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cherryblossomtease · 3 years

Text

Chapter 15

18+ only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Because sometimes all you need is a simple reminder of who started this mess in the first damn place 💜

Warnings : as always 18+ only please- dom Zemo, sub Bucky, sub reader, punishment, m/m, m/m/f, light bondage

Authors Notes: Really didn't think I would be posting this weekend but it's a holiday in the states so why not! Still working on the rest by you know, neglecting everything that matters to create this fictional world. Anyhow, I can honestly say this is by far the most graphic story I've written so I'm a little nervous but it's already done, can't change it now, and I honestly don't want to! That said I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing!

Nothing lasts forever, especially when it’s this good. And this fabricated reality is about as good as it gets. Still, you know this boat will dock soon and goodbyes will be said. There’s really no way around it, try as you might to come up with a plan to talk Bucky into staying. Even now as you fight to stay asleep, your brain is working hard to create a solution while you refuse to give into your worries so early in the day.

You turn onto your stomach ignoring the dark thoughts, choosing instead to enjoy the feel of a strong arm across your back and a leg, hairy and heavy over both of yours.

Settling again with a content sigh, sleep starts to pull you back under. Thank the stars. You really aren’t in the mood— even if your dreams apparently are.

And what had you been dreaming about anyway?

A little house on a wide cliff overlooking water, and something else? The harder you try to remember the more you feel yourself slipping back into that dream space.

There was a small animal. What was it? A rabbit? Its fluffy body too close to the edge of the cliff. But in the dream you’d stayed standing in the doorway of the little house too indifferent to go and save it….

You feel bodies moving lazily, a stream of breath along your back that tickles; arms and legs and the men they belong to not fully awake and starting to stir like you, even as you quickly slip back into sleep until you’re standing in the doorway of that house again with the warm winds on your face and a view of the French sea below. The drop is dangerous. Deadly even.

Why haven’t you started talking Bucky into staying yet? Because you don’t like thinking about it too much. That's why. You start walking towards the edge of the cliff and you’re fully aware of your worlds crossing over —real thoughts present in your dream.

It’s probably bad luck to resent good deeds, after all that’s what he’s leaving you for. He wants to go off and live the life of the hero he never got to be. That and to keep Zemo’s location safe; but that’s besides the point. Hmm… Look at me, selfish even in my dreams. You smile when you shouldn’t.

Staring over the edge of the cliff it’s suddenly clear how unstable the ground is here and you gasp as it crumbles beneath your feet without warning.

Your eyes open with a start.

Well, that was a bit on the nose. Your subconscious does like to lay it on a thick sometimes, especially when you continue to ignore the things bothering you for too long and you've been setting these feelings aside since the text came through.

But just as quickly as you’re left to shake the shadow of the eerie dream, your frown fades replaced by a slow smile.

There is a very familiar poking at your ass that can sometimes be annoying-- this morning it’s welcome. You reach back and feel for the body that the greeting belongs too, comforted by the warmth and solid muscle of Bucky’s thigh under his tight boxers.

Mmmmm, the source of my distress and my desire, you think and grin into the pillows with a soft moan when his hand, hot and strong takes hold of your hip, massaging as he presses his erection into you.

You’ll talk to him about your dreams later.

Feeling a draft where there should be warmth, you open an eye to find breaks of sunlight in the space between Helmut’s arm and torso. When you turn your head you’re met with the sight of his bare chest, broad and covered in the softest dark hair. His necklace hangs off center, and you, as always, are helpless to it.

Your hand leaves Bucky’s thigh and your fingers slide over the delicate links in the chain and down into the soft chest hair as you turn your head to find he and Bucky locked in one hell of a kiss for so early in the day. It must have been their movement or the sound of their lips that woke you and pulled you from the doom of your fatal fall.

Dreams are so strange…

Your heart flutters when Helmut lays his hand over yours pressing it tight to his chest. “Good morning love birds.” You snicker and watch Bucky pull away from Zemo looking a little embarrassed. He does pause to kiss your cheek however before getting out of bed with a long stretch.

“So where the hell are we anyway?” He asks going to the balcony door, looking out at the passing waves. “Feels like nowhere.”

Zemo is looking down at you, stroking your profile, kissing your nose. “We should be well within the middle of it actually.” He answers, eyes still fixed on you.

“Perfect” You say softly letting him pull you so close that he blocks out the light as your lips meet.

“Breakfast is ready sir,” Oeznik calls from outside the bedroom door.

Zemo grumbles at the interruption but you’re starving. “What? I’m not going anywhere” You huff turning away, trying to escape. “You just said so yourself. I've got no place to go.”

“All by design” He smiles and lets you get up, giving your ass a smack as you go. Bucky is watching from the doorway and laughs at your yelp-hop-rub combination.

Swearing under your breath you go over to the closet, grab your silk robe and pull it on over your shorts and tank top, yawning as you drag your feet over to Bucky. You pat his stomach, kissing him quickly. “Hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Lets go up.” You say tugging at him as Zemo gets up and puts on his own robe across the room. It’s not the thick one you liked from before the raft, but silk like yours— Tom Ford if memory serves— god his influence is strong. How the hell do you remember this stuff?

You watch him scratch at the back of his messy nest of hair like he always does in the mornings, somehow looking both sexy and adorable, alternating between the two with the ease of flicking a light switch. You can only smile at the enigma that is Helmut Zemo and pull Bucky away from the doors.

The three of you leave the room shuffling along, making your way down the hall to the den. Zemo trails you and Bucky accepting a small espresso from Oeznik as he watches the way you and your Sergeant interact. Neither you nor Bucky are necessarily morning people and though it’s nearly ten, you’re both somewhat irritable now that you’re actually moving around and slightly hungover from yesterdays sangrias as you make your way up to the top deck where breakfast will be served.

The sun is so bright you huff about not being able to find your sunglasses and Bucky accuses you of being a diva. The only appropriate reaction is to give him a shove.

Zemo snorts a laugh at your near sibling like banter which you’d established after so many months together, but once you find your glasses on the bar counter and get a fresh cup of coffee and a bloody Mary chaser in your body you’re feeling like a new woman ready to conquer the day… a day spent doing nothing really.

It’s all so casually decadent that it’s nearly sinful. Whats the one? The sin that doesn’t sound as good as lust but feels better after all that fornicating you’ve been doing— Sloth? Yes, you think reaching for what’s left of your blood Mary from the lounge chair, the ultimate of all the sins. Thou shalt not be a lazy ass sloth all day on your yacht.

Cheers.

You read on the deck for a while, play a few rounds of shuffle board with Bucky by the pool and attempt to best Zemo at chess in the den.

Lunch is wonderful, and you think you will need to meet this mystery chef at some point before the trip is over followed by a nap on the bedroom balcony.

When you wake up in the very late afternoon you venture down the hall with your book and unexpectedly find the men in your life moaning on the floor of the den in a tangle of beautifully tanned arms and legs. So you very quietly slip past, feeling a flush rise up your neck to your cheeks highlighting your wide but tight lipped smile.

You stay above decks giving them privacy feeling only the slightest twinge of jealousy. Not because you think you’ve been excluded but because you could use another session like last night.

A shiver runs deep in your belly thinking of the way Helmut brought you to climax, but you’re still more than happy to give them time alone. After all, you’ve had the Baron to yourself for far longer than Bucky.

You sink down onto the upper deck sofa, the image of them entwined, the sounds of their heavy breathing and Bucky’s near innocent moans enough to make you consider touching yourself but you wait, letting the urge build, one of them if not both will take care of you later.

So when Bucky comes up and finds you with a funny look on his face you’re completely confused. “Whats wrong?” You ask putting your book down.

He’s poured a drink and sits down beside you on the couch.

“I don’t know if I can do it.” He says shaking his head tossing back the bourbon.

“Do what?” You have an idea but you thought for sure he’d be eager to try, at least it looked like they were well on their way to his first time.

“Letting him control me, I’ve never had someone tell me no. Not like this.”

“Oh” You smile. It’s the no sex. The lack of it is a cruel form of control but the end results are glorious, if he could just be patient enough. “He won’t let you come?” You ask a little more patronizing than you’d intended.

“No!” Bucky whines taking his cue from you and you stifle your laughter. He’s so cute, even in the throws of his sexual agony. “And it’s making me crazy. I mean I’m already crazy but this is different.” He looks around and leans closer to you. “If you were to so much as look at my cock right now, I’d be done.” He says under his breath.

You let go and laugh rolling your eyes. Dramatics seem to come as naturally as submission to him. “That’s against the rules.” You warn eyeing him sidelong and attempting to go back to your book.

