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#tiny baron zemo
pannypunkpanda · 1 year
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Tiny Zemo needed a break — November 5
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Work of Art
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Baron Helmut Zemo x Original Female Character
Summary: Zemo is interested in how his new partner would look after certain *activities* while Sam and Bucky are out running errands.
Warnings: NSFW! 18+, Explicit Smut, Hand Kink, Eye Contact, Hand/wrist Kissing, Soft Dom Zemo, Zemo Being In Love With Gustav Klimt’s Artwork, Intellect Kink?, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Finger Sucking, Zemo Describing Klimt’s Paintings in Great Detail, Colors
Notes: I had a sex dream about Daniel Bruhl as Zemo last week, and I haven’t known peace since. I had to change a few things for logic reasons, but here it is. Also, this is just as much a love letter to Gustav Klimt as it is to Daniel Bruhl. Enjoy!
WC: 2.1k+
Read more MARVEL stories!
Tags: @bullet-prooflove @skittle479 @genevievedarcygranger​
The setting sun of the unfamiliar country shines through the windows and into the living room, casting a rainbow of light through the glass teapot that separates him from her. It expands across the table and onto the floor, stretching beyond where they sit in reds, greens and blues until disappearing just short of the door in a purple haze. He stares at her from behind the plume of steam that rises from the pot, two identical cups filling nearly to the brim as he studies her every move.
“Darjeeling?” He raises his eyebrows with the question, the chestnut hues of his eyes glinting amber in the warm evening light.
“Please,” she nods, scooting forward in her seat to finally enjoy his company without the judgment of her two partners. She hopes she can figure out what it is about him that makes her pulse quicken and her stomach flip every time he gets close to her. Was it his accent? His title? His intellect? Maybe it was a combination of all three. “Thank you,” she nods again.
“Of course. You know, unlike our mutual friends, you strike me as a woman who appreciates the finer things in life.” He starts, setting the pot down before sliding one of the saucers across the coffee table toward her.
“Is that so?” She leans forward to touch the handle of the mug he pushes in front of her, deciding to brush her fingers over his knuckles in the process.
He pauses as she touches him, lips parting and breath stilling as he tilts his head to the side as if to think through his next move. She knows that everything within his grasp holds the potential of turning into a movable piece on the giant chessboard of his life, a game he aims to win at nearly any cost. But she also knows that he was willing to dominate the kings and queens of the board to avenge a lost love, a result of passion and attachment, a sign of weakness. She hopes to use those long, deep stares he��s been giving her these past few days to bind him to her, to distract him long enough to spill some of his secrets and place a crown on her own head.
“I can’t imagine James or Sam would be able to appreciate a good cup of tea or glass of wine the way you and I would.” He keeps his hand beneath hers as he straightens his posture, now looking her in the eye through thick and heavy lashes. “Or a work of art.”
“Art?” She holds his stare in return, continuing to trace the hills and valleys between his fingers as the tiny hairs on the back of his hand stand on end. “I wouldn’t think that you, of all people, would support the arts.”
“On the contrary.” He releases his grip on the mug’s handle and weaves his fingers between hers, deftly stroking her palm with his thumb. “Anything can be a work of art if you choose to see it that way: the fall of an empire, the structure of a building, the curves of your face.”
Her mouth falls open as he continues to caress her skin, a thousand tiny tingling sensations spreading out from their point of origin as he presses into the heel of her hand. He scoffs as a knowing smirk tugs at the corners of his lips and brings her hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss into her palm. “Are you familiar with the works of Gustav Klimt?”
“The Austrian impressionist?” She whispers, wondering where he could be going with this. “The painter?”
“A symbolist, actually.” He encircles her wrist with his opposite hand, his fingertips soft and gentle as they trace the veins that snake their way up the back of her arm. “A common mistake.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.” She mutters with the little air she has left in her lungs as he strokes her arm like a trained masseur.
She watches in amazement as he opens his mouth to kiss her palm once more, this time a little deeper, a little longer as his tongue briefly parts his hungry lips. She leans forward as the tingling sensation shoots up her arm and into her chest, extending far beyond the trail his mouth leads as he kisses his way down her wrist. She can almost feel those eyes of his travel up her shoulder, noting the goose flesh racing up her axilla into the pounding pulse of her neck. His glare is nothing short of magnetic, drawing her in like a sailor to a siren as they quickly darken with desire. She isn’t entirely sure now if this seduction plot was a plan of her own, or if he’d merely tricked her into thinking it was her idea to begin with.
Either way, she sees no reason to pull back now.
“Klimt was a genius,” he stands up from his seat on the couch, keeping his fingers clasped in hers as he makes his way around the coffee table, pushing it aside. “He found beauty in nearly everything he saw.” The baron kneels in front of her, pushing the table back even further with his body as he finally settles at her feet.
“The symbolist parts of him were found mainly in his landscapes.” He pulls his hand away from hers, releasing it only to touch the intricate pattern of the dress that barely covers her thighs at this angle. He takes his time tracing the dozens of beaded triangles on the expensive cloth he picked out just for her to wear, hoping she appreciated it. “The concentric circles of trees in the forests, blades of grass in the meadows, the tessellation of leaves,” he elaborates as he smooths his hands down her legs, resting them both gingerly on her knees. “And the flowers in bloom are all different representations of the masculine and feminine.”
His chest expands as he pauses for a moment to take her in, the object of his desire, before exhaling and proceeding with his lesson. He slides his thumbs between her knees and pushes them apart, forcing her skirt to ride even farther up her hips as his lips curl into a smile. “But Klimt’s most famous paintings featured gold leaf and the women in his life.”
She swallows hard as she looks down at him for the very first time, his tall stature always drawing her chin upward to get a better look at him until now. This angle seems to suit him, the fading sunlight catching in his hair as it falls from behind his ear in front of his forehead. She can practically feel her bones shaking in anticipation as he holds her knees in his palms, that confident smirk painted permanently on his lips.
“Klimt knew that a work of art shouldn’t be rushed.” He glances up at her, sliding his hands over the tops of her thighs at an agonizing pace. “That something so beautiful should be studied at length before he would dare put it on canvas.”
She holds her breath as he ignites a fire beneath her skin, spreading her legs as the warmth of his hands ventures up toward her center. She can feel that fire rise up into her belly as his fingers tease the fine hair on her thighs, reaching the hem of her underwear as she finds herself rocking into them, silently urging him to pull that final barrier between them apart.
“He had many lovers, most of whom he painted,” He pulls back the cotton between her legs, sliding his fingers between her moistened lips before gliding them up and down. “Only after bringing them to a state of elation.”
“Yes,” she breathes out as he fondles her, his fingers the most skilled she’s ever felt in her entire life. “I remember that.” She moans as he stokes that heat, spreading her moisture over the length of her sex as he keeps his eyes on her.
“Good.” He increases his pressure on his way up to stimulate her clit as her hips begin to move in tandem with his hand. He grins like the Cheshire Cat, the skin around his eyes wrinkling as he persists in his carnal efforts. “They say his painting of Judith captures her at her most vulnerable state.” He slides his fingers inside of her walls, standing up as he pushes on her bud, rubbing a deep tantric rhythm into her core.
“Oh!” She utters, grabbing onto his shoulder as he continues his ministrations. “Baron!”
His smile widens at the mention of his title, but he only continues his lecture. “Lips flush, cheeks rosy, eyes heavily lidded,” he turns to sit down next to her on the couch, keeping his fingers warm inside as he whispers into her ear. “When I first laid eyes on you, I knew I had to see you like that.”
“Yeah?” She gasps as he lifts her leg over his lap, stretching her muscles as he delves his fingers even deeper inside of her. “Oh!”
“Yes, and you’re almost there, my love.” He curls his fingers upward, grabbing onto the base of her neck with his opposite hand as he sends messages of bliss all the way up her spine and into her brain. “Tell me when you see gold.”
She nods as he speeds up his handiwork, the sound of her slick the only thing she can hear besides her own shallow breaths and the beating of her heart. She can feel him push that final signal up through her, each of them building on top of the last like a line of dominoes bringing her closer to the edge. She looks down as he nearly breaks his wrist trying to please her, knocking down every one of them in succession as if they were laid out in an intricate shape painted by Klimt himself. Dozens of branches split off from her center, spiraling as they fall into her arms, legs and feet before curling in on themselves as her body shakes from the euphoria.
Her orgasm continues to spread through the tips of her fingers and the roots of her hair as she finally turns to look at him. She can feel those golden stems of ecstasy grow and brighten within her, splitting in half, breaking free until they reach every inch of her body through his magic fingers. She cries out as he doubles her pleasure, wrapping her foot around his leg to keep herself steady as her entire body begins to seize in his lap.
He moves his hand from the back of her neck to her jawline, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him as the sun shines one last time through the stained glass windows. Its yellow rays hit his eyes at just the right angle, illuminating the amber of his irises into a vibrant gold as he unravels her completely.
“I see it,” she confesses, now putty in his hands. “I see the gold.”
“Good girl,” he purrs, slowing his rhythm between her legs before planting a kiss onto her cheek. He pulls his thumb off her bud, careful not to get anything on her dress as he slowly drags his fingers up and out of her silky spent sex before bringing them up to his lips. “I knew you would.” He takes his time tasting her, those golden eyes of his rolling back into his head as his lips reach his knuckles.
She shivers as she watches him savor her, this deadly powerful man literally brought to his knees for nothing more than a chance to experience her beauty in person, to sample the fruits of his labor. Part of her now wishes that he could be someone else, someone who isn’t so devious, so wild and unpredictable, but she knows that’s part of what drew her to him in the first place.
He opens his eyes and draws his fingers from his mouth, letting go of her chin and stroking her hair with a newfound sense of adoration. “You look just like her now, a true work of art.”
She lets the echo of her climax shake its way through her, consciously calming her breathing as he combs through her hair, watching his chest rise and fall as a guide for her desired rate. She unhooks her foot from his calf before letting her hand drift down his neck and chest, reaching down between his legs to return the favor.
“Ah!” He stops her, clicking his tongue as he grabs her wrist. “You should rest before they get back. Drink your tea. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”
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hannibal-solos · 7 months
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The Bloody Baron: Chapter 2
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Victorian Vampire!AU
Series Rating: Explicit 18+, Minors DNI
Word count: 3.1k
Warnings: Brief descriptions of blood/violence
Chapter 1
Previously:
“Service. I want to live. Please, I want to live.” 
He grins, fangs on full display now. 
“Excellent choice.” 
Faintly, you hear the dinner bell ringing.
---------------------------------------------------
He looks at you with hungry eyes, before sinking his fangs into your neck, letting the blood flow freely.  You scream instinctively, moving to pull away from the sharp pain but he holds you firmly in his grasp. He groans at the taste of you. Your heart beats faster, panic beginning to set in fully, the blood moving quickly out of the wound on your neck. Black spots start to dance before your eyes, and you wonder if he had only been toying with you before– it felt as if he were bleeding you dry. He holds you flush to him as your body begins to sag. 
He removes his fangs from your neck, and turns you around to face him, holding your tired body upright effortlessly. He holds your jaw in one hand, forcing you to look at him once more, licking his lips and fangs.  
“You taste divine little one. I’m going to keep you for as long as I can.” 
His face is the last thing you see before the spots overtake your vision, and you fall limp in his grasp. 
You slowly wake to an agonizing headache and a churning stomach. You turn on your side to realize you’re still in that god-forsaken room, on the tiny cot in the corner. Although it seems he’s done you a kindness by putting a blanket down first so you didn’t further ruin your blood-soaked gown. You reach for the glass of water he’d set on the ground, and only then do you realize you’ve been shackled. Upon investigation, it seems as though the chain is long enough to let you stand and move to the chamber pot and back, but not long enough to get you to the door. You test it’s limits, figuring out exactly which points in the room the chain will let you reach. 
You realize you have no idea what time it is. There’s an unsurprising lack of windows, you could have been out for minutes, hours, days. The door swings open with a clatter, making you jump and scramble for the cot. 
“Good afternoon, little one. You’ve been asleep for quite some time now, I thought you might be hungry.” 
He places a tray with what seems to be a bowl of soup, a spoon, and a napkin down by your cot. You eye him suspiciously, but remembering his penchant for manners you decide to bring it closer. 
“Thank you, Baron Zemo.” 
“You’re very welcome. I suggest you eat all you can stomach, you’ll need to regain your strength to begin your duties.” 
You take a small spoonful of the soup, it’s hearty, most likely potatoes and leeks. 
He regards you carefully for a moment. 
“Are you not curious as to what your duties may be?” he inquires. 
“Apologies sir, I am indeed.” 
“You’re going to be an ambassador of sorts.” 
You quirk an eyebrow. 
“I’m not quite sure I understand.” 
He gives a small chuckle. 
“I cannot go where I am not invited. When I am invited to a daytime function, I must decline. But in order to maintain appearances, you’re going to attend in my place– as my fiance. You’re also going to assist me in the retrieval of several items of value to me.” 
The realization hits you square in the chest, and you look up rather quickly— almost splashing soup across your already stained dress. 
“You want me to steal for you.” 
A mischievous smile overtakes his features. 
“While you’re not the most adept thief at present, I believe I can teach you to become one of the best there is. You fold easily under intimidation, and your cover was rather flimsy–both issues I plan to remedy. You’re going to live the part you’re meant to play, so deeply that your cover will be second nature to you.” 
You’re staring at him, searching his features for any sign of dishonesty. Surely a Baron of all people wouldn’t need to resort to stealing in order to get what they want–and anyone he’d have you steal from is likely just as dangerous as he is. 
“Of course, I can always make you do it.”
You stare at him in indignation, putting your spoon back on the tray. 
“Stand.” Without thought, you’re standing. 
“Come here.” 
You couldn’t stop if you tried, your feet bringing you to stand in front him against your will. In fact, if you’d had your way you’d be as far away from the man as possible, far away from the condescending smirk and downright cocky look in his eyes. 
“This is one of the perks of my condition, you see? I can ask you to do anything I’d like, and you’ll do it– without question or hesitation.”
Your heart is hammering in your chest at the thought of just how well and truly fucked you were here. Refuse and he’ll compel you to do his bidding anyway. Run, and he’ll certainly catch you before you get very far. If the stories are true, this man is the definition of an apex predator. 
“Now that your head is a bit clearer, perhaps you better understand the gravity of your situation. You may attempt to deny me all you’d like, it will only minorly inconvenience me at best before I get what I want.” 
You swallow, throat thick with fear. 
“Understood.” 
“Good.” He blinks, and you feel the hold he had over you release all at once, gasping for air and desperate to create some space between the two of you.  Before you can stumble too far, he grabs your wrist, and pulls you flush to him. 
“I urge you to remember your place in this, little one. You chose this. Should you prefer the other option at any time, I’ll gladly indulge you in it.” 
His eyes flash red. 
You swallow your fear as best you’re able before responding. 
“When shall we start the training?” You ask, trepidatiously. 
He releases you with a cordial smile, the shackles attached to your body clinking as you move away from him. 
“Now. Your first lesson will be on the finer points of lying under pressure.” 
He unshackles you, and guides you from your little dungeon to a small guest room on the first floor. It could be the middle of the night for all you knew– had the Baron not informed you it was afternoon, with how dark the inside of the manor was. Were he not guiding you there, you’d surely be walking blind. 
“Here, change into these first. Being in the right costume so to speak helps one feel in character. I’ll be just outside the door.” 
He hands you a powder blue day dress before exiting, closing the door behind him. 
You change quickly, marveling at how he was able to gauge your size. 
Well, I was out for quite a while. Either he measured me while I slept, or he’s gotten quite good at trapping servants to do his bidding. 
“Ready.” You call out in a shaky exhale. 
He opens the door, a more genuine smile gracing his face as his eyes roam over you. 
“Excellent. Please, sit.” He gestures to the small tea table. 
