind clouded and driven by pure lust, it was Helmut who pulled away, but only slightly, and she whined at the loss of contact.
“Draga,” he sympathized. “What kind of gentlemen would this make me?”
Her logical brain managed to push through the fog, just a bit, as she turned around to face him once more. With some space between them, she was coming down from her high, realizing that she had never even been that drunk before, just lost in the throes of desire, intoxicated by him and the energy of the crowd surrounding them.
“Be patient, anđele, you’ll be grateful once I’m through with you.”
His words sent another wave of want over her, but she had to fight it, she was tempted to drag him into the bathroom, or worse, back to her flat. But she knew better than that...or did she?
She’d donned her nicest dress, at least, the nicest dress she owned, and had to admit she was feeling confident as she approached the hostess stand. However, she was distracted by the view as the sun set before her, illuminating the skyline of Rome. She took a second to enjoy the moment, to focus on the soon-to-be memory, rather than the elephant in the room.
And as the hostess led her to their table she spotted him, seated by a balcony, looking at the view, nursing a drink. The mere sight of him had desire curling in her belly, and nerves tingling along her skin. It was all so intimidating.
Before she’d left the club, Helmut had asked for her number. The next day he’d Venmo’d her $500 and invited her to dinner. You aren’t working tonight, the memo had said. It sounded like she didn’t have a choice, so she didn’t.
She didn’t have words to describe how she felt about it all. Like she’d said before, she wasn’t used to attention from men, especially not someone like him. And she knew almost nothing about him, what he did for a living, where he was from. Hell, she didn’t even know his last name for fucks sake. This whole situation could be dangerous, but for some reason, she was still intrigued.
“Well at least if you die tonight, I can tell your family it was in pursuit of a sugar daddy,” Tiff had teased as she helped her get ready.
“I don’t know if that’s what this is.”
“Please,” her roommate rolled her eyes. “It totally is, and it’s totally hot. And so is he.”
She couldn’t disagree. But she still wasn’t sure what exactly to make of the whole situation.
“Buona sera,” Helmut stood to greet her. “Come stai?”
“Molto bene, grazie,” she answered softly, though she wasn’t sure if that was honest.
“How lovely it is to see you tonight,” he purred, as a waiter poured them both a glass of wine from a bottle. “I hope you don’t mind, I already ordered a bottle of wine for us. But if you’d like something else, by all means...”
“No this is…” she glanced at the label as her glass was being filled with the crimson liquid. The label looked vintage, and probably pricey. “This is good.”
“I thought you might appreciate a nice Italian wine,” he said. “This one is from Tuscany.”
As if that meant anything to her, her normal choice of wine was Two Buck Chuck from Trader Joes. But, she was still flattered, even though someone with a more refined palette deserved to try it instead of her.
Clinking glasses with him and taking a sip, she looked out over the skyline of Rome once more. The sun had set, but there was still a bit of light in the sky, and they were tucked away from everyone else, out of sight. She wondered if he’d done it on purpose, so he could try to feel her up, not that she would’ve minded.
Taking a deep breath, she decided they had enough privacy to bring up what was on her mind, especially because he seemed to be avoiding it.
“Listen, Helmut, I need to tell you something…” she began.
“About the money you gave me-”
His expression turned from one of contentment to something much darker. “It is impolite to discuss such matters in public, and especially not at dinner.”
“Well when else are we supposed to-”
“After, once we retire to my room.”
“Retire to your room?” she raised an eyebrow. “How presumptuous.”
“Is it, though?” he gave her a knowing look, and a once-over. “Just a few days ago you were begging me to fuck you in the middle of a club.”
It shut her up. That sort of audacity would normally turn her off, but now, coming from his mouth, it sent tongues of heat up her neck. She squeezed her thighs together. His expression softened, and he leaned forward to whisper in her ear.
“Schatzi, I’ve spent much of my life like you, always running around, focused on my next accomplishment. And because of it, I missed many precious moments I’ll never be able to get back,” briefly, a sadness crossed over his features. She flickered down to the hand that worried about the stem of his wine glass. He didn’t wear a wedding ring.
“Let’s enjoy dinner,” he said, leaning back in his chair to look at the menu and take in the view once more. She supposed he was right.
Her evening with Helmut was pleasant, surprisingly so. He was not the party boy she thought him to be, after their first encounter, as he wooed her with his knowledge of literature and history. He was well-educated and well-read, but not condescendingly so. She was impressed by his nature, and despite their clear differences in upbringing, they got on quite well. Most importantly, he seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, despite the fact that her life was incredibly mundane and boring in comparison to his.
He had a way of making her feel special, the way his eyes met her own, the occasional flirtatious remark he’d make. The conversation rarely lulled and if it did, it didn't feel wrong, and they would settle into a comfortable silence as they ate their food.