“I can’t take it. Fuck the rules.” He says again pulling the paperback from your hand.

You wave your finger in his face. “James. You’re not allowed.” You say playfully.

“Please.” He begs running his finger down your cheek, brushing your neck and gliding along your clavicle where he knows you’re sensitive.

“I can’t!” You lean away a little surprised by his attempt.

“He won’t know!”

You shake your head “I know but…” You try not to smile.

“I can’t take it.” He insists leaning in to kiss you. “I promise; it won’t take long.”

You give in and laugh sensing his desperation as you kiss. He does feel tense. The muscles of his arm and shoulder are wound tight as a chord. You smile against his lips letting him ease you down onto the couch, your book dropping to the floor as he moans, sliding his hand down your thigh, pushing your knee up and his own hips forward letting you feel what you’re fairly certain is the most rock solid hard on you’ve ever had pressed to your body. You whisper his name as his lips find their way to your neck and his hand slides between you to free himself from those amazing shorts.

“Shame, I had every intention of making your patience worth the effort. But you do love to prolong your torment, don’t you soldat.”

You gasp and Bucky hangs his head as Zemo comes sauntering over. Your laughter is a mix of nerves and feeling like you’ve been caught sneaking around with a boy like a damn teenager. It’s been years since you’ve felt a rush like this. Leave it to the Baron to stir that old excitement again.

“Don’t move” Zemo orders, pointing a finger in your face. You freeze, legs open where Bucky was, your arms tight at your sides. “Sit” He growls at Bucky who obeys begrudgingly as he slides back onto the couch.

Very quickly Zemo shoves your legs closed and grabs you by the arm pulling you up to standing. You lean away as he shakes his head keeping you close, his hold so tight you wince “I thought you knew better by now” He scolds you sounding disappointed.

“I told him not too?” You try looking as innocent as possible. You truly had no intentions of fucking him, but maybe a quick hand job?

There is a flicker of excitement in Zemo’s eyes. It's been so long since you’ve given him a reason to really go for it and you hold in your smile because you’re meant to be sad and hang your head. “I’m sorry Baron.”

He ignores your attempts to apologize and pulls you over so that you’re standing in front of Bucky. He looks you both over for a moment thinking and then smiles. You don’t know if you love or hate to see him looking so pleased. Nothing “good” ever comes of that smile.

“Look James.” He says, waiting until Bucky raises his head. “I want you to see what listening to your eager cock and not my rules get gets you— and her.” He tells Bucky before giving you his undivided attention.

Zemo turns your back to Bucky and you feel his hand between your shoulder blades pushing just a little. You bend at the waist, not all the way, just enough to make sure Bucky knows where his attention should be.

This flouncy little designer sun dress you’ve changed into after your nap only helps direct his gaze as Zemo drags the fabric up slowly so that the reveal of your ass is yet another way to torment him all on its own and you give yourself over to the Baron and wonder how bad this will be.

“Pull them down.” He tells you, his hand smoothing over your simple lace panties. His voice is not so angry as it was when he found the two of you, but every bit as firm, and you glance up at him as you hook your thumbs into the waist band. He nods and you quickly obey, pulling your underwear over the curve of your hips and ass and swear you hear Bucky groan when you bend to pull them from your ankles letting him see the diamond shape of your pussy from behind for just a second, your smile hidden from view.

When you stand again, Zemo offers his forearm. You rest your stomach against him, your hand gripping his shirt, the other you will have to try very hard not to cover your backside with because you know that the breeze will be the last nice thing that you feel.

He tosses your dress back up holding you, adjusting the way he stands just a little so that you are safe but immobile.

“Count them off; to five.” He says leaning just a bit closer. The tone in his voice is confident. Zemo knows that you’re well aware of what this means.

“Yes Baron.” You say exhaling, trying to prepare, but five? Fuck. He does not intend on holding back. If he was being playful he would give you ten or more, but five? He knows you won’t be able to take more that that.

You dig your fingers into his forearm and hold your breath.

The first strike makes you cry out.

The way Zemo can raise his hand and bring it down on your ass is unrivaled. He doesn’t mess around. There is no teasing, no playing, no cute little taps to warm you up. Just instant punishment.

“One.”

Your voice shakes and the rousing heat of adrenaline spreads through your arms and legs.

Again he lifts his hand and brings it down quickly with a stinging force that sends shock waves through your body. Your cry is weaker this time, trailing longer.

“Two.”

You pull his shirt tighter into your fist, your cheeks are on fire already when you feel the air stir as his hand rises again. You wonder if Bucky is watching, you wonder if he see’s how your thighs flex and your flesh shakes when the Baron strikes you.

You close your eyes and draw in your bottom lip trying not to moan, but you arch your back and your hips begin to circle ever so slightly with the anticipation of the next smack. You’re practically whimpering as you offer up your backside for more.

Zemo can feel the light vibration of pleasure sounding in your chest and his laughter is a low, very amused rumble as he raises his hand just a little higher this time.

The next smack lands and you toss your head back with a gasp. You would have gone to your knees if he wasn’t strong enough to hold you up. “Three” You whisper but you don’t move. The air brushes your pussy, wet in spite of your reddening skin.

“Don’t look away.” Zemo says.

There is the answer to your previous question. Bucky likes it, but it’s not always easy for him to watch.

“James!” Zemo snaps and waits. Bucky must be looking again because you feel the Baron move.

The fourth strike comes and you steady yourself knowing you can take it, wanting it, loving it as much as your feel your legs shaking. “Four”

You’re breathing hard, as you anticipate the final blow, desperate for it to be over but sorry for it to end. You rest against him for just a second feeling both safe in his hold and powerless to his dominance.

When the last of your punishment lands you hang your head, rounding your spine unable to offer yourself anymore. You can not pretend and this is why he’s given you so few.

Letting your hips drop as your body shudders and a single tear falls, you whisper, “Five” And only Helmut hears you say it.

Very gently he pulls your dress down, the soft cotton is cool over your burning skin and he turns you around to face him.

He brushes the tear from your cheek, holding you in such a way that you can go limp in his arms. “It wasn’t that bad, you’re just out of practice.” He says smiling at you knowing it wasn’t kind either.

You’d love for him to know just once. Maybe let Bucky give him a slap across the ass to make it fair. But when you look at him the thought is all wrong if not hilarious and you just shrug a little and hang your head again, resting on his chest.

“No breaking rules.” He scolds affectionately, “Even if you’re only trying to help. Understood?”

“Yes Baron.” Your voice is very small.

He gives a nod, kisses your forehead and looks over his shoulder at James. “So, is this what you wanted?”

“No.”

“No… no I don’t think it is.” He agrees. “But I understand. She’s damn near impossible to resist still you must learn to control yourself. Apparently I’ve not made that clear. Perhaps a more direct approach.”

You both look at him wide eyed. What’s more direct than this you think not even close to recovered from your spanking.

“Both of you, go down to our bedroom.” He says as though nothing has ever been more obvious “Take off your clothes. Wait for me on the bed.”

You look at Bucky. He looks at you.

“You fucked up,” You mouth to him.

Bucky just gets up and pushes past you both.

“I suppose you could say I’ve had to get creative with my plans for you. I know that pain is something you can’t respond to in ways that she can.” Zemo says, smiling as he glances down at Bucky and then over his shoulder at you on your knees behind him. “Have you finished?”

You look up from what you’re doing, hoping it’s right. “Yes, I think so?”

He comes around to look at the rope binding Bucky’s wrists. It’s just for show to heighten the experience. Of course Bucky could break free if he wanted to— his strength is no match for a few rough fibers— but this is a training of the mind as well as the body. “You see, pleasure can be just as awful.” Zemo says, his voice making you shiver as he checks your work, tugging and tightening the rope a little more.

Leaning in close, he strokes Bucky’s jaw, his finger reaching to trace the spine of his ear and you smile when the hairs on Bucky’s right arm raise and Zemo loses the air of control for a second simply becoming the man who cares for the other deeply. “The irony of tying you to a chair to satisfy you is not lost on me, based on what I know of your past. But if you can endure it, I promise it will be nothing like the pain you’ve known. I could never hurt you in that way. Still, if at any time this is too much, if it triggers memories that change it from what it’s meant to be, please— James— say the word, your word and it stops.”

Bucky nods. “I will” He says softly.

“Nothing now?” Zemo asks genuinely wanting to know. Bucky shakes his head. “No, nothing.”

Zemo gives a confident nod and kisses the back of Bucky’s head patting his cheek a little harder than he needs too. “I only want to make you feel good— eventually.” He teases and Bucky rolls his eyes with a small laugh.