As you’re seated, you’re racking your brain for every bit of etiquette you might have ever known. Do I serve the tea because I’m the inferior here, or does he because he’s technically the host? Do I bring cup and saucer up to drink or only cup? Do I put my pinky out or was that a damned stupid thing they made up? 
“Calm your breathing, little one. This isn’t an etiquette test, merely a setting for your lesson.” 
Damn him and his enhanced hearing. 
You nod, and do your best to calm yourself. A misstep here won’t kill you, use your best judgement. 
“Now, I am going to ask you some questions, and I want you to do your best at lying to me. A normal man will be looking at your posture, your expressions, and your tone to suss out the truth from the lies. If you feel up to the challenge, try to keep your heart rate down. Are you ready?” 
You steel yourself. 
“Yes, I’m ready.” 
“What were you looking for last night while you were rummaging around?” 
Okay, I can do this. Half truths, half truths darling. 
“Just a bit of adrenaline seeking, nothing in particular.” 
“Hmm. And was it your intention to sell these items once you had them?” 
Your heart stutters. 
“I would have felt terrible in the morning if I sold them.” 
The truth. No need to outright admit you were going to sell them, but you truly were going to feel bad that it had to come to this in order to pay your rent. You half wonder if your landlord will only realize you’re gone once you’ve failed to pay rent tomorrow. 
“Tell me, little one. Do you find me handsome?” 
You can feel the heat lick up your chest and to your cheeks. Bastard. That’s just unfair. Redirect, there’s no lying your way out of this one. 
You opt to give him a wry smile instead. 
“Digging for compliments are we sir? I’d have thought a man of your stature would be quite comfortable and confident in himself.” 
“Nevertheless, I enjoy the reassurance. You find me handsome?” 
“Who wouldn’t?” You shrug, hoping he won’t press further. 
He smirks. 
“You’re quite adept at redirection, tell me, where did you learn this?” 
As far as you’re concerned this is an interrogation. Valkyrie would be proud of you for holding your own so far, but there’s no need to drag her name into this, lest he be looking for loved ones to use as leverage against you. 
“It’s a game, one my friends and I have been playing for years.” 
You hear her voice echo in your mind. “Think of it as a game, love. You’re not doing any harm, you’re keeping us all out of harm by keeping the full truth from them.” 
“I see. I’m fond of games myself. Although my own are usually much more… physical in nature.” 
You do your best to avoid imagining him chasing you down the halls of the manor in some twisted game of hide and seek. Your thighs clench of their own accord. You can bet he’d be terrifyingly good at it, stalking his prey through the vast halls, using their heartbeat and scent alone to find them. Maybe he’d even give you a head start, cocky bastard that he is. 
“Would you like to play a game? A further test of your skills, perhaps.” 
Oh god in heaven I shouldn’t have even imagined it. Can he read minds now too?!
“I thought my lying skills were unsatisfactory where we should continue the first lesson?” You manage to stutter out. 
He leans back in his chair, posture relaxed, hands folded in his lap, but you wouldn’t put it out of the realm of possibility for him to spring into action at any moment. 
“We can continue this particular lesson another time. I feel the need to stretch my legs, and you are at my command.” 
“What did you have in mind?” You ask, uncertain. 
He grins at you then, all teeth (but not fangs, this time). 
“You’re going to run– as fast as you can, to find an exit to the outdoors. If you succeed, I’ll grant you a reward. Fail, and you will grant me a reward of my choosing.” 
“Doesn’t seem very fair when one of us is a trained soldier and the other is not.” 
“I’ll give you a head start, my dear. But I will warn you: Should you make it outside, you will come back to me. The sunlight won’t protect you for long, and I’ll find you soon enough after the sun goes down, with punishment to dole out. Am I understood?” 
You gulp. 
“Yes sir, understood.” 
“Wonderful.” He claps his hands together once. “You get one minute, liebling. Start running.” 
You don’t stop to think about it, you take off as fast as you can, out the open door and into the near pitch black hallway. You’re trying your best to remember the feel of the passageways from his tour, only performing them in reverse–sticking to the middle of the halls to avoid bumping into anything that would alert him to your path or position. In an vain attempt to throw him off, you take off each of your gloves and rub them over the sweat on your face, tossing them in different directions as you run in the hopes that the scent will provide a false marker, ditching your shoes in an attempt to let yourself be as quiet as possible in your escape. 
You hear the clatter of silverware, and realize you must be off the dining room now, the candlelight providing a slight reprieve for your eyes. You hastily make your decision: The garden. Run for the garden!! 
You hear a door clatter open in the distance as you run, his voice echoing off the manor walls. 
“I’m going to catch you, little one. You must be faster than that.” 
You do your best to ignore his attempts at baiting you into fear, finally spotting the curtain clad double doors he told you lead to the garden.
Please please PLEASE open you silently beg. 
In an answer to your prayers, the doors open, golden sunlight streaming into the room. You act on instinct, rushing through the door and closing it behind you, hightailing it to the garden wall, scrambling to lift yourself up and over. 
You’ve hit town before you truly stop running, stopping in the middle of the busy sidewalk to contemplate what’s just happened. 
I can’t go home. I’ll lead him straight to everyone. I need to change, I need to leave these somewhere and throw him off my scent. 
“WADE!” You shout as you see the man approach. 
“Afternoon, what can I do for ya?” 
“I need you or Vanessa to run up to my apartment and grab me the little cigar box on my dresser. It’s an emergency please hurry.”
 He must be able to sense how truly distressed you are, as he runs in and uses their spare key to fetch it for you at the speed of light, bless his heart. 
“You’re a blessing Wade– go bathe in something incredibly potent to completely wash my scent off you. Garlic, onions, gas, anything! Please!”
You begin to hastily make your way down the street once more, leaving a fairly confused and startled Wade behind. You have one goal in mind: different clothes. 
You make your way to Agatha’s shop, begging her for anything used. 
At a discount, she offers a beige day dress–but you ask if she has any trousers and shirts that might fit you, and a cap as well as shoes. 
“Whatever you’re running from dearie, I hope it doesn’t catch you.” 
You thank her profusely for your new clothes, a simple cardigan, shirt, trousers, a cap, and shoes that you make fit. 
“Burn the dress. Don’t sell it, don’t keep it anywhere, burn it. You don’t want what’s following it, trust me.” 
She nods, and you’re off like a shot once more, stuffing your hair into the cap as you go. The orange and purple hues of the sunset that once provided a sense of wonder now inspire dread in the pit of your stomach. 
I’m running out of time. 
In the distance you hear the whistle of the ferry, and you change course to follow it to the docks. You send up a silent prayer that he can’t actually cross running water. Your aching feet pound the pavement with a ferocity that surprises even you. 
Even at your fastest, you begin to realize you won’t make it to the ferry before the sun fully sets. In your panic, you make a beeline for the church. If you can claim sanctuary there until morning, you can get on the ferry at first light and be free and clear of all of this. 
You can see the outline of the steeple as you run further towards it, can hear the bells grow ever louder, when you feel a firm smack to your backside. 
You yelp, and look around frantically to see where the culprit may reside. In your panic, you believe you see him through the crowds of people, standing stock still while the throngs of people move around him. Blink, and he’s gone. 
A cold sweat breaks out on your forehead. Oh god, it was all too easy. He wanted me to run, he WANTED to chase me, he’s been toying with me this whole time. Stay out in the open, stay surrounded. The more witnesses, the better. 
Your mind is reeling as you sort out your escape plan. You spot a strapping young gentleman wearing a silver cross, and decide to approach him. 
“Excuse me sir, do you think you could help escort me to the church? I’m trying to run away to the convent but my family will stop me if they see me, it’s why I look rather silly at the moment.” 
He regards you carefully, before offering you his arm. 
“Of course, miss. It’s a very noble goal indeed, not many our age pursue the convent anymore.” 
You’re praying and praying that you can both make it through the doors unscathed. You’re walking up the steps, leaning on the young man for strength–when you feel something brush past you very quickly–your companion feeling it as well. You refuse to look back, continuing your way up the steps, lest you accidentally make eye contact with the Baron, sealing your fate. 
Blessedly, you make it through the doors at last, and you all but collapse in one of the pews. 
You thank your compatriot for your escort, and as he departs, you run to the altar to seek out a priest, any priest. 
The sun has gone down fully, and the torches have been lit outside the windows. 
The blood freezes in your veins as you hear slow, deliberate footsteps approach from behind you. You don’t dare look. You can scarcely breathe, heart in the pit of your stomach as the steps grow ever closer. You shut your eyes, a last ditch effort to prevent him from compelling you. 
It can’t be him. It’s not possible, it’s a CHURCH– 
“I told you there would be consequences, liebe.” You feel his breath against the shell of your ear. 
You suck in a shuddering breath. It truly had been a game all along. He was never going to let you out of his clutches. And now you were going to pay for losing. 
“Funny things, churches. They’re a public place–I don’t require an invitation to enter. And as much as you may pray that God will keep you safe, he cannot keep you from me. Nothing will.” 
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celestialsarcasm · 1 year
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hard to hate you
baron zemo x reader
Rating: Explicit
Summary: You’re an Avenger, so of course, you and Baron Zemo exist in a state of mutual hatred. Or at least, you’re supposed to. It’s the natural order of things. Too bad you lose sight of that a bit more each time you end up in his bed…
Tags/Warnings: smut, a tiny bit of fluff at the end, but mostly smut, dom!zemo, sub!reader, enemies to lovers, piv sex, dubcon (not really, but maybe? just in case?), dirty talk, degradation, condescension, name calling, choking, praise kink, begging
Word Count: 1.5k
You aren’t sure how you ended up like this, pinned underneath the man you claimed to hate. Some unfortunate lapse of judgment or the wine you drank earlier, probably. Never mind that this was somehow becoming a regular occurance. But you always managed to come up with an excuse, even if they were starting to sound a little ridiculous even to your own ears.
This time, you’re sprawled out under Zemo on the silk sheets of his enormous bed. He’s thrusting his fingers into you while his other hand pins you to the sheets, and you’re about ten seconds away from losing your fucking mind.
“What would your precious Avengers say if they saw you like this? If they knew how desperate you are to be fucked by the enemy? How you turn into a cockdrunk little slut as soon as I get my hands on you? How when I do this-“
He curls his fingers inside you and bites down hard on your pulse point, and you wail.
“You seem to forget how much you hate me.” He laughs darkly as you squirm underneath him, wanting to retort but instead finding yourself reduced to a string of pitiful whimpers.
“Hmm, nothing to say to that? I really have made you into a brainless little whore. Too bad, you’re still going to have to beg if you want to cum.”
The final words are spoken against your ear, his lust-filled, accented voice clouding your head with desire. You fight to think through the haze. “Please, Zemo,” you whine. “I-I need it!”
He tsks and shakes his head. “You know better, draga. Try again, what’s my name?”
You can hardly think as his thumb starts tracing teasing circles on your clit, but eventually it clicks in your brain. “Baron! Baron, please, make me cum, I want it so bad!”
He hums approvingly, moving his thumb faster. “There’s my good girl. You’re close, aren’t you, mein schatz?” He smirks knowingly. “Beg for me some more, and I just might let my little slut cum.”
His fingers are working you so good you can barely stay afloat, waves of pleasure washing over you as you fight the urge to cum without permission. “Please, Baron, feels so good! Want to cum on your fingers, please let me! I’ll be so good for you!”
His eyes darken and he all but growls, “Do it, then. Cum all over my fingers like a good little slut. Cum for me, now!” His mouth moves to your nipple and sucks, just as his fingers hit that perfect spot inside you and his thumb presses down on your clit.
You scream, shattering around him. “Fuck, fuck, yes!” Your eyes roll back in your head as you ride wave after wave of ecstasy, hands finding purchase in Zemo’s hair and tugging, if only to anchor yourself to this reality.
Zemo eases his fingers out of you, laughing softly when your cunt clenches involuntarily around them.
You gaze up at him breathlessly, mind still reeling from your orgasm.
“Open,” he commands, holding up his fingers still covered in your cum.
You groan at the implication and open your mouth dutifully, sucking eagerly on his fingers when he slides them between your lips.
“Good job, schatzi, being such a perfect slut for me,” he praises, pulling his fingers back. “But you know I’m not done with you yet. I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to take it like I know you can. Isn’t that right, princeza?”
Even though his words threaten to ruin you, you keep quiet. You’ve regained some consciousness by now, and the post-orgasm clarity is reminding you of all the reasons why this is a bad idea, all the things about Zemo that would send any sane woman running. And yet…
You know you’ve hesitated too long when he leans in closer and wraps his hand around your throat. “I said, isn’t that right?” he growls. “Come on, slut, use your words. Tell me how you’re going to be good for me and take my cock in that tight little cunt.”
Just like that, your mind is once again blank of all thoughts except for his words and the feeling of his hand on your throat, squeezing just enough to make your brain go fuzzy. And, goddamn him, what else could you do but obey?
“Fuck, fine, I’ll take it for you, I’ll be good,” you say breathlessly.
Zemo’s grip on your throat loosens slightly. “That’s more like it.” With his other hand, he reaches down and grips his already hard cock, groaning as he gives it a couple strokes before bringing it to your slick entrance. “Already stretched you out around my fingers, so you should be all wet and ready for me, hmm?” he asks, smirking.
His words are driving you crazy, and you gasp when he teasingly rubs the tip of his cock over your clit. “Yes, Baron, I’m ready. Please, just fuck me already!” You’re vaguely aware that you’re begging again, but at this point you can’t bring yourself to care.
“Someone’s impatient,” he chuckles. “But since you asked so nicely…”
He slides into you with a single thrust, forcing a loud moan from somewhere deep in the back of your throat. He groans along with you, cock twitching inside you as he bottoms out. Quickly, he starts thrusting in and out of you, not giving you much time to adjust. But fuck, you love it.
Needing something to ground yourself, your hands fly to his shoulders, digging your nails into the skin so hard they’ll surely leave marks.
Your whimpers combine with his groans in what may be the most flawless harmony you’ve ever heard. Your bodies slot together perfectly on each thrust, as you arch your back and lift your hips to meet him. You’d never admit it, but at times like this it seems like the two of you just fit.
The thought is driven from your mind as Zemo starts talking again. “Mmm, that’s it, draga, you’re taking it so well for me. Such a perfect whore, just for me. C’mon, tell me who you belong to.”
“You, Baron, only you! I’m yours!” you moan, knowing somewhere in your lust-addled mind that it was true.
“That’s right. Mine,” he growls, and the possessiveness in his voice makes you clench around him. “My - fuck - my perfect whore, my desperate little cockslut. Tell me how good my cock feels inside you, I know you love it.”
As he says it, he adjusts his angle to hit a spot even deeper inside you, and oh, you’re fucked.
Words fall from your mouth without your permission. “Feels so good, it’s - oh - so fucking good! Please don’t stop, need you!”
His pace doesn’t falter as he grabs your hair and turns your head to the side so he can lick and bite over the column of your neck, moaning against your skin. You writhe, the attention he pays to your sensitive spots driving you closer to the edge.
You couldn’t seem to stop talking, babbling nonsense at this point. “Ahh, s’ good, feel so full, I need it, more, please!”
You’re getting close, and you can tell he is too by the way his hips start to stutter. “Fuck, schatzi, I’m going to cum,” he breathes shakily. “Want me to cum inside you?”
“Yes, yeah, cum inside me, want you to fill me up!” You’re practically screaming at this point, so close that you know feeling him spill inside you would be all you need to send you over the edge. “Please, Baron, cum in your good girl’s pussy!”
That does it. “Fuck!” he shouts, biting down on your shoulder as he cums.
You follow not a second later, a strangled “Oh god, yes!” falling from your lips. You shake around him, moaning incoherently as he fucks you through your orgasm.
Once you’ve started to come down from your respective highs, Zemo pulls out and makes to roll off of you, but you grab his arm. “Can we…” you bite your lip, suddenly shy. “Can we stay like this for a minute?”
