#helmut zemo x reader
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𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙯𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨 | helmut zemo x reader
@radmerrmaid requested a drabble with zemo and enemies to lovers. what happened is a whole oneshot. don't ask me how.
word count: 4.3k
warnings: DUBCON SMUT, enemies to lovers/hate sex, rough sex including hair pulling, degradation and name calling, restraint, a slap, and overstimulation, touchstarved reader, unspecified age gap, very mild violence (hand-to-hand combat and a mention of a previous gunshot wound), kidnapping, soft!dark zemo?
"It must drive you crazy," he purred, wrapping his fingers carefully around the crystal glass before picking it up. "Seeing me like this."
He smirked around his sip of bourbon— at least you figured it was bourbon— as you tried to keep a poker face. You didn't like the idea of being seen as crazy at all, let alone because of him. "Like what?" you pressed instead of admitting to it.
"Free," he shrugged. "Out of that cage you worked so hard to keep me in."
"Getting you there was my job," you corrected with a frown. "If keeping you there was mine, too... you'd still be in it."
He laughed lightly, if briefly, and shook his head. "Still so prideful. You're young, and you have something to prove."
"I have nothing to prove to you," you asserted, shifting your weight on your hips— it was sort of uncomfortable to keep standing, but it felt wrong to take a seat even though he'd offered you one when you entered. It seemed like a sign of trust. Not that he should be surprised by you acting aloof, when he'd offered to meet you here without even explaining why.
"No, not to me," he agreed, setting the glass down again and taking one step closer to you. "To your friends at the CIA."
He seemed to emphasize every letter of the acronym, a playful condescension in his tone. "Friends is a funny way to say it," you rolled your eyes, "like I do what I do because I want to be popular, and not because I want to keep the world safe."
"Safe from me," he added, "the evil terrorist. Right?"
You ignored his question, not really wanting to dignify it with an answer— or start some spiel about how you don't really believe in evil people, just actions that merit punishment, bla bla bla...
"Yet, you couldn't keep yourself safe from me," he went on, raising one eyebrow as he examined you. "Or, you can't. Here you are— alone, as I asked."
Obviously, you had tried to imagine some way you could have back-up for this, even just tell someone where you were going. But this was Zemo's turf, and he had eyes and ears all over the city... he would know if you tried to turn this into a sting. Instead, you only hoped to gain some sort of information tonight that you could use to track him down when he tried to run again.
"You're more trusting than I suspected," he smirked, gaze darkening a bit. "Or, more desperate."
"Maybe the right word is 'curious'," you proposed. "Clearly, you have something to discuss with me."
"I do," he nodded. "A question to ask you-- one I feel only you can answer."
You waited for him to ask it, but even just the way he sucked in a sharp breath made you realize he was going to bore you with some preamble first— just like him, really..
"You see, after evading you so many times—"
"Narrowly," you interjected.
"Maybe some times," he shrugged, smiling, "other times, I think I had plenty of room. But that's besides the point... the point is, here I am. I've probably bested you for the last time—"
"That's not—"
"Ah ah, no interrupting, please," he scolded gently. "I know you know that if I can keep a low profile here, your organization has no hope of getting me back. I simply have too many resources, and your superiors know my risk is relatively low. No?"
Again, you refused to answer, but the way you crossed your arms tighter and glanced away seemed to serve as enough of an agreement.
"So that's it— I'm free. It should be so simple," he sighed. "So, why am I disappointed?"
You furrowed your brows, staring at him in confusion. You were waiting for him to say something to give context to that, but he didn't— he only waited for your response with an earnest look. "Why... are you asking me that?" you wondered.
"Because you're the person who knows me best."
You'd never thought of it like that, and it was such a jarring idea that you began to shake your head almost instantly. "No, that... that doesn't seem right..."
"I figured you would take pride in it," Zemo grinned. "You tracked me for years, studied me, learned my habits... I had to do the same to escape you. I must know you better than anyone else."
"That's ridiculous," you scoffed. "What are you trying to say?"
"I just hoped you could tell me why I feel this way— why I feel so wrong about never seeing you again."
Your chest tightened. You couldn't bear to meet his gaze; your stomach felt sick and strange and you just wanted to run out of there, but what good would that do? You needed him to tell you something you could use, one last chance to catch him before it was too late.
"If I didn't know you so well, and hate you so much," he went on, "I wouldn't have the energy to keep running. And me? I'm your biggest case. Sometimes you act like I'm your only case. What is it about me, that you need to win against me so badly?"
"It's not you," you insisted instantly, "it's me— it's who I am."
"Maybe that's how it started," he suggested, "but you can't spend so long hunting someone without becoming a little obsessed with them— trust me, I would know."
You grimaced at him. "You— you can't be serious."
"Who will you be without me to chase?" he pressed anyways, matching some of your anger as he stepped closer again— almost too close. "Without this... passion, between us?"
"Don't step any closer," you warned.
"Or what?" he challenged. "No weapons, no soldiers— it's just the two of us here."
He stepped up again, nearly pressed against you, and you couldn't let him get away with that... you had to prove you meant what you said. You weren't armed, and you knew he wasn't someone you wanted to go up against hand-to-hand... but at the same time, it was one thing you'd always secretly wished for. A chance to wage this war the way it should be, the way it had always been: personal.
You stepped back at the same time as you swung your fist, giving yourself just enough room to gain momentum— but you weren't quite fast enough, and he blocked you. From then on it was fast, instinctual: he was stronger but you were quicker, and on the offensive.
You never quite landed a hit, but neither did he— which felt like a good sign, until you realized he wasn't really giving it his all. Dodging and blocking, yes, but he wasn't trying to win, just keep you at bay.
"Come on!" you yelled in frustration as you finally got in a kick to his chest, forcing him to stumble back and nearly fall. "What are you doing, pitying me?"
"Hardly," he wheezed, a little affected by the hit, which made you smirk. "But I don't want to hurt you."
"Please," you rolled your eyes, putting your fists up and stabilizing your posture. "If we're going to do this, let's do it right."
He came at you, and finally, there it was... his real strength. That passion he'd been talking about, you could feel it.
Both of you were flushed and panting, exhilarated by the sport of it all. Unfortunately, right as you thought you'd found your moment— the weak spot in his form— it was a trap. When you moved in closer, he grabbed you and spun you around, holding your back against his chest so tight that you struggled to breathe.
But he didn't shove you down, didn't put you in a chokehold, didn't even threaten you or gloat about pinning you. Instead, he only held you tighter, and soothed you with a gentle 'shh' in your ear when you tried to squirm out of his grasp.
"Wh-what are you doing?" you whispered, your whole body shaking as he ran his tongue up your neck.
"If it's curiosity that brought you here," he purred in response, "I can satisfy that."
"You can't be fffucking serious," you hissed, though a moan tainted your words as one of his hands ran down your body, the other still effortlessly holding you still.
"I know you so well," he went on, a deep growl in his voice as your eyes fell shut. "I know how lonely you must be. That's one of the things we share."
His hand was heavy and warm against your leg, even through your pants— and it was moving higher, petting your inner thigh as you shivered. Though your mind longed to resist him, your body was desperate for any affection; because he was right, you were lonely. You couldn’t think of the last time someone had touched you like this, and yet you remembered it didn’t usually feel this good. His touch was precise and careful and teasing— not too awkward but not too cocky. And the heat of him wrapped around you, his hot breath on your shoulder, his wider form encompassing you… how could it feel so good?
“And I know you’ve thought about this,” he added. “That’s something we share, too.”
He couldn’t know that— he might be rich and resourceful, but he wasn’t omniscient. If you were any more logical in that moment, you would’ve realized he was just guessing and denied it. But his teeth brushing over your pulse didn’t exactly provoke your critical thinking skills. “Fuck, I— fuck,” you choked out instead, shuddering when he chuckled proudly.
“You might hate me, draga, but you need me,” he explained. “Your mind needs me, just as much as your body does.”
Something about the way his fingers traced up your side, teasing your breast before pulling away right before getting to anything too exciting… it seemed to bring you back to reality, at least partially. You absolutely couldn’t do this— you couldn’t let him do this. “G-get off me,” you choked out, struggling against him again.
“That’s what you want?” he taunted.
“Get the fuck off me!” you yelped.
“Make me,” he challenged.
Bringing your foot down hard on top of his, he winced and you managed to break away, spinning around and shoving him back— he actually lost his balance that time, falling to the floor. You were ready to deliver a firm and swift kick between his legs, but rolled over and grabbed your leg while it was up, bringing you down to the floor with him.
He laughed breathlessly, sounding a little frustrated, as you flailed for purchase against the floor— only for him to grab your wrists and pin you down, positioning himself over you with a grin. His hair was shaken out of its style, hanging around his face which was flushed from exertion. “You keep me on my toes, I’ll give you that,” he offered. You tried to writhe again but he had you properly trapped now, with absolutely no way out.
“You wouldn’t,” you sneered incredulously.
“Wouldn’t what, dear?”
“You wouldn’t force yourself on me,” you completed.
He seemed a little surprised, hanging his head and shaking it. “Oh,” he breathed, “no, I wouldn’t.”
A little relieved, you started to catch your breath.
“I don’t need to.”
He brought his lips down to yours suddenly— the collision was almost too rough, and yet it was the only thing that made sense for the two of you. You groaned in protest yet submitted instantly, opening your mouth wide for his desperate and dominating kiss.
Your back arched up off the floor, and his weight seemed to sink down on top of you in response. Though you hated yourself for it, you spread your legs a bit, just enough for him to rest his hips between— and fuck, you could feel it. The hard, throbbing heat, you could feel it pressed against you and the most horrible moan was nearly lost to his lips.
He hummed back proudly, running his hands over your body, kissing you faster.
You were gasping for breath when he broke away, which only worsened when he latched onto your neck. “God, I hate you,” you blurted out, just to remind you both that if this was going to happen, it wasn’t going to be pretty.
“You hate me for all those times I embarrassed you?” he assumed, hands holding your waist and starting to slide up your shirt. “For when I eluded you, wasted your time, made a fool of you?”
“And that time you shot me.”
“I winged you,” he corrected— like that was any better.
He tugged your shirt up and you raised your arms, letting him slip it off; he spotted the scar right away, a line across your arm just under your shoulder. He cooed for a second before kissing it softly— too gentle a moment for you to let lie. You shoved his jacket back next, helping him slip it off his shoulders before pulling him down to kiss you again.
Your sports bra had a clasp in the front, it was a bit unique in that way, yet he had no trouble with it. Freeing your chest, he of course had to tease you a bit more— instead of groping your waiting breasts right away, he guided your arms down from where they held onto the back of his neck, lifting you up from the floor a bit so you could slide the garment off and toss it away.
When you laid back down, the floor was cold, but the hiss you let out was more a response to him rocking his hips against you, teasing you through these stupid remaining clothes. “You know why I hate you?” he returned as he started to unbutton your pants, even though you’d entirely forgotten that last part of the conversation.
Before he answered the question, he yanked your pants and underwear down to your thighs— and swiftly got his own out of the way. Your heart raced; you weren’t totally convinced this was really happening, not until he pushed into you in one painfully sudden thrust. You cried out, yet he took no mercy on you. He was ruthless, in fact.
Choking on your broken cries, you arched up off the floor again as he hammered into you, rage and relief and desperation evident in every movement. He had to hold your legs tightly just to keep you from sliding across the floor, which only ensured you took every stroke as deep as it could go— which was already too fucking deep.
“Say it,” he ordered, “tell me why I hate you.”
“I caught you,” you said— but you knew that would just make him angrier. Maybe that was kind of the idea.
Stopping just long enough to tug your pants the rest of the way off— and leaving you naked while he was still mostly dressed— he descended over you and looked right at you, far too close, with a rageful stare.
“You trapped me,” he corrected gruffly. “You played dirty.”
Before you had a chance to retort that all’s fair in love and war, he started to pound into you… harder and meaner than ever. You didn’t surprise yourself by crying out, considering how intense and nearly painful the feeling was, but you were a little confused that the word you said was a needy yes!
"Those years in prison," he snarled, "you could barely call it living, life in that place— you put me there. I thought every day about how you put me there."
He yanked your hair, making you whine loudly and exposing your neck for his lips and teeth to explore freely.
Finally, a hand latched onto your chest— a hot palm encompassing your breast and skilled fingers pinching lightly at your nipple. You couldn’t believe how composed he was through all this— in many ways, he wasn’t, but he seemed to be deliberate with every way he touched you and that was far more togetherness than you had.
You weren’t together at all, actually… something about the heat of the moment, the way your body responded to him, the way he glared at you… you could already feel tension building inside you. It wouldn’t be long, not if he kept going like this.
“I thought about you every fucking day, draga— that you were free, and I was trapped in that cell,” he growled. “You missed it, didn’t you? Chasing me.”
When you didn’t answer, he struck you across the face with the back of his hand; the shock of it made your walls clench on him, or at least you could blame it on that, but you had no way to explain the way you moaned a moment later.
He moved even faster, a sickening wet sound echoing through the room which you hated to acknowledge was your own body. “The worse I am to you, the wetter you get,” he noticed, smiling for just a moment. “What a filthy whore you are.”
“F-fuck you,” you stammered roughly.
“Actually, why don’t you?” he offered, grabbing you by the hips and rolling both of you over until he was on his back and you were straddling him. “Show me how bad you need it.”
As much as you wanted to not do what he told you, your hips were already moving— your body was on its own mission now, desperate for pleasure and friction and heat. Desperate for anything he would give. You whimpered as you grinded down on him, feeling his cock go so much deeper than you imagined was possible. “God,” you sobbed, tossing your head back and trying not to picture the way he must have been looking at you then.
His hands moved all over you, up your thighs and over your breasts, even wrapping around your neck once though they didn’t put on enough pressure to really choke you. “Pretty girl,” he praised darkly, making chills dance over your skin.
But when his hands settled on your hips, trying to guide you the way he wanted, you’d had enough; you grabbed him at the wrists and leaned forward, pinning his hands beside his head. He smirked up at you at first, but when you bounced your hips up and down while hovering over him, his eyes fell shut and he let out a deep groan. “I’m close,” you panted sharply.
“You can make yourself come like this?” he realized, sounding a little impressed. He opened his eyes and lifted his head for a moment to get a better look at you, before almost instantly giving up again and dropping his head back to the floor with a moan. “Fine, take it— just take what you need, draga.”
You held tighter to his wrists, mostly to keep yourself stable, and you felt his own hands ball into fists as you bounced faster. “Oh god, oh god, oh god— yes!” you yelped, legs quivering as it struck you. It seemed to come and go so quickly, perhaps because your strength gave out halfway through and you felt weak and paralyzed. It had been ages since you’d felt pleasure like that… actually you weren’t sure you’d ever felt pleasure like that, at least not so much all at once.
If only he were satisfied by that. With your grip weakened, he easily pulled his hands away to wrap his arms around you, holding you tightly and bucking his hips up into you rapidly.
“Fuck, wait, s-slow down,” you panted, whining weakly as he shook his head against the crook of your neck.
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” he purred. “I won’t be able to slow down at all until you’re full of come, draga. I want you dripping.”
You were all numb and limp now, so raw and sensitive inside— he put you on your back again and didn’t struggle at all to pull another orgasm from you. The third, though, was a little more hard fought: he rubbed your clit with an almost painful amount of pressure, watching through dark eyes and with a sneering grin as you screamed and shivered.
“Not too loud, darling,” he warned, “the people in the streets might hear you, the window’s still open—”
“Fuck!” you shouted, high-pitched and shaky, and he covered your mouth with his other hand as he laid on you with a growl.
“Just one more, then I’ll fill you,” he promised. “I only need to feel you come one more time. You want a rest, don’t you?”
You nodded weakly, biting down on your shaking lip.
“Then give me what I want.”
Your final cry was stuttered and helpless, every final ounce of energy in your body being taken from you by the final forced peak of ecstasy. But it wasn’t until you sighed out his name, barely audible under your breath, that he groaned against your neck and pumped himself deep inside you— every drop, leaving you full to the brim and then some.
You didn’t even have the strength to hold onto him, but he held you far too tightly as if to make up for it, and didn’t let you go for quite some time.
It had only gotten darker and colder out, and the draft through the window eventually danced over your sweat-slickened skin. When you shivered under him, Helmut lazily reached up to the couch nearby, pulling a throw blanket off of it and wrapping you both up in its soft embrace. You sighed with relief from both the cold air and the hard floor, not even realizing you were falling asleep.
Even when you woke up, you didn’t really notice that you’d been asleep— except that Helmut was gone, and the fireplace was going. Sitting up as little as you could get away with to look for him— since moving at all was quite a task given how tired you were— you heard him coming around the corner and turned back to look at him.
He was in a robe now, and carrying two crystal glasses of water. He smiled at you as he sat back down on the floor, laying beside you on the blanket and handing you your glass. “Figured you would need this soon enough,” he explained with a soft voice as you sipped carefully at the water. You weren��t really ready to talk to him yet, but you wanted to thank him for the water, so you just nodded and hoped that would get the point across.
The silence was probably only awkward for you— he seemed totally at peace, getting through most of his drink before setting it down on the floor and cuddling up to you again with a contented sigh.
You quietly drank the water, staring forward at the crackling fire, hardly believing where you were. It actually sounded sort of romantic on paper: a dashing and wealthy older man, a penthouse apartment in a foreign city, a fire, a blanket, a crystal glass…
If it weren’t for the wanted terrorist, it might make for a good little fantasy.
Yet, you set your glass aside and laid back down with him. He slipped an arm around you, holding your shoulder and petting it with his thumb, even kissing the side of your forehead sweetly. “I don’t understand how you can… be like that,” you whispered, glancing down at his arm crossed over your chest.
“Not everyone is so afraid of their feelings as you are,” he countered, and you snorted a little.
“I’m not afraid of my feelings,” you denied half-heartedly.
“You’re afraid of me, then?” he wondered.
“Not… quite…” you murmured your answer, not even sure yourself what you felt. “I mean, I drank the water, so—”
“I wondered if you would,” he laughed, “but I’m glad you did.”
“I mean, only half the glass, technically,” you noticed.
“Oh, don’t worry, you’ve had enough,” he shrugged.
“Enough?” you chuckled. “After that, half a glass of water is hardly enough. I won’t be recovered until I have a protein-heavy meal and probably a couple painkillers— if I wanna, you know, sit or jog or whatever in the next few days.”
“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” he chuckled, “but I didn’t mean enough to recuperate. I meant enough for you to sleep until we get there.”
“...what?” you asked, turning over your shoulder with knitted brows to look at him.
“If even you know where you’re going, you might find a way to get out is all,” he explained flippantly.
“What… what are you…?” you started, shaking your head— but it didn’t shake off that funny feeling, that heaviness in your head.
“You see, I did think about you every day in my cell,” he went on, “and I thought about how, someday, I would lock you away— so you’d know how it feels, to be a prisoner.”
Whimpering as realization dawned, you sat up quickly to try to fight whatever was in that water… but it only seemed to make it worse, spots forming in your vision like when you stand up too fast— except they didn’t fade, just multiplied.
“I’ll treat you much better than I was, though,” he assured, “in fact, I think you’ll be better off than you were before… you’ll be mine, draga. No one else will ever see you again.”
You tried to speak but it wasn’t really coming together— you tried to push him away but you only limply held onto him, looking up at his eerily blank expression with your fading vision. As it all turned to black, he caught your head before it hit the floor, cradling it rather tenderly before kissing your cheek.
“Now,” he whispered to you, though you couldn’t possibly hear it, “let’s get you cleaned up— the plane is waiting to take you to our new home.”
#baron zemo x reader#baron zemo smut#dark!zemo x reader#helmut zemo x reader#helmut zemo smut#daniel bruhl smut#dark!zemo smut#helmut zemo dark fic#baron zemo dark fic#WELP. oops.