Pleased, Zemo pushes up and goes to sit in the soft chair across the room, notably more comfortable than the one Bucky has been placed in. Although the more obvious differences being, Zemo is not bound, Zemo is not naked, and Zemo has not been so gently stroked and toyed with that he’s been left with a perfectly vulnerable erection like Bucky has.

You’d had a hard time focusing on the ropes as the Baron made it happen. The way he’d taken Bucky in hand, winding down the length of his sex was in a word, mesmerizing. And when Bucky made that sound, that soft, pleading sound and Zemo stopped — his brow raised with such smug confidence— you wondered who would break first, you or Bucky. He’d quickly brought his hand up with one last tease, his fingers swirling around the curving head of Bucky’s member only to let go as though he’d lost interest.

Bucky’s groan was deep. He was beyond frustrated, but instead of breaking out of his restrains and fucking one of the two of you, he sat there just waiting to be punished for breaking rules in the first place.

He watches as you come and kneel before him, naked yourself as you’ve been told to be. He actually looks slightly scared but mostly curious. His erection is as always flawlessly pretty, arching up and back, smooth while perfectly veined and so inciting.

You only know what it is you’re meant to do to him because you’ve had it done to you before. You figure it’s very similar, only the mechanics are different because his is a man. If Zemo doesn’t approve, he’ll tell you.

The Baron in charge picks up his drink, the ice rattling as he takes a sip and lets the scene settle in his sights for a moment. He likes to see the two of you together, his two helpless things— his to play with and his to love.

“Begin.”

Bucky inhales, but you smile at him to show that it won’t hurt— it’ll just drive him mad.

First you take the little bottle of body oil from the floor and put some in your hands rubbing them together.

He raises his brow watching you and starts to relax thinking he might understand now. You take him in hand and start to stroke, you are after all very good at this. Over and over again, up and down his long, thick shaft, curving your hand over the head of his cock until he moans and rolls his eyes shut. When he opens them he does seem a bit confused by this sudden attention and he flashes a smile because it feels so good. If this is all that’s been planned, he could get used to this sort of punishment.

The room is quiet, there’s nothing but the soft hum of the ship, his breathing and the wonderfully obscene sound of the oil you’re using against his skin as you work faster…

It’s not long before you feel him stiffen and his breath grows quicker, his thighs flex, his hips raise an inch and he starts to moan softly, a staccato sound of pleasure that makes even your heart beat faster. He’s been waiting and suffering through so much you can feel the joy of release seeping into every inch of his body.

“You feel it happening?” Zemo asks softly. “The start, the pressure mounting? You see, she is very good. And she will get you there James, every time— right to the edge”

You yank your hand away and he jerks forward mouth open cock twitching with the start of an orgasm he will not have.

“To the edge” Zemo chuckles. “A cruel punishment for a greedy man who must learn to wait.”

Bucky quickly lifts his head, the realization flashing in his eyes as his chest rises and falls. He looks down at you.

You smile and reach for him again.

“Please” He begs breathless.

“Not yet” Zemo says leaning forward a bit in his seat, the drink in his hand all but forgotten. You notice the ice has long since melted as you wait for permission, watching over your shoulder.

He gives you a nod and you turn back to Bucky.

Wrapping your hand around him again, you feel him so solid he’s like stone. His thighs are flexed, his hips raise up in the chair as you begin to jerk your hand up and down and the light reflecting off the oil makes you both shine like gold.

He moans and you watch the muscles of his abs flex as he feels the orgasm coming on, helpless to it and your skilled hand.

“I’m going to come.” He groans sounding sorry for and drops his hips.

“No, you won’t. I did not say that you can” Zemo says like the villain behind you.

“I can’t it hold back” Bucky pants, his voice is thin he sounds like he very well might lose control and you feel him pulse in your palm. You twist your hand around sliding it down to the base thinking it might help hold him off if your focus is less near the collection of nerve endings.

Zemo stands and comes to you, tapping your shoulder. You let him go with a quick up and down and Bucky’s disappointment is the saddest thing you’ve ever heard.

When Zemo looks down at the wonderfully pitiful sight, Bucky shuts his eyes. “Yellow.” He whispers. “Please, yellow.”

“All right.” Zemo says kindly and gives his head a rub. “Rest”

“Thank you.” Bucky manages.

You stand not caring what Zemo says and kiss Bucky’s cheek.

“You okay?” You ask, your hand on his shoulder, lifting his chin to look at his face.

“Please… don’t, don’t touch me for a minute?” He asks and you give an embarrassed laugh understanding his request. You’re not exactly innocent in his torment.

“Of course I’m sorry I…” Your sentence is cut off.

Zemo has you by the back of your arms and pulls you tight against him. “You, not her.”

Bucky sighs dropping his head.

“I’m still confused. Is, this what you wanted?” He asks feigning ignorance though with you naked its clear what Zemo means.

Bucky won’t look.

“Answer me.”

“No, I mean— yes Baron.” He concedes.

You feel Zemo’s laugh along your neck. “You wouldn’t have been fast enough to finish before I found you. Well, maybe you, but not her. Tell me, how quickly can you make her come?”

“What?”

“How quickly?”

You shut your eyes as soon as you realize where this is going.

“I don’t know. I mean she always got there.” Bucky says sounding slightly self conscious.

Zemo smiles. “Two minutes. I can finish her off in just two.”

“Ha!” Bucky doesn’t believe him, who would.

Oh Bucky…

“Tell him it’s true.” Zemo leans towards you.

You nod glancing at them both. “He does this… thing.” You tell Bucky. “He works my spot and my clit at the same time and I come. Fast.” You say simply and totally helpless to it.

“It’s not always the most fun, rarely my first choice; but great when we’re in a hurry.” He shrugs and takes a knee before you even realize that he has. “Open your legs.” He says looking up at you.

Your eyes go wide, surprised to see him down and waiting with Bucky watching. Still, you part your thighs and wisely lay your hands on his shoulders knowing you won’t be able to stay upright without the support.

“This? Right James? This warm, tight, safe place? This is what you wanted?” Zemo asks, teasing Bucky with the way he slides his fingers between your velvet soft folds. You feel him turn his hand and his finger circles your entrance. He sighs and takes hold of your hip to keep you in place.

Two fingers slip inside and you hiss against the stretch, biting your lip as your head lolls to the side. You try to hold in the loudest of your noise but it’s hopeless.

The Baron starts to do his thing and you wonder if you might be able to deny him the pleasure of making you come in front of Bucky again, but just like always you end up gripping his shoulders to keep from falling as he does a perfect come hither with his two fingers as his thumb rubs with the perfect amount of pressure on your throbbing clitoris. He can’t resist and licks your peak for good measure until you hold your breath as he sucks sloppily and until you come on his hand and just as quickly as always. Your wild moaning is nearly feral but you could not care less. It makes you smile to hear him laugh softly so pleased with himself and you and your eyes shut as you pant, catching your breath.

Lowering your head, your eyes only half open, you both look over at Bucky who is glaring at the Baron.

“James.”

“Yes.”

“Stop breaking the rules.”

“Yes Baron.” He says giving in completely.

Zemo smiles and slowly pulls his fingers free from you, raising his hand just enough to show them so wet and sticky and glistening. He kisses your belly and looks up at you. “Go lie down.” He says rubbing your stomach, smoothing his hand over your soft tuft of hair. You’re still floating as you do, happy to go and rest and leave them to it.

“Would you like to come now?” You hear Zemo ask Bucky as he gets up and goes around the chair.

“Please.” Bucky whispers watching you sink down onto the bed on your side.

“I can finish you off just as quickly as I did her.”

“Yes. Please.” He begs through clenched teeth rising up again as if presenting himself to be relieved, the steady rush of blood to his lower half turning his cock a darker shade of desperate as it rises up like a tower ready to fall. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” He pants “I’m sorry I tried to fuck her. I’m sorry for breaking your rules. And I will do anything, please just… fuck. Please!”

Helmut leans down hushing him, pressing his face close to Bucky’s, grabbing him around the chest as his left hand comes reaching over his stomach promising an end to the day’s long torment.

He grips the soldiers gorgeous, endlessly taunted dick; your natural lubricant replacing the oil to help glide his fingers along.

When Zemo starts to work Bucky you can see through the look on his face that this is all he’s wanted to do for so long and you are reminded that this is as much the Baron’s discipline as it is yours— as it is Bucky’s.

Bucky makes a deep sound that gets your attention. His body flexes and you think he looks like a bomb ready to blow. A sexy, finely muscled, lightly tanned bomb with a look of pained excitement as his legs open and his jaw flexes.