He grins. “You like having me on top of you that much, hmm?”
You rolled your eyes, moving to push him back off you. “Well if you’re gonna be cocky about it-“
“No, stay, princeza, please,” he says softly, and you’re surprised to see something like longing in his eyes. Appeased, you sink back against the bed, Zemo’s weight on top of you somehow making you feel safer than you have in a long time. You’ll save the analysis of that thought for later. For now, you close your eyes, and he surprises you yet again when he starts gently stroking your hair. The two of you lie in silence for a few minutes until you open your eyes and narrow them in what you hope is a menacing expression.
“You tell anyone about this, so help me, I’ll kill you, Baron,” you say in what’s meant to be a threatening tone, but comes out like more a lover’s teasing quip. After a second of silence, he starts laughing softly and you can’t help but start too - laughing at your pitiful attempt to scare him and, well, at the whole situation.
Despite your better instincts, you let yourself relax under him again, and eventually the soft strokes of his hand against your hair, combined with the steady beating of his heart, lull you into a peaceful sleep.
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nekoannie-chan · 10 months
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Week 24 Reblog Masterlist
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Welcome to Week 24 2023 or Week 180, as always, fics would be listed in the order I read them.
I hope you enjoy it!
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»
♥ You can check my reading guidelines here.
♥ You can check my masterlist here.
♥ You can check my main reblog masterlist 2023 here.
♥ You can check my June reblog masterlist 2023 here.
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»
𝙺𝚎𝚢𝚜: 💛 ᵒʳᶤᵍᶤᶰᵃˡ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ
💜 ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ
🖤 ᵈᵃʳᵏ
❤️ ˢᵐᵘᵗ
💚 ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ
💙 ᵃᶰᵍˢᵗ
🧡 ᶜᵒᵐᵉᵈʸ
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»
This is the list of the fics I read and recommend in Week 24 2023:
 The root of all Ransom part I (Ransom Drysdale X Reader) by @ronearoundblindly​💚💙❤️
But, I guess if I love you (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @imyourbratzdoll💙
My saviour chapter 58: You should listen to this! (Brock Rumlow X Reader) by @talia-rumlow 💚💙❤️🖤
No good at goodbyes part X: Epilogue (Scott Lang X Reader) by @there-goes-thefighter 💚💙
Tiny Vessels (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @buckets-and-trees💙❤️
Surprises (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @incorrectmarvelquotesss💙
Home sweet home chapter 1: Something just like this! (Brock Rumlow X Reader) by @talia-rumlow 💚💙❤️
No good at goodbyes alternative ending part I (Scott Lang X Reader) by @there-goes-thefighter 💚💙
Liar! (Charles Xavier) by @youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms💙
Tiny Vessels part 2 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @buckets-and-trees💙❤️
Virtue & valor 1 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @after-avenging-hours💚💙❤️
No good at goodbyes alternative ending part II (Scott Lang X Reader) by @there-goes-thefighter 💚💙
Million-dollar man (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @whereireid💚💙❤️
Home (Stucky X Reader) by @rookthorne💚💙
Virtue & valor 2 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @after-avenging-hours💚💙❤️
No good at goodbyes alternative ending part III (Scott Lang X Reader) by @there-goes-thefighter 💚💙
Music to my ears (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @royalsweetteaa💚❤️
A rough morning (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @mischiefsemimanaged💚💙
The Baron & The Avenger part 1 (Helmut Zemo X OFC) by @there-goes-thefighter​ 💚💙
My saviour chapter 59: I’m gonna kill him! (Brock Rumlow X Reader) by @talia-rumlow​ 💚💙❤️🖤
Where we are (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @incorrectmarvelquotesss💚💙
Virtue & valor 3 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @after-avenging-hours💚💙❤️
Threadbare part 1: Yield strength (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @ronearoundblindly💚💙
My saviour chapter 60: Have you thought about names at all? (Brock Rumlow X Reader) by @talia-rumlow 💚💙❤️🖤
Argument (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @imyourbratzdoll💚💙❤️
Virtue & valor 4 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @after-avenging-hours💚💙❤️
Lost time (Scott Lang X Reader) by @certifiedskywalker​💚💙
Threadbare part 2: Strain curve (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @ronearoundblindly💚💙
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twistedtummies2 · 2 months
Note
Your TW OCs are going to the latest Avengers movie! Who do each of them cosplay as?
Well, because these bois all attend Night Raven College, I think it's fair that - if they're going to a Marvel Movie Event - they're going to cosplay as Marvel Villains. ;) I'm going to stick with villains who have appeared in the MCU, specifically, for various reasons. They can appear in the movies or in the TV shows, but they have to be from that universe. Nakoda = Kilgrave, a.k.a. The Purple Man. Because hypnotic abilities, plus it means putting Nako in a snazzy suit, PLUS I can make all the Doctor Who jokes I want. Mua ha ha. Billy = Doc Ock. Don't ask me how he manages the tentacles. Honestly, given his hefty gut, Billy would probably look even more like the Doc Ock from the comics than Alfred Molina does...mind you, he'd be EXCEPTIONALLY taller, but that's another story. XD Elias = Mysterio. Even if his origins are a bit different from the comics version (where the character is a former wannabe actor, among other things revolving around showbiz), I can't think of a better Marvel rogue that's appeared in the MCU for my over-the-top theatre pup to play. Reno = Yellowjacket. I would say Scorpion from Spider-Man, but a.) got a LOT of Spidey rogues here already, and b.) Gargan in the MCU has yet to premiere as the ACTUAL Scorpion. I wanted to stick with MCU characters. So I went with the next best bug. :P James = Loki. Because both are melodramatic hams, and the idea of James being forced through the "Puny God" scene is hilarious to me. In an evil way. >:) Smitty = Thanos. Because a friend suggested seeing a teeny-tiny, pudgy little Thanos next to James as Loki would be hysterical, on SO many levels, and I entirely and completely agree. XD Maelstrom = The Kingpin. Not sure if he shaves his head, wears a bald cap, or just decides to keep the hair and say "screw it," but seems appropriate for the big beefy guy. Theodore = The Green Goblin. Seems fitting for a character who flies around, has a maniacal laugh and sharp-faced features, and throws fiery spheres (be it fireballs or pumpkin bombs) at people. :P Grit = Baron Zemo. Specifically as he appears in "Falcon and the Winter Soldier," in full costume. Mask, trenchcoat, etc. I WAS going to go with Red Skull, because he's one of the greats in comics...but I don't like the thought of my rock boi being dressed as a Nazi. So, I felt Zemo was the next best choice. (I actually considered giving one of them to Elias, too, but then I remembered Mysterio. LOL )
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sholiofic · 2 years
Note
It’s me, the pigeon that lives under your floorboards. Sequel to the “trapped in a motel blizzard over Christmas” where the trio do make it for a holiday and realise how much Zemo has grown to care for them specifically, from watching the baron who’s nonchalant about life or death missions, solitary confinement, a little mass murder, etc. going absolutely laser-focused on being a perfect houseguest and staying in the background because he doesn’t want to disturb their family happiness.
For six of the ten hours (or so) since they arrived at Sarah's for Thanksgiving, Zemo had been an absolutely impeccable houseguest, helping to chop vegetables, fetching and carrying, staying out of the way, and then politely eating light portions of the family meal that was spread out all over the big oak table that used to be Nan Jolene's, taking a tiny portion of each item. He had helped clean up, helped wrap up leftovers and politely washed dishes that he handed to Sarah to load into the dishwasher. He had been absolutely nothing except polite, quiet, and helpful.
Then Sarah went up for a nap, the boys settled in to play video games with Bucky and Sam—and Zemo disappeared, more or less.
Sam was not about to lose track of the felon he had (against all reason or logic) brought to Thanksgiving at his sister's, so he was aware that Zemo was out on the back porch, drinking.
For four hours.
Sam finally slipped off, leaving Bucky and the kids yelling at each other while playing Call of Duty, and went quietly out the back door into the warm dusk.
Zemo made a slight, abrupt move, then relaxed. Sam sat down beside him.
"Enough to share?" Sam asked quietly.
Zemo hesitated and then handed over the bottle. Sam took a sip and made a face.
"You're drinking this straight? God, have some self-respect. Or respect for your liver if nothing else."
"I found it in the kitchen on a high shelf." After a moment, Zemo said, "I'll replace it."
"You—no, you're a guest, you know that?"
"You've been very kind," Zemo said. "I know that you didn't have anything else to do with me. This is, from what I have picked up, a holiday for family, and ..."
"No, it's a holiday for feeding anybody who shows up, including your dumb ass," Sam said. "It's a stupid holiday based on a stupid tradition that a lot of people have entirely reasonable problems with, but see, what we've gone and done with that, with that whole entire mess, is turned it into a reason to feed people and welcome them and bring them in out of the cold, whether or not they deserve it. You sitting out here in the dark is the kind of insult to my family's cultural hospitality that can start a feud that'll go down for three generations."
Zemo looked at him.
"If you don't believe me," Sam said, "ask Sarah sometime about Titi Jeanne's pie war with Titi Margaret."
This actually wrung some kind of smile out of Zemo, wistful and oddly young. "I think the grandmothers back home would relate," he said quietly, and damn, he must be drunk if he was talking that casually of Sokovia.
"Look," Sam said quietly. "If you'd rather be alone, that's fine. But if you want to come in, the boys are going to bed soon, and Buck and I were just going to stay up and watch a movie. You can pick. If Bucky doesn't like that, I'll sit on him, because he made us all watch that cowboy movie marathon at that shitty motel last week and I think we owe him for that." Zemo didn't respond, and Sam said, "And if you still want to get drunk, that's fine; we're not going anywhere tomorrow. I think I can find you something better to get trashed on than white lightning from the back of Sarah's top cabinet—and how did you even find that, anyway?"
"Instinct," Zemo said. He got up, weary but graceful. "All right, I will accept your invitation."
"We get veto power over the movie," Sam said, suddenly wary of what he'd just agreed to.
This actually got Zemo to laugh a little. Sam opened the screen door, and Zemo went in ahead of him.
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whiskeyswriting · 1 year
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Dragon's 5k Followers Celebration
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For Rachael:
Asserting Her Tiny Dominance (Doc Holliday x Baylie Kazasnky x Rachael Kazansky)
Chaos Squad’s Incorrect Quotes with Rooster
Love is Blind? No. John is Blind! (John Henry Petterson x Rachael)
Preview: Gotham’s Golden Couple (Bruce Wayne x Rachael)
Where Are We Going? (Iceman x Dragon)
Reader Insert:
Slow Dance in a Parking Lot (Steven Grant x Fem!Reader)
Syllabus and Tea (Baron Zemo x Reader)
Those Two Lines (Goose x Fem!Reader)
--
Discord 🏷 List: @dragon-kazansky @cycbaby @callsignscupcake @mtnofgrace @bayisdying @askmarinaandothers @altierirose @breadsquash @callsignthirsty
Forever 🏷 List: @callmemana
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thebibliomancer · 2 years
Text
Essential Avengers: Avengers #275: Even a God Can Die!
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January, 1987
The Absorbing Man has gone toe to toe with Thor! Titania has held her own against the She-Hulk! And now Ant-Man and the Wasp are going to stop them?!?
Aw man, I would be so buy this issue if I saw it at the newsstand.
The image of Ant-Man and Wasp being the last line against the Masters of Evil, every other Avenger fallen and captured. The cover copy stressing what a mismatch this is.
Good stuff!
Also, I think the title is a reference to the ‘even an android can cry’ thing. Weird!
Also also, this is the first Avengers of the year 1987! The year ended with Avengers Mansion being captured, the team almost all captured, and Hercules beaten to apparent death!
Imagine waiting a month to follow up on that. Imagine waiting two weeks. Isn’t one week a much better idea?
The pretty much covers the last time recap. The Masters of Evil have finally enacted Zemo’s fiendish plot and everything seems to be going great for them and terrible for the Avengers.
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Ten blocks around Avengers Mansion has been placed under martial law and a detachment of Army Rangers has been dispatched to guard the area and evacuate civilians.
While an ambulance took Hercules to the hospital with Wasp towing along, one of the Masters of Evil has left the Mansion and escaped despite the Army Rangers.
The specific Master of Evil was Tiger Shark. Zemo sent him on his way because the Masters of Evil don’t need him anymore and also because a villain leaving the area kicks up useful confusion.
He’s going to wind up in California and deal with the West Coast Avengers. I peeked ahead. But I don’t know if he was on Masters of Evil business or his own business with that.
Seems from this issue, Zemo is just done with Tiger Shark.
Probably for the best (for Zemo) because he does not need another fighty boy stirring up shit.
Speaking of fighty boys, the Wrecking Crew is still, true to their name, tearing the Mansion apart. Specifically, they’re tearing into the walls of Tony Stark’s labs, believing that there could be treasure in the walls.
Weird but hey that's villain enrichment.
Meanwhile, at the hospital even a god can die.
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Especially if his skin keeps being too tough to get needles into.
A hospital guy shuffles Wasp out of the operating room to ask her some information for hospital records. Stuff like full name and next-of-kin.
Wasp only knows him as Hercules because I guess he didn’t want to brag by revealing that he goes by Hercules Panhellenios.
(I’m only a filthy casual in regards to mythology but I think Panhellenios means Hercules was worshiped throughout all of Greece and not just in specific spots. It’s more a title than a name but he doesn’t have a patronym or family name so the closest he gets to a “full name” is “I am the Hercules of all of Greece”)
The next-of-kin thing Wasp does know because of all the family drama Hercules had during his first stint with the Avengers. But writing Zeus down as next-of-kin on a hospital form doesn’t help because as Ant-Man points out, Zeus doesn’t have a phone number to put down.
Also, Ant-Man is here now.
Just chilling out tiny size by Wasp’s foot.
He heard on the radio that some bonkers nuts stuff was going on and decided to swing by to lend a hand.
... I like Scott Lang. He’s a good egg.
Wasp... uh, reflexively doesn’t. As much as I do. Because she sees Scott Lang, Ant-Man in the Ant-Man outfit and it just reminds her of Hank.
She’s so discombobulated that she calls him Scott in public, which Scott asks her not to do because secret ID, come on. Luckily, hospital guy booked it once Ant-Man unshrunk so nobody heard.
Scott-Man asks how he can help but Wasp is feeling the despair of this darkest hour and tells him that the Avengers might be beyond any help!
Wasp: “Baron Zemo’s Masters of Evil have taken over Avengers Mansion. They’ve beaten Hercules nearly to death -- and they’ve done... something... to Captain Marvel. What, I don’t know, but there’s no trace of her. Captain America, the Black Knight, and our butler Jarvis have all been captured. God only knows what’s happening to them.”
Bummer.
Speaking of Baron Zemo, back at the Mansion, Baron Zemo continues to love to hear himself talk to captive audience.
Baron Zemo: “For too long, society has simple-mindedly embraced the words and deeds of an elite corps of so-called super heroes. I, Baron Helmut Zemo, today declare that era to be over! My allies and I -- branded evil by an unthinking world -- have brought the self-styled Avengers to their knees.”
Are you really going to do this ‘oh society called us evil’ thing? Your dad was a super nazi. And he called his group the Masters of Evil unironically!
You’re not going to get away with trying to pull a Brotherhood of Evil Mutants and say that the evil in the name is some kind of political point.
Then again, Zemo is having Fixer film this so I shouldn’t bother cross-examining his stated motives when he is probably playing for the camera.
Anyway, Cap tells Zemo to let Black Knight and Jarvis go and get medical attention. After all, isn’t Cap the one Zemo really wants? Arch-nemesis privilege, right?
Zemo clarifies yes but no. Cap is the one Zemo wants. But hurting his friends hurts him so he’s going to make Cap watch them die.
Then he hauls off and slaps Jarvis to prove his point.