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Day 8. Fucking Machine - Helmut Zemo
Kinktober Day 8. Fucking Machine - Helmut Zemo
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, bdsm, dom/sub, mouth gag, crying, begging, degradation, restraints, fucking machine, squirting, nicknames, no use of y/n
my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link
“But- but I wan-want you”, the sob shook your chest, as you sucked in a deep breath, finally having the freedom to talk as your gag was removed, but your eye mask remained in place, soaked with tears.
Helmut tutted from somewhere to your side, “now, you know only nice gets get me, and what are you?” he asked in a condescending tone.
Trying to control your breathing, you took another deep breath, ashamed by your next answer, “a whore”.
“Yes, a whore who couldn’t keep her hands off of her cunt even after I instructed her to wait for me to get back. So some would say, you deserve this punishment dragă, if only you weren’t such a brat”. The disappointment in his voice was what upset you the most, kicking yourself for giving in to your desires so quickly.
The piece of material used as a gag was placed back over your mouth, cutting off any begging that you were about to continue with. You cried more like a baby, you knew you deserved this punishment but it was relentless, you should have known not to mess with your husband after the bad mood he’d been stuck in.
He had returned home, finding you in the shower, hand between your legs and you hadn’t even heard him come in to see you mumbling his name frantically trying to get off. His hand was on your arm before you could react, pulling you from the shower, water dripping everywhere and you knew better than to fight back.
You knew where he was taking you as he was tossed onto the bed, wetting the sheets. You’d expected him to position your body over his lap and spank your arse until you were sore and then fucked you nice and hard until he forgave you.
Instead, Helmut had handcuffed your wrists to the corners of the bed, eyemask and gag then attached so you couldn’t follow his movements or beg anymore that you were sorry, he’d heard it all before, you just couldn’t help being a brat sometimes.
Next were your legs, they too were strapped so that they were now spread wide for him to complete whatever plan he had decided upon. There were some shuffling noises and something heavy sounded like it was being dragged across the floor, you knew exactly what was happening, knowing how heavy the machinery was.
This led you to where you were now, you weren’t even sure how long it had been, hours? A few minutes? All you knew was that a dildo attached to the end of the fucking machine had been doing in and out of you for what felt like an eternity. Helmut continued to make sure you were lubed up well but every time you came - which seemed an excess amount - your cunt would contract so hard that the dildo would slip out and you would squirt all over it.
The machine was loud and your husband was in control of the remote, turning it faster and slower until you were quivering into an orgasm, time after time. Each thrust had you shifting up and down the bed, slowly at first, whirring with each movement and then an unnatural speed where the dildo turned into a blur and your cunt just had a constant pounding against all of those beautifully sensitive nerves until you were screaming and withering.
It went on and on, again and again, the machine fucked you all the whilst Helmut watched until finally…it all stopped. There was a ringing in your ears, dribble running down your cheek, you were well and truly fucked, you weren’t even sure if you could lift any of your limbs, and everything felt floaty.
Helmut knew you better than you knew yourself, knew the exact moment when you went from orgasmic bliss to one more thrust and you’d be passing out. He started by removing the machine, then undid your arm and leg straps, your gag and then finally your eye mask. You didn’t open your eyes at first but after a few taps on the cheek and a kiss on the end of your nose, you looked up to the man leaning over you with a proud smile.
“Talk to me princess” he encouraged, pulling you in close to his side so you could take in his warmth.
“I’m ok,” you mumbled just loud enough for him to hear, his hand softly stroking the side of your face, wiping away and the remnant of tears. “Intense but it was good”. Helmut didn’t respond, you held him tightly as sleep finally found you.
#helmut zemo#helmut zemo smut#zemo smut#baron zemo smut#marvel smut#helmut zemo x reader#marvel#zemo x reader#mine*#kinktober#kinktober 2022
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Losing Your Virginity To Helmut Zemo Would Include
He always tries to be a gentleman, and will bring up the topic of past partners and experience with you before your first time together.
Though he would be surprised at hearing you’re a virgin, he wouldn’t show it with much more than a raise of his eyebrow, and certainly wouldn’t judge you for it.
He’d feel honored to be your first, and rest assured, you are in the best hands with him. He’ll make it all about you, never rushing, never pushing you beyond what you can handle. Zemo wants you to be comfortable, first and foremost.
He will let you take the lead on what you know and feel safest with doing, and gently guide you further as you go. His touches are always soft and loving, and he whispers words of encouragement and checks in on how you’re feeling.
Zemo will warm you up by going down on you. The way his head looks between your legs makes you blush, and you’re quick to moan when he makes contact.
When you’re ready for more, you’ll quietly let him know, and he’ll ease you in, letting you pick a comfortable position before he eventually penetrates you.
It’s all very slow and easy, allowing you to adjust to accommodating him, and then it’s fully up to you as to the pace from there on out. If you want him to go deeper, faster, anything, you just have to say the word.
Ultimately, he wants to be sure you’ve fully enjoyed yourself. If you haven’t finished, he hasn’t done his job, and that’s something he won’t allow.
After it’s all over and you’re laying next to one another, he caresses your hair, allows you the opportunity to talk about it if you want, and ask you if you need anything. He will have a glass of water on hand for you to hydrate and the way he looks at you is just so sweet that you find yourself melting into his eyes, knowing you made the right choice to save yourself for him.
For anon
Helmut Zemo: @unexpected-character, @lilyontheloose, @puppy-coded, @marinarashakeyobooty, @marvelgeek09, @becomingthedreamversionofme, @music-bird, @chaotic-mushroomz, @mbruben-stein, @sunflowergurlsposts, @danimorgan1708, @jkthighs, @onlykeres, @floresferae, @stressydepressyandlemonzesty, @multifandomlover01, @tokyo-liv, @geekyandgay98, @sweetyprincesschaos, @yetanotherattemptatanaccount, @lady-darkswan3, @an0nimowe, @postcardgirl425, @garlicbreadrry, @bestfriend491
#helmut zemo#helmut zemo headcanons#helmut zemo x reader#zemo x reader#marvel#marvel headcanons#mcu#mcu headcanons#request
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Baron Helmut Zemo is so pretty!
#daniel brühl#baron zemo x reader#baron zemo smut#baron helmut zemo#baron zemo#zemo#helmut zemo#helmut zemo x reader#zemo x reader#zemo imagine
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Always For A Second (Usually At The Start) - A Helmut Zemo x Reader fic
"And when I imagine life when it's mine / I can try to picture faceless folk to love a thousand times / But always for a second, and usually at the start / You're in the image posing with a cradled beating heart" - Katie Gregson MacLeod, i'm worried it will always be you
Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.
Tags: Explicit Smut (+18), Exes, Getting Back Together, Enemies to Lovers to Exes to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Switch!Zemo, Oral (Fem Receiving), Service Top!Zemo, Aftercare, Bucky is Mentioned Too Much
Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 8,600~
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“I didn’t expect you to come crawling back so soon, schatz,”
The restaurant was crowded enough that nobody heard Helmut’s words, curt and cloying and so fucking familiar. Still, my face heated. It always would for him, no matter how much my common sense protested by body’s reactions. How dare he be so damn effective at getting under my skin?
Some over-expensive brown liquor sloshed against the rim of the glass in my hand as I lifted it less than gracefully from the table, dribbling down the edge of my mouth as I guided it to my lips and drank deeply. “For one, two years isn’t soon,” I started, swallowing. “Two, you’re the asshole who showed up in my apartment like a robber, which makes you the one who came crawling back. I was just nice enough to let you take me for a free meal to get you the hell out. Three,” I set the glass down sharply, “don’t call me that. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I still haven’t forgiven you,”
“Apologies,”
He didn’t mean it.
“Still, it’s too soon to expect any sort of kindness from you,” he continued, “If I recall correctly, you said you’d rather die than suffer through another night with me for the rest of eternity. I believe an eternity has yet to pass… and yet, here we are,”
His matter of fact tone left little up for debate, unless I wanted to reach for my fork and maim his smug face. Instead, I bit my tongue and swallowed another mouthful of whatever I was drinking.
For once I was glad to be surrounded by the kind of noisy, faceless jumble of humanity that usually made my skin crawl. F. Scott Fitzgerald was on to something with his theories on large crowds and intimacy; there was no better place for two war criminals to meet than the corner booth of a hazy restaurant, lounging and drinking, covered by the blanket of sweet anonymity. Anyone who glanced our way would see two normal human beings sharing a meal in peaceable silence, sharing sparse conversation between bites of this and that.
They would see lovers.
The thought left a lump in my throat.
Maybe I looked uncomfortable enough that they would presume, correctly, that we were ex-lovers. I wasn’t hopeful about it, though.
Helmut noticed, of course, but I knew he would. He had always had an almost supernatural sense for these things, like he could tune into my emotional radio on a frequency I didn’t even fully know myself. Enemy or ally or… otherwise, it was a constant to be seen through and picked apart like carrion. An appetizer for the fights to come. Thankfully, though, he chose to have mercy on me this time in a rare show of respect. Instead of wrapping his lips around another snide comment- even though I could tell it was burning a bitter hole into the tip of his tongue behind his clenched teeth- he chose to pick up a ring of calamari from the plate between us. He held it up to examine the crust in the dim lamplight before placing it delicately against his lips, pulling it from the fork in one bite. Still, he couldn’t be too gracious. Helmut held eye contact as he went.
I could only managed a disgusted sigh but found myself mirrored as his teeth sunk into the squid and his brow furrowed.
“Bad?” I asked.
He chewed for a good while before managing to swallow the offending clump down, gagging all the way. “Despite my recent diet, that might be the worst thing I’ve eaten in a long while,”
A laugh escaped me before I even knew it was there. “You managed to pick a restaurant where our appetizer is worse than prison food? Serves you right for ordering seafood in the midwest,”
“I suppose it does.” He nudged the plate towards me with a growing smirk, “See for yourself. I’d hate to see it wasted, and as you said, it is ours. I can’t be expected to finish it alone,”
As if under the spell of his charisma all over again, I followed his instructions without a second thought. It was just as bad as I anticipated.
Things were off to a bad start from the moment the tines of my fork hit the batter. The breading seemed to squelch under the pressure, sagging and giving way into meat that was somehow both rubbery and gelatinous, if that was even possible, and if the texture seemed bad outside of my mouth it was even worse inside. Somewhere between its fishy tang and the overly salted batter, there was a bitter, almost sour note that seemed to permeate further with every chew. I spit the macerated glob into my napkin before even attempting to swallow down the remaining spit.
Across the table, Zemo grinned at my misfortune. “Let’s hope our entrees are less offensive to our palettes,”
“Fuck off,” I muttered, lips turning up at the edges.
“You can curse all you want at my poor choice of venue, but I can tell you’re glad you’re the one who ordered the pasta instead of the steak,”
I went for my glass again, letting the liquor with a name I couldn’t pronounce burn all the way down my throat and into my chest. “I hate that you’re always right, Helmut. Can’t you be wrong, just once? Leave some correctness for the rest of us,”
Maybe it was the lighting, soft and amber against the dark wood of the table to mask the bloody steaks that would sit below, or maybe it was the music, something old and swinging that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but knew from the radio in my grandmother’s car as a child, or maybe, just maybe, it was the crows feet that popped up around Helmut’s eyes when he smiled that hadn’t been quite so prominent the last time I’d seen him, but no matter the cause, the solid iron wall I had put up around my heart when I walked out of the Baron’s life those two year sago seemed to soften. Weakened, somehow. It was like someone took a blowtorch right to the center of my defenses. Something in me screamed that they had never been all that strong to begin with.
I only noticed I’d been staring when he looked away, clearing his throat and wiping his thin mouth with the napkin from his lap.
There went my hand. Helmut, 1. Me, 0… Well, 1, if leaving him those years ago counted for anything, and I refused to believe that it hadn’t. That the blow to his ego hadn’t given me at least a slight upper hand compared to the naive girl I had been in comparison when I first met him. There had been so much good in the world then.
The silence dragged on as if the structural flaws of my guarded heart could patch themselves up with the defenses created from just a few silent moments between us. That’s all it would take for me to remember all the reasons this would never work: all the pain, the sleepless nights, the snide comments that turned into biting replies that grew into massive, earth-shattering fights that exploded into days or weeks or months living alone in a house with him. One by one, the memories flooded back, reminding me exactly why it had taken me almost two years to find enough peace within myself that I wouldn’t decide to shoot the man in front of me on sight. My heart hardened by the second.
“I saw your concert,”
I was simultaneously thawed and frozen all over again. “How did you-“
“James mentioned it,”
“You still talk to Bucky?”
“Here and there,”
The conversation lapsed into silence.
He had… been there? I didn’t even bother to think about the talk I’d have to have with Bucky about my privacy, too focused on the more important matter at hand.
The venue was grungy, a basement bar with a small stage serving the communities aspiring comedians and desperate punk-rock garage dwellers just waiting for their big break. I had barely had the guts to pay the booking fee, though. It was just me, a piano, and my guitar for an hour and a half set of mostly cover songs that had gone better than I’d expected, but hadn’t been anything crazy. The crowd was appreciative and respectful. Several people had left tips, even more giving me a congratulatory clap on the back as I left the building that night, promising to “stream my EP” whenever I released it, despite the fact that I had no plans to do any such thing. Still, I couldn’t imagine that I hadn’t seen his face in the crowd. I couldn’t name what I was feeling as I imagined it; visualized his face on the other side of the smoky room, leaned against the bar with his dark eyes catching hold of mine…
“You came and you didn’t say anything? Not even a hello?”
Helmut laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “And risk my life over a free concert? No.” He paused, “Despite my tendency to sometimes be… less than kind, I knew it would rattle you to see me. I didn’t want to throw you off before your performance.”
I didn’t have much of anything to say in response. Instead, I picked at the paper straw wrapper in my lap and tried to look anywhere but in his direction, shoving down whatever was welling up in my chest. He wouldn’t let things go, though. He never could. That was half of why we’d never work. Every time I tried to drop an uncomfortable subject he’d be there to pick it up with a snide comment or two. It was an easy rhythm. Too easy. I had never wanted to fall back into it and yet, here I was, almost excited to snipe his next words down.
“Cain misses you,” He continued.
I folded the straw wrapper in my hands, pulling at the crease as I thought about the doberman puppy I had left behind. He would be so big now, as big as the one I’d taken with me was now. My heart ached at the thought.
“I doubt he remembers me after all this time,”
“Of course he does,” Helmut’s voice was low. It was almost hypnotic, the way he carried himself. He could fool anyone. I realized, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that couldn’t have been the calamari, he could still fool me. “He’s quite the troublemaker. More times than I can count he’s evaded me in the house, only to be found asleep in your old closet. I think he remembers your scent,”
“Thats…” I sat quiet for a moment, pursing through choices of words in my mind, mulling over the sharp accented way he pronounced the t in scent, “Sad. Really sad. Makes me wish I could’ve taken them both,”
“And what of Brutus?”
“He’s good,” A smile crossed my face. “Big, as you saw tonight. I remember when we got them, they told us they’d be 60 pounds at most, but I swear Brutus must’ve snuck in with the rest of those puppies, because he’s massive. Headbutts me every time I walk through the door wondering where I was. He’s a good boy, though. Keeps watch while I sleep, just in case.”
“Just in case I decided to let myself in through the window one night?”
I let myself laugh without judgement this time, reaching for my water. “Looks like it was all for nothing, then. Who knew he’d just let intruders come waltzing in off of the fire escape?”
“Am I truly considered an intruder in your home?” He asked it as if the answer wasn’t obvious. As if there were any other answer I could possibly give. As if I could’ve wanted him there. His earnestness almost hurt as much as his taunting did, maybe more, because even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, there was a soft ring of truth to his words.
I took the cowards way out. “I don’t know, what do you think?”
It was a vulnerability to not give a straight answer, the kind of weak spot that Helmut would catch wind of in an instant before using it to unravel someone piece by piece. Not a no, but certainly not a yes, and the fact that it hadn’t been a resounding yes was enough to glean that maybe, deep down, I wasn’t hating this dinner. He would see through me. Rip me to shreds for the subtle admittance that I hadn’t hated seeing him waiting for me on the couch when I walked through my door, even if I hadn’t expected or wanted him there in the first place.
I found it was better to lie by omission than to fully lie and let him see through me to the more important truth; For as much as I despised everything about him, I had missed Helmut Zemo. I had missed his stupid expensive taste and the tilt of his stupid head and his stupid shiny white smile. I had missed seeing his coat hung up beside the door and knowing what waited for me inside. It was sick how I had loved him. How I had loved every minute of him picking me apart by the seams and putting me back together. Who could possibly crave their own destruction? Who could live knowing that to be loved was to be deconstructed down to the bone and laid bare as something lesser, something so small compared to the great destroyer I devoted myself to.
How could he let me live like that if he truly saw through me?
And that was why I had to leave.
Loving Helmut Zemo was no way to live. I knew that. I had known that the day I picked up my dog and walked out of our home with nothing but my wallet, car keys, phone, and a polaroid picture of his silhouette. Somehow, I knew that he knew that too. Why else would I move on so suddenly, so sharply, removing every piece of the life we’d built to start myself fresh? A new me, I had said. A new chapter. Yet here I was across from him, shredded bits of paper littering my lap as he puppeteered my heart right back into his arms.
No. I couldn’t let it happen.
Not again.
“Listen, baron,” I didn’t let him answer my rhetorical question. It wouldn’t be wise to let him gain the upper hand again. It wouldn’t be smart to let myself stay weak. “I appreciate dinner. It’s been surprisingly lovely to catch up with you. I’m glad to know you’re not dead, and its great to know Cain is doing well, but I know you weren’t here to tell me that over a plate of mediocre pasta,”
Helmut smiled, his head in its signature tilt, and swished his own glass a bit. The ice was all but melted giving the liquor an almost clear quality as it diluted. Not a sip had been taken. “Ask the question, schatz,”
“Why are you here? Why did you stalk me here and break into my apartment when I made it clear that you weren’t welcome in my life?” My words came out so matter of fact even I almost recoiled at them. Not unemotional but detached.
“Um, who had the chicken alfredo?”
I could feel the blood drain from my face as I looked up at the poor waiter, hot plates in hand, as he took in our table at just the wrong time. Five minutes earlier he would have walked in on polite conversation about the dogs or the shitty appetizers. Now, though, he stood between a man who was known to kill for the things he wanted and me, the one thing he could never have again.
Surprisingly, though, Helmut waved a hand towards me as I froze. There were none of the usual dramatics, just polite chatter with the waiter as he set my plate in front of me and left Helmut with his, taking the offending calamari plate away with him as he scurried away, surely to tell his coworkers about the crazy exes at the corner table. Helmut didn't even carry on with his answer. He just started tucking in to his steak and potatoes, not sparing me a single glance. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t memorized the way his eyes looked in the low light of a restaurant across from me, I would think he’d been replaced by a skrull.
Where was the tearing? The shredding? The utter evisceration of my waiting throat as he drank deeply of my darkest, most shameful thoughts only to spit them out for the world to see. Where was that shame? In the before times, in the times that the two of us had been a we, he never would have paused to mind a waiter. The world would have revolved around him as he laid me bare, no matter who watched or waited in the wings. What changed?
How had I not noticed his docility until now?
The pasta was decent. It was better than anything I would’ve made at home, at least. I barely thought about it, though, letting my body go through the motions of eating mechanically while my mind went over a million things I could say. What could I say? There was nothing left to. We had gone over every possibility before I had left, at least I thought we had. Whatever we were was dead. That was certain. But what we could be…
I swallowed hard before I could choke on a relatively large piece of broccoli I neglected to chew in my trance.
Helmut seemed to be in a painfully similar situation. One look at his plate showed a steak cut into tiny pieces. Almost none of it looked eaten, just diced into a pile and shuffled around a bit on the plate to mix with the potatoes, smashed down from their neat ice cream scoop globe and spread with the back of a fork.
With a sigh, I set down my fork, pasta already forgotten.
“Lost your appetite?”