“Are you mine James?” Zemo asks, his lips brushing his ear,

“Yes” He says pitifully raising his hips, thrusting once into the Baron’s hand just as Zemo lets go. A deep frown fixes between Bucky’s brows as he waits until Zemo grabs again and starts to perfectly stroke him.

Bucky’s mouth opens, his eyes fix on the incredibly hypnotic rhythm of Zemo’s hand.

“You’ve always been mine haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Bucky nearly shouts, his brows turned down with the exquisite anguish of the nearing release.

“Say it again,” Zemo demands, his right arm tight around Bucky, his eyes shut relishing in the control and the love, you listen to the wet rhythm as it gets faster.

“Yes.”

“Say it!”

“I’ve always been yours” Bucky moans loudly and glances over at you unable to keep your hand away from your pussy selfishly wanting to come again.

“Once more.” Helmut says opening his eyes. The muscle of his arm is flexed beautifully as he pounds.

Bucky moans so similarly to you that Helmut just smiles. He knows, he understands the hold he has over you both.

“I’m yours” Bucky manages and the Baron focuses his movement as if pulling the orgasm from Bucky’s body willing it to come forward. He jerks his hand up and away…but this time he’s finished the job.

He holds Bucky as the man cries out, his hips rising high this time, his cock pulsing with a tight up and down as he finally —god, finally— gives a high pitched groan with that first explosive release of come that shoots past his stomach and onto his own chest followed by equally satisfying spasms that send milky droplets flying free into the air and across his stomach onto Zemo’s arms; Bucky’s groaning and gasping near tears with the absolute exhaustion and relief of his well deserved climax, his moans and gasps of surprise so raw and unaffected.

By the time he lowers back down to the chair unable to do much more than sit there, limp and panting with his eyes closed, Helmut is holding him, caring nothing for the mess. He seems to love the sight of the pearlescent results of Bucky’s incredible orgasm as much as you do.

Smiling as he strokes Bucky’s hair, kissing his temple, he says with a tone only Helmut Zemo could manage at a moment like this, “You see. When you listen to me, I make it worth every second, every moment of torment. Yes?”

Bucky nods but it’s weak.

Zemo chuckles softly, kisses him again and reaches down easily undoing the ropes.

“Look at you both.” He says trying to sound angry, as if it’s not all his fault. “You can’t come to dinner like this. I’ll run a bath.”

He leaves Bucky and comes to the bed bending over you, his hand so sticky from the combination is heavy on your belly as he kisses your lips. “Hows your ass?” He asks.

“Still on fire.” You say and he winks as he rises.

“Good."

“You’re pretty quiet over there.” Bucky says splashing you from across the large tub. You’ve both been in for a while now after Zemo took a quick shower and left you alone letting you know he’d be up waiting at the dinner table.

Roused from your daydream but still not sure you want to talk about why you’re so quiet, you glance over and shrug.

“Whats wrong? You’re not mad about what happened are you?” Bucky asks sliding a little closer. The tub is surprisingly big in an already large bathroom and yet again you wonder how you’ll return to real life when this all ends.

“What happened?” You ask him.

“Getting you in trouble? He really put a shine on your backside.” Bucky says, a smile breaking through any attempt at being serious.

You sit up surprised to hear that’s what he thinks it could be. “Ha! No. Not at all. That was amazing… god” You tip your head back, the image of Bucky, naked and tired to a chair with Zemo holding him and whispering in his ear will be seared into your mind for life. “I didn’t know you could come that much.” You say, slowly looking back down at him,trying not to giggle.

“Neither did I.” He says practically blushing before he grins. “Same goes for you.” He tosses right back.

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Okay well we both know he’s capable of turning us into sex crazed idiots apparently.” You say with a cheeky grin and Bucky laughs shaking his head with a sigh.

“What is it? Some Sokovian spell or something, magic from the old world?” Bucky says with a thick accent wiggling his wet soapy fingers in the air.

Laughing you scrunch your nose. “Nah, that’s all him. Just wait until you’ve been around him long enough to get to the good stuff.”

“The good stuff!” He looks shocked “Well what the hell is all this!”

“This is amazing, but it not… well it’s not him. Theres so much more than sex. Watching tv. Eating dinner in bed. Naps— once he read to me.” You say with a sigh and the room goes silent as you both slip into a day dream laced with Helmuts beautiful voice surrounding you as he reads the classics on a warm summer night…

“You think he sits around daydreaming about us like this?” Bucky asks with a frown. “I worry sometimes.”

“Really?” You ask looking into his big blue eyes. Hundred years old and still so sweet. “Of course he does. Bucky, he wouldn’t have done any of this if he didn’t spend as much time thinking of us as we do him. Don’t be so naive”

He nods looking out the window and you know he’s just out of practice. He probably had a swarm of girls around him back when his life was normal. Maybe even a secret guy. But how long ago had that been. And since he’d been released from the words, his only real time spent with anyone has been with the two of you. For a moment you wonder if that’s fair. He should go out on dates or something, but then again you did try to get him on some apps. He hated them all. Women swiped right like it was their job of course, but he thought it was strange and wanted to meet them the old fashioned way but when he did he could only focus on what he didn’t like and just compared them to you— and Zemo.

“Hey.” You get his attention again. “I mean it, I’m really not upset about anything that happened earlier. Thanks for being such a rule breaker.” You say with a wink.

“No problem” He laughs as if that was his intention. Bucky’s expression softens as he sits back, the water rocking under the bubbles.

Bubbles. Talk about a diva, is anyone is on this big ass boat it’s him. Two adults having a bath drawn from them; why not throw in the bubbles. You roll your eyes ignoring the way your chest gets tight with the feel of being so adored and loving every second of his over the top ways and focus on Bucky who looks stunning in the bath— your heart sinking just a little.

“So what is it?” He asks unaware of your many distractions.

You look back to the window staring up at the sky for a while. “I’m just… sad.” You say giving in to the truth “I mean, I’m thrilled being here. But I’ve had this idea that I could talk you into staying with us. I keep imagining this life with you and Helmut and I know it can’t happen for so many reasons but I’m stubborn and spoiled. I truly hate not getting my way. So I keep thinking, maybe.”

He goes quiet now understanding, and then you feel his hand on your knee under the water. “I know. I’ve thought about it too. Maybe a little too much. Definitely enough that I’ve almost convinced myself it could work, but no. It just wouldn’t.”

You press your lips hesitant to say in case you might offend him but decide to just go for it. “And you’re sure it’s not just that you miss it? Saving the world and everything? I mean, I can see how it would be appealing— from controlled killer to stoic hero.” You tease gently, wiggling your brows up and down until he laughs a little, probably more annoyed than you’d like, and whatever facade you’d put on crumbles. The look of heartbreak turns your brows down, twisting your face with the agony of losing him. He looks surprised to see you so broken about it and finds your hand through the water.

“Hey hey hey.” He pulls but you’re not in the mood to be comforted. Bucky hates when you don’t let him coddle you, but he knows better than to fight it so he simply answers your question. “Yes.Well. No I mean, it’s nice. But honestly, if you really want to know, I could get used to being domesticated.” He shrugs letting go of your hand as he looks towards the shower where Zemo was and you swallow the tears that have been overpowered by your intrigue.

Managing a laugh at his expense you poke his arm on the rim of the tub. “Really? By me or Helmut?” You ask and swear you see him blush.

“You’ve already proven you can turn me into a homebody, and happy to be there, so —Maybe both?” He shrugs and there is such a tone of possibility in his statement that you’re instantly transported into a world in which the three of you are living happily. Maybe in this Mediterranean paradise, you’ve just come home from the market with ingredients for a dinner that Bucky has asked you to pick up and you help him cook while music blasts in your small but bright kitchen and you dance around until the house smells delicious and you set the table, flirting and toying with one another until everything looks beautiful before rushing to sit just as your Baron comes through the door…

Even here and now sitting in the tub with you, Bucky looks like the sweetest house husband glowing a soft gold in the light of the sun. What you wouldn’t give to be his forever. His his and hers, you think and your chin quivers with the threat of happy miserable tears.

Bucky isn’t oblivious to your hurting but he’s trying to keep strong, he can’t give in to you, not this time. “We’ll never know if I stick around.” He says and your little vision fades “I think I’ve got one visit, maybe two in me before someone notices an avenger hanging around their town and his cover is blown. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. I’d never forgive myself."

“I know.” You say and only realize that your head is down when his hand, which is covered in white bubbles reaches to lift your chin.

“Hey, come one. None of that. We’ve only got a little bit of time. I just want to make the most of it. Give me enough good memories to finally forget about whats left of the bad.”

You smile and nod, blowing the bubbles away before they go up your nose. “Fine.” You sigh and look back out the window hugging your knees. “Buck, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He says only cringing a little when you call him Buck.