Cannot believe this Nazi or Nazi-adjacent guy is such a jerk.
Captain America: “You can’t beat the Avengers this way, Zemo. Despite all you’ve done, the Wasp is still alive and free. I know that woman... she’ll organize a whole new team of Avengers if she has to! You won’t be able to run far enough to escape her.”
Now there’s a What If? premise. What if the captured Avengers and whatnot all died and Wasp put together an Avenging Avengers roster.
Annoyed, Zemo tells Fixer to edit Cap(tain America)’s defiance out of the tape they’re going to send the media.
Cap then asks Zemo how the hell he’s alive, by the way.
Captain America: “I thought you’d been killed by the Red Skull’s daughter.”
Baron Zemo: “Obviously, I was not.”
Captain America: “Obviously. How’d you manage to survive?”
Baron Zemo: “That, you shall never know!”
Except Fixer immediately asks too and you get the sense Baron Zemo wants to tell someone because he hisses at Fixer to lower his voice, pulls him out of earshot of Cap and exposits his How He’s Alive story.
Short story: destiny.
Longer story: Apparently when Red Skull’s Daughter ‘killed’ Baron Zemo by using her PSYCHIC POWERS to give him a fatal cerebral hemorrhage, that didn’t actually happen.
His metal headband deflected some of the attack because that’s how psychic powers work. They’re deflected by metal, clearly. That’s why tinfoil hats are the best defense.
Has that ever come up in X-Men? I know Magneto’s helmet is specially made to be anti-psychic but could you get the same result from a tinfoil hat?
Y’know what, I really wish that were the case. Psychics have it too good.
Anyway, point being, Zemo survived and fled the scene before the Avengers showed up to save Captain America.
AND THIS ISN’T JUST STUFFING IN EXPOSITION WHERE IT CAN FIT! This is relevant!
Baron Zemo: “As I fled, I thought of how the Avengers had become like a family to Captain America. I remembered the countless defeats my late father had suffered at Captain America’s hand... and how those defeats drove him mad and tore our family apart. I knew then that I had to devise a way to destroy Captain America’s family... to destroy the Avengers!”
Which brings him to a change in strategy.
When Absorbing Man and Titania call in to report that Spider-Man prevented them from picking up a new recruit for the Masters of Evil (this late into their campaign? Wow) Zemo gives them another assignment instead of having them return to the Mansion.
Since Captain America has such faith that Wasp will pull through somehow, Zemo will just have to crush that hope.
He sends the supervillainy’s best couple to Newhope Memorial Hospital to make sure Wasp dies and might as well finish off Hercules while you’re there.
Meanwhile, hey I bet you’re wondering what’s become of Captain Marvel, right?
Me too. Good thing the scene change scene changes to her!
Weird scene though.
Captain Marvel: This... is just totally weird. I’ve been shanghaied across space to the Andromeda Galaxy, and stuck in Immortus’s realm of Limbo... but I’ve never experienced anything like this!”
After Blackout disappeared her to the cornfield, so to speak, she found herself in a realm of complete yet swirling darkness and numbing cold. Where the only light comes from Captain Marvel’s powers.
But then...
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Captain Monica spots a light in the distance and any light that’s not her is notable and probably the way out!
She rushes to it (at light speed, mind you!) but just as she reaches it, it disappears.
Monica explodes in frustration and rage, blazing as bright as a star, but subsides after a moment still as trapped as she was.
I wonder if it was a mirage type thing. Like a rainbow.
Actually, what I really wonder is if its Dagger of Cloak and Dagger fame. The darkforce dimension is the source of Cloak’s powers too and he sometimes needs Dagger to shoot light at him to keep from going cray cray.
I don’t actually know if that’s how it works but Monica popping out of Cloak being how she escapes is an amazing visual. I hope they go with that.
Pander to me, comic that is decades already printed.
Back at the hospital, Wasp is having despair still.
Not helped that Newhope Memorial is where Wasp was taken when she almost died the first time the Avengers fought Count Nefaria.
Wasp: “That was the closest I’d ever come to dying, and it put a real scare into me. I even went so far as to suggest that the Avengers disband. Funny, isn’t it? After all this time, I’ve finally caused the end of the Avengers.”
Ant-Man: “Jan, don’t do this to yourself. No matter what’s happened, it can’t be over yet... And you’re not responsible...!”
Wasp: “Don’t hand me that! I’m Avengers chairwoman -- I know -- I’m responsible! When terrorists like Zemo can take over the Mansion, it’s because my security procedures weren’t good enough. When Avengers are hurt because I can’t get them to follow my orders, I’m at fault!”
"The buck stops here.”
I mean, that’s the responsibility of leadership. Although it’s not really productive a line of thought. It’s dwelling. But she’s been left a lot of time to dwell and not a lot that she can do to distract from dwelling. She’s got squatters rights in her own brain.
Also, this:
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Aw.
Wasp tells Scott its all over for the Avengers. He tries to convince her that she can’t give up but... Before Cap got cap-tured, she and he tried to contact the reserve Avengers and no one answered.
Wasp is the Last Avenger.
So at this point, she’s done. She asks Scott to call the Fantastic Four because the Avengers are over.
(She’s going to be disappointed when she hears they’re way, way out of town.)
She asks the doctor if she can have some alone time with the very, really dead Hercules.
Wasp: Oh, Hercules... I knew you resented taking orders from me, but I never thought that would lead to this! If only Cap had been in command, maybe you’d have listened to him. Maybe you wouldn’t have gone charging into the Mansion. And maybe you’d still be alive. Why did have to end this way?
I really hope this is more darkest moment of despair dwelling and that the story doesn’t land on the moral that Wasp shouldn’t have been leader and she’s to blame for Hercules being sexist.
I’m fairly certain it won’t but I worry.
Oh, and Hercules isn’t dead.
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While she’s regretting everything over his apparently not-corpse, the heartbeat machine goes BDEEP.
Wasp calls the doctors in and they do some further medical science and determine the Weird but True Olympian Science Fact that in his weakened state, Hercules’ heart is only beating once every ten minutes!
Divine anatomy is weeeird!
But the takeaway is that he’s not dead and the doctors think there’s a chance Hercules can be brought out of his coma.
And that hope is all that Wasp needs to bring her out of her funk.
When Scott-Man tells her that the Fantastic Four are too busy on a secret mission and can’t answer the phone, Wasp tells him it’s okay because HOPE.
Which is why Wasp names her eventual daughter- No, that’s just a wacky coincidence.
Anyway, there’s been a pending plot development waiting to spring and now that Wasp has her hope back is as good a time as any.
The hospital suddenly rocks, as if hit by an earthquake.
Absorbing Man and Titania have arrived to finish off Hercules and murder Wasp a little.
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The police around the hospital try to stop them but c’mon, when have the police ever stopped a supervillain.
Doesn’t help that since Titania and Absorbing Man have been out of circulation for a while, the police don’t recognize them.
Shooting Absorbing Man with bullets from a gun just makes him stronger because instead of being shot and dying of it, he absorbs the properties of the bullet metal.
Wasp and Ant-Man peek around a corner as the supervillains enter the hospital and realize ‘oh shit’
Wasp: “That’s Titania! She’s nearly as strong as the She-Hulk!”
Ant-Man: “Then we’ve really got trouble! The Absorbing Man’s bounced Thor around! We have as much chance of stopping those two as Spielberg had of winning an Oscar!”
Wasp: “Scott, if not us, then who?”
That’s a fun timestamp of when this issue came out.
And maybe foreshadows the eventual hero victory when you know that Spielberg eventually did win an Academy Oscar for Schindler’s List. I don’t think Wasp and Ant-Man can wait until 1994 though.
They’ll just have to win anyway despite the improbability and not having the backing of a popular director.
Back at the Mansion, Zemo turns on the news to the attack on the hospital and gloats “Still think the Wasp will stop us, Captain?”
When Cap(tain America) holds onto hope, Zemo decides to try harder to break his spirit.
Since the hospital attack is still in progress, he’ll just have to try other things. Try breaking other things.
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Zemo tries ripping up a picture of Bucky from Cap’s footlocker and having Hyde smoosh Cap’s original series but rather than his spirit breaking, Steve regards it with stone-faced stoicism.
Captain America: “I’ll remember this, Zemo.”
Baron Zemo: Will nothing break his spirit?
Zemo decides enough of stuff. Time to make Cap watch as Hyde tortures Jarvis in front of him.
Which Hyde has been waiting for.
Mister Hyde: “I have awaited this moment for a long time, Captain. Twice before, you thwarted my operations... but no more! Zemo has the right idea. I am going to slay you... But your friends shall die first!”
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Mister Hyde: “Louder, old fool! I want the Captain to hear your pain!”
Hurting Jarvis? You fiend!
May a bad end come to you!
Dropped off the helicarrier by draculas is what I wish of you!
Black Knight finally regains consciousness. I guess his ass must have been whupped hard because the villains have been impatiently waiting for him to wake up while he’s just been snoozing away concussed.
Anyway, he awakens to Hyde beating the shit out of Jarvis. Obviously, he tries to summon his incredibly cursed Ebony Blade to bust out of his bonds and deal with that scoundrel Hyde!
But the Ebony Blade does not budge from where the Masters are holding it. Because the Fixer has it in an energy field to study it and Cap’s shield.
Man.
They introduce the concept that Dane can just summon his sword to his side and it’s come in handy all of one times. One time that it COULD have been useful, Dane just didn’t try. And now when he does try, it doesn’t work.
You’d think that a super cursed sword would be able to wiggle out of an energy field by teleporting but you’d think wrong.
But Dane’s failure is our scene transition.
Baron Zemo and Yellowjacket come to where the Fixer is studying the super cursed Ebony Blade and Cap’s mighty shield and tells him to do science on his own time.
Baron Zemo: “The Avengers’ main computer has resisted Yellowjacket’s best efforts to circumvent its security codes. That computer’s data is invaluable, but we have little time left to waste. It will take some effort to quash the forces which surround the Mansion. I’ll allow them time to muster additional troops. You will assist Yellowjacket in removing the computer’s memory circuits for later study.”
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Yellowjacket II is less than pleased with this new partner.
This tension between her and the Fixer has come up before so I imagine it will be a Thing.
Uh, not the Ben Grimm the Thing. He’s out of town. I mean more like an important plot point. I expect at some point Yellowjacket 2.0′s dislike of the Fixer will be plot relevant.
Also, though. The computers. Good on the Avengers for having better data security than front door security.
But with the emphasis on how important the computers are, I’m starting to suspect that Zemo’s plans involve a little more than just wiping out the Avengers and whichever other superhero teams he thinks he can beat up.
This is cheating with future knowledge but when he was pretending to be the Thunderbolts later, he also really wanted computer access. But to the Fantastic Four’s computers.
He has a bigger game and even despite the Avengers losing their government privileges and such, their computers must hide the key to that bigger game.
... What is this, Mega Man Battle Network? World domination easter eggs hidden on random computers?
Anyway, wasn’t the main plot at a hospital why yes it was.
Absorbing Man and Titania are tearing their way through Newhope Memorial Hospital looking for the Avengers.
Rather than lie low, Wasp decides to just go right up to Absorbing Man. And blast him in the eyeballs.
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And when Absorbing Man drops his maybe lead form, Ant-Man hits him with a growing uppercut.
I don’t know if that’s just a modern thing or not but according to shrink physics, a growing uppercut lets you get a lot more momentum into it.
Titania tries to tackle Ant-Man but he shrinks back down and she ends up smacking into the wall face first.
Which probably doesn’t hurt her that much except in the pride.
Absorbing Man rips some wires out of a junction box and becomes an electrical man.
Ant-Man and Wasp have to run from him because how do you punch electricity?
Titania punches through a wall (probably the same wall she just dented with her head) and finds the critical condition Hercules.
But before she can finish him off, Ant-Man enacts his ant-plan of covering her with ants.
Some people complain that this fight shouldn’t go the way its going and will go because Wasp and Ant-Man aren’t strong enough to fight heavy hitters like Absorbing Man and Wasp. But my rebuttal is ant-powers are really cool and I’m tired of people pretending they’re not. Also, Wasp is really cool.
Titania panics as she’s swarmed by ants and calls for Absorbing Man to help her.
I guess that makes sense. If you’re superstrong but not Hulk shockwave clap strong, then you’re no better equipped at dealing with ants than anyone else.
I don’t know if the ants can actually pierce her superstrong skin but lets say maybe. Possible. Ants know what they’re doing.
For all his other many faults, it can’t be said that Absorbing Man isn’t a caring partner. So he turns into some convenient nearby alcohol and washes the ants off of Titania.
Those brave ants are probably all dead. But Ant-Man media usually doesn’t like to talk about that.
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Wasp notices that Absorbing Creel has trouble with a liquid form so she and Ant-Man blast him while he’s trying to turn back to a meat human.
Yeah, apparently Scott has a disruptor blast built into his Ant-Helmet now. Forehead laser.
An ant-free Titania is big mad about Wasp and guest star Ant-Man hurting her man and manages to snag Wasp right out of the air.
Since Ant-Man feels responsible for distracting Wasp with his cool new helmet laser, he moves to save her by smashing one of his gas canisters on Titania’s face.
I do not know when innate Pym Particles became The Thing (uh, still not the Ben Grimm the Thing) but Scott’s suit still has the shrinking gas. And he just broke a canister all over Titania who is suddenly more lilliputian than titanic.
Wasp takes advantage of Titania’s surprise at being even shorter than three apples tall to blast her through the wall.
Despite being blasted right when he stopped being alcohol, Absorbing Man is still up, but shaky. He tries to absorb Hercules, to gain the power of a Hercules, but Wasp suddenly drops on his shoulders and flies away with him.
I didn’t know she could do that.
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While on his shoulders, she does a full-size sting to both sides of his head, this time not pulling her punch as much.
(Good thing he’s already in a hospital.)
Finally, Absorbing Man goes down.
I say finally but Wasp and Ant-Man only started fighting these two on page 19 out of 23. Those days of compressed storytelling. You really could get a decent fight out of not even half an issue, rather than bloating several issues with action pose action pose SPLASH PAGE.
It does its job well enough establishing that Absorbing Man and Titania punch much tougher jokers than Wasp and Ant-Man. On paper, they would win. But then on this comic book paper, Ant-Man and Wasp fight them anyway, relying instead on the trickier bits of their movesets.
Which is likely to be a big deciding factor in the bigger fight as well.
Zemo has his crew stuffed with big beefy guys and his opening shots hit hard and fast and nearly took down the Avengers before they really knew what was going on.
But like Captain America warned Zemo, underestimating Wasp because she’s not ‘powerful’ is a dumb stupid mistake for idiot babies.
Wasp has gone through the darkest hour of despair and found hope. She triumphed over what was intended to be the knockout blow.
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And now it’s time for Wasp to make some moves.
I’m decently excited about this story arc.
There hasn’t been letters pages included on unlimited for a while but I’d like to think that the readers of the time were decently excited too.
Next time: more of this.
Follow @essential-avengers​ because I have been waiting to get to this story for so long. You don’t even know. Like and reblog maybe? Doctors say its better for the heart than getting beaten up by supervillains. That’s not a threat, just an observation that Hercules should avoid getting beaten up by supervillains for the sake of his health.
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lorna-d-m · 2 years
Text
Chapter Nine: Madripoor
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Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Fem!OC
Summary: Captain Zemo roams the high seas thirsting for revenge, and instead, he stumbles upon the shipwrecked and left for dead Mary Spencer. As the sole survivor, Captain Zemo takes her aboard his ship, the Bloody Baron. Engaged to an English Admiral, Mary Spencer wants nothing more than to return home and live the life she was born for. That is, of course, until she realizes what life can be aboard the Bloody Baron with the Captain himself.
Word Count: 8,120
W: violence, language, alcohol, dry humping/heavy petting, thigh/lap riding, nipple play, teasing, vaginal sex. What happens in Madripoor...