He paused his fiddling with his fork and knife, mirroring me and letting the utensils rest on the table beside his plate. It was odd to see him rattled. Strange to watch his eyes roll up to the ceiling and pause there, as if he was searching for the right words to say. He always knew just what to say to cut the deepest. Maybe it was foreign for him to not want to cut; To find a soft word, instead of a sharpened one. His mouth opened one… two…three times. Open and shut, open and shut. I couldn’t help but hurt for him. The man of many words was finally struck dumb.
Finally, it came.
“I’m sorry,”
I had anticipated a selfish reply, a demand for me to come back and put the past two years behind us, but time had changed him. It had changed us both. He was no longer the man he had been when he was first freed from behind bars, vengeful and biting and so deeply afraid of being alone again, but I was no longer the lost girl I had been either. I did not need to be destroyed to breathe. I could feel tears pricking up in my eyes as he reached a hand across the table to search for my own. It was such a familiar sight in a time of uncertainty. I kept my hands firmly in my lap, though. I would not give him the satisfaction.
More, I would not give him hope.
“Come home, schatz,”
There it was.
I couldn’t hold in the bitter, wet laugh that bubbled up through me, more at my own foolishness than at anything else. He had changed, yes, but some things never would.
“Helmut,” The word hurt to say. It was altogether both familiar and unfamiliar, covered in a thick layer of dust from time, but nothing could erase the fact that it had once been used over and over, like a prayer, as easy as breathing or saying my own name. “You know I can’t,”
He let his hand slink back to his side. “I had to try, you know,”
“I know,” The words were a whisper.
So this was closure?
The table was quiet. There was no desperation from Helmut’s side, no attempts to sway me or sudden outbursts of resentment. It was almost peaceful. His voice was sad but there was no manipulation in it. We laid our cards of the table as the game we’d played for years finally came to an end.
“You were right about us, when you left,” he laughed, “I was, as you so aptly put it, a massive ass. I was still so deeply disillusioned about this world and the horrors of it. It was as if everyone around me was just another cog in it all, even you. I thought if I could puppet it all, make things go my way, everything could just be quiet. The horrors would finally stop. The memories would finally stop. I took it too far, though. I took it out on you. For that, I will never be sorry enough,”
I put up a hand. “Helmut, you don’t have to do this-“
“I want to,”
His voice was delicate but didn’t waver. For the first time I wondered if this was more about what he needed to say than about what I needed to hear. I nodded him on. Without me even thinking about what I was doing, my hand caught his across the table.
“I wanted to run after you the same day you left. I nearly did, too, before I thought better of it. Then I really thought of what you said. What I did. It was then that I decided I had to change for the better, not for you but for myself. Only then would I allow myself to try again. So I did. I spent my time deconstructing the things I had seen and done and finally facing my own demons. I’m not perfect- believe me -but there are many things I have… worked on, for lack of a better word. James was surprisingly helpful throughout it all,”
“Is that why you’ve been talking?” My thumb stroked over his knuckles, pausing on a scar.
“More or less. I needed advice on how to overcome my atrocities, and I owed him an apology either way. He told me about your concert because he thought I would be ready to make amends, and yet I found myself unable to speak to you because I knew that if I did, I would have to beg you for forgiveness, and that is not something I will allow myself to do from anyone. Not now, nor ever,”
I let myself pull away. This was not a movie. There was no happy ending for the two of us at the end of this conversation. It was a chance to clear the air and let go of our grievances before going our separate ways. Treating it any other way would only hurt us both. “Why break in, then, and drag this all out over dinner? Why not just knock on my door, apologize, and leave?”
“I couldn’t have you slamming the door in my face and leaving me to apologize to the wall, now could I?”
We shared a sad smile, a knowing one. “I guess that’s true.”
“I needed to know you would hear what I had to say until the end,” he paused, “And one last confession. I must admit, I could not walk away without sharing dinner with you one last time. It’s selfish, as I am selfish, but I could not see you again without truly seeing you, more than just as you shouted at me and threw me to the curb,”
“You think so little of me?” I asked. There was no bite in it.
“No, I think so little of myself,” he finally took a sip from his glass, “Any anger on your part is warranted,”
We did not speak again for a long while. Helmut methodically went through the bite-sized pieces of steak on his plate as I finished the alfredo, which had grown cold in the time it took to sort things out. There was no quiet conversation, no jokes or shared stories in the glow of the lamps overhead. Instead we sat in peaceable silence and breathed in the finality of it all. I was almost grateful for it. I never would have imagined sharing a meal like this with him in all of the years I had known him and loved him. If it was to be the last, and it was, we would savor every moment of each others company. Every moment not spent on my meal was devoted to memorizing the line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes as he did the same for me.
By the time the waiter came to ask about dessert, I could have written sonnets about his face alone, and by the time he returned with the check, paid discreetly with a 40% tip for his troubles on Helmut’s card, I had committed the sound of his breathing to my mind. I could only hope the memory would last this time.
Realistically, I knew it wouldn’t.
I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as we approached the front of the restaurant together, pausing awkwardly outside the door as we exited out onto the street.
“So, this is it,” My hands found the pockets of my coat as I rocked onto the balls of my feet.
Helmut smiled softly in the lamplight. “Let me walk you home,”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,”
“Says who? I have to follow you either way, my car is parked down the block,” He offered me his arm.
I took it far quicker than I should have, relishing in the scent of his cologne. Even after all these years he had never switched to another brand, and I refused to admit to anyone else but myself that I was grateful for it. Instead I leaned into his warmth. “Well, it’s only a few blocks anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt,” and with that, we were off.
The night was cool. Summer had given in to the pull of a lush fall, the temperatures dropping to a comfortable but windy chill when the sun fell below the horizon. The leaves were not yet falling but they’d begun their slow transformation from green into a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens, forming a rustling canopy above the sidewalk that allowed a flash of stars and moon through the foliage every few steps.
We were not the only pair walking through the streets that night, but if you had asked me about it later I would have said we were the only two people in the whole city, matching each other step for step under the flickering streetlights. Helmut’s crows feet were in full force as he laughed at my terrible jokes, and I couldn’t help but feel warmth rush through my neck and cheeks as he recounted the moment we first met.
It had been fall then, too. A brief, chance encounter in the streets of Paris was all it was, a night spend with a stranger, until I had seen him again in Sibera, and again in Germany, and again on the Raft, and again, and again, and again, and again…
He had been younger then, much younger, and still raw with grief, but I had loved him even then.
I was so lost in my own memories that I almost missed the stairs up to my apartment, but Helmut paused there, keeping me rooted with him even though the look in his eyes told me he almost kept walking past, hoping to gain one more turn around the block before he had to let me go. He didn't, though. This was the end of the line.
My arm slipped easily from its place against his own, hand catching briefly on the crook of his elbow. “Walk me to my door?”
His laugh felt almost nervous, a paid mockery of my own earlier reticence. “I don’t think that’s wise,”
“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman, baron?”
“I have never claimed that,” For a moment, when he paused, I thought that would be that. I would turn my back, ascend the stairs, and turn around to find he’d shifted back into the shadows from whence he came, but then the moonlight caught on his soft, wet eyes. “But for you, schatz, I try to be,”
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say as we walked up the front steps and into the building.
It had been so angry last time. I had vomited up every hateful, raging, repressed thought that I had shoved down into my chest over the course of our turbulent time together all at once and left without a second glance. This time, though, it felt wrong to end things without giving him credit for all of the other things, the things I had forgotten in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded us. How could I thank him? How could I tell him every wonderful thing about himself only to close the door in his face a moment later? I spent the whole trip up to my apartment trying to find a way to express even an ounce of what I felt, and then it was far too late.
We stood there on my novelty doormat, boots settled over the dirty cartoon chickens, hands in our pockets, and breathed in the stale hallway air.
“Thank you for dinner,” I said. If I shut off my heart and my mind and every other little betraying ache in my bones it was like it had been all those years ago. We were just meeting. This was the end of our very first date. There was a future instead of a past in the time that lay beyond us.
Helmut averted his eyes from mine. I could tell he was pretending too. “Of course,”
“I’ll see you again,” I lied, “I mean, it’s inevitable. We’ll end up at Bucky’s place at the same time,”
“Or run into each other at a busy cafe,” he offered.
“Exactly! Or our cells will end up next to each other in maximum security prison,” I laughed, but it caught, pathetic, in the back of my throat.
He took a step back, boots leaving my doorstep. “I look forward to it, whenever it may be,”
My shaking hands found my keys, an autopilot motion I had done a million times, and the door to my apartment swung open. I could hear Brutus in his kennel, beginning to whine the moment he heard me come home, but I paused there for a moment, one foot in and one foot out.
“Goodbye, Helmut,”
“Sleep well, schatz,”
I stepped inside and locked the door without turning around for a last look.
My tears came quicker than expected as I took in the room around me. It was the antithesis of my home with Helmut, all whites and beiges and grays from the sparse walls to the lonely couch against the wall. There was one great shock of black, though; a solid footprint on the windowsill. One last souvenir to remember him by.
I had done the right thing.
I had to have done the right thing.
Life with Helmut was hell. It was exciting and lush and romantic and alluring but it was destructive and painful too. It would mean being seen and unseen for the rest of my life, living with the ghosts of those lost in Novi Grad. He would never stop being the man his grief had created. He was just too broken… wasn’t he?
All at once I knew I had to see him again. This wasn’t going to be the end. There were still so many chances to make it right.
Before I knew my own feelings, I was undoing the latch and throwing my door open, only to find him there, feet planted solidly on that stupid welcome mat and fist raised to lift the knocker. Our eyes locked.
We didn’t need words then.
No, all I needed was his lips on mine and my hands in his hair. It was a need easily rectified.
He didn’t pull away as I grabbed the edges of his ridiculous fur coat and dragged him in for a kiss, letting the remains of that day’s lipstick smear against his chapped lips as the parted and made way for me. It was like a piece of my puzzle fell back into place, like the thing that had been lying dormant in my empty chest for the past two years had jumped to life and jumped into my throat. The tears weren’t coming anymore, though Helmut’s cheeks felt wet when I guided one of my hands to rest against it, dragging him closer. I needed him urgently. I needed all of it. Every moment I had missed.
At least one time in my entire tiny, useless life I needed to know him as he had always known me. I had to see him through eyes that would know every atom of him by heart.
It could have lasted second or hours. I was lost in it; lost in every heartbeat and the messy clack of teeth on teeth as we remembered exactly how our mouths locked into each other. There was no need to breathe. I would happily drown in him if he would let me. Through the passion I distinctly remembered this fervor, the endless need for him. It wasn’t frightening anymore, though. I knew how to walk away. We both did.
This time I didn’t want to.
Helmut was the first to pull away. His mouth was wet and red as he panted there, just a breath away from diving in for more, but he pulled away when I advanced again, instead choosing to speak between placing kisses on my cheeks and down my jaw. “I couldn’t let you walk away from me. Not again,” his voice shook as he kissed me, “Does that make me a bad man? Does that mean you can’t love me?”
I could only breathe a laugh as I pressed my chest to him. No measure of closeness was enough. I needed him to cover every inch of me. “I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried, and I’ve tried,”
“Please, stop trying,”
With that, he caught me in another kiss.
“We should probably go inside,” I panted, gesturing towards the apartment with my head and Helmut nodded, maneuvering us over the threshold and into the barren entryway of the home I’d made without him. It didn’t matter, though. That wasn’t what I was focused on. Instead, my hands were more focused on pulling his coat from his shoulders and discarding it loosely in the direction of the coat rack between fevered kisses.
The old Helmut would’ve pulled away and make some snarky remark about keeping the place clean. This Helmut, though- my Helmut, as I had selfishly started to refer to him mentally in the past few moments -just dragged me in closer after his arms were freed, letting his hand drift to the small of my back but not even an inch lower.
Suddenly, though, things seemed to cool. The kisses grew shorter, softer. His arms still held me but seemed to loosen their grip.
“Tell me you want this,” He whispered softly against the shell of my ear, “That you want me,”
Ah. So that’s what this is.
“Helmut, of course I do-“
“That’s not enough,” his voice was laced with a rare seriousness as he pulled away to look at me properly. His brown eyes glowed a million honeyed colors under the shitty, flickering overhead lighting I should have replaced months ago. They flitted from my swollen mouth to my cheeks to my watery eyes as his hand came up to cup my cheeks again. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake or a bad decision you’ll regret the second we finish,”
The rest went unsaid.
(Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me this means something to you, even if it doesn’t mean as much as it does to me. Tell me I won’t wake up alone tomorrow morning. Tell me anything and everything except the cruel reality that neither of us really knows what the future looks like once this is over)
I simply nodded my head, coming in for one closed mouth kiss. “I want this. I want you. Whatever I choose to do next, you’ll be a part of the decision. No more running away,”
Like a shot, we were off to the races again.
It was hard to detach our bodies long enough to give Brutus a treat to quiet him down, harder still to lead him to the bedroom and drop his hand long enough to turn on a nearby lamp, but somehow I managed. For all of the small things I’d forgotten about Helmut in the two years we’d spent apart, his bitten nails and the silhouette of his nose and the sound of his labored breathing as he took in my body with something akin to animalistic hunger, it was easy to fall back into the rhythm we’d always found ourselves in intimately.
His shirt came off first, exposing the soft curve of his stomach. I kissed down from his neck to his chest, letting myself pause on each and every pinkish scar that graced his flesh. I made a mental note to ask him about a few new ones, including a wicked one across his collarbone that still puckered into an inch long divot in his flesh. My fingers followed my mouth, mapping every inch of his flesh. They caught on every soft yielding place he offered, a worship on the altar of his body, dragging his flesh ever so slightly but never enough to leave a scratch or bruise.
I would not mark him any more than the world already had. It was not my purpose to remold him into my image. Instead I would venerate what he was, what he had become.
Helmut had put so much effort into changing himself, rebreaking the things that had never healed correctly and setting them right again. I refused to let him break down to splinters again. Not on my watch.
He shuddered at my attentions.
“Let me see you?” It was a question, not a demand, and how could I deny him when he asked so nicely?
I stood up again, relishing in the feeling of his fingers against the hem of my t-shirt, the gentle scratch of nails on skin as he lifted it over my head. When he looked at me, it was like he was looking at the most precious thing in the world. Usually he was so hungry for it that there was never a pause once my shirt was discarded. My bra would be thrown off with it, then my pants, then my underwear, all in such quick succession that I barely distinguished one article from the next in the order of things. This time, though, he paused, hands just inches from my bare flesh.
“My sweet girl,” he whispered to me like a prayer, a confession, “I don’t think I can hold back much longer,”
Slowly, deliberately, I stepped forward and pressed my body into his awaiting hands. He squeezed my hips once, gentle, and twice. Then they were roaming up to the clasp on my bra with that usual hunger again, freeing my breasts for his attentions. I don’t exactly recall how he manhandled me on to the bed, I was too busy feeling the hard press of his bulge through his crisp dress slacks. The first thing I was fully cognizant of was his hot breath on my sternum as he hovered over me, still standing but bent at the waist, boxing me in with his knees.
“So fucking sweet,” he whispered before taking one of my nipples between his lips and laving his tongue over the hardening tip.
I felt like a live wire. Heat was building everywhere. Dazzling electricity shot through my head and fingers and toes and cunt and gods especially my breasts. They were always my weak spot, and how he knew it, how he knew me. I wanted to thrash against him, to buck and gain his attention where I really needed it, but his body above mine held me fast, keeping me right where he wanted me, vulnerable to him and his specific brand of torture. With a particularly sharp pinch and a well timed suck he had me keening against him, curling into his every move.
How had I lived without him? It was hard to imagine a night not spend here with Helmut, wherever here was, not that that mattered. I was embarrassingly wet. The slickness had gathered enough that I could feel it on my thighs despite my jeans. When I tried to relieve myself, though, the baron caught my hand, tutting softly.
I expected to have to ask permission. Soft begs escaped my mouth. I needed him. I had no patience for games. Instead, though, he lifted up off of my chest and smiled, pulling my hand to his lips. “Let me help you, love,”
There are no words in the human language that could adequately represent the sound that escaped my mouth. I could not even begin to try. It continued even as I lifted my hips to shimmy free from my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, only ceasing when Helmut was on his knees with his face buried in my cunt. I was making different noises then. Loud. Guttural. If I had any mind left at all I would worry what my neighbors thought, to see me out on my doorstep desperately pawing at a man only to hear the noises we were making in tandem now. Thankfully, any sensible thought I had left seemed to fly out the window with Helmut’s first lick to my cunt.
It was clear that he hadn’t forgotten me, and if he had, the muscle memory was coming back quick. His tongue was deft as it worked its way over my aching nub in a pseudo-figure eight; circling once, twice, and three times before dipping back through my folds. I held him in place this time, though, rocking into his mouth. At some point my hands found their way into his hair. It was so soft between my fingers, so pliable as I pulled against him, desperate for more of him, anything he would good.
Every time he relented to me. Each sharp jolt was rewarded with a kiss against my thigh or a muttered curse in Sokovian, hot breath teasing my glistening mound.
He was so giving, so attentive to my every need. He had always been a generous lover, never leaving me wanting for anything, but this felt… different. The way he sucked bruises into my thighs, relenting to each and every sobbing please that escaped my soft lips, was a new and devastating experience. There were no power games left to play, no lording his sexual prowess over me as he brought me slowly closer and closer to the ever distant goalpost, just his mouth on me over and over and over again as he wrung the first orgasm of the night out of me, then the second in short measure, barely ceasing from one to the next.
By the time he decided I’d had my fill, my legs were a trembling mess against his shoulders and my cunt was a sopping mess.
He grinned a crooked grin at his masterpiece.
“How was that, my love,”
I could barely catch my breath enough to speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, thrumming a frantic drumbeat even as the room quieted. “So good- really really good, Helmut,”
Slowly, he rose up from his knees, undoing his belt. “Please say my name again, schatz,”
“Helmut,” My voice was hushed. Reverent.
He undid the button at his fly, pulling at the band of his boxers. “Again,”
It fell from my lips like a prayer. “Helmut,”
His cock bounced free, bobbing as he took a sharp, steadying breath. He placed his hand at the base and squeezed slightly.
“Again,”
“Helmut,”
“Fuck, that’s good,” The trance broke momentarily as I gazed up at him, watching the sweat roll down his forehead in shining rivulets despite the chill in the air. He wiped at them with the back of his free hand and smiled sheepishly. “Scoot back and get comfortable, please. I don’t think I’ll last long,”
I did as he asked, settling against my pillows on the still-made sheets. “Neither will I,”
“Where are your condoms?”
“Bedside drawer, way in the back. I’m on the pill too, so no worries,”
He moved quickly, grabbing a foil package from the small pile I’d accrued, just in case.
It felt odd to have him be the one using them.
There had been a few other men who had been invited here, fewer still that made it to the point that Helmut and I were at now. Every time, though, I hadn’t been able to go through with it, because every time they had finally settled themselves above me, I would close my eyes and, just for a moment, see Helmut in their place. It was unsettling the first time, enough so that I sent the guy home right away. The next time, though, it was more thought provoking than anything. I chalked it up to him being my longest lasting sexual partner and left it at that, but now, watching him roll the condom onto his length and crawl into his position over me, I knew.
I would never get over him, even if I tried for years. My heart had a space carved out in the shape of his own. No matter how long I stayed away, I would never find something quite like what we had. He was it. This was what people dreamed about. And to think, I had almost let it slip away…
He slid one hand into mine, lacing our fingers together in the gentle lamplight. “Are you ready for me?”
“More than ready,” My thighs spread as I canted my hips up.
Physically and mentally and every other possible way I needed him. I was prepared.
So Helmut pumped himself once with his free hand before guiding himself into my wet heat.
It was impossible to last long once we were finally complete.
Feeling him inside me was like knowing the truth of the universe. It was comfortable, and thrilling, and so deliciously enough. He filled me well, finding his rhythm as he swore and released my hand to prop himself up more comfortably. We were linked together like the final pieces of a puzzle. I closed my eyes at let myself relish in it.