“Do you think you might ever love him?”

Bucky freezes. He looks— odd. Uncomfortable. Exposed? You realize very quickly that he already does, even if he’s not aware of it and decide not to push him

“It’s okay. I was just curious.” You say and try to calm him with your smile “We come from very different worlds. Letting myself love a man like Helmut Zemo took little to no effort for me, for you— I know why it might come as a shock. But I think you’ll find, when you do admit it to yourself and to him, he might just surprise you with how quickly he says it back.”

#zemo x reader #bucky barns x you #winterbaron #winterbaron x you #buckybarnes/zemo #tfatws #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #winterbaron fic #baron helmut zemo #zemo #self insert #yacht life #these two #i love them so much #also ouch

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alienspawnwrites · 4 years

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Laying Hands: Chapter 7

Read on AO3

Getting a Read

Althea fielded as many questions as she could handle that evening before Steve Rogers mercifully suggested she get some rest. The hushed conversation that started behind her before she had even left the room did not escape her notice. She wrung her hands as she waited for the elevator to arrive, heedless of the drying blood that still coated her left hand. As far as reactions, she reasoned with herself, that had gone just about as well as could be hoped. Natasha, who until now had barely said three words to Althea, had referred to her as “one of them”. That was an encouraging sign, to say the least.

It wasn’t until she had entered the elevator and turned around to push the number for her floor that she noticed Loki standing beside her. She jumped slightly as she caught sight of him in her peripheral vision, her hand flying to her chest. He turned his head to look at her, holding her startled gaze for a moment before he sighed and reached past her to hit the button for the dormitory floor. He smoothly returned to his statuesque posture, staring straight ahead, hands clasped behind his back.

When Althea had composed herself, she addressed him. “I thought you’d be with the rest of them, trying to decide what to do with me,” she said.

“My opinion on this or any other matter is neither welcomed nor regarded,” he replied, doing his best to sound entirely disinterested. Even so, Althea could hear the frustration in his voice.

She thought on his answer a moment before pressing on. “And what is it?”, she asked. “You’re opinion on the matter… on me?”, she added.

The doors opened and Loki stepped out, briskly making his way down the hallway. Althea hurried to keep up with his long strides, realizing for the first time that the two of them probably slept in relatively close quarters.

“I don’t think you are telling the whole truth. Whether it is a conscious omission or otherwise I’m not certain,” he explained, shooting her a sidelong glance as he continued down the hall. “Either way, I intend to find out.”

“What do you mean?”

He stopped suddenly and faced her, his expression serious. “Mortals do not simply possess abilities. The few that don’t rely on cheap tools and tricks are made. Rogers was engineered in a lab. Banner is the side effect of an experimental accident. Only gods possess power from birth, and you are clearly no god. So the question remains,” he leaned in until his face was mere inches from Althea’s, his eyes dark and suspicious, “what are you? Another manipulation… or something else?”

Althea balked and averted her eyes. If only Loki knew how many times she had asked herself that exact question. Hydra hadn’t created her, she knew that much. If they had, they wouldn’t have sliced and diced her for over a decade looking for answers. If it had been genetic, then either her mom or dad would have survived the car crash. Every possibility eliminated left a dozen more questions in its wake. She had no answers, not for Loki, not for the Avengers, not even for herself.

Loki hummed, drawing himself back to his full height, his eyes still locked on Althea. “Perhaps you really don’t know. No matter, that just makes things more interesting.” He turned and reached for the door behind him.

Althea blinked and turned around to see her own door behind her. So Loki’s room had been directly across the hall this whole time. The idea of being in such close proximity to the god of mischief while she slept filled her with apprehension laced with another, stranger feeling she couldn’t name. She heard him open the door and spun back towards him, determined to end their conversation on better footing.

“So does that mean you’re going to stop avoiding me? I mean, you know, if you’re going to figure me out or whatever you’ll probably have to be, well, around me now and then.”

He paused in the threshold but didn’t turn around. “Does that scare you? The idea of spending time with me?”

“I’m not the one who runs away any time we’re in the same room,” she replied, trying to diffuse the situation with some humor.

Loki’s head snapped to the side, revealing his profile to Althea. For a moment he looked as though he would chew her out, but instead, he cracked a small smile. “Not yet,” was all he said before he slipped into the dark room, the door clicking shut quietly behind him.

Althea stood alone in the hallway, still looking at Loki’s door as she pondered over their interaction. She remembered the way he had materialized a dagger out of thin air not an hour ago, the remarkable stealth he had demonstrated on many occasions, not to mention he was apparently capable of holding his own against his brother in combat. Loki did not flaunt his power, but he was no less intimidating for his discretion. If he wanted to hurt her, he was certainly more than capable of doing so. Althea knew she should be frightened, and a small part of her was, but Loki was not alone in his curiosity. She wanted to know more about the misanthropic loner, just as he wanted to get to the bottom of her.

She turned and entered her own room, thoughts of her past as well as the unknown future before her keeping her awake long into the night.

The rising sun roused Althea from a restless sleep, and soon she made her way upstairs to the kitchen. Unlike Steve, she had managed to figure out the complex coffee maker, and she set about preparing herself a cup. Warm mug in hand, she continued up to the lounge. In Althea’s mind, nothing she knew of beat the bird’s eye view of Manhattan as it stirred to life in the early hours. She often woke up early to enjoy the display over her cup of coffee from the window seats in the lounge, enjoying the quiet and comfortable quiet before the rest of the tower woke.

To her surprise, the room was occupied this morning. Looking around as she entered, she saw that nearly every member of the Avengers was present. Steve, Tony and Clint stood in a circle, engaged in what looked to be a heated discussion. Bruce stood a few paces off, thoroughly engrossed in his bagel. Beside him, Thor was eating as well, the counter beside him littered with silver Pop-Tart wrappers.

“Tell me you didn’t spend all night up here,” Althea sighed, speaking to no one in particular.

Tony broke away from his conversation to address her. “Early meeting. Bureaucrats just love dragging people out of bed.”

“Now that we know more about your situation, it’s time to fill in SHIELD,” Steve clarified. “Nat’s gone ahead to brief Fury. They’re expecting us…” he glanced down at his watch, “soon. We should get moving.” He gestured to the rest, who gathered themselves and started out towards the helipad.

“Are they going to take me away?”, she asked, her unease making her voice waver.

“We just letting them know about you, not turning you over,” Steve reassured her. “As far as we’re concerned, you’re one of us now and you’re not going anywhere.”

“We’ll be back late,” Tony said. He paused at the door before turning to Thor, who was grabbing one last packet of Pop-Tarts for the road. “Uh, maybe you should stay back. What do you say, Bob the Builder; keep an eye on that brother of yours?”

“I still think you misjudge my brother. Besides, I believe Lady Thea has proven herself capable of handling Loki,” he turned to Althea. “But I will stay if it will put you at ease.”

“No, go. I’m fine,” she said. She could see Thor was looking forward to time outside the tower. “Really,” she added for Tony’s benefit.

He gave her a hard look before relenting. “Fine. But if he tries anything, you let us know.”

With that, he and Thor followed the rest out to the helipad and into the Quinjet. Settling into the window seat she watched them fly off. Once they were out of sight she located her book, still lying where she had abandoned it the day before and set it beside her. The city had already woken up, streams of people and cars flowing through the streets like a complex network of rivers. She watched them contentedly, the rhythm soothing her nerves.

After a time, Althea turned away from the window and started at Loki standing not an arm’s length away. Her eyes flew shut as she gathered herself. Just how long had he been standing there, looking at her? Her pulse returning to normal, she looked back to him. He looked down at her over his nose, eyes narrowed and arms crossed: the picture of annoyance. She might have been offended if she hadn’t realized “annoyed” was more of a default state than a distinct emotion for him.

Now that he had her attention, he spoke. “I wish you would find another spot to do your moping. This used to be my spot,” his tone perfectly matching his posture.

She dismissed his haughty attitude. “Well there’s plenty of room, don’t let me keep you from your moping spot.” She saw the ghost of a smirk flash across his face as she turned his own phrasing against him before his features returned to their usual aloof state.

“This is merely the most ideal spot to read. I prefer the natural light.” He uncrossed his arms, revealing the small hardcover book he held in one hand. The volume looked ancient, yellow, brittle pages bound in what appeared to be worn leather.

“So do I,” Thea said, picking up her own book from where it laid out of sight between her legs and the window.

Loki’s eyebrows twitched upwards as he gave her an appraising look.

“Go on then,” she gestured to the opposite side of the long padded window seat. “There’s plenty of room and sunlight for both of us. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be studying me or something?”