A/N: Sorry this took a while! I went on a trip for about two weeks and then two of my online courses started, so I was a little busy!
Once again, note that I’ve moved Sokovia’s location and made it a Germanic language. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or fill out the form on my pinned masterpost. Thank you so much!
previous chapter
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“What am I looking at?” Mary stood on the quarter-deck with Helmut, dressed up in her blue gown, and squinting against the sun. It did not look like any city she had seen, but across the ocean none did. 
“Madripoor. It’s a sovereign city-state spread on a cluster of islands.” Helmut glanced from her to the city. “It is a lawless sanctuary for people like us, but with hidden dangers.”
Mary nodded, surveying the island terrain. It was all flat, but half of the city was raised on stilts while the other half appeared to be sinking. Rope and wooden bridges connected the various islands, and at times seemed to be the only thing holding the city together. Even at this distance, she could see it was teeming with life, and every inch of the city was alive. 
“I see. You said we would be going to Hightown?” She guessed that was the elevated part of the city.
Helmut’s hands moved ever so slightly on the wheel, and yet it changed the angle of the ship. His hands were exceptionally talented, capable of the greatest of things with the smallest of movements. “Yes. Hightown is that way,” he gestured to the region on stilts, “Not a bad place to visit, full of shops and markets. Lowtown is the other way, with a less, shall we say refined, clientele.”
She knew his business would take him to lowtown, but he intended to show her Hightown first. He promised to indulge her with gifts worthy of his new bride, and she blushed at his insistence. No one ever wanted to lavish her as he did. Mary was excited to peruse the shops, but she also wished to explore the city as much as possible. She could count the number of places she had been in her life on one hand, but with Helmut, she would see the world. 
The pier went directly to the ship in Charleston, and she did not need to worry. However, in Madripoor, the anchor points were further from the main islands. As the crew readied several rowboats, Mary fought back her growing uneasiness. She had not been in one, or so close to the water, since the storm. Here, she could see the waves rocking the rowboat back and forth, tiny and insignificant against the water, as the crew rowed toward the show. 
“Come, Sternchen, this one is ours.” One of Helmut’s hands rested against the small of her back while the other motioned to Sam and James wrangling a raft. He sensed her nerves, brittle as ice, and he sought to calm her. “It may not look like much, but I promise you, it is.” 
Helmut assisted Mary in getting into the boat, and he held her hand until they reached the shore. She did not look at the water around them or the island looming in the distance. Mary focused on Helmut: the way his brow creased when he studied the island, how he prepared to jump into action when a large wave threatened to overturn them and the comforting way he reassured her.  
They tied up the rowboats on the dock, and Helmut helped Mary step onto the pier. His hands were strong as he gripped her, and he was steady. He paid the harbormaster to use the dock for the next few days, telling him to keep the remainder. The crew spread out under Helmut’s direction. One group would go to the markets in lowtown, one would visit his usual buyers, and another would pick up on any news or rumors. 
Mary tried to absorb every detail of Hightown. It was filled with so many people, hurrying about their business or leisurely strolling, and so many lives. Every vendor was a person with a family and a life, and every customer must have dozens of stories to tell. Swathed in finery, swords, and pistols at the waist, this was nothing like the London or village markets. This was Madripoor. 
Mary was distracted by a lady selling perfumed soaps, but Helmut brought her back to attention. She could admire the soaps later. “This,” he led her through a doorway with a slight tug on her hand, “is a fine tailor.” He murmured in her ear how he always had luck with the shop, but he worried they may specialize in men’s clothes. If so, he would ask their recommendation for a women’s seamstress.
“Théo!” Helmut beckoned to a well-dressed man who turned and acknowledged him with an easy-going smile. He excused himself from his conversation with the clothiers.
“Baron! It has been too long since you were last in my shop.” Mary recognized his thick French accent and wondered how he wound up in Madripoor. “Was it the purple vest and half a dozen shirts?” Théo remembered his favorite clients and their purchases.
“Good memory, Théo, I commend you. I have a different request today, and I understand if you cannot fulfill it, but I am looking-”
“-you want clothes for this beautiful lady at your side, no?” Mary knew his flattery was a sales tactic, but she appreciated it. “True, my specialty is men’s clothes, but I have a team of dressmakers that would be delighted to meet with her.” He snapped over his shoulder, “Jane!” 
An equally well-dressed woman appeared, Jane, she presumed, flocked by a pack of seamstresses. “My, that’s a fine dress! The color suits you well.” Mary blushed lightly knowing she had more unusual requests besides dresses. 
“Jane can tend to your amour while I see to all of your needs.” Helmut nodded, pleased The Golden Thread proved suitable. “But you must tell me, how long do I have? I know you and your type prefer a hurried job, and I wish to be prepared.”
“Four days, counting today.” Helmut bristled as he did not like revealing his plans, but he understood Théo’s point. It would be a waste to craft a dress or a coat that would not be bought. At least Théo’s employees were used to such quick work while maintaining high standards.
“I see! Then we cannot waste a moment!” Théo clapped his hands, and Helmut gave Mary a reassuring smile. Already Théo started urging them toward opposite ends of the store, Helmut to the left with him and Mary to the right with Jane.
Before they were separated to ogle fabrics and swatches, Helmut told Théo, “And my wife can get anything she wants.” Dresses, fabrics, jewelry, nothing was off-limits for her. Mary blushed and smiled, never having been spoiled before. When she asked her mother for new dresses she would huff and complain about the cost, asking why she could not reuse the previous season’s in a different style for a lower cost. 
Jane guided Mary into a bright room with mirrors lining one wall, a pedestal in the second presumably for her to stand on during alterations, and armoires of textiles and materials. Ladies hustled about the room, spreading out swatches and unraveling small sections of bolts. In the corner. Mary noticed a plush armchair and table with a teapot and pastries set out. 
“Please, sit down,” Jane ushered her toward the chair, “let me fix you a cup while you tell me about what you are looking for today. After all,” she indulged, “the Baron said you may have anything you want.”
“I would not want to overwork you and your ladies,” she sipped from her tea, adding another sugar cube. “Admittedly, I lack the wardrobe I once had and look to rebuild it, but that may be too much for this trip. 
“Do not concern yourself with that, lady?” Jane waited for her name.  
“Mary.” She wondered if Jane called her lady because she arrived with the Baron or if she sensed Mary’s origins.
“We will do our best to suit your needs, and if you must come back you must convince the Baron.” Jane pushed the pastry plate closer to Mary, and Mary took one on the edge. Their hospitality stemmed from their future profits, but still, she appreciated it.
“Well, I would love a new formal dress, or two. I enjoy the blue,” Mary gestured to her skirts, “but I enjoy having options.” If only she could have taken the emerald green and the light pink gowns with her.
Jane motioned for one of her ladies to join her. They spoke quickly in French, and Mary used her Governesses lessons to her advantage. “Perhaps some blouses and skirts? That would allow you to coordinate pieces and have choices.” 
“What a wonderful idea!” Mary had not considered that; she had been more preoccupied with her other idea. She spoke in a rush, worried it would sound ridiculous. “And pants? Would it be possible to tailor several pairs of pants, durable, but still fashionable?” 
Mary knew Helmut’s pants she borrowed were far better for activities on the ship, and as she grew more into the pirate's life she would need some of her own. She also knew Madripoor suited the unconventional, but she feared perhaps it was too unusual.
“Absolutely. Would you like several pairs of those as well? We can design them to contemplate the blouses.” 
If all the assistants were this helpful, no wonder Helmut favored the shop. 
“I would, and there is another matter we have to discuss, something more delicate…” Mary had no qualms discussing intimate items, they were a necessity, but she did about decorative intimate items. 
“You would like some clothes to please you and your husband?” 
Mary appreciated how Jane asked. It was for both her and Helmut. He indoctrinated her into the belief of mutual pleasure. She would feel seductive in her new lingerie, and Helmut would be seduced.
“Two formal gowns, six blouses, three skirts, three pants, and lady’s intimates. Does that sound right?” 
“My goodness,” Mary giggled, “that is quite the collection.”
“The Baron did say you could order anything. Would you like to add something?”
“No, no,” she said firmly, knowing the ladies would be spread thin to accomplish this, “it is plenty.”
Jane clapped her hands together. “Then let’s get started,”
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Once they left the tailor’s, Helmut gave Mary an extensive tour of Hightown. He wanted her to feel comfortable returning with a guard while he attended to business. They spent the afternoon perusing the perfumer’s platform and the cobbler’s corner with his hand resting on the small of her back. Helmut bantered that for every coin he made, she would spend. As soon as she opened her mouth for a rebuttal, he cut her off. 
“I have collected much over the years, our cabin is still practically mine and you wore half my closet. You are entitled to have your own possessions and clothes just for you.”
Mary was touched by his statement, and she spent his money with less guilt. Sure enough, over the next few days, every shipment offloaded from the ship was countered by a delivery boy bringing books, flowers, perfumes, whatever caught Mary’s fancy. This was in stark contrast to the arrival of ammunition, dry goods, water, and rum. 
Every night, Mary wanted to show Helmut her latest purchases. She waited for him to finish working at his desk, pouring through ledgers and comparing, and she should have noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Too excited, she did not and she instructed him to wait a moment in their bed while she applied the perfume. 
Helmut was half asleep when she returned, slumped against the pillow and with his eyes closed. He was busy, often leaving before she awoke and returning long after she did, and still sitting at his desk long before sleeping. Mary wanted him to sleep, so she did not mind terribly. 
She blew out the candles and crawled into bed next to him Unconsciously he moved closer to her, nuzzling into her neck where she applied the perfume. Mary chuckled, glad to know he enjoyed the scent on her, as she came up with a new plan. 
The following night Mary did not wait for Helmut to finish at his desk. She moved about their room without him noticing, he was too engrossed by his work, but that worked to Mary’s advantage. Her lingerie was miraculously not ripped or torn, but Mary was not sure how much longer that would last. Helmut was reverent of her, but his respect did not always extend to her nightgowns.
Helmut did not notice Mary, or her state of dress until she pushed his papers aside and sat on his lap. His nostrils flared as his eyes fell to the excited rise and fall of her breast and the dark outline of her nipples under the lace. 
“Did you need something?” Helmut fought to keep his voice even, but he could not hide the smirk on his face and the delighted shimmer in his eye. 
Her hands held solidly on his shoulders, trying to push the immovable man to make room for her in the seat, and she shifted her hips as she wriggled into position. Mary’s knees rested on either side of his hip as she lowered herself to meet him. Helmut groaned when she did, not only smelling the wet heat of her but feeling it as well on his pants. For a fleeting moment she worried she would be too much for him, but he encouraged her with a nod. 
“Not at all,” she huffed, impressed by her own confidence. Mary moved her hips against his thigh, and one of Helmut’s hands dropped the book he had been holding to grip her waist and feel the soft flesh there. 
“I suppose I have been ignoring you of late, Sternchen.” Helmut was certainly not ignoring her now. Not when he strained against his trousers and was split between waiting to see what his wife had planned and pinning her across the desk. At the moment, she rocked herself against him in a steady rhythm, but he wondered what else she was capable of. “And I am terribly sorry about that.” 
His other hand cradled the back of her neck, pulling her to him, and Mary leaned in. She kissed his lips chastely and sat nose to nose for a moment as his brown eyes searched hers with adoration and wonder. His freckles dotted his cheeks and made her think of little stars dusting the plains of his face. Mary trailed kisses along his jaw as he had done to her, and he melted under her soft lips. Helmut’s eyes fell shut, and he tipped his head back in pleasure. 
“Are you?” she asked, her breath ghosting over his neck. Her hands gripped the back of his chair for better support as she dragged herself against his thigh. Mary barely brushed against his hard cock, and he resisted the urge to rut against her. She taunted him. “Can you prove it to me?”
Helmut growled under her, his fingers digging in with a pleasant pain as he held her. “What would you have me do?” 
“Love me.” If her shallow breaths and quiet moans were music to him, her commandment was a symphony. He fought with the fiddly buttons and eyelet lace of her nightgown, tearing it when it did not come undone for him. Mary gasped as the garment fell apart. “That was my only one,” she pouted. Never mind the half dozen she received from the tailor.
“I will happily pay for a hundred, each more maddening than the last, if you will wear them.” His voice was almost a purr, humming under her.
Mary blushed, and Helmut dipped his head to take one of her heavy breasts into his mouth. She moaned wantonly at the wet touch of his tongue on her nipple, the scratching of his stubble, and the soft bite of his teeth. Jolting suddenly against his thigh was not her intention, but she enjoyed the rumbling groan it pulled from him as she rubbed his bulge. He released her right breast, a string of saliva falling from his lips, before promptly attaching himself to her left breast.
She ran one of her hands through his hair, gently pulling and smoothing it back. His devoted eyes flicked up to hers as he continued suckling her. Helmut intended to leave a dark mark on her, something that only he would see and know. One of his hands held tight to her waist while the other inched up her thigh. Mary tugged on his hair when his fingers teased her clit, surprised by the lightning thrill it gave her.
Helmut was submissive under her, and she relished it. “Please Sternchen, let me make it up to you. Let me love you.” He was overjoyed she initiated their evening, often too shy to outright say what she wanted, and he played into her fantasy. 
“I want you to.” 
At this, Helmut moved her thighs to wrap securely around his hips. “Clasp your hands around my neck, and hold on tight,” he instructed. Mary did not realize what he planned until he stood from the chair, holding her to him by grasping her thighs. She tightened her legs around him on instinct and panic. 
“Helmut, stop I-” 
His desk was covered in papers and books, so he carried her to the round table in the alcove. Helmut set her on the table, her hips at the perfect height for him, and he pushed up her nightgown’s skirt to ruffle around her waist. “You are never too much for me,” he assured her, petting her exposed thighs. 
Mary reached to undo his pants, tugging and pulling them down. Helmut shivered under her touch, surprised by her assertiveness. She stroked him, already hard and eager, and he whimpered softly. 
Mary thought he would wait, press gently in as he had before, but she was glad he did not. The first slam of his cock was fierce, decisive, and precise. It was a pleasure beyond anything she felt before, radically different but just as good as the slow sex in their bed. Although she sat on the table, cradled by the way he loomed over her, Mary still felt she was in charge. He made her feel larger than life, greater than she could describe.
The peaks of her naked breasts grazed his loose linen shirt, and she would have torn it from him if she had the thought. It was difficult to think with the deep thrusts he gave her and the way he angled his hips to brush her clit with every stroke. 
Her release came quickly, to neither of their surprises, and she held tight to Helmut’s shoulders, squeezing him for something to ground her. Mary’s hands were not the only thing that gripped him for dear life, but Helmut never faltered. All that was evident of his immense struggle and pleasure were his panting breaths and a thin trickle of sweat that rolled down his forehead. 
Helmut achieved his own peak when she tightened around him and kissed his neck. He called out her name, and several obscenities, before tangling his fingers in her hair. His hips slowed to a gentle roll, but he did not immediately pull himself from her. Their combined mess dripped from them onto the wooden floor, but they did not care. His forehead rested on her shoulder, and she pressed sweet kisses to his temple and cheek. 
“Will you carry me to our bed?” He did not lift his head at her voice, but he hummed into her shoulder in contentment. “I am not certain my legs would work if I tried.”
“What? All ten steps?” He teased. She shook her head, and he chuckled. Helmut picked her up as he had before, but this time he placed her in their bed. He left her there to wet a cloth, cleaning both them and their floor. 
Mary waited until Helmut settled in bed next to her to ask. She traced her fingertips over his chest and through the furry patches there, feeling the steady thumping of his heart. “Is your meeting tomorrow?” 
“How do you know about that?” he rumbled, torn from his half-awake state. Mary’s hand stilled, and he corrected himself. “Nevermind, I must have foolishly assumed you were not paying attention.” Her hand continued caressing him as he spoke. “Yes, it is, and it will be dangerous. It always is when meeting other pirates and our ilk, but do not worry. I promise to return in one piece.”