There was nothing left to worry over while Helmut was inside of me. All thoughts that weren’t of him were banished. It was something to be cherished, every thrust paired with a whispered confession of love from one of us, a fleeting kiss, a curse, a plea… We laid ourselves bare. I let my legs wrap around his warm, soft hips as he rutted into me, bringing a hand between us to circle my clit once more. Even after everything he refused to leave me behind while he chased his own pleasure. It didn’t take much to send me tumbling over the edge into oblivion.
As always, Helmut followed me down.
His thrusts quickened, then stilled as he came to rest upon me, panting and heaving and begging for breath. I didn’t care much. He smelled of cologne and sweat as I buried my face in his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could feel him soften inside of me but I was far too spent to urge him to move.
We only shifted apart when he slipped free of me.
Helmut quickly kissed my forehead and gathered himself up, shuffling to the trash can to discard the used condom and grab a tissue to wipe himself up. I didn’t let myself move an inch. If I moved, would the bliss run away? Would I realize what I’d done? I let myself lay instead, eyes closed, panting in the autumn chill as my lover approached and wiped up our beautiful mess as gently as he could manage. With one last kiss to my thigh, he discarded the rag, opened the window, and crawled back into bed with me.
The process was indelicate, a lot of awkward shuffling of sticky limbs, but we were settled beneath the blankets soon enough. Helmut stroked his fingers down my arm languidly while kissing the back of my neck.
I broke the peace between us.
“I don’t… I don’t know what this means for us,”
He sighed gently. His breath was soothing and familiar against my shoulder. “That’s not something we have to decide at this very moment,”
“But I just don’t want you to think this means something… or at least something more than it does? If that makes sense? I don’t know,”
“Schatz, please,”
“I want to keep my own place, at least for now. I don’t know what that means for when I’ll see you or if we’ll keep doing this,” I gestured vaguely to my nude body beneath the sheets, “or if we’re even a thing anymore, bu-“
Helmut reached his arm around us, placing a quieting finger over my lips and another soft kiss against my shoulder.
“I swear, your mind sounds even louder than mine,”
“Sorry,”
“No reason to be,” His hand left my lips, running down to my stomach and pulling me back towards the softness of his chest. “As for your questions, I shall respect your wishes about distance and housing and labels, whatever they may be. That being said, as long as you’re still up for… this, as you put it, I will never deny you, no matter the distance. I would cross oceans for you,”
A cum-drunk, half-asleep giggle escaped me as he nuzzled in, kissing my ear.
“Thank you,”
“No, thank you,” he matched my laughter with his own, “I believe this is what James would call post nut clarity,”
“Now you ruined it!” I huffed. The faux anger only lasted a moment, though, before I was rolling to face him, cheek pressed to the soft, downy hair of his chest. “I love you, Helmut.”
“I love you too, sweet girl. Now sleep. I’ll get up and deal with the dog once you’re resting,”
For the first time in two years, I breathed in the scent of Helmut’s cologne before lapsing into a peaceful sleep.
---------
A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into smut in literal years, and it was literally all written within a 12 hour period, so I hope any mistakes weren't enough to take away from your enjoyment. Comments are always appreciated, but never expected. See you on the next authors note!
#zemo#helmut zemo#baron zemo#zemo x reader#daniel brühl#fanfic#marvel fanfiction#x reader#helmut zemo x reader#baron helmut zemo x reader#daniel bruhl x reader#zemo smut#marvel smut
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The Bath
MDNI
Rating: Explicit
Relationship: Baron Helmut Zemo x reader
Warnings: Cockwarming, mentions of previous violence between the two before their relationship began (he's a villain, they're ex-SHIELD guys c'mon), reference to a break-in.
Note: Liebling = darling, liebchen = sweetheart, bärchen = cute bear.
There are no rose petals in your bath.
Early on, your love had tried his best to be romantic, creating a path with rose petals to a large claw-foot tub that was absolutely teeming with them. The water was lightly fragranced, and while it had been the perfect temperature, you were covered in petals afterwards, including in some places that petals truly did not belong. You hadn't complained - you'd never put your sweet Baron down for trying to do something romantic for you - but he had somehow known how much you disliked them.
No, today, your bath is fizzy and bubbly from bath bombs. The shimmery swirl of the water doesn't bother you in the same way as the petals, and steam gently drifts from the surface to show it's the perfect temperature. You sigh blissfully, letting your lover take your robe from you and press kisses along your shoulders while you kick your slippers off into the corner out of the way. Zemo hangs up your robe for you, then takes your hand to help you into the clawfoot tub, a smile overtaking his face as you sink into the water with a happy moan.
"Good?"
"Perfect." You correct him, "Or, near enough."
"I love you dearly, liebchen, but I do not enjoy boiling quite like you do." He retorts, bending to kiss your forehead, then leaning against the counter in his adorable little silk robe. You pout at him, and he pouts right back, mocking you playfully. Eventually, as the water cools to a normal, livable temperature, he approaches to nudge you forwards and slip in behind you. You're both clean - freshly showered, but needing some intimacy and relaxation after a long, long day. Once he's settled, he lifts you carefully, holding you steady above him as he runs the head of his cock through your folds, then pulls you down into his lap, impaling you upon him. You curl into Zemo's arms, leaning against his chest and letting your eyes close, satiated in your fullness. It's been a while since you've been able to do this. He's been gone for nearly two weeks on a mission he's been very hush-hush about, but he returned to you unharmed, and that's all you can ask for. The hours of running around town with him after picking him up at the airstrip at the crack of dawn because you couldn't help but want to be there with Oeznik when he landed had certainly taken it's toll on you.
"Will you read to me tonight?" You ask him, and he squeezes you closer, tracing his fingertip over one pert nipple, then cupping your breast in his hand.
"Have I ever said no?"
You smile.
"Shortly after we first met. It was very rude of you, bärchen."
Zemo rolls his eyes at you, but his smile is fond as he presses it to your temple.
"You were very rude, liebling. You punched me in the throat." He reminds you, and you grin to yourself, pressing your bottom back into his hips.
"You broke into my house - how was I to know you were with my friends? Anyways, you've long forgiven me. I hardly think you were even mad, my love, you were rock hard when you pinned me to the wall. In my own home. That you had just broken into." Your voice is playful, and Zemo groans against your shoulder, knowing he has lost. It had been rather rude of him.
"Little did I know that the little ex-SHIELD agent would bend over my counter for me the moment we were alone in Riga. Besides, Sam told me that they called you." His stubble rubs against your neck, and you sigh, letting him rock you ever so gently as you take comfort in his arms.
"Excuses, excuses."
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Red fruits (MarvelboysxFem!reader) series masterlist.
Summary: You were a sweet, ripe, juicy fruit; ready to be devoured. Marvelboysxfem!reader!)
Warnings: 18+ ONLY/ Minors DNI, Angust, Hurt comfort, Sex, Apologies, Crying, Creampie, Passionate sex, virgin!reader, size difference, smut, soft!dom!, HEA, good ending, somnophille, slight degradation, duvious consent, menstrual sex, pregnancy, arranged marriage, inexperienced reader, abortion commented, unprotected sex (don't do that wrap this thing), kidnapping, aftercare, curse words.
A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.
◦ parte 1:Cherry (bucky barnes/winter soldier x fem!reader) - The Soldier takes care of you when your monthly blood appears suddenly. (+18)
◦ parte 2: Strawberry (Loki x fem!reader) -
◦ parte 3: Blackberry(Steve Rogersx fem!reader) -You shouldn't have had too much to drink at that party, blackbarry. (+18)
◦ parte 4: Raspberry (T'Challa x fem!reader) -
◦ parte 5: Dragon fruit ( Namor x fem!reader)- You beg K'uk'ulkan to give you a baby (+18)
◦ parte 6: Blueberry(Helmut Zemo xFem!reader)-
#namor x reader#bucky barnes x reader#helmut zemo x reader#loki x reader#steve rogers x reader#t'challa x reader#mcu fanfiction#x reader#mcu fandom#winter soldier x reader
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Intoxicating - Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader (NSFW)
Rated M for Smut
Tagging: @mysoulisasunflower @sapphiredreamer26 @wolfers-stuff @zemoshatz @1deadpool26 @majestymoon @purebloodwitch @blackleatherjacketz @ marvel-starwars-kenobi-zemo
It’s unhinged the way you feel about Helmut, the things you let him do to you. He’s a slow burn, a controlled fire that erupts through your senses eating up every essence of your sanity as he fucks you against the vanity in the bathroom of the manor house you are currently a guest in. There’s a party going on the other side of the door, but he is relentless. His gaze fixes on yours in the mirror, and he smiles, that deliciously sinful grin as his breath ghosts across your ear.
“You’re intoxicating.” He tells you, the fabric of your dress bunched in his fist. “I could fuck you like this for hours my love, keeping you on the precipice of pleasure.”
“Please Helmut.” You whisper, reaching behind you, your fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I need you; I need you to make me come.”
He arches his hips, the new angle hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, the one that makes you cry out in ecstasy. That familiar flush is creeping across your cheeks, you bring your hand up to your lips to cover your mouth, to hide the euphoric moans that punctate the air every time he thrusts into you. His hand grasps yours, fingers entwining as he pulls it away slowly steering it towards your clit instead.
“None of that.” He chides, his teeth grazing that deviant little area underneath the curve of your jaw. “I want everybody to know how good your Baron fucks you.”
His presses your fingers against that needy little nub, guiding them in slow circles.
“Come for me my love, I want to feel you clenching around my cock.”
You feel that moment of rapture coming, it builds, and it builds until it hits you like a force of nature, swallowing you up and drinking you down. It’s violent and consuming, coursing through your body like electricity as it sears through your synapses. It’s too much, you’re drowning in it as Helmut, threads his fingers in your hair and tilts your face back towards the mirror so that your eyes meet.
“Look at me.” He rasps against your throat, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Look at what you do to me.”
He buries himself right up to the hilt, hips stuttering as he spurts deep inside you and it’s the most sensual thing you’ve ever seen because it’s a moment where he allows you to see his vulnerability, his adoration, his bliss.
It’s exhilarating the way this man loves you, the way he forces you to abandon everything else to chase your pleasure.
“I love seeing you like this.” He tells you, his lips tenderly brushing over your shoulder, his gaze drinking you in through the reflection in the mirror. “So ruined, so debauched, filled with me. There’s nothing in this world more beautiful.”
Fan of Zemo? Don’t miss any of his stories here by joinng his taglist!
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#baron helmut zemo#helmut zemo#helmut zemo smut#helmut zemo x reader#zemo smut#zemo x you#zemo#baron zemo x reader#zemo x reader#helmut zemo fanfiction#helmut zemo x you
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Point of No Return
Baron Helmut Zemo x Original Female Character
Summary: While preparing for a mission where she has to seduce their target, Zemo convinces her to show him how she plans on doing it.
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Daniel Bruhl’s Magnetic Essence, Dubious Consent, Manipulation, Sugar Daddy Undertones, Soft Dom Zemo, Roleplay, Oral Sex (Male and Female Receiving), Vaginal Sex, Lingerie, Dresses, Tuxedos, Kissing, Face Holding, Teasing, Hair Pulling, Zemo’s Hands, Eye Contact, Classical Music References, Zemo Possibly Catching Feelings
Word Count: 3.7K
Tags: Thank you to @bullet-prooflove for helping me concoct this universe! @letsby @imadeadpoett @mrsmaxwelllord @genevievedarcygranger
Read more MARVEL stories!
“How does it fit?” He doesn’t bother to look at her as she walks into his room wearing the gown he had made especially for her, one he was certain would fit every curve and angle of her body. He takes care to glance over just as she looks away, pretending not to notice how the vibrant color of the cloth complements the olive tones in her skin, accented only by the raven locks that cascade down her shoulders.
“Well enough, I guess.” She lifts her arms up, defeated by the fact that her chromosomes drew her the short straw in the group tonight.
She had dressed up a handful of times before; weddings, parties and funerals all placing her in dresses of varying lengths throughout her lifetime, but none of them were quite like this. None of them had clung so tightly to her skin, restricted her movement or made her feel so incredibly vulnerable that she questioned her ability to carry out her skill set in the presence of her colleagues… and him.
The baron looks up at her as she slowly turns around in front of him, noticing that the zipper on the back of her dress is still only halfway up. “You’re not zipped all the way.”
“What?” She turns to each side to get a better view of the back of her dress, bending her arms backward in a failed attempt to get a grip on the elusive zipper, splaying her fingers out across the fabric.
“Here,” he presses his lips together and walks toward her, motioning for her to turn around, “Allow me.”
She walks over to the full sized mirror to get a better look at herself, making an effort to grab hold of her dress as if to show him that she can do it herself. She’ll be damned if she actually needs a man to help her to get into this thing, even if he is the one who paid for it. And the flat they’re currently staying in. And their mode of transportation. And all their meals. And everything else.
Damnit.
She huffs before letting go of the silky cloth, reluctantly letting him take his place behind her. Although she had thought about it a few times before, she had never let the baron get this close to her, heeding her partners’ warnings of his hidden agendas and dual nature. Even with the heels she has on he still towers over her, the top of her head barely meeting his eyeline as they both look straight forward into the mirror. It’s almost as if they’re posing for a formal portrait, a snapshot of this moment in time portraying them as an opulent couple who had been together for years, his hand finding a sudden familiarity on her lower back.
“It suits you,” he whispers into her ear, tracing his way down her shoulder blade with his opposite hand.
“Does it?” She keeps her eyes on their reflection in the mirror, hoping that her makeup is heavy enough to hide the flushing of her cheeks as his fingers send a shiver down her spine. She’s supposed to be getting into character, one who is single and ready to mingle with their target long enough for Sam and Bucky to get the information they need; not one who can’t get over the intoxicating scent of her benefactor’s cologne.
“You don’t think so?” He takes his time feathering his fingertips over her silken strap as it curves its way into the unfastened bodice. He follows it down the inner arch of her back, noticing the absence of black lace or any other delicate fabric underneath. “You’re not wearing the lingerie I set out for you.”
“It was too bulky, didn’t look right.” She pauses as he excites the skin on her lower back, sparking a hint of heat into her core. “It’s just been a while since I’ve worn a dress, is all,” she starts to explain herself, feeling his breath warm against her hairline as his lips brush the shell of her ear.
Good God, why does he have to be so fucking handsome?
“You should wear them more often.” He reaches the tiny metal zipper at the base of her spine and slowly pulls it upward before laying it down flush against the material of her bodice. “You’re a vision in red, but every piece of your costume serves a purpose, tells a part of the story.” He takes a breath, pausing before continuing on, “You’re going to have to do more than just look the part tonight.”
“I know that,” she says, more to herself than to him as she watches his hand smooth its way over her hip in the mirror. She holds her breath as he guides it up her belly, inhaling as it curves over her breast and touches the bare skin on her chest.
“Do you?” He reaches her chin with the pads of his fingers, turning her face away from the mirror. “You’re going to have to distract him.” He tilts her chin up so that she has no other choice but to look into the dark caramel of his eyes. “You’re going to have to seduce him.”
“I can do that.” Her sentence wavers as it leaves her lips, a pathetic whisper of a promise as he drags his fingers off of her face.
“Can you?” He lets go of her completely, taking a step back before turning on his heel. “Sam seems to have a lot of confidence in your abilities, but I have my doubts.”
“Really?” She watches him walk away from her, his musk still lingering on her skin as he casually makes his way over to the vanity. “Is that why you can’t stop touching me?” She does her best to sound level headed as she challenges him, her body already yearning for his touch. “Your doubts?”
“My attraction to you isn’t in question here.” He states the obvious so matter-of-factly that it takes her by surprise, keeping any rebuttal she may have prepared still in her throat. “Your ability to stand out from the dozens of other European socialites is. And we want him… need him to do more than just touch you.”
“I can’t apologize enough for being an American,” she puts her hands on her hips, still flustered by his flippancy, “But I can do a British accent if you want.”
“No.” He puts a hand up to stop her before letting it fall to his side. “I want you to be as believable as possible.”
“Okay, then I just won’t talk as much.” She takes a deep breath. “That usually works on men of any social class, they all love the sound of their own voice.”
“Is that so?” He scoffs, leaning his back against the vanity. “If you’re so confident in your skills, then why don’t you show me what you plan on doing.”
Her heart nearly stops as it’s beating, its last contraction a loud and heavy thump in her chest as she swallows the lump in her throat. If he wanted her so badly, then why didn’t he just keep touching her? Why didn’t he take the chance to kiss her when his lips were so close to her mouth only moments ago? Why pull away at all? Maybe he is just as manipulative as Sam had warned her about.
“Excuse me?” She checks, her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline as his lips curl into a smirk.
He can’t be serious, can he?
He merely nods with a sound confidence that only the baron of Sokovia could have. “I’d like to see how you’re going to keep his attention. The lives of dozens of people depend on it.”
“Well,” she starts, eager to play his game. They have a few hours to kill before the party starts, and she can’t think of any better way to fill each passing minute than to get his hands back on her body. “I’ll walk by him and… I’ll give him the look.” She’s never really had to think through what she’s done in the past to get a man’s attention. It always just seemed to happen to her without her really trying.
“The look?” He stands up straight, tilting his head to get a better grasp of the idea.
“You know…” she turns to the side and glances at him, lashes batting with feigned desire. “The look.”
“And?”
“And?” She laughs, exacerbated. “And I’ll look away then wait for him to approach me.” She looks up to see an unamused look on his face, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I’ll laugh at his jokes, touch his arm, touch my neck, things like that.”
“And if he doesn’t have any jokes for you to laugh at? What then?” He raises his eyebrows scoldingly, his tone dripping with acid. “Julian isn’t nearly as kind or as generous as I am, and it’s imperative that you distract him tonight. We can’t count solely on the luck you’ve had with men in the past.”
“What makes you think I’ve had any luck in the past?” She decides to commit to the bit wholeheartedly now, wondering what it will take to bring that sensual side of the baron back out to play. She steps toward him in her heels, careful not to make too much noise in them as she corners him against the dresser.
“Women like you usually haven’t had to seduce anyone before.” He inhales as she gets closer, pressing his back against the vanity as the different colored liquids sway to and fro inside their delicate glass bottles.
“Women like me?” She smiles and touches the hem of his waistcoat, a timeless piece he undoubtedly kept in storage from a lifetime ago. “What do you know about women like me?” She slides her fingers up his chest, following the design of his tuxedo to the fastened collar of his dress shirt.
“I know enough.” His words barely blow a few stray strands of hair away from her face, their tone shaking just a little at the end.
“Really?” She stands up even higher on her tiptoes, the bottom of her heels leaving the ground as she smoothes her hand beneath his tuxedo jacket. “You seem so confident in your skills.” She uses his own line against him, whispering her taunt against his ear as she slides her hand up the base of his neck. “But your years behind bars would prove that you’re a little out of practice.” She smiles against his skin as his palms warm her waist.
“One would venture to say that it’s as easy as pedaling a bicycle.” His fingers find the zipper they spent so much time and effort pulling up just moments before, holding it delicately between his thumb and forefinger. “A muscle memory, if you will.” He tugs it slowly down her backside, loosening her bodice along with the straps around her shoulders.
“Well, I’ve always heard that practice makes perfect.” She presses her fingers into his hairline, forcing him to look down at her as she brings her other hand up to mirror its movements. She can smell his cologne even deeper at this proximity, his raging pulse enriching the notes of cedar wood and patchouli into her nostrils as she massages his scalp. It’s different than anything else she’s ever smelled before, a perfect signature scent for a man unlike anyone else she’s ever met before.
She continues to card her fingers through his hair as she gazes upon him, the chestnut hues in his irises making way for expanding pupils as they dart nervously over her features. She can feel his chest as it rises against hers, expanding with each prolonged inhalation as his heart beats wildly inside. He must be just as rapt as she is with the scent he dabbed onto her wrists earlier, a rich floral perfume with a hint of orange that is ‘fit for a queen’, if she remembers his words correctly. She presses her thumbs into his temples before sliding them down his cheeks to hold his face merely millimeters away from her own.