He scanned the length of the bench for a moment, looking from her to the empty space and back again, before letting out a sigh of resignation and sitting down. He mirrored her position, facing her with his back against the opposite wall, and immediately brought his book up, effectively blocking her from view.

“I prefer that side,” he muttered under his breath.

She ignored him and went about reading her own novel.

For a long time, they sat together in silence, Althea stealing the occasional glance in his direction. Loki seemed entirely engrossed in his reading, apparently foregoing his search for answers about her ability. He was reclined casually against the wall, one hand holding the book against a bent knee, the other leg extended forward across the length of the window seat. His free hand rested on his outstretched leg, coming up every so often to turn the page. A few strands of his dark hair had fallen in front of his face, but he ignored them completely, his eyes flying over the book at an impressive pace. His eyebrows were slightly drawn together in concentration, but he looked altogether more at ease than she had ever seen him.

Althea was suddenly struck by how attractive relaxation looked on him. It was a pleasant contrast to the intensity he had displayed the previous night or his dismissive attitude towards the rest of the Avengers. Everyone besides Thor seemed to be on edge around the “trickster god”, and his response to their unease oscillated between indignation and detachment. Even Thor, despite his obvious affection for his younger brother and good-natured ribbing, seemed to make Loki uncomfortable. Althea realized she had never seen an expression of true happiness on him, beside the occasional small, secret smirk. He might even look handsome with a genuine smile, she thought.

“Stop,” he interrupted her meandering thoughts without looking up. “You’re being utterly distracting.”

“What?” Althea tried to hide blush behind her own text, eyes quickly returning to the words but too flustered to actually read anything. She’d been staring, she realized in a wave of embarrassment, and he’d noticed.

He raised his eyes and leveled her with an exasperated look. “If you’re not actually going to read you could at least leave me alone. I don’t enjoy being gawked at.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she countered weakly. She searched for where she had left off on the page, determined to keep her eyes from wandering back to him for the rest of the afternoon.

Althea woke to her forehead pressed against the cool glass. She was slumped sideways against the window, and her neck ached as a result of the awkward position. She blinked rapidly, trying to chase away the lingering drowsiness. She didn’t remember falling asleep. Judging by the sun’s lowered position in the sky, she had been out for a couple of hours.

She sat up straight and attempted to stretch her stiff neck, closing her eyes as we rolled her head from side to side. When she opened them again, she noticed Loki, in the same position he’d been in when she drifted off. He was no longer reading. His book sat abandoned on the seat beside him. Instead, he was looking directly at her, studying her.

“You talk in your sleep,” he observed.

Altha felt her face grow hot under his unwavering gaze. He’d been watching her sleep. The idea made her incredibly self-conscious, and oddly, a little flattered. She wracked her brain for a response.

“Oh?”, was all she managed.

“Even in your sleep, you seem determined to be utterly disruptive.”

A mix of embarrassment and frustration deepened her blush. Loki’s unrelenting rudeness was getting on her nerves, she decided. She hadn’t done anything to merit his attitude towards her. If anything she’d been undeservedly friendly. He was free to be a bitter asshole to the rest of the team; that was their business, but whatever their history, she had nothing to do with it. He was the one determined to learn more about her; he could at least show a little If he wanted to distance himself from her, then he could walk away.

“No one’s forcing you to be in my company, you know,” she snapped at him. “It’s a big building, I’m sure you can find another window to sulk about.”

His eyes sparkled and the corners of his mouth shot up in a self-satisfied smirk. Clearly he was enjoying getting a rise out of her. “Ah, but as I said, this one is my favorite. Besides, I seem to remember you practically begging me to join you.” He gave her an amused, challenging look.

“I did not beg,” she argued. “And that was before I realized you’re committed to being a jerk every minute of every day. Maybe I would have told you to get lost if I’d had known how truly impossible you are to be around.” She gave him a hard look, and for the briefest second his expression shifted. Sadness? Resignation? It came and went too quickly for Althea to place it, replaced by his usual, amusement-tinged aloofness. Althea sighed. It was like he wanted her to dislike him, to push him away. In a wave of stubbornness, she decided not to let him succeed. He wanted to be difficult? Fine. She could be difficult too.

“But then again,” she sighed, cooling off, “the past few years have really lowered my bar for acceptable company.” She shot him a challenging grin of her own. “Comparatively you’re an absolute pleasure to be around.”

Loki was caught off guard. He had been called many things over the years, but “a pleasure” had never been one of them. For once, he was at a loss for words. Thea clocked his hesitation.

“Huh. So all it takes to get you to shut up is a little praise, is that it?”, she teased. “Maybe I’ll tell Tony and the others. We can all shower you with compliments whenever someone needs a break from your attitude.”

“Careful, mortal. I could snap every bone in your body without so much as breaking a sweat.” His tone was harsh, but the threat didn’t reach his eyes. They searched her face, a mixture of apprehension and bewilderment swimming in their blue-green depths.

Althea merely shrugged, letting out a humored huff as she turned her gaze to look back out the window. The sun was beginning to set, the innumerable windows of the Manhattan skyline reflecting and amplifying the last vivid orange rays of light before dusk. “I’ve had worse.”

Loki turned to admire the view as well. This was indeed his favorite spot to spend his time, particularly when the rest of the tower’s inhabitants were gone and he was left alone. It was the perfect place to post up and pass the day reading. There wasn’t much else for him to do when everyone else was gone and he was left to his own devices. As endlessly arrogant and aggravating as Stark was, he did have a fantastic array of literature for Loki to work through. Often though, Loki found himself simply admiring the city he had once tried so hard to destroy, filled with an unspoken relief that he had failed.

From the corner of his eye, he studied Althea’s face as she took in the view. It had been easy enough to come up with a reason to spend more time in her company. He was, after all, truly interested in her strange ability and its mysterious origins, but he couldn’t deny she had caught his attention long before he became aware of her healing.

She was the first human he’d met that hadn’t immediately treated him with disdain or outright hatred. She didn’t seem to know about his doomed attempt to wage war on her planet. He wondered what her reaction would be when she found out; when she learned of his past and his mistakes. Would she treat him like everyone else? Would she think him a monster as well? Of course she would, he reasoned. She would join the world in their hatred and distrust, kicking herself for ever giving a villain such as himself the time of day.

But for now, she didn’t know and she still looked at him with nothing more than curiosity and mild apprehension. He decided to allow himself to enjoy the small comfort it brought, even if he knew better than to trust it to last for any length of time.

#loki #loki fanfic #loki fic #loki (marvel)#loki x oc #loki x ofc #loki x original female character #slow burn #slow build #romance #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #MCU fic #mcu #angst

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mustdang-100 · 7 years

Text

Shifting Perspectives - Ch. 3

Reigen wakes. The plot thickens.

Summary: How many espers does it take to rescue one abducted conman?

Months after the events of the World Domination arc, Reigen disappears sometime between leaving the office and after-work plans. Serizawa finds himself the unwilling leader of a bunch of former Claw members and a couple of stubborn teenagers, determined to get Reigen back.

Read on AO3 Ch.1|Ch.2|Ch.3|Ch.4 Tumblr Ch.1|Ch.2|Ch.3 - below|Ch.4

Reigen crawled back to consciousness in fits and starts.

The indistinct murmur of unfamiliar voices was the first thing that registered in his bleary brain. He lived alone; waking to voices that weren’t the muffled yelling from the people above him or the screaming baby from two apartments down set his warning bells blaring. He forced his eyes open in confused alarm and clumsily tried to sit up.

One of the voices rose in agitation. Before he could focus on either the words or the blurred face coming towards him, he felt another needle prick. Unconsciousness rose again in a shadowy wave, smothering him back into silence and darkness.

The next time Reigen woke, it was to silence.

This time, half-memories and leftover sensations of warning prompted him to keep still as he slowly shook off the lingering haziness of the sedative. He kept his eyes closed and listened, ears straining, but everything remained silent; he could hear neither the urban murmur of traffic and people nor the calls of birds and insects he might expect from somewhere outside the city. After concentrating for a minute, he realized he was hearing what could be the hum of an air conditioner – or it could be just a ringing in his ears.

He lay still in the quiet space. No, that wasn’t right… he sat still; he’d been propped up on a chair, head thrown back to rest on top of the backrest. His mouth was open in what was probably a very unflattering expression. He was pretty sure he was drooling.

It was a hard chair. His hip and shoulder were sore, presumably from where he’d struck the ground falling on the concrete. His back hurt as well, crooked in an uncomfortable position. There was something hard and cold around both his wrists – handcuffs? What, were kidnappers using actual handcuffs now?