By the end of the meal and a few too many glasses of wine, Helmut paid the bill. When she reached for her purse to offer him money, he looked genuinely offended, waving her off dismissively.
Shivering as they stood, Helmut draped her jacket over her shoulders and pulled her towards him by her waist. His touch lit her on fire again, brought her right back to the dance floor, his hands on her hips, the feeling of his cock grinding into her ass. She’d spent each night trying to rid herself of the lingering arousal using her own fingers, but it hadn’t been very helpful.
The suite he’d chosen was nice, though she supposed even the most inexpensive rooms at this hotel were. But she couldn’t appreciate the decor, as the moment they stepped through the threshold Helmut spun her around and pressed his mouth against hers. Snaking his arms around her waist, he took two steps backward and she hit the wall, pinned in place by his hips against hers. She moaned into his mouth, responding to him instantly.
“I’ve wanted to get my hands on you all night,” he growled, his hands dipping beneath the skirt of her dress to trace along her bare skin. It made her squirm, and she began to rut against him, lifting a leg to wrap around his waist.
But before she could find any relief he pulled away, rather abruptly, leaving her breathless, as he stalked to a small sitting area of the hotel. How he managed to remain so composed after kissing her like that was a mystery. He lifted an envelope off the table, pinched between his thumb and forefinger, passing it to her.
“But before I forget, this is for you,” he said.
Opening it, oblivious, she felt her eyes widen when she saw what was in it, a fat wad of cash. “That should be enough to cover your rent for the summer,” he said, sitting down and crossing his ankle over his legs, his arm over the back of the couch. Still dizzy with excitement she looked down at him.
“Helmut, I can’t-”
“Ah-ah,” he tutted. “You will. You’ll never experience Italy if you are working all the time.”
“This is insane,” she said, but was beginning to think her friend had been right.
“I’m a baron, schatzi, that is nothing,” he gestured to the envelope. “Don’t let such things trouble you.”
“A baron…” she trailed off, and her mind began working. It made sense, she supposed, why his work seemed so flexible, why he spent money like it was nothing. But there was something more, she thought.
She’d taken a few classes on European culture before her study abroad semester, and though she’d spent most of it asleep due to her crazy schedule, there was a name in the back of her head that she’d long since forgotten, one written on a whiteboard behind her professor the day after she’d pulled an all-nighter.
“Helmut Zemo,” she said to him softly, finally snapping the final piece of the puzzle into place. It all made sense, why he’d looked familiar when she first met him. A Sokovian Baron, a terrorist. “You’re supposed to be in jail.” He frowned, slightly, but didn’t respond. “Oh my god.’
The envelope, and the cash slipped from her fingers, unceremoniously fluttering to the coffee table, littering the floor.
“Schatzi, come sit...”
Her mind was spinning but she didn’t pull away from him when he tugged her to the couch and tucked her under his arm. And how could she? She didn’t know much about him, really, except that he was dangerous. Or at least, he was supposed to be. He’d only been kind to her, she couldn’t imagine any part of him being cruel.
“I thought you’d already figured it out,” he murmured.
As much as she wanted to be angry, it was hard to be with him so close. His presence was unsettlingly comforting and really, some ugly side of her was turned on by the whole idea. She liked it, though she would never admit it to herself.
The whole story came back to her now. He’d lost his whole family in the Battle of Sokovia, his son, his wife, his father. And although she didn’t condone the extremes he’d gone to avenge their deaths, all she saw before her now was a broken man, seeking companionship. And he wanted it from her. She didn’t understand it, but she supposed that didn’t matter.
“Let me show you Italy,” he coaxed, his deep brown eyes soft when she looked at them again. “You’ll have anything you could ever want.”
“You work so hard to take care of yourself, tirelessly. Won’t you just let me take care of you?”
His voice, a low purr in her ear, rekindled the fire she’d been feeling from a few nights before and she decided it wasn’t her responsibility to turn in a dangerous criminal. Especially not one so handsome, so gracious, so impossible for her to resist. She kissed him this time, open-mouthed and needy. And really, why had she been so stubborn? She would’ve let him fuck her for free.
Helmut must have sensed the shift in attitude, because he spent very little time kissing her before his hands were roaming her body, squeezing and grabbing at her exposed flesh. His hand hooked behind her knee and pulled her across his lap so he could cup her ass.
Every touch reminded her of the night they’d spent together, how close his fingers had been to where she needed him, and he had given her nothing. She hoped he would tonight. “I want you so badly, Helmut,” she mumbled into the skin of his neck.
“Don’t worry, anđele, daddy is going to give you everything you need.”