“Don’t you want to be perfect?” She parts her lips and feathers them over his, teasing the idea of a kiss that’s only just out of reach.
“More than anything.” He nods as he takes her in, his body giving him away as his nose gently nudges into hers. He opens his mouth and kisses her, tasting the savory combination of her lips and tongue as he slides his hands up the muscles of her exposed back. He pulls her in close, finally exhaling into her as he lets his guard down for the very first time in over a decade. He wants to relish every inch of her, to memorize how she feels as she trembles against him, but he must stay on track.
“Remove my jacket,” he tells her, smoothing his palms across her neck and shoulders before letting his arms fall to his side.
She nods and presses her hands over his chest, sliding her fingers beneath the thick black fabric of his coat. She takes her time sliding it off of his arms, carefully folding it in half before draping it over the back of the chair next to the bed.
“Now my tie.” His words are cold against the warmth of her cheek as she unfastens his off-white bow tie. “You’re doing well, darling, but I’m going to need you to look up at me with those eyes while you undress me.” He lifts her chin with a curled finger beneath it, holding himself back from tugging on her bottom lip with his thumb. “Let him know how badly you want it.” He tries to circle back to his original plan by taking his own needs and desires out of the situation, but it’s obvious that he’s already dipped his toe into the shoreline of the point of no return.
“Okay.” She finishes pulling his tie out of his collar, the fancy bow now reduced to a single flat piece of cloth as she makes quick work of unbuttoning his vest and shirt between intentional stolen glances.
With his clothes off he’s absolutely beautiful, his broad chest and trim figure nothing how she imagined it would be, but somehow that much more alluring to her. Dark hair scatters its way across his chest, mixing in with a constellation of moles down his belly and into his pants that seem to be growing tighter in between his thighs, proving the effectiveness of her skills.
“Now get out of that dress and onto the bed.” His order ties a knot into her stomach, the authoritative tone of his voice pulling on her muscles as his callous words do more for her libido than she cares to admit. She should probably unpack the origin of that gut reaction when she gets a chance, but there’s a time and place for all of that.
She turns around and unzips the rest of her gown, casually sliding it off her shoulders with ease as she steps out of her heels. She takes a moment to look back at him with her practiced stare, catching him with a hungry look in his eye as she follows his instructions. She only smirks before looking away again, stepping out of the gown and over to the king sized bed in her bare feet. She hears him undress his bottom half on his own, the sound of him undoing his belt buckle and pants zipper echoing loudly in this tiny little bedroom as she climbs up onto the freshly made bed.
She takes her time turning over onto her back, spreading her legs in full display as he finally approaches her, now just as naked as she is. All of the sudden he isn’t this manipulative mastermind who lied, cheated and killed his way to revenge. He isn’t an escaped felon, a criminal or an enemy of the state. He isn’t even a baron, her benefactor, or the one hope to get the information she needs for this mission.
He’s just a man.
She sits up and reaches out to him, wrapping her fingers around his wrist before bringing his hand to her breast. She waits for him to squeeze it before looking up at him just like he’s told her to, letting her eyes fill up with desire as he grows right in front of her face. “Still doubting my skills, Baron?” She chides, opening her mouth to lick his tip.
“No.” He takes a deep breath as she tastes him, slowly taking more of him into her mouth as her perfect lips wrap around his cock. “Not at all.” He runs his other hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear as she opens the back of her throat to take him in completely. He lets his eyelids fall down as her lips reach his pelvis, tugging on her hair so that her tongue encases his shaft as she sucks her way back up. He guides her back down again, repeating the motion over and over as he nearly gets lost in how good her mouth feels as it glides over his throbbing member. He can’t get over how the warmth of her lips and the sensation of her tongue are far superior than that of his hand slick with spit in the cool recesses of his prison cell.
He also can’t get over the fact that he’s actually here, a conditionally free man who gets to enjoy a woman so utterly gorgeous as she does nearly anything that he asks…. a real, tangible woman. She looks so beautiful like this, eyes wide as she nearly chokes on his girth, saliva dripping down the corners of her mouth. He could finish like this in a matter of minutes if he wanted to, his hand in her hair as she swallows his release; leaving Sam and James none the wiser to their current activities, but he wants something more. He wants to know what she feels like from the inside, how the warmth of her cunt compares to the warmth of her mouth as her features contort with the pleasure he’s so ready to give her.
He pulls her off of him and loosens his grip on her hair, smoothing it out as he memorizes every curve of her face before leaning down to kiss her. He can feel himself walking straight into the depth of his desires, subconsciously crossing that line between motivation and need, between restraint and reckless abandon. At this point he doesn’t care what they’re supposed to be doing or how he’s supposed to be acting, all he can bring himself to care about is how he can taste himself on her lips as he presses his knees into the mattress.
He pushes her onto her back and climbs on top of her, kissing his way up her legs before tasting the moisture between her thighs, savoring the delicacy of her tangy flavor with muffled moans. He feels her fingers weave their way into his hair as she writhes beneath him, groaning as he laps her up until those groans increase in pitch, climbing up the octave scale one note at a time. It’s as if she’s singing her very own aria, telling the story of her pleasure to the centuries-old walls as he greedily dines on her flesh.
He grabs onto her wrists as the twitching of her hips becomes more sporadic, holding them down at her sides as that inner music moves its way through her. It steals her breath, turning that consistent vibrato in her lungs to a stifled staccato as her flavor grows sweeter beneath his tongue. It’s the most divine thing he’s ever heard in his life, each note sticking out in his memory forever as he kisses his way up her pelvis and chest, trying his best not to suck a few bruises into the delicate skin of her neck.
He releases his grip on her wrists, lifting her thighs around his waist as she nods for him to continue, pushing that staccato deep inside of her. He watches her mouth fall open as he stretches her out, leaning down to kiss her lips as he takes his turn adding his own groans to their proper duet. He takes advantage of the freedom of these walls, moaning into her as she envelops him with her velvety warmth, bringing him even closer to the brink.
He grabs onto her jaw as he rocks into her, gradually picking up the pace as their hearts provide the drum beat to their chaotic song of groans and grunts. He can’t help but bury his face in her shoulder to soften his fervor, tasting the salt of her skin as she reaches another octave while he pushes inside at a brand new angle.
“You feel so good,” she barely whispers, crossing her legs behind his back to keep him there. “Oh my God, Zemo!” She wraps her arms around his back in a similar fashion, pulling him in even closer as their steady collection of notes build upon each other, one right after the other with each rhythmic thrust of his hips until they both reach the height of their crescendo.
He cries out against her shoulder as the pleasure washes over him, releasing his bliss inside her walls in irregular spurts as he merges his body with hers, both of them vibrating in rhythm together. He kisses his way up her neck and jawline, still holding her face in his hand as he kisses her lips and cheeks. He pulls back, opening his mouth as if to say something mean or witty, to reinstate the power dynamics of their relationship, but the ecstasy wreaking havoc on his nervous system won’t let that happen. Instead he only kisses her again, soft and gentle as he rests his forehead against hers while he allows himself to forget everything that’s happened except for this very moment. He allows himself another scene of romance after their passionate duet, knowing full well that it can only last as long as it takes for the curtain to fall and the next act to begin.
#baron helmut zemo#helmut zemo x reader#helmut zemo smut#daniel brühl#Helmut Zemo#Helmut Zemo Fan Fiction#Daniel bruhl#the falcon and the winter soldier
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In The Summertime 1
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, power imbalance, grooming behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your father’s best friend gives you a job for the summer, but he’s not so interested in your work ethic.
Character: dbf!Helmut Zemo
Note: This just sits in my drafts.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you all. Take care. 💖
The doorbell chirps and draws you from the reverie of your fictional paradise. You set the bookmark between the pages and put down the book, rounding the counter mindlessly as your thoughts linger on the fearless heroine’s next move. You don’t think about how late it is or that you can hear the kettle starting to quake. You’d almost forgot the very reason you’d ended up in the kitchen.
You open the door a crack and peek out. You smile and let it fall ajar.
“Dr. Zemo,” you greet, “how are you?”
“Oh, you’re back,” he says, “I’m very fine, my dear, I didn’t know you’d returned. How are you? How is school?”
“Yep! Came back for summer break. I’m doing okay. Catching up on some reading,” you answer, “my dad’s not here. He texted though, he should be back soon.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you so late, I can always come by tomorrow,” he assures, “I suppose I was overly eager. I get some thought in my mind and must see it through at the very moment.”
“You can wait for him,” you say as the kettle begins to whistle, “I was just making some tea if you want some.”
“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully, “perhaps I might before my purpose runs away from me.”
You step back and let him in. He is not a stranger to your father’s modest home. You watch him shed his blazer and hang it. He turns to you as he smooths the front of his sweater, a crisp collar peeking above the vee. You spin and lead him down the hallway.
“You still have classes, right?” you ask as you enter the kitchen and rush to turn off the burner, removing the screaming kettle.
“I do, but my summers are always slower,” he assures as he nears the island. You sense his shadow as you take out a second mug, “do you miss campus terribly?”
“Hmm, I suppose but it’s good to be back,” you say, “I think even dad would agree. Any particular tea you’re in the mood for?”
“It is late, perhaps a chamomile, something herbal,” he replies carelessly.
You take out your tin of teas and sort through, tearing open a packet and placing the bags in the cups. You go through the process of steeping and turn back as Zemo stands over your novel, flicking through the pages curiously.
“Oh, I was just reading,” you say bashfully.
“I usually see you carrying around Tolstoy,” he muses, “this is very different.”
“Just a book I was suggested,” you answer as you near and place the cup before him, “I think I’m all burnt out on history and lit right now.”
“No judgment, you know, Lovecraft is regarded as a great and he wrote quite peculiar fantasy,” he muses as he closes the book, “it is always a positive to broaden our horizons.”
He pulls the cup closer as you cradle yours between your palms. It’s been a while since you saw the doctor, your father’s oldest friend, and the indulger of your historical whimsy. Many of your books had once been his.
His brushes back the grey at his temples, some new silver laced over the top of his head. He looks older but not poorly for it. He always seemed entirely too sage and intelligent for you and even after a year of university, you feel inadequate.
“And you’ve just been teaching?” you ask.
“Mm, yes, and I did make my rounds at the conferences this year,” he replies as he traces the porcelain brim with his finger, steam coiling up from the tea, “I have a few this summer. I thought, now you are a fully-fledged scholar, you might… be interested? Or perhaps you’re life is much too exciting for me now.”
“Ha,” you scoff, “maybe. I’ll have to see. My dad says I have to get a summer job so I don’t know if I’ll have the time.”
“Then we will see,” he says smoothly as you hear the front door click.
“Sweet pea, I got you the grilled combo, they were all out of the tenders,” your father calls down the hallway before he appears. He winces as he sees Zemo but smiles nonetheless, “Hel,” he greets as he places the paper bags down, “I wasn’t expecting you–”
“Ah, yes, forgive me,” Zemo stands straight, “I had only a thought about the shelves in my office and thought to discuss it with you, my handy friend.”
“Mm,” your father rolls his eyes, “and it’s not about the vintage in my toolbox?”
“Oh, I have tea,” he lifts the mug, “I promise, I am not after the scotch. Not this time.”
“Here,” your father slides a paper bag in your direction, “I’ll take care of this pest.”
He takes his own bag and a cup from the tray.
“Thank you, dear,” Zemo takes his tea and sends you a smile, “have a good night and enjoy your book.”
“Thanks, Doctor, you too,” you reply as he follows your father.
“So what is it this time? I can’t perform miracles, man, you need to stop buying books…” your dad’s voice trails off and you chuckle.
The two of them are an unexpected pair; the professor and the carpenter, it would be a good buddy film if you had a hand for screenplays. You slide your book off the counter and grab your tea. Hopefully, you can finish the chapter before your eyes start to burn.
🌻
A lazy breeze flows in across the window sill. Sweat films over your face as the fan oscillates and blows over you, sprawled across your bed in a tee and shorts set decorated with purple petals. You woke up uncomfortable, sticky and stewing from the heat.
Your room in the attic is always the hottest or coldest in the house, but in your former teenage obstinance, you insisted on privacy and now your pride will not let you retreat. You languish in the temperature, the humidity thick as it seeps in, crawling over you. It should storm soon before the stranglehold gets too tight.
At last, you roll out of bed and tug on the front of the button up shirt to try to ease the trickle along your spine. You go to the window and pull it open with a great heave, grunting as the frame makes a similar noise. You peer down as a figure catches your eyes.
It's early, you glance at the old two handed clock on your round night table, but you always assumed Dr. Zemo never sleeps. He's unbothered by the heat as he stops on the walk and looks up at you, drawn by the grind of old wood. You wave at him and he lifts his free hand to return the gesture. He proceeds up the pavement and disappears below the eaves.
You groan and spin away. You need to get out of this room. You change into a pair of loose capris and a gingham blouse that knots over your belly button, just a hint of skin above the waist. You check yourself in the mirror, never very bothered by your bare face, and descend the creaky old stairs.
"I see you've been up all night about it," your father admonishes, his voice gristly with sleep. He's an old bear and hates early hours.
"Yes, well, I've been restless about the shelves," Zemo replies as you near the top of the second flight staircase, "so, is it feasible?"
"You need to let me wake up, Hel," your dad grumbles into a yawn, a great roar as you imagine him stretching, "I can't focus on your scribbles before my coffee."
"Yes, yes, you and your caffeine," Zemo intones, "it isn't very good for you, you know?"
"Thanks, mom," your father rebuffs dryly as you hear the lid of the machine clap down.
You carefully continue down the stairs and peek around the railing. Zemo stands by the island, toe tapping as his fingers play with the corner of a page. His leather folio lays open as the coffee machine makes noise.
You tiptoe down the hall and squeak, "good morning."
Zemo smiles as he peeks over at you as your dad stares down the coffee pot.
"Morning, sweet pea," your father mutters as you stop by the island, "you're up early."
"It's so hot," you say as you bask in the cool air of the lower floors.
"I told you the attic was a bad idea," your father attempts to resurrect that battle.
"Maybe," you shrug, in no mood for arguing, "what's this?"
You glance at Zemo's papers and he pulls his hands back to frame his sketches.
"My plans for my study. I never much use my guest room so I thought to expand it–"
"And pay me pennies," your father pours a mug, "con artist, this one."
"If you are too busy, just say the word and I will consider other prospects," Zemo challenges.
There's a brief silence before they laugh. The two of them always speak with a sense of chagrin. Two grumpy old men.
"Seems like a lot of work," you comment as you look closer.
"Mhmm," your father agrees, "a lot."
"Well," Zemo sighs and runs a hand up his lapel, "speaking of work, I have another proposition."
"There he goes," your dad crosses one arm over his stomach as he takes a gulp.
"As my study will be under construction, I shall need to relocate my work for the summer. As well, as I've made some commitment before this decision to throw all into chaos, I have much to do and would require some assistance."
"Gimme, gimme, gimme," your father scoffs.
"As I was saying," Zemo taps on the papers, "I require assistance and the position would look well for any aspiring historian–"
"Her?" Your father arches a brow at you.
"I heard she was in need of employment," Zemo says, "it would be mutually beneficial."
"So you say," your father counters, "dunno if she'd agree."
"Remind me not to accost you before your coffee again," Helmut mutters.
"Oh, I have no problem reminding you over and over," your father taunts, "well, sweet pea, it's entirely up to you."
"Uh," you're surprised by the offer.
It would be ideal to grilling burgers at the McDonald's or sorting flyers down at the newspaper. Still, as nice as Zemo is, it could be awkward. Him being your boss. He doesn't seem anything less than strict in his study and you're barely above a freshman.
"It isn't an urgent decision, dear," Zemo assures, "for the time, I am more concerned for my shelves–"
"The shelves," your father waves him off, "you're like a buzzing fly."
"Now, do not make me mention what debts are beholden to me," Zemo warns, "I could ask for worse things."
"And I'm sure you will," your father snorts as he stands straight, "I'm going to finish this outside. The sun makes you slightly more tolerable."
Your father goes to the patio doors and drags his feet outside. You smile awkwardly as Zemo closes his folio and scoops it up.
"Let me know when you've made up your mind," he says as he tucks the folder under his arm, "I always did wonder how you are that man's daughter. Such a stubborn… one."
You chuckle as you imagine what he truly meant to end with. He turns to follow your father and you go to the fridge to search out something cold. You can't think when you're this hot.
#helmut zemo#dark!helmut zemo#dark helmut zemo#series#helmut zemo x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#avengers#mcu#marvel#au#dbf#captain america
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NEED to read zemo/bucky/reader and I feel like you would nail it!!!! maybe with 98?? LOVE YOU J.D!!!!!!!!
oh my god I haven't written a threesome in SO LONG and of course this turned into a whole oneshot UGH. oops
98: "what happens next in your fantasy?"
warnings: smut (18+ ONLY!!!), threesome, oral m and f receiving, spitroast, overstimulation, hair pulling, slapping, degradation and praise, brief mention of smoking?, basically just nastiness with almost no plot at all!!
word count: 4.4k
100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!
"I shouldn't have said anything, okay?" you whined, hoping he'd drop the subject-- and Zemo walked in right then, which seemed like the perfect opportunity to change the topic.
"What shouldn't you have said?" Zemo pressed, and you sighed.
"It's-- it's nothing," you shook your head, "I just had a really weird dream last night."
"About?"
You wanted to end it there, but Bucky had to chime in, of course. "Let's just say, this dusty old apartment was getting to see some action for the first time in a few decades," he informed Zemo proudly, who smiled knowingly and continued his walk to the kitchen.
"Ah," Zemo nodded, "I see."
"I swear, I've never had a dream about you like that before," you explained to Bucky.
"I wouldn't take it too personally, James," Zemo suggested as he poured himself some tea. "The subconscious is a completely unpredictable place. We can dream about almost anything, whether or not we desire it in waking life."
"Well, see, that's the weird part," you admitted, shifting nervously in the chair as Bucky stared at you. "You were there, too."
That took his attention away from the tea, certainly; he set down the kettle and came back into the sitting area, leaving his cup behind. "Still, many people believe dreams have meaning... I happen to be one of those people," he added.
"You didn't mention that before," Bucky frowned at you.
"Well, I was going to..."
"I was there, doing what?" Zemo pressed.
"Sitting in the corner reading Machiavelli," you joked. "No, you were, you know... part of it..."
"How was it?" Zemo asked instantly, getting yours and Bucky's eyes on him then.
"Huh?"
"In the dream, having both of us," he clarified, "did you enjoy the experience?"
"U-um, I mean, I don't really remember..." you coughed.
"I don't think that's true," Zemo grinned. "You're wearing it on your face now— is that why you couldn't look at me this morning in the hallway?"
Your face got warmer. "Do I normally look at you?" you deflected.
"More than you realize," he answered cryptically.
"So, it was good," Bucky assumed. "It's obvious, you can just admit it."
You did hesitate, biting on one of your nails, but you nodded, and they both smiled. "Yeah, it was... it was really good..."
"Which one of us was better?" Bucky wondered. "It was me, right?"
"You were... I don't know, you were just different," you shrugged.
"Ugh, that's such a cop-out," Bucky rolled his eyes. "Don't be afraid to hurt his feelings."
"No, really— it's hard to compare," you insisted. "You were sort of, you know, sensitive and... patient, and you—" you looked at Zemo— "were kind of... intense."
Zemo smirked. "I've been told that before, actually. I mean, by people who got the real experience."
Bucky looked with a concerned expression over his shoulder at Zemo. You found yourself biting your lip for a moment.
"I know you won't answer this question, but I have to ask," Zemo began, "did you climax?"
"Oh god," you whined, hiding your face behind your hands.
"See? She did," Zemo smiled, maybe wider than you'd ever seen. "Perhaps even more than once."
"Please shut up," you groaned.
"Holy shit," Bucky smirked, "you really liked it, huh?
"What do you say, James?" Zemo prompted, looking at Bucky, and making you get a little wide-eyed. "Shouldn't we give the girl what she wants?