“You better because I will be coming with you.” Mary said it in a joking tone, but Helmut knew she sincerely meant it.
“Mary,” he thought for a moment to protest and then thought better of it. She was determined, it was one of the qualities he most admired about her, and he knew anything he did to prevent her would cause a rift between them. “I cannot stop you, can I?”
“Not unless you tie me to this bed or lock me in our room.”
“Now that is an interesting idea…” Helmut pressed a kiss to the closest part of her, her arm. 
“Is it?” She asked, intending it as a laugh but fascinated by his comment. 
“It could be, some other night. Sleep, liebe, you will need it for tomorrow.”
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Helmut’s meeting was not until the evening. He wandered Hightown in the morning with Mary, ensuring she went everywhere she wanted to go and received all of her purchases, not saying they would be unable to return after but heavily implying it. Although he could not predict how the meeting would go, he knew he would either depart quickly with new information or be unwelcome in Madripoor much longer. 
They returned to the ship in the afternoon with Helmut carrying all the little items that needed picking up or Mary decided she needed. He could not resist a little smirk as he set the dainty packages on the table, thinking how wonderful Mary would look again with a necklace bouncing on her chest. 
“How should I dress for the meeting?” Mary stared at the chests Helmut set aside for her. All her new purchases were neatly folded and stored away, waiting to be worn. Helmut rested his hand on her back, admiring her new clothes, and considering the choices before him. 
He knew dresses were not the most capable, and he did not want her to be confined if they were forced to run. Of course, he did not say that to her… “What would you be most comfortable in?”
“Well,” Mary rummaged through the chest for a moment before pulling out a pair of pants. “I did commission these.” She pressed her lips into a thin line, an expression Helmut knew to mean she was worried. 
“They’re lovely,” he assured her. They reminded him of his pants, only more fashionable, more feminine. The fabric was strong yet flexible, allowing her to move easily. He set a pair aside. “They will be perfect, Sternchen.”
Mary smiled, and her nose crinkled in delight. “I can wear one of these blouses with it, and I bought new shoes from the cobbler that are more appropriate.” 
“That is not all you will need.”
Her eyebrow arched, “Oh?” 
“Yes, and it is necessary.” Helmut opened one of his desk drawers and revealed a knife in its sheath and a leather belt. “There is nothing more important to me than your safety, and if we are to be together, you will need a way to protect yourself.” 
Mary picked up her gift and admired the sheath first. It was leather and hand-tooled, decorated with a crescent moon and dozens of little stars. Her name was inscribed at the top in silver thread: Mary Zemo. She had not seen many blades in her life, but she knew what a beautiful blade looked like when she saw it. Mary went to run her finger along the flat part of it—
“—Careful, it is sharp,” he warned her. Helmut studied her face attentively. A small part of him worried it was too much, it was not what she wanted, and it reminded her of the dangers a pirate faced. Instead, she smiled and a tear threatened to roll down her cheek. 
“It’s wonderful, Hel, truly.”
“I am afraid I do not have time now to train you to use it, but hopefully you shall not have to today.”
“Hopefully,” she agreed, “and I am sure we will have time after for you to teach me.” 
Mary changed into her new outfit, and for once she did not ask Helmut to turn around. He openly admired the way her pants clung to her thighs as she pulled them up, and he spotted the dark purple mark he left on her breast. The wine-colored blouse she chose covered it, but Helmut took pride in knowing it was there over her heart. 
“Allow me to help you,” he offered. Helmut picked up the belt from his desk and helped fashion it around her waist. Mary watched him through hooded eyes as his hands traced over her. The knife was sheathed on her left hip, easier access he explained for her since she was right-handed. He pointed out he put his on his right hip since he was left-handed. 
“How do you feel?” Helmut did not say it, but he offered her another out before the meeting. If she felt too nervous or scared she could back out and he would not think any different of her. This life was not for everyone, and she did not need to accompany him into trouble.
Mary took a deep breath in. She checked her shoes, her pants, her shirt, and her knife before answering. “Anxious, but alright. How do you feel?” 
Helmut shrugged and checked his own outfit because of her. Mary left her own mark on him on his neck, but the collar of his coat mostly covered it. He held more than just a knife on his belt; he stored his sword and his pistol there too. He wore his leather gloves to protect his hands should the situation turn.
“I have spent years hunting people who knew of Walker's movements, routes, and whereabouts. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished. I feel certain, but to do this we will have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.” Helmut glanced at Mary before continuing. “Our first stop is a woman named Selby. She is a mid level fence and tavern owner I still have a line on. From there, we climb.”
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Captain Helmut Zemo was no fool. He would not attend a meeting with Selby without backup. Sam and James accompanied them as they were intelligent and strong enough to suit his needs. They could tell when the situation was turning and just how much force was necessary. 
Mary stayed close to Helmut’s side, never wandering as she did in Hightown. Her eyes went wide as she took everything in, and she appreciated his hand at the small of her back. It was a much different environment than anything she had ever been in, and Helmut knew because he once had the same feeling about such places. Brawls and fights, drunken stumbling, armed guards and weapon sellers, and much more differentiated Hightown from Lowtown.
“You smell this?” He leaned in so only Mary would hear, “Lowtown. It is built on stilts over the marches giving it this smell of acid and sulfur.”  Helmut gave her a moment to take the city in. 
Helmut prepped her on the boat ride over and again on their walk. He knew how intelligent and observant she was, but he needed her to act clueless during the meeting. Given her history and her status, it was not wise to draw attention to herself or be noticed.
“No matter what happens, stay in character and play dumb. Our lives depend on it.”
As they journeyed deeper into Madripoor, Helmut led the way past several bars and taverns. He knew to look for Brass Monkey Saloon and recognized it by the iconic monkey head on the sign above the door. Helmut glanced at Mary again, wondering if he ought to ask her to stay with Sam outside the building. Her face was impassive until she turned toward him, taking a deep breath in and smiling.
One wall was lined with small monkey skulls, stacked on top of each other from the floor to the ceiling, all covered in gold-colored paint. Zemo steered them toward the bar in the center of the room, crowded with people who pushed past him. Is that the Bloody Baron? One man in the crowd whispered. Helmut became synonymous with his ship.
“Hello, gentlemen. I was not expecting you, Baron.”
“My plans changed. We have business to do with Selby,” Zemo explained curtly. The bartender poured Zemo a shot of whiskey from a top-shelf bottle, and he accepted it. He did not intend to get drunk, but he needed to drink it as a show of good faith.
Another man, heavily tattooed and pierced with a long beard, shoved through the crowd and accosted Zemo. “I got word from on high that you ain’t welcome here.”
Zemo was not easily intimidated, and he held his ground and his composure. "I have no business with the powerbroker, but if he insists he can either come and talk to me—" he gestured to the pistol on his hip, “or bring Selby here.” The man backed off, and Mary moved a half step closer to Zemo.
“A power broker?” she whispered, barely heard over the noise of the room.
He shrugged, “Every kingdom needs its king. Let's pray we stay under his nose.”
Her eyebrows pinched together and she pressed her lips into a familiar thin line. “Do you know him?”
“Only by reputation,” he murmured. “In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner.”
Distracted by Mary, he did not notice another gruff man closing in until his hand was on his shoulder. James jumped in to his defense, playing the role of bodyguard well, and Sam joined him once a second man appeared. Helmut pulled Mary closer to him, holding her by the waist in case they needed to run. People drew back from them and the bar as more became involved in the fight, Sam and James incapacitating each man as he drew near.
He did not want it to escalate, yet one hand stayed on his pistol. “Stay in character or the bar may turn on us,” he whispered to Mary. People were more willing to let a clueless Captain’s sidepiece go than someone who seemed ready to fight. At the glimpse of a gun being drawn, Zemo ordered them to stop. 
“Selby will see you now.”
“Thank you,” Helmut said as if they were not moments away from an all-out brawl.
The bartender directed them to the back room. Helmut again led them there, ensuring Mary stood behind him, and Sam and James trailed along. He wanted her in the middle so she could feel protected. Weapons, drinks, and money were laid out on the table, and several high-dollar card games and backhanded deals happened in the dim light. 
“You should know, Baron.” Selby tapped her fingers against the back of a couch in a pattern. “People don’t just come into my tavern and make demands.” 
Zemo tried to shield Mary from Selby’s discerning eye, but he knew it would not help. “Not a demand, an offer,” he insisted. Helmut sat on the couch opposite Selby, and Mary sat next to him. Sam and James stood on either side flanking them. 
“A lot has changed since you were here last.” Selby looked pointedly at Mary. Rather than wither under Selby’s gaze or try to meet it with her own intense stare, Mary blushed and giggled, feigning ignorance perfectly. “By the way, I thought you were held up by a British officer. How did you escape?” Selby eyed Mary again as if she were trying to place her face. 
“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to draw the attention back to him. “And I am sure you have already figured out what we are here for.”
Selby settled into her seat, more confident now. She smiled as she spoke, “You’re a pretty girl. Where did the Baron find you?” Mary laughed again and pushed her hair off her shoulder. Selby turned back to Zemo. “What’s the offer?” She emphasized the word since Helmut corrected her earlier.
“Tell me what you know of Walker’s route, and I will give you her. She is worth quite the ransom, or you could do with her as you like.”
Selby laughed, Helmut smiled, and Mary’s eyes went wide. He did not tell her his plan because it made her surprise genuine. “Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you instantly.” She looked at Mary again and nodded in recognition. “Yes, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. Walker was here a week ago to see Corporal Wilifred Nagel. Apparently they had unfinished business that drew him into murky waters.”
Zemo tilted his head and waved his hand, “Is Nagel still in Madripoor?”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Selby admonished, “The breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is going to cost you, Baron. And before you try something, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” Zemo sighed in dissatisfaction while Selby prodded. “So tell me Baron, how did you acquire Admiral Walker’s long lost fiancé?” Zemo shifted uncomfortably in his seat and hardened his jaw. He hoped to gain more information from Selby before having to cut their meeting short. “Did you attack her ship? Or did you steal her from the Governor’s house? Tell me, Baron, was this part of your long scheme for revenge? To kidnap the Admiral’s fiancée, fool her into loving you, and then leave her out to dry?”
Helmut knew the salacious rumors they said of him, but he did not know how far the story spun out. Of course, he knew Selby only did it to get a rise out of him, but he resisted the urge to meet it. Mary protested beside him, and he turned to her in shock. “Helmut did not steal me or manipulate me. He saved me, and I chose to be with him.” Sam and James moved closer to the Captain, and he took her hand in his.
“Of course you did darling, after the Baron deceived you for weeks. He’s been after revenge for what, eight years now?” Selby glanced at him and smiled wickedly. “I am sure there is no room in his black heart for love.”
“That’s enough,” he said. Selby continued to berate him, but the words faded away. Zemo stopped listening to her when he realized there was only one way out of their meeting. His hand inched toward the pistol on his hip and he knew he would need to act quickly. He would only have one shot.
In a moment, Selby was slumped on the floor with a bullet hole in her chest. Sam and James fought her two guards, and Helmut pulled Mary from the couch. Once the guards were immobilized, Zemo locked the door and looked at their group. 
“They will have heard that, so keep your pistols ready.” Sam and James nodded while Mary held her hand over her knife. It was all she had, but she prepared herself to use it. People banged at the door, with one or two shots being fired through it, and they moved toward the back of the room. Zemo checked an open window while Sam opened another. “This will be our exit. We were spotted arriving, so we should leave in two groups. It will force anyone trying to follow us to split up as well. Mary will go with me. Sam and James, I trust I will meet you back at the ship.”
He helped Mary through the window, letting her grab his arm and hand for support. Luckily they were on the first floor or they would be pushing through the angry crowd. Helmut fended off enemy shots while urging Mary through the street. Once they escaped Lowtown, they would make a break for the docks. 
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The group reunited on deck of The Bloody Baron. The crew expected a hasty return once they returned from their meeting, so they set sail without wasting any time. Oeznik met them on the quarter-deck eager to know what they learned. Aggravated, James snapped at Oeznik before Zemo could answer. Zemo frowned and sighed. 
The old man stared at them in disbelief. “What do you mean?”
Sam crossed his arms, understanding James’ frustration, but finding his flippantness with Oeznik unnecessary. “Our Captain here shot Selby after his plan fell apart.”
“Do we really have to litigate what happened?” 
“There’s nothing to litigate. You straight shot the woman.” Ironically, Sam did not mind being impertinent with his Captain.
Helmut held up a gloved finger to both Sam and James. “Not before hearing something very important.” Now that he held their attention, he smiled. “I believe Selby said Dr. Nagel and Admiral Walker had business in murky waters…”
James was still annoyed, but he was interested now. “So what does that mean to us?” 
 “If I recall correctly, not far from Madripoor there is an island surrounded by mangroves.” Zemo smiled smugly, “Perhaps Nagel is hiding there.” Incredulous, Sam and James laughed. “If I change our course now, we will arrive well before morning.” 
The men left Zemo at the helm, wanting to clean and reload their weapons knowing they would need them for tomorrow. Mary, who had been quiet since their escape, stood next to him. She placed her hand over his, holding a rung on the wheel, and pressed her lips into a worried thin line. 
“I know Selby must have upset you, but do you realize the danger you put us in by protesting?” Helmut did not want to chastise or criticize her, it was her first mission he supposed, but he needed her to understand.  
“I could not stand by while she said those horrible things about you. Saying you kidnapped me, you ransomed me, and much worse. I wanted to defend you, to speak up for you.”
“Oh my sweet Sternchen,” his hand squeezed hers. “Far worse has been said of me, and much worse will continue to be said. I cannot control what rumors or salacious gossip people spread. I can defend myself perfectly well, if and when I choose to.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “But I appreciate you wanting to defend my honor.” 
“Of course, now that I have my new knife I can defend you with more than just words,” she teased. 
“Bold words for someone who has not learned how to use their knife yet.” Helmut kissed her again, but not on her forehead. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and his hand cradled her cheek. 
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Helmut left with a group of men early in the morning. The sun barely started to rise, pink and purple in the east, when he left their bed. Mary missed him and worried over him, but there was nothing she could do for him on the ship. 
She wanted to read, but the words danced on the page and made no sense to her. So, Mary stayed busy to distract herself. She found clean sheets for their bed, straightened Helmut’s desk, cleaned their windows, and reorganized their trunks all before lunch. 
Billy, left behind for being too young and inexperienced, brought in a tray laden with more food than she could eat on a nervous stomach. She offered for him to sit and eat with her. He gobbled up the food, not hindered by a queasy stomach and relishing the Captain’s fancier fare, and listened to Mary ramble. 
“As I cleaned the window I kept staring out them and at that island, wondering where he was and if he was alright. What if he’s injured and needs help? What if they’re lost? Oh God, what if he’s dead?”
“He’s not dead,” Billy said with a mouthful of food. “The Captain is too good to die. He never misses a shot, and he’s fantastic with his sword. I’ve never seen anyone fight like him. It must be that classical training, and he said he would teach me to fight like him.”
Mary forced herself to eat a bite of food, and it sat in her stomach like a rock. “Helmut is not some character, destined to be lucky in every scenario. What if something happens to him?” 
“He has been our Captain for five years, and in that time he has never come in harm’s way. Trust him. He knows what he is doing.” Billy punctuated his statement with an overfilled fork, eyeing Mary’s abandoned plate. She pushed the plate toward him knowing she was unable to eat it. As a growing boy, he might as well. “Would you like me to bring you some tea?” 
“Yes, please, if you do not mind.” 
Billy brought the tea after clearing up his meal, and Mary drank it slowly sitting in the window seat up in the loft. She felt safe there, above everything else, and with a substantial viewing point, and she hoped Helmut was safe wherever he was. Hours passed, but it felt like days to her.