He considered continuing to play ‘unconscious victim’ – who knew what he might hear, what valuable pieces of information he might glean? He focused on staying in the exact same position, loose and relaxed.

The ache in his back intensified. He had to concentrate hard to keep his hands from moving even a centimeter. He noticed suddenly just how dry his throat was, and had to fight not to swallow to ease the raspy feeling. His nose itched.

Eh, fuck it.

Reigen opened his eyes and groaned as obnoxiously as he could.

“Ugh, damn, you couldn’t even have put me on a table or something?” He stretched his back as much as possible from his seated position. Metal clinked – yep, there were indeed handcuffs, a chain attached to each cuff and looped through a cleat on the table in front of him. The table, in turn, was fixed to the floor.

Hmm. Interesting. How many kidnappers had access to legit handcuffs?

“And did you really have to use a taser? And the sedative? You couldn’t have just asked me to ‘come along quietly, and no one needs to get hurt?’” Reigen continued his indignant rant, mind whirring as he took in the rest of the room.

Sadly, it seemed that he’d been putting on a show for nothing. The beige-colored room was empty of other people, and, except for the table and chair, was bare of furniture. A metal door was set into the wall at his left. He faced a large window, through which he could see a smaller, unlit room, though he thought he could vaguely discern the shapes of a second table and two chairs. There was something sitting on the other table that Reigen couldn’t quite make out, but the whole set-up presented a very distinctive vibe.

Some kind of… interrogation room? What the…

He examined his own room again, more carefully, and noticed something he hadn’t before: the pattern of darker shapes on the floor were actually large, sinuous symbols. He studied them carefully, something about the characters striking a chord in his memory that he couldn’t quite place. He followed the shapes, almost but not quite recognizable as letters, up from the floor to where they’d been carved, smaller, into the walls, up and up–

He blinked. A camera was mounted high up just under the ceiling, turned towards him, red light blinking steadily.

So maybe his waking up hadn’t gone unnoticed after all.

As if on cue, a light switched on in the adjacent room and two people moved into view on the other side of the window, presumably from a door out of Reigen’s line of sight.

The man who appeared first was short and weedy-looking, wearing a dark suit and tie and carrying a thick folder of papers. He surveyed Reigen with all the smug confidence of a cat with a mouse before sitting down in one of the chairs. He opened the folder and sifted through its contents, fastidiously arranging and re-arranging the stack. The delay was an obvious power-play, and Reigen decided to ignore him for now, turning his attention to the person who had entered second.

She met Reigen’s gaze through the window, dark features impassive, and gave him a once-over that took his measure and, apparently, found it wanting. Ignoring the second chair, she instead leaned back against the wall to one side of the table, loosely crossed her arms, and half-closed her eyes, seeming to focus on everything and nothing.

Dressed all in dark clothing whose sharp cut gave the impression of military fatigues, and with her black hair cut practically short to just below her ears, Reigen would have guessed ‘bodyguard’ were it not for her casual posture and lack of any obvious weapon. That, and the twitchy side-glance the man gave her when she stayed behind him instead of sitting down in the chair clearly meant for her. But she ignored him, and the man said nothing to her, instead finally placing the neatly organized papers on the table.

The man looked up at Reigen for a moment, then pressed something on the device sitting on his table. A low crackle of static filled the air, over which Reigen could hear the man’s voice.

“Hello, Mr. Reigen. I must apologize for the inconvenience of those restraints, but we don’t want any accidents now, hmm? Allow me to introduce myself; I am Agent Nagata.”

Agent. Agent.

The word resounded through Reigen’s mind, wiping it of the questions he’d been preparing to fling at his kidnappers.

Agent. He’d been abducted by the fucking government.

Reigen stared through the window at the man – agent – for a bit longer, trying to regroup. He didn’t bother to try and hide his shock at the revelation; it supported the picture he decided he wanted to present. It was the guilty people who always acted cool, calm, and collected, right? Being outraged was a sign of innocence. He thought he’d heard that on a crime show or something. Or, maybe it was the other way around?

Wait, why shouldn’t he be outraged? He hadn’t done anything wrong. Recently. He was pretty sure.

He mentally shook himself, and took a deep indignant breath.

“So, the government has resorted to kidnapping citizens off the streets now? Well now, that certainly seems like something I’d be interested in taking to a court of law. I mean, I wasn’t read my rights or anything!”

Nagata smiled blandly, absentmindedly riffling the stack of papers.

“We of the Paranormal Monitoring Division are authorized to take certain… precautions in the case of psychic subjects. Special authorizations, you know.”

Reigen blinked.

“You are Arataka Reigen, the self-proclaimed 21st century’s greatest psychic?

“Uh… yes? Yes! So… so you’ve heard of me! Well, of course you have, I have been growing in the public eye lately and-”

“Owner and manager of the agency ‘Spirits & Such’ for more than six years now? Vanquisher of a number of dangerous spirits, including the notorious Kuchisake-onna? I should mention, by the way, your television appearance might have been just a little too public a display of your powers.”

Reigen adopted an affronted expression.

“And just how would you know about all of that? Just how long have you been following me? Special authorizations or not, this is starting to sound like quite the invasion of my rights as a Japanese citizen-”

“It is our duty to identify potential paranormal threats to our nation, and entirely within our sanctions to learn as much as we can about those threats. But also,” Nagata looked at him with something like disgust. “Most of that info is from your website.”

…oh.

The agent continued, “You may have noticed that you are currently completely unable to use your psychic abilities? With the assistance of espers employed by our division to infiltrate Claw’s ranks, we were able to locate someone with the ability to curse objects, even an entire room, in order to restrict an esper’s use of their powers.”

Ah – that was why the symbols on the floor and walls looked so familiar. Reigen had seen something like them before, in the room at the Seventh Branch where he’d finally tracked down Mob. He realized in hindsight that must have been Sakurai’s work – and that apparently, Sakurai was not the only one with that specialty.

Nagata shuffled his papers again, looking so self-satisfied that Reigen wanted to deck him just on principle.

“Let me get to the point of the matter. We are continuing our investigation into the most egregious psychic attack on Japanese soil to date, and we believe you might have some highly pertinent information regarding both the events that transpired and the culprit behind the attack.

Reigen had recovered from his surprise. He gave Nagata a bored look. “I seem to recall that the government has the person responsible for that attack already in custody. And it seems to me both that that should be enough for you to close that case, and that he should be a perfectly sufficient source for any further details you might need.”

Nagata gave him a thin smile.

“Ah, you are referring to the second most concerning psychic attack that has occurred in our country – the terror attack led by Touichirou Suzuki.” Nagata registered Reigen’s surprise and confusion with a lift of his brows.

“No, between our spies, surveillance, and interrogations of Suzuki himself, we have plenty of information on the development and engagement of that assault on Spice City. However,” the agent shifted in his chair.

“Suzuki… hasn’t been as forthcoming as we might have hoped as to the precise circumstances of why and how his plan was derailed, despite the highly… persuasive techniques our superiors have permitted our division to use on dangerous esper convicts.”

The agent’s grin turned sharp, the insinuation perfectly clear that he was ready and willing to continue the use of those methods.

Reigen tried not to gulp. He considered mentioning some statistics on the effectiveness of torture – or rather, its lack – but he hadn’t quite lost hope that he might be able to talk his way out of the situation, and cheek wouldn’t help him with that. However, he was mentally tallying the disadvantages of his situation, and coming to an unpleasant conclusion: the time had finally come for him to abandon some pretenses. He cleared his still-dry throat.

“I’m afraid, Agent Nagata, that you’ve been barking up entirely the wrong tree. The truth is, I’m not… I’m not actually psychic.”

Reigen’s tongue tripped over the words, too unused to the phrasing. The part of his brain not occupied with utter hysteria was bemused – he’d somehow landed in the oddest position of a fraud persuading someone of the absolute truth.

And, incredibly, terrifyingly, failing.

Nagata gave a high-pitched, quavering laugh. “Nice try, Mr. Reigen. I see you have grasped the situation at hand – don’t bother to try and wriggle out of it, there’s far too much evidence against you.”

Reigen frowned, annoyance building despite his fear. He was beginning to think that this pompous idiot wouldn’t be ready to listen to anything he had to say until he’d finished his spiel. He crossed his arms, found that the handcuffs got in the way, and tried to ignore how the metal pressed uncomfortably into his arms and chest.

“Now, as I was saying – the lack of details on the specifics of the conclusion to Claw’s attack is particularly troublesome, given that we believe those events precipitated the afore-mentioned even greater threat.” The agent pulled a full-page photograph from his stack and held it up, brandishing it in accusation. A familiar image loomed from the photo, taken from a great enough distance that almost the entire monolith was included in the frame.