"Isn't that, uh— I mean, wouldn't that be... weird?" Bucky stammered, cheeks flushing.
"You're so sheltered," Zemo mocked with a small laugh. "Sharing a partner is very thrilling when the correct amount of trust is involved."
"Wait, wait— it was just a dream, I wasn't, you know, suggesting it," you explained nervously.
"I know," Zemo replied, "I am."
There was a tense pause, where all you could hear was your own beating heart.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Zemo offered, “I know it’s a strange thing to say. Just come here, darling.”
Though your legs were shaking, you got up off the chair and approached him slowly. He met you in the middle, reaching up to quickly caress your jaw when you were close enough. Bucky seemed to watch the whole thing in disbelief. “I-I’ve never—” you began.
“It’s alright,” Zemo assured you softly, “I won’t judge you, or mock you— there’s nothing wrong with what you want.”
You nodded slightly, another form of silent permission, and he leaned in to kiss you— gentle at first, but strong enough to make your knees feel a little weak. He deepened it quickly, putting a hand at your waist as his tongue began to tease your lips… but just when you pressed into him, ready for more, he pulled away. He smirked at the way you leaned forward for a moment, but then he looked over at Bucky— you couldn’t quite read his expression, perhaps a bit of disbelief and… more than a decent share of arousal.
He stood up, and stepped up to you two, and you could tell he was in over his head— but you pulled him closer by his shirt, sighing as your hand felt his chest through the black fabric. “I— I’m not sure how to—” he mumbled.
“Me either,” you smiled, “just kiss me, Bucky…”
He did, though he seemed slightly less confident about it. What started as a shy and soft kiss turned into something more almost instantly— something hungry. He pulled you closer by your waist, he slipped his tongue into your mouth; it was clear, somehow, that he had been waiting for this chance for longer than you realized.
You gasped into Bucky’s kiss when you felt Zemo’s lips on your neck. There were four hands on you, running over your body, and you were struggling to keep track of which belonged to who…
Zemo pulled you off of Bucky and spun you around, kissing you roughly again. He was less careful this time, and he was reaching up under your shirt as well; you whimpered a bit, arching your back instinctively and pushing your ass into Bucky’s— oh fuck, he was hard. You couldn’t believe how worked up you were already.
Zemo groped at your chest, purring as he tweaked a nipple between his fingers. You whined and pressed your legs together, feeling him smile before he broke away to look at you with a sparkle in his eye.
“So sensitive,” he praised as he pushed your shirt up to get a good look at you; he sighed at the sight, both hands cupping your breasts and massaging them carefully. “You’re so beautiful…”
When his hands moved down, Bucky’s took their place; you shivered a little at the metal hand’s cool touch, but it was actually more of a relief than anything considering how hot you’d become. He was a little more aggressive with the way he touched your tits— if not quite rough. He was panting in your ear as he held and rubbed them; and Zemo was already pulling your pajama shorts down, exposing you even further… god, why did it turn you on so much.
“Look at you,” Zemo praised with a sigh, running his hands up and down your body. “I know you must be so wet already, darling, look how desperate you are… you’ve been wet since you woke up from that naughty dream, haven’t you?”
You didn’t have to answer— he was already putting his hand between your legs, exploring your folds, both of you groaning at how slick and sticky you were. “Fuck, I can hear it,” Bucky noticed, and you clenched inside as he said it.
Zemo gently pushed a finger into you— but you were so wet it didn’t even feel like a push, it felt like your hole just sucked him in. He was looking right into your eyes as he did it, but that was a little too much to handle for you, mentally, so you let your eyes fall shut just before he slipped the finger back out again.
"Feel inside her, James," Zemo encouraged, "she's so warm."
Bucky sighed, rubbing his fingers around your entrance. "I-I'm going to," he mumbled in your ear, "but... not 'cause he told me to or anything."
You whined when two vibranium fingers pushed inside you, making you lean back against Bucky while Zemo’s hands pushed your shirt up even higher, giving him better access to put his mouth on your tits. “F-fuck,” you sighed, putting a hand on the back of Zemo’s head as he swirled his tongue around your nipple— he was incredibly, annoyingly good at that, but then again, so was Bucky with the way he gently opened you up with his fingers. “Oh my god, just like that,” you panted.
“Who are you talking to?” Bucky wondered.
“Both of you,” you whined, “fuck, don’t stop.”
Zemo moved his mouth to your other nipple, suckling harder at it, making your hips rock on Bucky’s fingers; and Bucky growled approvingly, starting to thrust them a little more confidently inside you. “I can’t believe you didn’t soak through those shorts, doll,” Bucky whispered in your ear, “you’re drenched. You wanted this that bad?”
You could only nod dreamily, too lost in the feeling.
Though you weren’t sure how they coordinated it, they both stopped touching you at the same time; you whined quietly, clenching inside as you longed for either of their fingers to fill you again.
“Take the rest of it off,” Zemo instructed you— but it wasn’t too firm, more just a… friendly suggestion. “Let us see all of you.”
Stepping out of your shorts that had fallen to the floor and pulling your shirt up over your head, you tried to fight the urge to cover yourself— after all, here you were naked in Zemo’s living room, with two fully clothed men eyeing you up and down. It was hard not to feel… scrutinized.
"What happens next in your fantasy?" Zemo purred.
"I-it's not my fantasy, it was just a dream," you insisted.
"Then let me ask you another way: what happens now?"
Instead of answering with words, you simply sank down to your knees in front of them, keeping eye contact with Zemo as you started to open his belt.
The smug look on his face should’ve driven you crazy, but it only pushed you further; Bucky, thankfully, seemed to get the idea of what was going on and began to open his belt and jeans for you. You loved his eagerness, even if the way Zemo seemed content to just let you do all the work was a turn-on, too.
Soon enough, there were two hard cocks in front of you. Just the idea of that was already intimidating— but both of them, at eye-level, was actually nearly overwhelming. You took hold of them both, stroking slowly to try to wrap your head around this as easily as you could wrap your hands around them.
Not sure where to start, you did a mental coin toss and found yourself leaning towards Zemo first, wrapping your mouth around his tip and letting your eyes fall shut. Zemo hummed, pushing your hair back as you bobbed your head. You only sucked him for a few seconds before switching over to Bucky, though you tried to keep a hand stroking each one while you moved back and forth.
It felt filthy and strange and surreal, but your biggest concern was that you were going to get so wet you’d start dripping onto the floor or something.
Yes, you’d watched porn like this before, but you never really thought you’d end up doing it— especially with these two. You felt pretty comfortable assuming they never thought this would happen, either… but they got into it shockingly quickly: soon, you weren’t even the one deciding where you went, they simply got more and more impatient and began to guide you back and forth. You blinked your eyes open a few times to look up at them, but in the end you found yourself totally lost in it, just leaving your mouth open them and letting them take turns fucking it until you weren’t sure who was who anymore.
Not much was said (least of all by you, with your mouth full) aside from a few mumbled curses here and there— except for one moment, where Zemo seemed to mutter to Bucky: “I don’t think she expected to like this so much.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong. You were drooling, with tears striping your face— a side effect from repeatedly choking on both of them— and you were nearly desperate enough to rub yourself
Though you weren’t sure how or when Zemo had gotten in your head like this, you had to admit it was convenient right now; “You want more, don’t you?” he noticed, and all you had to do was nod before they pulled you up to your feet. Zemo bent you over quickly, before you’d even really found your balance, and stood behind you.
You gasped as Zemo’s cock slid inside you suddenly, holding on tight to Bucky’s arms for balance— immediately you were rocked forward with hard, needy thrusts.
“God, she’s so fucking wet,” Zemo hissed. You hadn’t really heard him talk quite like that before…
You groaned at the feeling, amazed at how easily he fit inside, but clearly all the anticipation had prepared you well. Bucky only let you have a second to adjust before he shoved your head back down and pushed his cock into your waiting mouth. You were happy to oblige, though, and sucked him even more eagerly than before with fast bobs of your head and more pressure from your tongue.
Bucky’s fingers tangled into your hair, and his hips pushed forward to fuck deeper into your throat; you heard him groan, but it was muffled as he bit his lip. You gagged, and they both moaned lowly. “I can feel when you choke on him,” Zemo informed you with a grunt, “your little cunt squeezes me tighter.”
It must have been Zemo’s hand that slid up your spine and held onto your shoulder— it must have been Bucky that reached down to feel your tits— but if was your hand that ended up between your legs, rubbing your clit quickly simply because you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore.
“So desperate,” Zemo mocked— or praised, maybe? The difference was hard to define. “You want to come?”
You hummed in agreement around Bucky’s cock, before he forced you to choke on it again. You never expected him to be so aggressive, nor how much it would make you crave even more.
“If you want a turn with her, James, you’d better take it now,” Zemo offered, voice thin as he tried to catch his breath. “Any more of that and I won’t be able to stop myself again.”
Bucky roughly pulled you off of Zemo and sat back on the couch, turning you around to face away from him and pulling you into his own lap; that doll nickname felt a bit more literal when he tossed you around so easily.
You gasped as Bucky slid inside, and moaned as you realized you could so easily feel the difference between them. “Fuck!” you cried out loudly, louder than you really meant to, as Bucky instantly began bouncing you on top of him; you were trying to move with him, but he was so much stronger and basically just using you however he wanted… it made you moan even more and roll your eyes back in your head as you realized that. “Fuck, Bucky, oh my god—”
“See how much louder she screams for me?” Bucky grinned.
“That’s because her mouth isn’t full this time,” Zemo countered with a laugh. “That can be corrected.”
Bucky was certainly much more… impatient in the way he fucked you; Zemo, meanwhile, was as controlled as ever as he guided you to lean forward, gently opened your mouth, and slid just his leaking head inside. He purred as you suckled at the tip, looking up at him with watering eyes.
“Can you taste yourself?” Zemo asked you with a smile, humming when you nodded around him. “You really soaked me, darling— I expect you to be a good girl and clean all that off.”
You moaned at the praise and took him deeper into your mouth, using your tongue to lick up every drop of your own wetness off of him. You surprised even yourself with how shameless you were, pulling your mouth off to run your tongue over him instead, moaning as you licked him clean.
Bucky fucked up faster into you until you could barely focus on the task before you, but you still found a way: you kept Zemo’s cock in your mouth and let him hold your head, keeping you steady while Bucky moaned louder and thrusted harder.
You moaned more and more around Zemo until he pulled you away and you gasped instantly. “Tell me how it feels,” he demanded harshly, holding your head up by your hair.
“So good,” you yelped, “it’s so fucking good!”
He surprised you with a slap across the face, but you moaned right away. “Fucking whore,” he spat. “Look how badly you need to be treated. You want to come, don’t you?”
“Yes,” you sobbed, “yes, fuck, please—”
“Well, James,” Zemo hissed, “aren’t you going to help her?”
Bucky sighed and moved one of the hands on your hips down between your legs, rubbing you quickly and harshly. Your thighs were shaking instantly; actually, pretty much all of you was shaking.
“She’s coming, James, don’t stop,” Zemo barked out another order, holding you tight by the jaw and looking right into your eyes. “I want you to come until you can’t possibly take it anymore,” he explained with a growl, “don’t tell me to make him stop until then, is that clear? Show us how much you can take, nothing less.”
You nodded as best you could with him holding onto your face, and tried to lean in to put your mouth on his cock again, but he held you there.
“No,” he corrected, “I’d rather get a good look at this.”
Bucky’s hand on your clit was relentless, the pressure almost too intense for you to take— but you had to take it, you had no other choice. It started off almost slowly, a gradual descent into the numbing pleasure of your orgasm, but it didn’t stop; Zemo already made it clear he wasn’t going to let it stop until you were at your limit. Your moans were shaky and broken from how hard Bucky was fucking you, and your eyes were rolling back already but you could’ve sworn you heard Zemo chuckle at the sight of you. Did you really look that fucked up?
“Good girl,” he purred, “keep going. You can take more.”
You whined louder, higher, sharper; you weren’t sure how much more you really could take of this, but you wanted to do as you’d been told and not tap out until the absolute last second.
You knew you were crying, only because you felt the hot tears running down your cheeks. You heard Zemo encouraging you distantly, but you couldn’t quite make out any words, just the dark and sweet tone of his voice. You heard Bucky, too, groaning deeply while you felt his fingers digging tighter into your hips. Could he feel everything he was putting your body through?
“Fuck, stop!” you heard yourself blurt out, and instantly Bucky’s hand moved away— but his thrusts didn’t slow down. It was just the right amount of relief, and you blinked the blurriness out of your vision. It was almost like part of it didn’t even really hit you until then, until the aftershocks reverberated through your body.
“That’s it,” Zemo praised, “you’re alright, we’ve got you.”
“Oh god, o-oh god,” you sobbed, shaking uncontrollably— they were both holding you up, you would’ve toppled to the floor if it weren’t for them
“Fuck, m’gonna come,” Bucky groaned.
“Inside,” you gasped, even with how little mental clarity you had in that moment. “I want it inside.”
“Fuck,” he said again. “That’s so— god, baby, look what you fuckin’ do to me… I’m gonna come inside you.”
“Yes,” you begged with a sob, Zemo grinning as he watched you.
Still numb and clenching uncontrollably inside, you felt the way he pumped harder and harder and harder— until it slowed down and he let out the most delicious, long groan. You whined, but smiled, as he loosened his grip on your hips and relaxed under you, his moans and heavy breaths seeming to drip with satisfaction. “Fuck,” he said, one more time, deeper than ever, before falling back on the couch limply.
Zemo lifted you off of Bucky— apparently a little sooner than he was ready for, because you heard him hiss as he slipped out of you— and guided you with him onto the couch, pulling your back into his chest. He knelt behind you, kissing the back of your shoulder as watched you try to come back to reality.
“I should let you rest for a moment,” he noticed, “but you don’t want me to, do you?”
Weakly, you shook your head.
He moved in closer to you and you felt his cock, still wet with your spit, rub against the inside of your thigh— and even after all that, you arched your back deeper in invitation.
It made you blush when Zemo slid into you again, thinking about him filling you alongside Bucky’s load, especially with the way he groaned lowly into your ear. “You want me to fuck his come even deeper into you?” he taunted, and you whined but nodded. “I thought so.”
Everything felt so… sticky, in a disgusting but sexy sort of way; you were overly-sensitive inside, each thrust feeling so good with the fading sensitivity of your orgasm still present. You leaned back against Zemo with a sigh, letting him hold you close and fuck you however he wanted, more than happy to just be his toy now.
“Look how cute you are when you give in to me. You want me to use you, don’t you?” he noticed with a groan, and you whimpered but nodded ‘yes.’ “Of course,” he growled, kissing along your neck with more and more of his teeth each time. “You want me to fuck you however I want?”
“Yes,” you sobbed.
“But this isn’t about what I want,” he explained. “This is what you wanted.”
“Oh god…”
“You wanted us both to fuck you, at the same time. One cock isn’t enough to satisfy you?”
“Not anymore,” you admitted with a sigh, and he started to thrust faster and harder into you.
It turned very quickly from slow and sensual to rough and ruthless; he wrapped a hand around your neck to keep you close as you moaned and cried, anxious already to come again. “Touch yourself,” he ordered with a hiss in your ear, “make yourself come around my cock.”
“F-fuck,” you choked out, but slid a hand over your body and between your legs to obey him quickly. You were already so fucking close, and you knew you shouldn’t go so hard on yourself when you were so sensitive, but your desperation made you really rub hard and fast in search of that growing tension. “Yes, fuck, m’gonna— oh god—”
“I know, darling,” he cooed, “just let go. It’s alright, I’ll hold you— come for me.”
You didn’t literally black out, but you did sort of… lose time, in that moment. It was like you were just floating in pleasure for a while and then all of a sudden you were laying back on the couch and you weren’t even sure where Bucky had gone and Zemo was proudly holding your legs open.
“You look so beautiful like this,” he informed you, and you blinked back at him shyly.
You expected the warm, sticky feeling as their come leaked out of you… what you didn’t expect to feel was Zemo’s mouth on your pussy, eagerly lapping it up and sucking on your clit as your eyes shot open and you gasped and moaned with surprise.
“Dude,” Bucky grimaced, “that’s fucked up…”
Zemo just hummed and took his mouth off of you, giving Bucky a confused look. “She tastes amazing,” Zemo defended, “maybe even better after our… contribution.”
You laughed a little at the description, until he leaned down and latched onto you again, making you gasp and run your fingers through his hair. “Fuck,” you whined, bucking your hips against his face. Your clit was already overstimulated, and the way that he flicked it with his tongue made you shiver all over.
Your hold on his hair made it a little easier to push him away when he sucked too hard on your sore clit; he was more than strong enough to keep going, but he stopped anyways and let you push him back with a smug, slickened smile. “You really should try it, James,” he encouraged, “you’ll only want more once you do.”
Sighing in relent, Bucky knelt down in front of the couch— yes, at some point he’d gotten off of it, and you were too high on orgasm dopamine to notice it— and Zemo helped you adjust your hips towards him so he could just dive right in.
He gave one long lick over you first, making you shudder, and seemed to get more excited and aggressive quickly as he held onto your thighs and started to push his tongue inside you. “Oh god,” you whimpered, and Zemo watched proudly for a moment before turning his head to kiss up your leg.
“Poor thing,” he cooed between gentle presses of his lips to your skin, “you probably thought we were done with you, didn’t you?”
~
You were on the couch nursing a cup of tea, your feet resting in Bucky’s lap on top of the pants he’d changed into after his shower; Zemo was on the balcony having a cigarette. That was the scene Sam came back to, and he seemed to notice something was off just by the way he raised an eyebrow as he entered the living room. “Hey guys,” he greeted. “What did I miss?”
“Not much,” Bucky shrugged, “just a pretty quiet morning…”
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#baron zemo x reader#helmut zemo x reader#baron zemo smut#bucky x zemo x reader#bucky x reader x zemo
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Just saw ur Daddy!Zemo and I knew I had to send in a request. Could u please do Zemo x little!reader where they just want cuddles and kisses all the time. I’m sorry if that’s a little vague but I hope u can u something with it. Thank u✨
Cuddly engel
Content - age regression, cg!zemo, cuddles, soft toys, paperwork, fluff, not proofread, don't like don't read.
Summary - when you can’t fight regression one night when zemo is working you desperately need him to help you.
Authors note - there was just something inside me that had to make the reader zemos wife he just gives off such good husband vibes, a bit shorter I was a bit tired, reblogs are greatly appreciated, I hope you enjoy!<3
Translations - my love - meine Liebe, beautiful - schön, darling - liebling,
You knew you shouldn’t have taken a nap this afternoon, you knew you were going to wake up small but you decided to do it anyway.
Oh did you regret it now.
You knew that you were safe to regress of course you did but it was just a bit tricky today, helmut had been working constantly for the past few weeks and while you knew he would drop everything in a heartbeat to take care of you you didn’t want to bother him.
So for for the next half an hour you lied there on your back staring up at the ceiling trying to get your older mindset back, but nothing would work it was completely pointless.
Eventually you decided to swallow your pride and go and find your husband.
Going over to your wardrobe you pulled down the wooden box that sat on the top shelf, opening it you pulled out a blue soft rabbit and placed it under your arm before moving the box onto the hardwood flooring.
Tiptoeing out of your bedroom you made your way down the oak stairs.
You looked around trying to find helmut knowing he hadn’t been to a meeting so he must be at home.
This was the only problem about your house, there were to many rooms to remember when you were little.
Making your way back up the stairs you wandered over to the only other room you could think of, helmut’s study.
You peaked through the crack in the door making sure he wasn’t on the phone before gently pushing it open making the old hinges creek making you cringe.
Looking up from his paperwork the barons eyes softened when they saw it was you, “hello meine Liebe” he smiled pushing out his rolley chair from his desk “hi papa” you said softly paddeling your way over to him.
“Ahh has my little lamb come out to play?” He chuckled reaching his hand out to reach your own “mhm” you mumbled “I’m not disrupting you am I?” “Of course not schön you could never interrupt me” he said softly knowing you were sensitive to noise in this state of mind.