“Please,” she mumbled after his words, she could feel how wet she was already, aching and clenching around nothing. His hand slid up between her parted thighs, she was still hovering over him, and his knuckles brushed against the front of her panties.
She let out a whimper, even the slightest bit of pressure was a relief, even though it didn’t last long. Pushing aside the fabric, he finally made contact with her skin, fingers dipping into her folds and spreading around her wetness.
“You’ve made such a mess of yourself for me, haven’t you, darling?”
“Yes,” she answered, hoping she was telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Looking down into his burning gaze, he chuckled darkly. It allowed her just enough time to be distracted from the feeling of his hands on her, until, without warning, he thrust two fingers into her soaked cunt.
“Fuck,” she nearly collapsed on him, pitching forward with the sensation, the way it felt for her body to yield to him so easily.
“Ah-” he used his free hand to push her backwards. “Stay on your knees,” he commanded. “I want to see your pretty face when you come for me.”
“Fuck, Helmut, I need-” she cried out, not even sure what she was protesting as he worked her open. His thumb found her clit, pressing down, and she wasn’t sure if it was a response to her inquiry, but it was exactly what she had hoped for.
It was hard to hold herself up, her walls throbbing and fluttering around the intrusion of him, she was growing wetter and wetter, and he was reaching all the spots she hadn’t been able to herself, especially when he added a third finger.
She wasn’t going to last. It was embarrassing but she couldn’t help it. Before she knew it she was rutting her hips against him, seeking more friction. His free hand rose to her neck, squeezing, and she grew even more lightheaded and feeble. Helmut’s fingers curled, finding the spot that none of her other lovers bothered to find. When she looked down to meet his gaze, eyes stormy but warm, she felt herself begin to tighten around him.
“Don’t stop, I’m so-” she began, but was unable to finish her sentence before it happened, tumbling over the edge as she came hard, clenching around his fingers. Everything went black - she wasn’t sure if it was because she’d closed her eyes or it was the intensity of the orgasm alone, but it didn’t really matter. Her knees gave out beneath her, and she fell forward, whimpering and whining his name, head on his shoulder, panting in his ear.
“That’s it,” he praised softly. “Such a good girl for me.”
Slowly, he withdrew from her, pressing a soft kiss to her temple before lifting his digits to his mouth. Watching him, she felt the ache between her legs return as he greedily sucked her arousal from his fingers.
Pitching forward, she couldn’t hold back the giggle that passed her lips, relieved and incredulous. But it wasn’t enough. He cursed under his breath as she palmed at his pants, grappling at him.
“Fuck,” he pulled her hands away from him, forcing her to straighten up as his eyes locked with hers. “Strip for me.”
No man she’d ever been with had been so abrupt, so domineering. And with anyone else, she might have found it dramatic, even embarrassing. But he was so confident, so sure of himself, each command he gave she’d obey without question.
Stepping away from him, she snaked her thumbs under the straps at her shoulders, pushing them off as he watched her under the dim light of the room. Even though she’d never stripped for anyone before, not like this at least, but the way he looked at her, all-consuming with his eyes, made her feel sexy. Slowly, she moved with purpose, delaying his gratification, as she pushed the fabric over her hips, letting it skate down her thighs and to the floor.
His breath hitched in his throat, she could hear it, as he rubbed a hand over his stubbled cheek. As deliberate and sensual as she was trying to be, it was growing hard to be patient when he was looking at her like that.
Off came her bra, followed by her panties, which she had the forethought to match, having some semblance of an idea of where the night might take her. For once, being an overthinker paid off.
“Oh liebling, you are more beautiful than I imagined.”
It was hard not to beam at him, grinning like an idiot, and while she wasn’t sure exactly what this relationship entailed, he still managed to make her blush, whether he was trying to or not.
“Now you,” she giggled, and he chuckled slightly at her.
“Ah-ah….you don’t get to call the shots,” he warned, before growing serious. “I’ll have you on the bed.”
She would test the waters eventually, she thought, to see how far she could push him. But tonight, it was clear she’d get what she wanted if she just listened. And she didn’t think she could go much longer without his hands on her.
Legs still a little wobbly, she made her way over to the bed and he stalked behind her, loosening his tie and tossing it to the floor. He spun her around right as she reached the bed, and she stumbled, falling backwards, only to be met with the plush mattress.
Helmut was on her quickly, pulling her into another searing kiss, and she parted her legs so he could slot himself between her thighs. Impatiently, she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, managing to work her way down to his belt, and he didn’t protest when she pushed the garment off his shoulders, exposing his bare chest.
His hands roamed her body, met her bare breasts and squeezed, cupping them and pinching her nipples between his thumb and forefingers. Crying out, she was torn away from her focus on his belt buckle briefly. His mouth latched onto another, sucking and nipping and she keened into the contact.