“I believe you are aware of the giant broccoli that became known across the city as ‘the Divine Tree?’”

Reigen grinned, despite himself. It looked like it physically pained the man to say the words ‘giant broccoli.’ Nagata scowled at him.

“Naturally, the Tree drew our immediate attention in the aftermath of the Claw attack. We monitored it for weeks via electronic methods and field agents, in addition to all subjects of interest who might have been responsible for its appearance – namely, yourself and many of the former Claw members reported to be associated with you. However, one by one, our agents stopped reporting back in. Or when they did, it was just with nonsense about the Tree and someone called ‘Lord Psycho Helmet.’ And some of those agents were espers themselves. Eventually, the morning that the Tree up and disappeared, most of them just stopped responding.”

Reigen grinned wider. “Too enamored with the giant broccoli?”

“No one knows what happened,” Nagata continued, teeth gritted. “No one. Do you understand the level of threat that represents? Our agents showed up to work with no clear memory of much of the day before. The only reason we know anything is the footage they’d already gathered. The psychic behind the Divine Tree,” he placed careful emphasis on the title. “-this Lord Psycho Helmet, brainwashed the entirety of Spice City, including some of our most powerful esper employees.”

A tiny scoffing sound came through over the static of the speakers. It could only have come from the woman, still leaning against the wall behind the agent’s table. Nagata’s already clenched jaw flexed, but he didn’t acknowledge the sound in any other way.

“Given the statements of Joseph Harnick, one of our esper agents, and from the Prime Minister himself, we thought at first the culprit responsible for the Tree’s appearance and then disappearance might be one of your employees – Katsuya Serizawa, secretly continuing Claw into a new phase of existence under the title of Lord Psycho Helmet. We know, of course, that he’s remained in contact with other former Claw members.” Nagata tapped his papers against the desk, visibly calming himself back down as he eased back into his speech.

In contrast, Reigen’s temper flared, and he found he had to physically restrain himself from saying something that might get him in trouble. Someone tailing him was one thing, but following Serizawa? That crossed a line; Reigen didn’t like to contemplate what kind of damage that invasion of privacy could do to Serizawa’s healing process.

The agent didn’t seem to notice Reigen’s rising anger. “However, our surveillance showed that he went nowhere other than the school he attends, your office, and his apartment for that entire day. You, on the other hand, were last sighted walking directly towards the Tree. You, and your other employee, the middle-schooler.”

A burst of understanding wiped the anger from Reigen’s mind. Instead, horror began to creep slowly up his spine.

“Feigning ignorance is an exercise in futility. We know, Mr. Reigen, that is was a single civilian esper who opposed Suzuki. We know that the Tree appeared during the conclusion of that confrontation. And we know you were there. So, I will ask you outright. Were you the esper responsible for confronting the terrorist Suzuki, and for the subsequent appearance and disappearance of the tree?”

It was Mob. They were looking for Mob.

Reigen recognized with dread that only two things were keeping Mob off their radar. The first was that it was completely beyond their understanding that a fifteen-year-old kid could have the type of power they were looking for.

And the second, was that they thought they’d already found their culprit. If they’d already found the one responsible, why would they need to look elsewhere?

Reigen stared the agent dead in the eye, and made a decision.

He chuckled, the sound harsh and not amused in the slightest. He let the smile fall from his face. Now, they were back in his ballpark.

“It seems you’ve caught me, Nagata. Yes, I’m the esper responsible.”

Nagata grinned, pleased but not surprised. “Of course you are. And now that we’ve established that, you will tell me everything about-”

The woman behind the table sighed, heavily, as though interceding was the greatest inconvenience on earth, and straightened from her slouch.

“You’re an idiot, Nagata. This man is no esper.”

Nagata flinched, almost imperceptibly, and then stood abruptly as though to hide it, spluttering noises of protest. But Reigen could see that his hands were trembling – his interrogator was very afraid of this woman.

He wondered if that meant he should be afraid too.

“I told you when we brought him back,” she said, arms still crossed, expression bored. “I could have told you even before that, the instant I saw him.”

“We, we must get to the bottom of all this!”

“And as usual for a… non-esper… you are going about it all wrong.” Reigen could practically taste the disdain rolling off her tongue with the words. She did not need to use the phrase ‘commoner;’ it was imbedded in her very body language as she addressed the man, who was beginning to redden in anger.

“This is why your superiors hired me, and why they wanted me present for the interrogation.”

Well – this wouldn't do. She was messing up Reigen’s plans. He thought fast.

“Ah, I do beg your pardon,” Reigen broke in, “-but I’m afraid you’re incorrect. You see, one of my specialties is hiding my own aura from the gazes of other espers. It’s how I stay hidden, keeping my identity a secret.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You mean the identity plastered all over your website, voicemail, and place of work?”

“It’s all part of running a business,” Reigen said smoothly. “I actually rarely end up needing my powers in my day to day services. It’s much more about gathering insight into how people work, listening to each client, solving their real problems whether they understand what it is or not-”

“Shut up.”

She looked him up and down, expression doubtful but eyes appraising. “The room you are in prevents you from using any of your powers, including any aura-dampening abilities. And yet you still have no psychic aura right now.”

Reigen shrugged. “These symbols probably work by suppressing everything, down to a psychic’s aura,” he said, almost apologetically. He sighed. “It’s just too bad the awesomeness of my power means that you have to keep me shut up in here, for your own safety. With full access to my powers, I could easily take you both on and escape.”

As soon as he’d spoken, Reigen knew he’d miscalculated.

The woman’s hand came up in a gesture he’d seen from Mob and Serizawa dozens of times, palm flat and facing out towards him. The glass in the window between them cracked, then shattered, pieces falling to the floor in a glittering rain. The chain between his handcuffs snapped and he was hauled up from his seat. He let out an involuntary yelp and flailed in midair, limbs instinctively seeking a gravity that no longer applied to him.

He floated through the air, through the now-empty window frame, and found himself standing directly in front of the esper woman.

“You say your specialty is hiding your aura.” Her lip curled. “I sincerely doubt that, but now I need to test exactly what other powers you might be hiding. Allow me to demonstrate mine.”

Reigen’s body went ramrod straight. He suddenly could not move his limbs even an inch, not a toe, not a finger; his hands sat unnaturally stiff against his sides, fingers splayed. He tried to say something, anything, and found that even his jaw wouldn’t move. All he could do was stare straight at the esper who held him captive.

She stared back, dark eyes cool.

“I was always a gifted telekinetic.” A statement, not a brag. “Manipulating balls of water was an amusing, simple childhood game. But as I honed my skills to an even greater precision, controlling pressure and temperature down to the molecular level, I discovered it was possible to alter water’s very substance.” She smiled, razor thin. “You can imagine my sister’s surprise the first time a puddle she played in froze her feet into place.”

Her smile disappeared.

“Did you know that the human body is more than fifty percent water?”

Reigen went cold.

At first, he thought it was merely a mental reaction to her words and the overwhelming hysteria that had fogged his brain and numbed his limbs when he’d realized he’d lost all control over his own body. Until he began to shiver.

Not in nervousness or fear, but an involuntary reaction that grew slowly to full body spasms. He might have fallen, had his body not still been held stiffly upright by the force he did not understand. Or rather, that he did not want to understand, because he was alone, and was increasingly aware it was something he could not fight.

“Don’t worry,” the esper said evenly, as if this was an everyday occurrence. “My skills are such that I can control your body temperature down to the degree. I’ve had a lot of practice. These days, all the deaths I cause are intentional.”

She dropped her hand, as if suddenly bored, and Reigen was finally allowed to crumple to the ground for the second time in two days. He curled into a fetal position, pulling his hands into his body in an automatic, futile gesture, seeking warmth.

The esper turned on her heel, pulling open the door and calling over her shoulder, “Nagata, let my people know when your plans next require our skills.” The door slammed shut behind her.

Reigen gathered the strength to lift his head, looking over to see what had become of Nagata. The agent had abandoned his seat and flung himself into a corner, back to the wall, breathing heavily. His wide, panicked eyes met Reigen’s, before he straightened and hurried out of the room himself, leaving his papers behind. The door locked with an audible clunk.

Reigen struggled to push himself upright, keeping his hands and feet pulled in, and gazed dumbly around at the destruction left behind. He had somehow managed to avoid most but not all of the glass in his fall; the little nicks to his exposed skin made themselves known as his body began to warm to the ambient temperature. He did not move from the huddled position.

He was still shivering.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #mp100 fanfiction #serirei #fanfiction #long post #my fics #shifting perspectives #IT IS DONE #*tosses & runs*

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