“Papa can I come up please?” You whispered you gestured to his desk chair “of course you can my darling” he cooed helping guide you into a cradling position in his lap.
After placing a kiss to your forehead he rolled the chair in and went back to his work occasionally looking down to make sure you were sound.
───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────
After a while of working he looked down to see your head resting on his left shoulder, your hand clutching onto his sleeve struggling to keep your eyes open.
“Is my liebling sleepy?” He chuckled bringing his hand down too stroke your palm.
You were too far gone to speak so you just let out a light grumble and nuzzled your face into his soft chest.
Smiling down at you Zemo brushed away a strand of hair that had called down across your face before placing a kiss to your hairline.
“Go to sleep then my love, I’ve got you”
───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────
Taglist - @bootlegmothman420 @littlephia @whippedforhongjoong @youngstarfishdinosaur @patchesofwork @buggyateabug @autisticbeauty @friendlyneighborhoodkillerbunny @sparklybuck @2-gay-possums-in-a-trench-coat @hopelesswritergall @stuckysgirl27 @sleepyprinc3ss @chaotic-little-witch @looksthatkilledd @teddybearsgrr
#daddy!zemo#papa!zemo#little!reader#cg!zemo#helmut zemo x reader#helmut zemo x wife!reader#helmut zemo x fem!reader#zemo x reader#baron zemo#helmut zemo#ria answers#sfw age regression#caregiver#age regression reader#sfw littlespace#little reader#agere sfw
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A Protective Hand — Helmut Zemo
Summary: While at an underground party gathering intel about the Flagsmashers with Zemo, he gets a little more protective than is necessary.
Word Count: 777
Warnings: Zemo calls reader his wife
The pulsating beat of electronic music reverberated through the air as you and Zemo seamlessly blended your way into the eclectic crowd. The atmosphere buzzed with the frantic energy of the underground club, but you were there for one purpose — gathering crucial intel on the elusive Flagsmashers.
Zemo, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, moved with grace and confidence —if perhaps a few awkward dance moves— a stark contrast to the raw and chaotic surroundings. His sharp eyes constantly scanned the room, assessing potential threats and gauging the reactions of those around you. As you navigated the crowded space, Zemo's presence felt both reassuring and slightly unnerving.
The intel you sought was rumored to be within the grasp of the party's attendees, many of whom were connected to the shadowy world of the Flagsmashers. Zemo's contacts had led you to this underground gathering, where secrets were exchanged amidst the thumping bass and dimly lit corners.
You and Zemo played your roles seamlessly, undercover operatives seeking information, disguising your true purpose with laughter and casual conversation. The dynamic between you and Zemo, however, took an unexpected turn when he subtly, yet unmistakably, became more protective.
It started with a subtle touch. A guiding hand on the small of your back, perhaps meant to be an innocently protective gesture as you weaved through the dance floor. Zemo's watchful eyes never strayed far from you, his awareness heightened as he assessed every face in the crowd. The intensity of his gaze, at times, felt like a shield guarding you from unseen threats.
As you engaged in conversations with potential sources, Zemo's protective instincts became more apparent. He positioned himself strategically, subtly creating a barrier between you and the rest of the party. His actions spoke louder than any words could. It was a silent declaration of his commitment to ensuring your safety in this dangerous game of espionage.
In one corner of the dimly lit venue, you found yourself engaged in a conversation with a seemingly unassuming partygoer who might have ties to the Flagsmashers. Zemo, ever watchful, stood nearby, his cold, calculating gaze never leaving the interaction. The air crackled with tension as Zemo's demeanor shifted, his protective instincts reaching a new level.
As the conversation progressed, the partygoer's tone grew more assertive, and Zemo's patience wore thin. Without a word, he stepped forward, a silent warning in his eyes. The partygoer, sensing the shift, excused themselves, leaving you alone with Zemo.
"You're attracting the wrong kind of attention," Zemo remarked, his voice low and authoritative. His protective demeanor, while slightly overbearing, carried a genuine concern for your well being. You wanted to be mad, but you truly hadn’t been making any progress with the stranger, so it’s not as if he’d disrupted the mission at hand.
The dance floor pulsed with the rhythm of the music, and Zemo's grip on the situation tightened. With a subtle nod, he guided you toward a quieter corner, away from prying eyes.
"Caution is paramount in these situations," Zemo reminded. His words were unnecessary, as you already knew them to be true, but they also held a note of genuine worry. "The Flagsmashers are not to be underestimated."
You nodded in understanding, knowing this was neither the time nor the place to fight him on the issue. Besides, you appreciated Zemo's commitment to the mission and, oddly enough, to your safety. As the night progressed, you couldn't shake the feeling that Zemo's protective instincts had forged an unspoken connection between you, transcending the confines of the mission.
Finally, you gained some intel in an overheard conversation on the dance floor. Yet, when you made to leave and reunite with Zemo to fill him in, there was one man that would not let you escape so easily. He’d grabbed your wrist and tugged you back. A noise of surprise escaped you and your eyes immediately darted back and forth, searching for Zemo. You knew he wouldn’t be far.
And he wasn’t. You no sooner turned around and there he stood. “I ask that you release your hand from my wife,” he stated. Your brain short circuited. His what? But the threat worked and the hand immediately left your person.
Suddenly, you regained your wits and played along. “Thank you, Helmut,” you replied, making sure your voice was sweet as sugar. You took a step closer to him and he followed your lead, putting his arm around you. You looked at him adoringly, which you found wasn’t all that difficult. Finally, the man left, and Zemo walked you out, keeping you close. You’d done well and you couldn’t have asked for a better partner.
For anon
Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @nclgsticore, @ayanthegreat28, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @bitchr-mkay, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure
Helmut Zemo: @unexpected-character, @lilyontheloose, @puppy-coded, @marinarashakeyobooty, @og-kxsh-420, @becomingthedreamversionofme, @music-bird, @chaotic-mushroomz, @mbruben-stein, @sunflowergurlsposts, @danimorgan1708, @jkthighs, @onlykeres, @floresferae, @stressydepressyandlemonzesty, @multifandomlover01, @tokyo-liv, @geekyandgay98, @sweetyprincesschaos, @yetanotherattemptatanaccount, @lady-darkswan3, @an0nimowe, @postcardgirl425, @garlicbreadrry, @bestfriend491, @il0vebeingdelulu
#helmut zemo#helmut zemo one shot#helmut zemo x reader#the falcon and the winter soldier#marvel#marvel one shot#mcu#mcu one shot#request#send requests#requests open
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He's adorable!
In his chaotic element!
#marvel#baron helmut zemo#baron zemo#helmut zemo#the falcon and the winter soldier#zemo#helmut zemo x reader#baron zemo x reader#james bucky barnes#baron zemo smut
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Day 23: Hate Fucking - Helmut Zemo
Kinktober Day 23: Hate Fucking - Helmut Zemo x f!reader
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, set during tfatws, enemies to fuck buddies, making out, quickie, wall sex, biting, marking, size kink, kitchen sex, creampie, nicknames, no use of y/n
my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link
His presence had been a pain in your ass for the entire mission. In fact, you couldn’t help but complain about him constantly since the second Bucky had broken him out of prison, nearly walking away from the entire situation as Zemo strolled through the door.
A small part of you understood why he was needed but by god, he was making it difficult with his condescending, manipulative, self-righteous arrogance constantly being a thorn in your side, there was only so far you could be pushed.
“You’re not leaving me with him!” you argued, trying to block the exit.
“Sorry kid, you know we need someone to keep an eye on him” Bucky tried to reason, sighing as you wouldn’t move out of his way.
“Then I’ll go with Sam! Just don’t leave me with him, I can’t be held accountable for my actions if I’m left alone with him” you tried to bargain but you knew it was a waste of time.
“I also do not need a babysitter James” Zemo pipped up from where he sat reading his book, lounging on the couch.
You and Bucky gave him a pointed look, he did of course need someone looking after him, he was a fugitive after all.
“Listen, we won’t be away for long, just sit a few feet away from each other and you’ll be fine” Bucky squeezed your shoulder once more gently moving you away from the door, walking out without looking back, not giving you the chance to argue back.
Turning on the spot you began to open your mouth to argue with Sam but he gave you a sympathetic smile, “sorry kid, we won’t be long, try not to kill each other until we’re back”. He too left, locking the door behind him leaving you alone with Helmut who didn’t seem phased by the situation but you knew he was just as angered as you were.
You weren’t subtle with your movements, stomping with heavy feet over to the armchair, not caring that you looked childish in any way, fed up that you were being left behind once again in the mission to do the job that held no value.
Scrolling through your phone, you become easily lost in tik toks, helping the time to pass and trying not to laugh as each video scrolled by, trying to keep the scowl on your face just in case Zemo looked over, not quite caring in the pettiness you were displaying.
A sudden movement out of the corner of your peripheral vision had you sitting bolt upright, reaching for the gun that was strapped tightly to the holster of your thigh, pointing it in Zemo’s direction as he gently stood.
Lazily holding his hands up, he continued walking, not phased at all by your threat. “Easy dragă, I’m just going to use the bathroom”. Taking a second to determine whether you believed him, you finally relaxed your stance.
“Don’t call me that” you mumbled, slotting the gun back into its place and watching with keen eyes as he moved to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
Your eyes then shifted towards your phone timer, watching as it ticked by, with each passing minute, your stomach churned in anticipation. When it had officially been 10 minutes, you were striding towards the door, banging heavily against the wood with your fist.
Zemo opened the door instantly, a smirk teasing you on his face like he had been waiting for you to do this, testing to see how long it would take you.
“I’m not going anywhere dragă, you really need to relax” the Baron leant against the doorframe, crossing his arms as his eyes travelled up and down your form.
“Not so easy to do with such an arrogant prick in the room”.
Helmut’s smirk shifted to a smile, “you seem awfully pent up”.
The way he was staring at you had your insides twisting but you weren’t sure in what way, feeling unnerved you began to step away, muttering, “whatever Helmut”. However, a firm grip around your arm stopped your movements, spinning you back to look at the Baron. “If you don’t remove yourself from my arm, you’re a dead man Zemo”.
One thing you should have accounted for was his training, forgetting momentarily, not having enough time to dig your heels into the carpet as he was able to shove you back into a nearby wall, lungs being winded by the impact. “What the fuck-”
He was quick, quicker than you had expected him to be as he was able both disarm you, the gun now skidding across the floor, and your arms being pinned to your side.
“No more talking from you” his voice was low, not aggressive like you’d expected it to be compared to his actions, instead it was laced with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. You tried to squeeze out of his grip, knees lifting to kick him but he leaned his weight heavily over you, leaving you momentarily defenceless.
It also meant that he was so close to your face that you could smell his expensive aftershave, citrusy with a hint of smoke. “Why do you fight me so much dragă?”
His question threw you through a loop, confusion settling across your expression, eyes dropping to watch his lips as he spoke but that was only due to the close proximity. “You know why I hate you Zemo, that’s no fucking reason to slam me against the wall”.
Helmut chuckled darkly, his own eyes searching over your face, “oh I have every reason to slam you into the wall dragă”. Before your brain could overthink his works, and understand the connotations behind his emphasis, Zemo dipped his head, lips lazily connecting with yours.
Initially, you were too shocked to turn your face away, eyes wide as you could feel the scratch of his facial hair against the softness of your cheeks. The man holding you close shifted back an inch, eyes darting between yours trying to gauge your reaction.
You couldn’t even think, not with your head anyway as a deep ache began to radiate between your legs so as his face hovered close to yours, you moved first.
The kiss was chaotic, with no rhythme just licking, pulling lips with teeth, both trying to frantically kiss the other harder, not being able to move quick enough, heads tilting from side to side as his hands finally released their grip on your arms, giving you the freedom, to pull his jumper, chest bumping harder against yours.
You’d not even realised just how pent up you truly were as a strong thigh pushed between your legs leaving your cunt grinding down on the muscle, mouth opening in a quick gasp before it was swallowed up by Helmut’s tongue dancing with your own.
Zemo seemed to be moving with just as much passion and ferocity as his hands dropped to the zipper of your jeans, you wanted this, want to get rid of some of that tension before you exploded. Releasing the grip on his jumper, your hands mirrored his, gripping his belt and hastily undoing it but not as smoothly as his, your hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline.
“Fuck” you grunted as your jeans were harshly pulled down with your underwear to your knees and before you could do the same to him, your body was being turned, face now being pushed up against the cool wall, hips being jutted out slightly.
“Hurry up” he couldn’t have moved any quicker if he tried as he pulled out his cock, you couldn’t even see it over your shoulder from the positioning, only realising he had even released himself when his lips attached to your ear lobe and the hard press of his tip moved against your cunt.
Zemo swears as he feels how wet you are, only taking a second to compose himself before tilting his hips up. He was bigger than you had expected, your pussy trembling with the stretch as inch after inch delved deeper. He was moving too slow so with a grunt you pushed your hips backwards, taking the remainder of his cock causing you both to shudder, you felt so full but you still needed more.
It seemed that Helmut was experiencing as much urgency as he began to fuck you hard, his hand disappearing into your head, tugging back your head to expose your neck giving him the perfect opportunity to bite the junction between neck and shoulder.
“Ah! Don’t fucking mark me you possessive freak” he chuckled, licking over the spot that he had just bit to soothe the skin before putting all of his energy to thrust deeper and harder, your face aching from the impact of your body being pushed forward but you didn’t care, finding some sick joy in the mixture of pleasure and pain.
His lips were back teasing the shell of your ear, “you should stop fighting me all the time, we could have such great fun”.
“Shut up and fuck me, Zemo”.
Saying his name seemed to snap something within him, his cock pulling all the way out leaving you feeling oddly empty before he was dragging you over the island in the middle of the kitchen, not without its difficulties with your jeans halfway down your legs.
Just as you felt like you were about to fall on your face, you found yourself being pushed until your front was against the marble countertop and before you could react, Zemo was fucking you again. His grip on your hips was harsh enough that you knew they would be bruises later but you didn’t care, mouth gaping open releasing a steady stream of moans.
His thrusts were hitting you so deep, stroking against all of the beautiful spots within, your juices coating him, causing each thrust to squelch. You felt it now, Zemo moving so quickly that you didn’t have time to dwell in that blissful build-up, it was simply just there tight and arousing and then you were cuming, hard, walls fluttering around his cock.
The tight grip your cunt had on him was nearly overwhelming for the Baron as his thrusts faltered and he too was cuming, coating you with every ounce of cum that he had in his tightened balls. His seed spilt out of you, dripping down your thighs as he all but collapse against your back.
It didn’t take long for him to recover, however, silently easing his cock out and walking away without another word but you were fine with that, rushing to the bathroom to clean yourself. It also took longer than you expected as you had to wash your face repeatedly to try and get the glazed “I’ve just been fucked” expression off of your face.
Re-entering the main room, you noted that Zemo had returned to the couch, reading the same book as before acting like nothing had even happened so you sat as well, trying not to glance at him every few seconds, mind both overthinking and blank at the same time, the only sign that something had actually happened was the slight pulsing still tingling in your cunt.
Only a few moments later the front door was unlocking, and Sam and Bucky returned from wherever they had visited.
“Good to see you two haven’t killed each other” Bucky commented, dropping into the chair adjacent to yours.
“I can be good sometimes, Barnes” you retorted, noticing the slight smirk on Zemo’s lips.
#helmut zemo#helmut zemo smut#helmut zemo x reader#helmut zemo imagine#marvel smut#marvel one shot#kinktober 2022#kinktober#mine*
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If He doesn't Scare You, No Evil Thing will
Cruella!Helmut Zemo x Reader
Words: 5.5K
Summary: Helmut Zemo, the best designer, a cold and manipulative man. You, a barista, a kind and gentle person. Nothing common between you two yet fate had its ways to toy with you.
A/N: None of the above pictures are mine, all rights go to their owners, especially the beautiful work of art by @enstatia which inspired this whole story.
Baron Helmut Zemo is the best fashion designer in the entire world.
He was rich, smart and elegant. He was adored by some and hated by many.
He wasn't a gentleman, he was rude and cunning, and he always got what he wanted. In the name of fashion, he had done many terrible things.
The Sokovian noble born became a well-known name in the entire world after his first collection.
Most people knew him for his famous furs, others knew him because he liked to crush the competition, literally.
He always said, fashion isn't kind, so why should he be?
You were always fascinated by fashion, even if you didn't have a taste for it or the money to afford it.
But Zemo's collections always stood out for you, you spent many many hours looking at his clothing. His taste and creativity were beyond everything you could ever imagine.
But you will never be able to afford anything of his, working in a coffee shop certainly didn't give you the paycheck of your dreams, if you were honest you barely made enough to live but you dreamed big.
You let out a long sigh as you were getting ready to close the store finally. A long shift and you were the only one remaining to close it all up.
Just as you were sweeping the floors, a man came rushing in, he was heaving, he clearly had a run, but who would run in a suit like that?
"We are cl-"
"PLEASE! I need a double espresso urgently."
"Sorry, Sir."
"I NEED that coffee or my boss will kill me! Please! I pay extra, double, triple whatever but I need that coffee." he was desperate, probably a new started who was trying to impress their boss.
"Okay." you ended up saying. "But! This is the first and only time! You have to come next time during open hours!"
"Thank you! THANK YOU!"
You made the coffee as best as you could in your tired state before handing it to him.
He really did leave a nice tip for you and was soon out the door, running.
You shook your head and closed up.
The next day, everything went normally. Customers came, left, some leaving you nice tips.
Then, when you stood behind the bar, he arrived again.
"Hello. Coming this time during normal hours." he laughed lightly. "Look my boss really liked the coffee you made for him, so I'll have to come here regularly from now on, maybe even more than once a day. So, I'll always order the same, double espresso, like you made yesterday and for me a cappuccino."
And just like he said, he came to the store every morning at 7:50 sharp, ordered the same thing every time and occasionally, he arrived in the afternoon.
"I do see why Boss likes your coffee, the cappuccino you made for me was amazing."
He was your first regular customer. He told you he worked for a big company and had a husband and a german shepherd. He was talkative as if he didn't have anyone to talk to about these things during the day.
Then, one day, he didn't come in the morning.
It was strange coming from someone sharp.
But, you went on with your day, and just as you were ready to close, the front doorbell sounded off.
It gave you deja vu.
"Sorry, but we are closi-" you stopped immediately when you noticed the man in front of you.
Baron Helmut Zemo.
The leading man in fashion, in this little store.
"I didn't have my espresso today, you see my assistant got sick."
That explained a lot, like how he was always so dressed and in a hurry.
You didn't know what to do. To deny him coffee would be a death sentence.
He sat down at a table like it was the most casual thing.
You made him the coffee, just like you always did.
"Anything else I could get you?" you asked as you placed the mug in front of him.
"No, thank you." as he picked up the mug his hand brushed against yours.
He was much nicer than people made him in their stories. Maybe he was having a good day, you didn't want to poke around, so you left and went back to whipping tables and cleaning the floor.
When he finished, he left you a good tip and without another word, he was off.
Everything happened so fast, you wondered if it was even real.
In the end, you convinced yourself that it couldn't possibly be Baron Zemo, and you just moved on.
The next day, the assistant guy didn't come nor did Zemo so you really must have been imagining things.
However on the third day, just before closing time, both arrived.
"We are still in time right?" asked the assistant, whose name you just remembered being Bucky. "Can I also get a slice of that chocolate cake please?" he asked as he ordered while the Baron sat down. You knew better so you acted like a professional and served them both.
And while they talked about work, you cleaned the tables.
"Y/N." you heard your name being called, nearly making you jump. "Can you help us?"
"No need to bother her, James, I know what I want."
Bucky rolled his eyes as you walked over, you looked at the drawings in front of them.
Two beautiful suits, one dark with fur around the neck, white with black dots, reminded you of dalmatians, the other suit just as beautiful, dark green with gold embellishments. Both are similar styles for a very very rich man.