Mary fitfully tried to sleep in their bed, but it was not the same without him. In such a short time she could not sleep without his warm presence, light snores, and cologne smell. She stared at the ceiling, her eyes well adjusted to the darkness, and willed him to return. Mary could imagine it all: 
Helmut would waltz right in the door, a proud smile on his face, and pull her into his arms. He would smother her in kisses and tell her how he never wanted to let her go. Then he would strip from his combat-ready outfit, giving Mary the chance to admire him again, before crawling into their bed and helping her fall asleep. 
She heard yelling first, excited shouts and clamoring, and then boots stomping around on deck. The crew only moved like that when something was happening, and the return of their Captain more than counted. Mary sprung from their bed and threw on a robe to cover her nightgown. Since she unbraided her hair for sleep, it spilled over her shoulders and back. 
“Helmut!” She saw his rowboat out in the waves, closing the gap to the ship. He waved to her, sitting near the front of the boat and helping them row. The crew threw a rope ladder over the ship's side and prepared the rigging to lift the boat. Mary waited and anxiously rocked back and forth on her feet as she stood by the railing. 
He was the last man to climb up the side, and Mary ran to him for a hug just after his feet hit the deck. “Mary,” he sighed in relief and pleasure, his head resting on her shoulders. He stayed there a moment, breathing in her smell and relishing the feeling of her warmth. “Your nightgown!” Helmut quickly pulled away and saw the muck of his clothes transferred to hers. “I am sorry, I did not think-”
“-Nevermind my dress, what happened to you?” Mary gently traced the gashes and mud splatters on his face, careful not to aggravate them. His eyelashes fluttered and his breathing stilled under her touch. 
“Later,” he murmured.
Mary nodded once in understanding, and she returned to their room. While Helmut spoke with members of his crew, Mary prepared water basins, cloths, mild soaps, and alcohol to clean him up. Warm candlelight filled the room, and she remade their bed. When she looked up, Helmut stood in the doorway. 
“It is nice to see you again,” he smiled. In their room, she could see the weariness in his eyes and the tired slump of his shoulders. Helmut did not need to pretend when he was with Mary. He could be himself. 
He stripped off his outfit layer by layer. Mud splattered across everything, his boots and socks soaked, and threads pulled by thorny plants. Mary would have a hell of a time cleaning it, but first, she attended to Helmut. She used a wet cloth to clean the mud and dried blood from him and looked him over for cuts or injuries. 
“What happened out there?” Mary tried to mask the concern in her voice, but Helmut knew it was there regardless. She dabbed at the shallow cuts with alcohol, and he did not flinch.
“We left early, as you know, and rowed through the mangroves. You can see some of it from the ship, but the further you go the more outlandish it seems.” He smiled faintly, “There were so many creatures, big and small there, that I have only seen in books. Remind me sometime and I will find the book to show you.” 
Mary knew he would have more important things to do than show her the landscape and the animals, but she encouraged him anyway. It was sweet of him to want to show her. “It sounds amazing.”
“We looked for a house or a building, anything to show signs of human life. Just when we thought of giving up, seeing nothing but trees, I spotted a small building in the distance. The closer we were the more abandoned it looked, but something told me it was just the place someone in hiding would choose.”
Mary finished tending to him, but he stayed seated. It must not have been a conversation he wanted to have in their bed. She laid out his sleep clothes and sat in the chair across from him. 
“I brought Sam and James with me. By the way the old boards creaked I was sure he must have heard us, but he did not. Sam approached him first, guns out of course, and it was him. He was angry, understandably so, but I suppose I was angrier.”
His eyes darted around the table, and Mary realized he wanted a drink. She reached for a bottle of wine, but he asked for something stronger. She poured him a glass, and she poured one for herself too. His cheek twitched just below his eye when he spoke
“I told him who I was, and he knew me. When I looked in his eyes there was no hint of regret or guilt, only anger that I found him. Then he demanded an offer for him to talk, so I shot the wall next to his head to send him a message.” He glanced quickly at her, worried she would disapprove, but Mary was not so fragile anymore. “It convinced him to speak, yes, glorifying his own achievements in Walker’s crew. He was the brains of their operation, it was his careful study of ship routes and ledgers that told them who to ambush. He was the reason Walker is held in the king’s heart and coffers so well.”
Mary noticed the was Helmut used when describing Nagel. She knew the end of his story before he told it, but she listened to him. Helmut needed a sympathetic ear and someone to care for him.
“I could not bear listening to his boasting.” His expression soured and his voice turned acidic. “What power or authority did he have? Why should his greed outweigh an innocent person’s life? Who was he to play with my life like a God?” Helmut finished his glass and tapped his fingers against the table. 
“I am so sorry for what he did to your family, Hel,” Mary reached for his fingers and intertwined them with hers. “Nagel abused his position, as did Walker and countless others, but you can sleep tonight knowing he is dead.”
He kissed her knuckles, ran his thumb over them, and smiled. It was small but triumphant. “We took Nagel’s books. Hopefully if we pour over his accounts and his habits directly from his so-called mastermind, we can track him down.”
“Tomorrow, after a big breakfast,” she teased, “because now is for sleep.” Helmut laughed at her comment and agreed. It had been a long day, and he needed the rest. Mary blew out the candles while he changed, and they lay in their bed together. With his warmth and scent of something indescribably Helmut, Mary fell asleep.
Tag list: @scuttle-buttle @fictionlandslanddreams @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @hardlyinteresting @sapphiredreamer26 @aedeluca @alycu1 @linkpk88 @rachreads @fandom-princess-forevermore @alindeluce
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pannypunkpanda · 1 year
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Oh! Todays drawings from the stream I did earlier today on youtube
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moodysullie · 7 months
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Sullie! What do you think each Danny character smells like?
Love your gifs as always😍Have a nice day!💓
(Sorry in advance for 1) VERY late replying & 2) lack of words because English is not my mother language and I don't use them in my daily life, combined with tiredness makes my brain not generate words as it should.)
"Smell" as in any kind of scent or which bottle of perfume they used? If it's the latter then I cannot answer because I don't really have knowledge in that field.
Gosh, I never thought about it at all. I'm really not someone who thinks about how any character smells.
How would I do this?
Let's start with the first thing when you are near Baron Zemo would be a hint of very expensive perfume, and I don't mean just the price but the kind that you can smell. He would smell very neat & sophisticated (if you get what I mean.) A mild calming earthy tone, not-too-sweet kind of fruit, with a tiny hint of spices, not piercing, but strong enough to make people wonder what he wears because it's so unique, or even tailor-made. When you get close enough, the scent of smoke will rise and seep into your senses. Not from a cigarette, but gunpowder and metallic scent (either from the weapon or cell bars), and before you realize it, they are already overwhelming you, and you can't turn back now.
I would like to think Laszlo Kreizler would have masked himself in a floral aroma mixed with the smell of leather. However, in the back of my mind, I doubt he ever used any cologne, but he's an alienist which equals to a psychiatrist in the present day means he might wear something that could ease his patients and children at the institute to make them more relaxed. (Also he appeared to be snobbish in some way so yeah he might wear perfume :|) On the other hand, all the musty, damp stench from *working* and investigating in different places would definitely stink and stick on his clothes, and his skin.
For our maître d' Tony Balerdi, I don't think he would (or could) wear anything since he works in a fine-dining restaurant and any strong fragrance could contaminate or affect dishes and drinks to those who are very sensitive to the smell. (even though Adam & Helena did smoke while working, which is something that bothers me when I watch this film), but I'd like to think that his choice of perfume outside of work would still be pure, fresh & clean, nothing artificial. I doubt he ever used something oceanic, maybe on some occasion when he wants to rest his mind, but it must not be salty, more like fresh water from the waterfall.
The salty, breezy, very oceanic goes to Andrea Marowski, our baby. I mean before he was saved by the sisters he was on a ship, on his journey, then he spent quite a certain amount of time near the beach and I do think there will be lots of journeys for him to take in the future. However, he's a violinist, I believe he must have that woody piney scent from rosin that used to take care of his violin.
You know who's the easiest for this ask? The red flag walking, Thomas Lang. That man will either be soaked in cologne or none. If he wears something, it would be very masculine, very clean & crisp, probably that top-3-bottles-for-men-that-are-head-turner kind of thing. If he doesn't wear anything, the air around him is filled with odors of smoke, booze, and definitely stinks of sweat because he's either too drunk or too far out to shower, or maybe from having nightmares. (NSFW-ish thought though he would defo have that smell of those womanizers who had quite a number of sex because that man is good for just one night and when the morning comes you better kick him out of your life real quick.)
I have no idea about other characters. I mean, obviously, Niki and Iván would have that faint machine oil smell, although I don't think I can smell anything but burnt cigarettes from Iván. (my god he smokes like there's no tomorrow it's quite concerning for those who don't smoke like me.)
I don't think you can smell anything from Schmidt though, except the scent of shaving cream?
I'm suck at this and I'm sooo lack of imagination 😢
Still, thanks for your message. I hope you have a wonderful day, month, year, and so on. ❤️
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zsparz · 9 months
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GUESS WHOS 700 YEARS LATE ON THIS !!!
you know how much i adore Near-Love Experience😍😍
and then Peach of Eternal Winters (omg bucky learning sokovian pleze i am ded) 🥹🥹🥹
it is deeply difficult to impossible to pick single parts or even restrain myself from listing like every single fic ive read of yours (so far, plz excuse my Emotional Support Pile of Fic) and im pretty sure there’s a character limit here so!!!
you always have just the perfect blend of emotion and burning hot smut. like . you hit so many kinks and i am blessed we have such overlap bc your writing is beautiful 🙏🙏🙏
Hiiiii six-demon-bag! You're right on time 😘
I love that you've picked two 🍑-focused fics! Clearly, Zemo's ass is a staple of the fandom, tiny or otherwise 😈🤣 And I'm delighted that you enjoyed the emotional bit in a story that's very much about eating ass and shutting up smug barons!
Your ESPF is a lovely thing. While I do hope you won't need the emotional support, I'm glad you have a Pile of Fic just in case 💖
Thank you for the lovely compliments!!! I'm also very pleased that we have such glorious overlap ZEMO'S TINY HOLE FOR THE WIN!
Overflow (The Peach of Eternal Winters) - to anyone who hasn't yet, check out the gorgeous, super hot art pieces in it drawn by the skilled Fleshtony!
Near-Love Experience - my fourth fic with Zemo's 🌱🕳️! (... well, there's a fifth one now technically...)
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avengersrewatch · 1 year
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E1&2: "The Breakout"
Okay, I'm skipping ahead to the actual episodes, damnit.
"The Breakout" is the episode that forms the Avengers as a team. In that way it is like The Avengers the MCU film. As I have already noted, the Avengers cast is different. Here it is the original cast from the comic books (Iron Man, Hulk, Thor, Ant-man and the Wasp. Captain Americas was NOT one of the original Avengers, though he came in pretty early /nerdrant) .
The story that brings them together is different. In the EMHU, it's been established that SHIELD maintains four super villain prisons (The Big House, The Cube, The Raft, and the Vault) will definitely be exploding (metaphorically ) soon. I believe we have seen the Raft in Captain America: Civil War and The Cube in She-Hulk. I guess the Quantum Realm is basically the Big House for Kang right now.
And, of course, this is the episode where all the super villains break out. Nick Fury, who as director of SHIELD is in charge of the prisons, is both asking these civilians for help, and getting in their way a bit. This is a similar dynamic to what we see in the MCU. They are SORT of doing government work, but not REALLY.
As with most of this series (since it was made in 2010), Iron Man is the focus. We start with him, searching for his "stolen" weapons. And we follow him as he learns about the breakout at the Vault.
I'm not sure if it's coincidence or just that this character has been both a villain and a member of the Avengers, but here Hawkeye, like it the movie, both good and bad. He is "escaping" prison but also helping Tony.
There is something kind of neat about the multiple prison structure here. Each Avenger basically has his own prison to defend, and then all them have to work together in the second part to defeat Graviton. (I think this is the only time it has ever been suggested that Graviton is an important Avengers villain. He's just not a top tier guy like Loki to make them come together for their first fight.) Interestingly, the only other two villains kept at the Raft, which is supposed to be the most secure of the Super Villain prisons are Baron Zemo (who we have seen in Captain America: Civil War and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier) and the Purple Man (who was the main antagonist for Jessica Jones on Netflix). Both are going to come back on this show, so this is setup. But, yeah, Graviton.
Banner/Hulk secures the Cube. Iron Man (and Hawkeye) take care of the Vault. Ant-Man and the Wasp fight at the Big House, and Thor fights with Fury at the Raft.
The montage of all the bad guys getting their powers back is a lot of fun.
We get a tiny bit of MODOK (who is in Ant-Man and the Wasp Quantumania) and, of course, the Leader (who will be the villain in Captain America: New World Order)--though we will see much more of him later in GAMMA WORLD.
We also get Doc Sampson. I wonder if Marvel would still have Ty Burrell play that character if they wanted to bring him in for a Hulk project. I'm gonna guess that unlike Tim Roth and Tim Blake Nelson, he'd get recast.
Thor and Jane Foster's dynamic is very cute here.
There is a bit where Hank Pym says he's "disappointed" in Mandrill and that he had "come so far in counseling" and I just want to say, that is not true. Mandrill is gross. He's the worst. His power is rape. Ant-Man is a terrible counselor. (It's crazy that both Mandrill and Purple Man are included on this show for children. Both rapists.)
Anyway, the second part of the episode reveals that SHIELD made Graviton into a supervillain through weird government experiments. (I don't know why the government keeps experimenting on people in the Marvel Comics or EMH universe. It seems to go badly for them most of the time.) He is, understandably, kind of angry that he was imprisoned without any kind of trail or anything.
Notice it's Tony who rushes in to help Janet, not Hank?
Anyway, I don't really like Janet's part of the fight here. She is mostly considered just a pest, except when she aids Hulk, which is more moral support. She's not really shown as an equal threat as the other Avengers. Later fights will prove she is, but here she's still kind of a joke and I don't like it.
What she does do is suggest the men help each other. As if no human male would ever work with other men on their own. It has to be a lady who is like "let's be a team!" If I were a man I'd be kind of insulted by that.
What's funny is that Graviton lifts New York (???) up as a floating city. They do that in Avengers: Age of Ultron. I guess it's an interesting visual but I would never think to do that if I had powers.
Of course Graviton's downfall is mistakenly saying he is "the strongest one there is" and then immediately getting hit by the Hulk. Hulk, we learn, is stronger than gravity itself. Everyone knows that's his thing. Being strong. And the moment where Hulk is surprised Janet would help him (because he is a monster) is oddly touching, but over-played.
The team triumphantly stands over their fallen foe, a shot that is done very similarly in The Avengers.
Thor likes having new friends and wants to go drinking. Fury suggests they all become SHIELD agents to track down all the former prisoners but Tony wants to do it as a team--just not with SHIELD.
Let's call them the Avengers! (Can we drink now?)
Rating: Recommend!