Eventually, she managed to loosen his belt, unbuttoning his fly and shucking down his pants, his hard cock bobbing in his boxers, and she grabbed him through the thin fabric.
He groaned into mouth, she tasted the desire on his tongue, pumped him a few times before reaching her hand under the elastic band, freeing him fully. He was big, intimidatingly so, and she wanted to be concerned about how he would fit inside her but she didn’t have the time, as he pushed her to her back, coming to his hands and knees to hover over her.
“Normally I’d spend more time on you,” he mumbled, as he rolled them to their sides, slotting his knee between her legs so she couldn’t provide herself with anymore friction. “But not tonight.”
“I need you,” was all she could answer.
Somehow soon she was hovering over him, her hips straddling his as she stood on her knees, and he guided the head of his cock to her entrance, teasing her until she finally stopped him. Slowly, she began to sink down onto him, moaning, the girth of him alone was a lot to take.
“You’re so big,” she whimpered, wondering if riding him was really the best decision. But the discomfort was just so, not too much for her to handle. In fact, the burn of him pressing inside of her had her growing even wetter.
“And you’re going to take all of me,” he answered. When she flinched, her body meeting resistance, Helmut bucked his hips up, almost a little cruelly, and she was forced to take him deeper, a sharp cry leaving her mouth.
Once he was fully seated inside of her, he thrusted upwards, so deep she could feel him in the pit of her stomach, the back of her throat. It felt incredible, but overwhelming, so it took her some time to begin to move. The first shift of her hips alone had her eyes rolling back into her head, her limbs growing numb.
But Helmut didn’t allow her to stay still for long, he worked up into her in time with her movements, as she built up a steady rhythm and rode his cock. One of his hands kneaded into the soft flesh at her hips, the other rose to her mouth, thumb tracing along her bottom lip before he pressed it forward, into her mouth, and she sucked on it while she fucked him.
“Good girl,” he praised her, whispering compliments along with other filth she would never dare to repeat outside the room they were in, about how good she was being for daddy, about how well she was taking his cock. And she certainly didn’t mind it. Already sensitive and from her previous orgasm, she felt her second of the night creeping up as he stretched her open and hit every spot imaginable inside of her.
But she was struggling to stay consistent as she approached her release, pausing every now and then to catch her breath and keep her strength. Helmut must have noticed, even he seemed frustrated, and with one swift movement he flipped her over, his body never leaving hers as her back hit the mattress and he was the deepest inside of her he’d been all night. That alone was all she needed and she came again, this time around his cock.
Cursing and whimpering his name, Helmut answered with a moan, but he composed himself quickly. “That didn’t take long, did it?” he taunted, and she didn’t have the strength to answer.
She didn’t need to, as he fucked into her then, leaving her no time to recover. The nerves all over her body were tingling, begging, crying for some kind of break but it was clear Helmut wouldn’t allow it as he drove into her.
“I know you have another one for me, schatzi,” he grunted, frenzied. “Come on my cock again, I know you can.”
“I can’t-“ she gasped, but beyond her body crying for a break came another sensation, another coil winding deep in her belly. “Please, I-”
She was unintelligible by this point, her protests fruitless. He was a man who almost always got what he wanted.
“Yes you can,” he growled into her ear. “Let go.”
There was no way she’d be able to walk straight in the morning, that was for sure. His words had her back arching off the bed, still protesting weakly even as she came for him the third time that night, seeing stars. But even then, he wasn’t finished, he was now focused on his own release and she could hear the slick of herself as her sore and soaking cunt took him over and over.
Their lips met once more, sloppily, feverish, as her nails raked up his back. He was close, no longer holding back, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. Through the haze of overstimulation, she looked upon him. A thin sheet of sweat had broken out across his brow, along his shoulders, heat radiating off every inch of his body, a curtain of his dark hair falling in his face.
Bottoming out one last time, she felt him throbbing inside of her as he came, cursing loudly as his lips latched at her neck, catching the sensitive skin between his teeth. She cried out, startled by the sensation, but it didn’t hurt, at least not yet, while she was still coming down from her high.
In the aftermath he was surprisingly tender, which she was grateful for, as he helped her clean herself up. She slipped under the cool, clean sheets while he made nightcaps for the two of them.
“I’m flying to Lake Como next week,” Helmut said as he handed her a cocktail. “My family has an estate there I haven’t visited in awhile. I’d like it if you joined me.”
Even though she probably had to work, there was a way she could call off, or even telecommute. She wasn’t going to refuse him anymore, especially not if he was going to fuck her like he just had while they were away together. At any rate, she was sure this would be a semester she’d never forget.
Zemo tag: @juice-1981 @marvelsvision @pattispunk @msmarvelwrites @professorrw
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