"Which one do you think is better?" you looked at both of them.
"Both look really nice."
"You have to pick." said the Baron and you picked up both papers.
"I like this one better." you said placing the dotted one back on the table. Zemo had a smirk on his face while Bucky huffed. "But it's missing something." you said as your eyes were glued to the paper.
"Boss said the same thing." said Bucky before taking the other drawing and putting it away.
"Is it for a man or woman?" you asked as it wasn't clear from the drawing, your question was for Bucky but Zemo answered.
"It's for me. It will be made out of fur, real fur, but as you said, it's missing something. And I'm not going to the fashion show with an incomplete piece."
Then you remembered something.
"Do you have pencils?" you asked and Bucky nodded, he gave you the box of coloured pencils.
They both watched you as you did something.
You showed them both.
You added red gloves. Ones that were missing on the fingers.
They both went silent. Completely silent and you knew you messed up.
"I-I'm sorry. I ruined it." you were about to place it on the table when the Baron grabbed it and looked at it.
"He loves it." said Bucky. "He always has that face when he loves something.
"Incredible! You have an eye for fashion!"
"I really don't, Sir. I just-"
"Come with me to the fashion show in Rome! I need your eye, your talent is impeccable."
You tried to refuse, you really did. But it was hard to argue with a Baron. And in the end, you had to go. Because who were you to say no?
You told your boss you are sick, so you won't be able to make it for two weeks.
You couldn't believe you were going to miss work, but the nice check the Baron put into your hands was twice as much as you made in three months.
"For your time." he said when he placed it into your hands. And you nearly doubled over at the amount written on it.
"This is too much."
"Not at all. It's barely anything for your time." he said as he left.
You learned he loved to have the last word.
And now here you were, looking into your wardrobe, realizing just how poor you were.
You didn't even have decent clothes to wear to work let alone to the biggest fashion event!
Then the packages arrived.
Clothes, some were so new they weren't even announced just yet.
And a simple note that the delivery guy handed you as Bucky carried the boxes into your tiny apartment.
'Wear these. H.Z.'
A simple message, you couldn't question it. Then you realized you never even tell him your address let alone your sizes to be able to send you clothes.
"Bucky? How did you know where I live?"
"Oh, easy, Boss told me, he had a feeling you wouldn't have any dresses for a fashion event, so he sent me along, you should try them on."
He sat down on your couch sipping a glass of wine.
Just where did he get the wine from? And how did his boss know where you lived?
And again, you couldn't say no, so you tried everything on. If you were honest you were impressed and also happy to have Bucky there, you had a great time.
Then, the day came.
But instead of Bucky, a driver came to pick you up. It was a luxurious car which drove you to the airport.
You didn't even dare to talk to him, but you do remember his name when he introduced himself, Frederick.
He looked like the kind of intimidating guy who was actually really sweet and kind. But you rather not push his buttons.
"Here she is." said the Baron as you got out of the car, a luxurious jet awaiting the two of you. "James sadly couldn't make it, his husband had an accident and he wanted to stay with him. But fashion doesn't wait so it will be the two of us on this trip, I hope that is okay with you."
"Most certainly." you said as he lead you into the jet and showed you where everything was.
You weren't sure why you were even there, because he liked your idea of red gloves? Because you made good coffee? Why were you there?!
"I can almost hear you thinking, how about we do something creative instead of your worries." he thought you were scared of flying. You weren't. But it was a better excuse than the fact that you had a very handsome and rich man sitting right across from you and it made you nervous.
He placed a couple of drawings in front of you, all with women's clothing this time, gorgeous gowns and suits.
"Which one should be the centrepiece of my show?" he asked as he leaned back in his chair, watching you closely
You looked at him for a moment before looking at the table, why was he asking you? He must have one already.
Collections don't come out unless you have one, do they?
You looked at him as he was sipping some champagne before your eyes moved across the drawings.
Was this a test? It had to be. He had to be toying with you. Or it could be genuine, but you had your doubts.
You picked the dress you liked the most and he nodded.
He didn't comment or ask anything, he just simply nodded and left it at that.
---
When you arrived in Rome, your breath was taken away. This lifestyle. This level of luxury that came so naturally for him was something you never even imagined.
You got a room in the most expensive hotel, your room was more like an apartment. The view was gorgeous.
And again, you asked yourself, what were you doing there?
Then the phone in the room rang, and you picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Ah, Darling, let's go and get something to eat, you must be hungry from the flight." It was Zemo.
"Oh, sure."
"Let's meet in the lobby, 10 minutes?"
And sure enough, ten minutes later, there he was, standing in the middle like a King in a gorgeous deep wine-red suit. While you had jeans and a shirt on... great. You should have changed.
As he turned and saw you, he did make a face, he hoped you didn't see, but you surely did.
Half of the things on the menu, you couldn't even pronounce, so you stuck with something you knew, hamburgers and fries. It also worried you that you couldn't find the prices.
Zemo got something very Italian. By the sound of it.
It looked really nice, some nice pasta, cheese, but your burger, oh, your burger was everything.
It was so delicious, you nearly went blind eating it. And the fries were beyond this world.
"I hope you are enjoying yourself, is your room appropriate?"
"More than that. I have a huge balcony, I can see the Colosseum from there!"
"Glad to hear that you enjoy it. What about the dresses? I sent you a couple, do you not like them?" his brows furrowed as he pointed at your top.
"Oh, they are beautiful, but I just wasn't sure when to wear them."
"Whenever you see fit. They are yours after all." he said that but he clearly didn't mean it. He wanted you to wear those dresses, it was clear.
"They cannot be mine, they are way too expensive." you argued as you thought he only gave them for the trip.
"I made them just for you, they only fit you." you really didn't want to believe him.
But you went along with it.
You knew better than to argue with Baron Zemo himself.
Later that evening, you sat out on the balcony, taking in the view then suddenly something hit you.
"Did he say he MADE them just for me?" sudden realization hit you like a train.
---
The first day of the fashion show, you felt really out of place. Even with the beautiful dress you had on, you didn't feel comfortable at all.
You were nervous as you entered the car and you were even more nervous when you realized that there are paparazzi.
"Take deep breaths, don't look into the flash and you'll be fine. And smile." Zemo said as he put his arm around you and guided you through the crowd. People were trying to ask questions but he only waved and smiled.
And then, you were inside.
The first show wasn't Zemo's. It was a woman's collection. Filled with colour and texture. Not really your style, but you just sat there, not making any faces. There were too many cameras watching, if they caught you at the wrong time, your life could be over.
"What do you think?" asked Zemo as he leaned over and into your ear. You were in the middle of watching another oversized coat walk down the runway.
"Not my favourite. Everything is too big, it swallows them." you said honestly, turning to him, hoping no one heard you.
"Quite right, My Dear." he said before leaning back and continuing to watch.
About three more collections later, that day was done.
And the fact that you didn't like anything... worried you. Zemo asked every time, how you like it, but you could never say a good thing.
How can someone be exhausted after such a day?
All you had to do was sit and smile occasionally when Zemo introduced you to people.
Oh, the number of men and women who could kill you with their eyes just to be standing next to the man who kept his arm around your waist.
He always introduced you as a friend, but the looks you received from people were not meant for a friend. They saw you as a threat.
But now, you were back at the hotel, sitting on the balcony, still in that gorgeous dress as you enjoyed your view.
You promised yourself that morning that you are going to enjoy your time here. After all, who knew if you would ever be able to make it back to Rome anytime soon or ever in your life for that matter.
"Darling?" the voice came from the room and it made you jump in your seat.
"Zemo?"
"Here you are. I see you do enjoy the view." he sat down next to you in another chair, looking at you, not the view.
"It's beautiful. How did you get into my room?"
"It is breathtaking. I came to ask if you are ready for dinner, I see you didn't change." he just completely ignored your question.
"I like this dress. And yes, I'm ready for dinner." you said as you looked at him, eyes shining but he didn't smile, he simply nodded and guided you to the dining hall.
Dinner was as delicious as the day before. You were a bit more daring regarding the food you ordered.
"Tell me about yourself." he suddenly said. Now you were glad you didn't have any food or drink in your mouth.
Why would he be interested?
But he genuinely looked like he cared, and what harm would it be to tell him?
Not like he really cared, he probably just wanted you to ask the same from him and after you told your story, you did ask him.
But he dodged the question and instead told you how tomorrow will go down.
A three-day fashion event. Was that too much or too little? You weren't sure.
But your second day was much like the first, except it was longer.
The day before Zemo made you promise that you'd wear the pink dress he sent you.
Much like the day before, he came to pick you up in the morning, complimenting you while he looked like a nicely wrapped box of bonbons.
The man looked way too good for his own good.
He sat in the car with you, looking out the window, you enjoyed the view.
"Hopefully today we will see something we actually like. What would you like to see?" he asked.
"I want to see yours." you said without any hesitation.
"Hm, you do have good taste." he said just before the car stopped.
Another day without seeing any interesting pieces. You did see one thing, a kind of duo chrome gown, it looked promising, but the back of it... horrible.
You made a face which amused Zemo. He did notice how hopefull you were and then you saw the back.
And now you learned that Zemo's collection will be tomorrow, the last day, the grand finale.
You were about to get dressed when there was a knock on your door, a woman came in with a gorgeous dress, you recognized it from the sketches Zemo showed you on the plane.
"Miss, Mr Zemo send us as he was required before the show. He sent us to get you there, we have a car ready."
The fact that you had to go alone scared you a tad bit. But you did understand why he would be there earlier.
You felt like a Goddess honestly, the dress was perfect. You can imagine him in his room, perfecting every detail before sending it over to you.
You knew he wouldn't give out anything less than perfect from his hands.
---
"To us." he said lifting his champagne, "To the perfect show." he said as you clicked your glass against his. You smiled as you lifted the glass to your lips.
"To you." you said. "Your amazing collection."
"Precisely." he said and nodded. "Wouldn't have been able to do it without you, Darlin’."
And then you suddenly realized.
It was your last day there, last dinner with him and you knew you were going to miss him.
You'll have to go back to the life of a barista. And you were okay with that. You never expected this to happen, so even the fact that it did give you a reason to go forward.
"Can I ask you something?" you asked when the waitress left after she poured you two glasses of wine.
"Go ahead." he said as he lifted his glass.
"Why did you invite me? What is your real reason? Because I'm still confused by it."
"Beauty is something I always thrived for. I always wanted to achieve perfection. With my clothes especially. When Bucky mentioned this new shop with the kind barista I didn't think much. But he started to mention you more and more. And then I went to see you for myself, you took my breath away. You inspired me as a muse would. Something I have never had. I always worked for myself, but now, now I create for you, Darlin’."
You still didn't want to believe him. You weren't that beautiful, you weren't even thin.
"I-"
"I know you doubt yourself. I see it in your eyes. But there is nothing to doubt. Your beauty is extraordinary. You might not see it, your body, and your curves would drive any man crazy, including me. And your personality, you are shining my Darling. Like today, in that dress, I couldn't stop looking at you. Breathtaking, you always look breathtaking but when I see you wear something I made, it does something to me."
You were not sure if this was some weird kink of his. Picking up unsuspecting broke women and then living a fantasy through them. But the way his eyes shined told you he wasn't lying nor was this a weird kink. Adoration is what you saw. But then, why didn't you believe him? Why couldn't you? Could it be what he said before? The way you doubt yourself, it can be getting in your way.
"I'm not that special."
"You don't see what I see. Do you think I get everyone on a plane to Rome because they thought of adding red gloves to a suit? You are exquisite, and I planned on seducing you. I'm not really good at the love department, but you are special."
Seducing you? Love? Well, the black suit he had on certainly didn't help your situation. He looked way too delicious for his own good. You couldn't think straight.
"Are you serious or are you playing with me? Is this some game rich people play?"
"No game, Darling. I'm serious about my feelings." this is when the waitress arrived with your food. He studied your face. "You do not believe me."
"It's hard to. It's hard to believe that a man of your level would ever be interested in someone like me. I'm a simple woman, a barista while you are the best fashion designer in the entire world."
"Do titles bother you that much?"
"When it's this huge, yes. What will people think? You with me? Me with you? They will think I blackmailed you, that I'm a golddigger or something."
"Don't be silly, Love. I do not care what others say about me. My work speaks for itself. But if you really are not interested, I'll understand."
"It's not..." you looked around, no one was paying any attention. "It's not that I'm not interested in you. It's just hard to process your declaration of love when your face barely moves."
"I trained myself. So I wouldn't get wrinkles."
Of course, he did.
"How can I prove myself? How can I prove that my feelings are true?"
"I don't know, honestly."
"I brought you on many dates. Every day, I saw every lunch, breakfast and dinner as a date. Even if you didn't. Which now I realize you might not have. I should have told you from the beginning, but I needed to know who the angel who made those amazing espressos was. And I really found an angel. I watched you as you worked, cleaned the store when you were ready to close and I walked in."
"I need to think." you said honestly.
"Of course, I never expected you to be ready with an answer. But please know, I am serious."
Rest of the dinner, you spent quietly, eating and trying to think.
Why did he have to look so delicious in his suit?! It wasn't fair.
Your mind couldn't even register that evening or the next morning, nor the flight nor when you stood in front of your apartment while Zemo's driver got your suitcases out. You arrived with more than you left with.
You turned and looked at Zemo.
"Thank you again for the opportunity and the amazing memories." he only nodded once before you walked away from him.
Zemo had a cold heart. His industry and past made him this way, but he could feel his cold heart break into millions of pieces as he watched you walk away and the door closed behind you. He got back into the car and headed home, home into the cold mansion where he lived all alone.
You couldn't even unpack. Your suitcases have been in the same place as you left them days ago when you arrived home.
So many thoughts yet your mind was blank, and your heart hurt.
But why was it hurting so badly? The look in his eyes as you said goodbye. It was as if he was a different person, not the kind Zemo you saw at the shows, not the Zemo who laughed with you as you looked at all the dresses and discussed them at dinner.
It was the cold and old Zemo who walked into your work many days ago.
Today was your day off.
You haven't seen or heard about Zemo or Bucky at all. You figured they were busy after such an amazing show.
You pulled out your phone and smiled as you looked at all the photos you took.
During many days you and Zemo went around Rome, being tourists he guided you through the streets as if he was living there for years.
How did you fail to see the look in his eyes? He took so many photos of you at your request and then you stopped at one.
It was a selfie of you and Zemo. You remember how grumpy he was but you ended up getting a picture where he was in the background.
Then photos of the last show, his show.
You took many photos of him.
And then, as if someone poured cold water all over you.
He was wearing the suit. THE SUIT, with the red gloves.
"You picked this one out." he said when you complimented him. At the time you only laughed it off not believing him.
And you realized your many mistakes.
You were too blind to realize what was happening right in front of you.
You fell in love.
You fell in love with him and you didn't even know it.
Now, the place on your waist where he always had his hand felt hot, burning. You couldn't believe how stupid you were.
How could you ignore his feelings? The way he looked at you, the way he held you and walked with you.
"I wouldn't have anyone else by my side, Love." he said one day and it all came crushing down.
You wanted to yell. Scream.
How could you done this?! Who cares about titles? Who cares about who he was.
All you cared about was him.
The way he looked at you, the way he smelled and the way he cared for you.
You rushed out of your apartment and got a taxi.
Only when you stood in front of the building you realized you had no idea what you were doing. You walked in and the receptionist gave you a look.
She probably had a strong feeling towards the crocks you wore, the sweatpants and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt.
"How may I help?"
"I'm here to speak with Helmut Zemo? I have an urgent matter." she gave you another look.
"Sure, I'll call security."
"No, please I'm serious, can you at least call him? Or his assistant? Bucky Barnes? They know me, I promise."
She only raise her brow as security started to walk towards you.
"Ma'am, please." one man said and you really didn't want to cause a scene.
"Please, just call Bucky at least, I really-"
"Y/N?" all of you looked at Bucky who just exited the elevator. "What are you doing here?"
"Mr Barnes we are about to get this lady out, I apologize for the scene."
As the bodyguard grabbed your arm Bucky almost growled at the man.
"HEY, let her go. I really don't think your boss would appreciate you touching her and you," he continued pointing at the receptionist. "You throw people out without confirming if we expect them or not?"
"Sir, sorry but I didn't think-"
"Exactly, you didn't think, but you wouldn't know so, I suggest you do your job properly from now."
"Yes, Sir. I apologize."
Bucky got you into the elevator as he looked at you. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk with Helmut."
Bucky smirked. "Oh it's just like a romantic movie, the heroine realizes her love for the cold hearted man and rushes to confess to him." Bucky said with a dreamy voice. "But wait! What are you wearing?!"
"I was home! what am I supposed to wear at home?"
"You need to change." he said as he pushed a different button on the elevator. "Hair, make up and dress."
And again, you knew better than to argue with Bucky.
About two hours later, you felt and looked like a completely different woman.
"Much better."
"I don't even want to know how much the clothes cost."
"Then don't ask. He's free now, probably in his office mopping."
"Why would he be cleaning?"
"Not that kind of mopping. He is sad because he let you go. SO ROMANTIC."
"Bucky." you said as you went up the elevator, top floor to finally do what you were ready to do 2 hours ago. "I'm nervous."
"Don't be. You wouldn't even have to say anything just go in, kiss him and boom. Wedding." you wanted to laugh. "Good luck." he said as he stopped in front of a huge door. He knocked before rushing off like a child.
"Come in." you heard his voice inside and you slowly opened the door.
He was sitting in his chair, his back to you. "What do you need Bucky, I told you I don't have the dresses, I don't even have ideas."
"Looks like you lost your muse." you said, your heart hammering in your chest.
"I did but why are you saying that?" did he really not realize that you were not Bucky?
"Why don't you get it back?"
"I told you I-" this time he turned and noticed you. He was, of course, wearing a suit, he look at you as if you were a ghost. "Darlin’? Am I imagining things?"
"No, and I'm sorry for being so blind. I came to tell you that if you want to, I'd like to try... us." you watched as he stood up from his chair.
"Are you serious?"
You nodded as he took steps towards you. He placed his palm against your cheek, leaning down to kiss you.
A kiss to make sure you were real, a kiss to finally mend and melt his heart.
When he pulled back, you smiled at him.
"You look stunning."
"Thank Bucky."
"Of course."
"But I do want my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt back!" he couldn't even comprehend what you just said. He was way too happy to fully process it.
---
That Christmas, you were already living with him.
You had a rather difficult time finding something for him as a gift, but then you came up with the perfect one and with the help of Bucky, you got just the thing.
You couldn't wait for his reaction to see it.
You smiled as you opened all of your gifts, clothes, jewellery, and a trip to Japan. Everything is absolutely amazing.
"Thank you, Babe, now, it's your turn."
"We said nothing serious." he said motioning towards the huge box you had in your hand which you just brought it.
"I know, open it."
Helmut looked at you and then at the box. He opened it, and then immediately looked up at you.
"What-"
You reached into the box and pulled out the small puppy and handed her to him.
"You can name her, she is a nine week old-"
"Dalmatian." he finished your sentence as he took the puppy from you. The puppy immediately started to lick his face. You smiled.
"You like her?"
He looked up at you and nodded.
"I thought I already had the best present be you, but this is amazing. Thank you, Love."
You pulled out your phone and took many many photos of him and the dog.
"What should be her name?" you asked as you watched the puppy sleep while you and Helmut cuddled on the couch.
"Cruella De Vil." you laughed slightly.
"Of course, you'd pick a name like this." you shook your head. "Cruella it is then."
You leaned over to give him a kiss on the lips as he pulled you even closer before another movie started on the TV.
Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @paola-carter @stunkbiggu
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS
#marvel#Marvel character#marvel fanfiction#marvel imagine#marvel imagines#zemo x you#zemo x reader#zemo x y/n#zemo imagine#zemo imagines#helmut zemo x reader#helmut zemo imagine#helmut zemo imagines#the falcon and the winter solider spoilers#the falcon and the winter soldier#AU#disney au#cruella de vil AU
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