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bottombaron · 2 years
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taking screenshots for an episode 4 'breakdown' thing but it's taking just sooo long and I'm distracted with too many thoughts that I'm probably just going to trickle them out in separate posts
so here's one illuminating something I didn't catch before regarding Zemo's Riga apartment: it's suggested that Zemo hadn't been in the area since he was young. i'm assuming very young since he didn't understand the politics at the time and Zemo strikes me as the type to understand things like that at a very early age.
therefore it's logical to assume that the Riga apartment is an old family vacation home that was used for trips that involved a lot of business/political talk (always safe to assume Hydra here because when is it not?) and not a place Zemo had ever visited in adulthood.
which then brings up even more interesting points:
if Zemo hadn't been to the Riga apartment since childhood how did he know about the escape route under the bath tube? he must have been shown by someone when he was a kid, right? a parent maybe? did it have to be used before?
the Riga apartment being an old Zemo Family Estate totally changes how it reflects Zemo personally. it's now not a place he chose or furnished himself. it's again a part of his mask. the wealth and glamor doesn't speak to Zemo's true tastes or comforts or things he would have in his own home (necessarily). again, we know very little about who he truly is.
also there's a sort of sad nostalgia when you go back to a place you used to as a kid. did Zemo feel anything sentimental being back in a place that he used to spend time with his parent(s)? does it bring back fond memories of not knowing 'the politics' at the time? i'd like to know marvel, thnx.
him rummaging around in the cupboards looking for Turkish Delights is cast in a different light too. he literally doesn't know where they are! he's like a kid looking for sweets. making it even more sense that he finds them in some sort of vase, almost as if an adult was trying to hide them from a little thief. Zemo too, probably loved Turkish Delights as a kid and it was a struggle to keep them away from him.
furthermore, Zemo now jump-scaring Karli and cutting off her exit from the funeral makes so much more sense. instead of him just appearing out of nowhere without reason, it would be logical to assume that he knows the area like she would; as a kid he probably traversed all over the complex and would know exactly where she would run to get away.
anyway, it might have just been me that didn't catch this the first time but thought i'd share if anyone thought it was interesting or didn't notice it like I did. this is also why you should never invite me over to watch something because i'll unnecessarily deconstruct every little bit lol
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mypoisonedvine · 3 years
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𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭-𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 || helmut zemo, bucky barnes and sam wilson x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : your sugar daddy boyfriend is finally out of prison and he brought a few friends to show you off to.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : just over 4k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : smut (foursome/group sex, oral m receiving, spitroast; sliiiight dubcon???), established zemo x reader, sugar daddy relationship, ‘sir’ kink, ‘daddy’ kink, pussy spanking, one regular spank, orgasm control, overstimulation, creampie, a bit of cockwarming, exhibitionism, possessiveness (kinda? but also not at all lmao it’s hard to explain), a bit of degradation but plenty of praise as well, subtle cuckolding but without the usual power dynamics there, shitty reconstructed “sokovian” (I wrote it in the latin alphabet but the cyrillic and translations are at the end), unexpected and unnecessary fluff, very subtle angst (basically all in a flashback anyways)
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                  You were needlessly anxious as you waited for him to arrive.  It had been your own idea to wait in the jet, and yet you spent every other second glancing out the tiny window, desperate for a glance of the man you missed so dearly.
If someone had told you all those years ago, when this arrangement first began, how easily he would have you wrapped around his finger… you couldn’t have believed them.  It’s just about the money, you would’ve told them, but you would’ve been impossibly wrong.
For a lot of women in this sort of situation, it really was just about the money; likewise, for a lot of men in his situation, it was just about the sex.  But the two of you had something entirely unique, nearly indescribable in fact, that very few could ever understand.  In the beginning it became clear to you that he was more in need of a companion than a lover or girlfriend, specifically.  He was still grieving his wife, still devoted to her completely, but lonely right to his core… angry, even, at the prospect of a life without his family.  You were a shoulder to cry on, first and foremost.
You thought maybe he enjoyed spending money on you because it was his way to protect you, in a way he felt he had failed to protect his family before.
And it was you that fell for him first, for his passion and his kindness before his riches or looks.  Just when you feared that he’d only ever see you as a status symbol or dress-up doll, he returned your affections in spite of his guilt at first and the two of you were inseparable ever since.
Except, of course, when you were separated, and he was imprisoned, and you were left on your own again.  Not that spending his money wasn’t fun or anything, but his loneliness was more sympathetic with each night you spent in that massive bed by yourself, wanting just to feel the warmth of him beside you again.
So, it should be understandable why you were so on edge in anticipation of his arrival.  Your painted fingernails toyed with the hem of the dress you remembered he liked on you most— the silk one that barely covered your legs and was only held up by absurdly thin straps crossing at your back.
The night he bought it for you was clear in your mind like it was only yesterday; his voice in your ear telling you how he couldn’t resist taking such a thoughtful, intelligent woman like yourself and dressing you up like a mindless drolja… or ‘slut’ as it might be said in English.  Just remembering the way he said things like that sent a shiver down your spine as strong as really hearing it, your thighs clenching together on top of the plush leather seat.
Just as you thought you might go crazy waiting for him, you saw the car pull up— your Helmut at the wheel and his two associates in tow— and your heart soared.
Longer than all the years apart combined was the minute you spent waiting to descend the jet’s staircase, hoping to meet him on the taxiway at the exact right moment.  You made sure the jewelry around your wrists and neck was laying just right before finally making your appearance.
The way he looked up at you as you started to walk down towards him… it wasn’t so different from the way he’d looked at you through the glass for the past few years, really, but it felt different.  He certainly looked different to you, without the prisoner’s uniform and looking rather imposing with that massive coat instead.
You were careful to still walk slowly, since you were wearing stilettos and all, even when you wanted more than anything to run to him and jump into his arms.  Instead, you came face to face with him, loving that confident smirk which never seemed to leave his expression, and slipped your arms around his fur-adorned neck.
“Dobrodošla nazad, ljubavi,” you hummed, pressing your lips to his and almost letting out a squeal of surprise when he immediately slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you aggressively as his gloved hands gripped you at the waist.
He was rarely so bold, but then again he had been alone in prison for so long with only your words to try to satisfy him.  As much as you cherished being in his arms again, you also got the impression that this wasn’t just about making up for lost time— if that were true, he would’ve skipped the kiss entirely and taken you in the back of his car the moment he saw you.  No, this was a show of dominance, and not only for your benefit; that was clear when one of the men with him cleared his throat loudly and Helmut still didn’t stop.  
But that was very much like him: he was never finished with you until he was satisfied, and not a moment sooner.  His power over you was so effortless because you didn’t mind at all being his plaything… so much so that it was you leaning in for more when he pulled back, making him laugh softly.
“Did you miss me, lutka?” he purred, and you nodded as you bit your lip slightly.
“Always, Helmut,” you nodded, finally taking a moment to look away from him and at the visibly uncomfortable men at his side.  “I heard you freed him,” you said to the man you knew to be James Barnes, “thank you.”
“I’m still not over that,” the other— Sam, as you’d heard— added with a scoff.
“Come on, darling, let’s board the jet and we can talk there,” Helmut suggested, and you nodded as you turned to let them follow.
Of course, you couldn’t be totally sure, but you were pretty confident you could feel three pairs of eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs.  Honestly, with how short the dress was, there was a risk of your thong being exposed as well, exactly the sort of almost-subtle teasing your Baron loved the most.
Once inside, Helmut showed James and Sam to their seats, and took his own as he instantly pulled you into his lap.  You caught the other two men glancing to the empty fourth seat, knowing there was plenty of room for you two to stay apart, but could they really blame you after how long you’d been alone?
Throughout the takeoff, one of his strong hands rested comfortably on your crossed legs as the other held his glass of champagne, and Sam’s gaze was attached to the way his thumb gently stroked your thigh while James seemed to be doing his best to look literally anywhere else.
“I noticed you haven’t introduced us to your… friend…” Sam trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Oh, yes,” Helmut chuckled as if he actually forgot, “this is the woman who has been managing my estate in my unfortunate absence.”
“You’re trying to tell us this is your accountant?” James grumbled.
“She’s also my lover,” Helmut relented.
“Obviously,” Sam replied, unamused.
“She’s beautiful, no?” Helmut prompted as he ran his fingertips higher up your thigh, only glancing at the other men as he focused mainly on nuzzling against your neck. 
“Yeah, the finest money can buy,” Sam quipped, earning a cold glare from you and your man.  
“Are you with me for my money, draga?” Helmut asked you quietly as he planted a gentle kiss to the spot right where your neck met your shoulder.  You smiled and shook your head, staring right at Sam’s nervous expression.
“No, sir,” you answered aloud, and the title clearly made both of the other men uncomfortable… if, perhaps, in different ways.
“Uncross your legs,” he demanded, though his tone was still soft, and you obeyed right away as he started to lightly move his touch between your thighs.
James began adjusting in his seat and never really stopped, tugging at his jeans in an obvious attempt to conceal the growing bulge between his legs, but you only laughed at his clear embarrassment.
“See how respectful she is?” he cooed his praise, addressing the other men but keeping his eyes on you.  “I know exactly the words to make her obey to my every whim… James, you and her share that quality.”
The man sneered as you suppressed a giggle, squirming in Helmut’s lap impatiently.
“She’s loyal, too, unendingly dedicated,” he continued.  “You know she visited me weekly in Munich, at the very least?  Always by my side… like any good pet.”
A whimper escaped your throat at that term, your gut burning with need as he balanced praise and degradation effortlessly.  You didn’t find it truly demeaning only because you loved being his plaything so much, and because you knew mutual respect was at the core of your relationship with him.  But, still, it was nice to feel small when he was there to keep you safe.
James watched with a small snarl and Helmut slipped his hand into your panties, and Sam licked his lips but shifted his stare to your face instead, just as your eyes started to roll back and your head fell weakly on Helmut’s shoulder.
“And such a precious little pussy as well,” he added darkly, giving you a spank between your legs to make you choke on a squeal.  “Sweet, delicate… much like a Turkish delight, but even more addictive.”
“Please, sir,” you whispered under your breath.
“You want more, don’t you?  Tako očajno…” he chuckled.  You nodded, already starting to soak through the lace and rock your hips.  “You want to be fucked, yes?”
“Yes,” you moaned.
“Be polite and take care of our guests first, draga,” he encouraged, kissing your neck one more time before releasing you from his embrace.
Although you were most interested in being with the man you loved, you were happy to obey whatever he wished— and, frankly, sinking to your knees on the jet’s carpeted floor to crawl towards James wasn’t exactly lacking in its own appeal.
James’ eyes narrowed as Sam’s widened, and you sat up between the spread, denim-clad thighs as you blinked up at him and licked your lips.
He tensed up slightly as your hands delicately slid up his legs, his Adam's apple bobbing with a dry swallow when you grabbed his belt buckle and began to open it.
“You… you don’t have to…” he mumbled, apparently too distracted to finish his sentence.
“Yes I do,” you denied.  “Because he told me to.”
Sam winced and looked away as you unzipped James’ fly and pulled his jeans and boxers down to expose his cock, already hard and leaking a bit from the tip.  You smiled proudly, but chose not to tease him for his eagerness and instead just get right to work; you gripped him at the base and gave a few kitten licks over his shaft, savoring the taste of his precum and looking up at his expression that was equal parts shocked and sultry.
You only spent a moment suckling on the head before skipping right ahead and deepthroating him all the way to base.
“Oh, fuck,” James choked, reaching up grab the seat behind his head as his back arched, making you want to smile though you thankfully kept it down.
“Well-trained, isn’t she?” Helmut interjected proudly.
“Y-yeah,” he answered, his other hand grabbing your shoulder tightly as you began to bob your head.
Occasionally, in your peripheral, you caught Sam looking, and it made you wiggle your hips with the desire to rub your throbbing clit against the floor.  
You got a chance to breathe whenever you pulled back to suck the head and stroke the rest with your hand, and in a few minutes you had already found all the little spots that made him moan the loudest, or made his legs quiver a bit by your sides.
“Stop,” Helmut instructed, and you were already starting to pull off when James hissed and grabbed your head to hold you down.
“N-no, please,” he blurted out.
“She’ll come back to you but Sam is looking rather lonely in the corner over there,” Helmut explained, and James hesitated but let you go.  You wiped your lips and started to move towards Sam, but he shook his head.
“I don’t roll like that, man,” Sam explained, “I don’t want her doing it just because you said so.”
“Darling, won’t you tell us how badly you want to service your new friends?” Helmut challenged, and you swallowed nervously because you were a bit embarrassed to say too much and potentially anger him.  But the sparkle in his eyes didn’t seem like he was leading you into a trap… even if the other two men were confident that was what it meant.  “You find them attractive, don’t you?”
“Um, yes, sir,” you answered hesitantly, “I… saw them, and I wanted to know what their cocks looked like.  And tasted like.”
Helmut smiled and leaned forward, giving you a spank of approval through your dress (which was riding up to show most of your butt anyways).
You looked at Sam expectantly.  “May I please suck your cock, Mr. Wilson?”
His eyes darkened and you knew you were on the right track.  “What happened to ‘sir’?” he asked coyly.
“I only call Helmut ‘sir,’” you explained, “but I could call you something else.”
His finger curled to encourage you to come closer and you crawled up to sit between his legs.
“Call me ‘daddy,’” he finally instructed, opening his belt and pants for you.
“Yes, daddy,” you nodded, keeping your mouth slack for him to push his cock into.  You hummed as the head slid over your tongue, looking up at him as he bit his lip and thrust back into your throat.
“Shit, that’s good,” he whispered, guiding your head at the speed he wanted.  “Who taught you how to suck cock so good, baby?”
Helmut raised his hand and James snorted.
Sam was a bit longer but he was still no challenge to swallow all the way down, and you heard him breathing through his teeth but let your eyes fall shut to focus on your work.
“Is this… how you treat all your guests?” Sam asked tensely between heavy breaths.
“Only those who are at the right place at the right time,” Helmut answered cryptically, but you happened to know this sort of occasion was incredibly rare.  Although it might seem counterintuitive to some, this was his way to re-stake his claim over you, and after so much time apart apparently he felt he had a lot to prove.  “Keep going, but don’t let him come,” another instruction echoed from behind you.  
You pulled back to stroke Sam’s length while you croaked: “yes, sir.”
Helmut had you go back and forth for a while, keeping both men on edge and occasionally allowing you to stroke one while you sucked the other, your own need growing so quickly as you dreamed to have something inside you, anything really.
Obviously, he knew exactly how much having a cock down your throat made you wet and desperate.  And he knew that such a taboo act of, in a certain sense, breaking fidelity with a man as he not only watched but commanded you to do it would get you right on the edge in no time.
He had gotten in your head so quickly after meeting you, memorized everything that made you tick, and not once had he forgotten.  
“I-I’m close,” James warned as you sucked his head, making you slide the tip of your tongue over his slit before you took a break to suck his swollen balls into your mouth.  “Fuck, can I come?”
“Not yet,” Helmut instructed sternly.
You felt him tug you back and into his lap suddenly, and he quickly yanked your dress down to expose your breasts to the men in front of you.
“Her tits are hard, no?” Helmut prompted them, and you watched them both nod as a warm hand reached around from behind you to tweak your hardened nipples.  “Yes, she really loves to get on her knees and choke on cock.  I’d let her do the same to me but I have greater plans for her…”
As if it weren’t obvious what those plans were, he pulled your skirt up to your waist as well, spreading your legs and pulling your flimsy panties aside.  
“Is she wet?” he asked the men and they nodded again.
“Drenched,” Sam chimed in.
Helmut gave another spank to your clit as you shuddered, then rubbing slowly as if to soothe the sting.  “I’ll teach you what happens when you get wet for another man, little girl,” Helmut growled against your ear, “not to mention two.  And they’re Americans, do you have no shame?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” you whispered.
“No, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he corrected.  “I love seeing you act like a whore all for me.”
You hadn’t even realized he’d taken his cock out of his trousers until you felt the thick tip of him prodding at your entrance.  It was already a lot just by itself, but then you had these strangers staring at you and for some reason it only turned you on more.
That ‘some’ reason of course being that you loved your Baron taking ownership over you for anyone to see.  Clearly, prison had given him much more creative ideas than just fucking on a balcony or against the glass of a window.  
“Are you ready for me?” he asked in a hushed voice against your skin which seemed to be burning hot all of a sudden.  
“Yes, sir,” you whispered.
It took a lot not to cry out as he pulled you down and filled you in one deep stroke, your nails digging into the leather of the chair’s armrests at either side.  But more than the sting of pain it felt so perfect, so fundamentally right, and just after your gasp of shock was a sigh of relief.
He sighed along with you and let his forehead fall between your shoulder blades, clearly a bit overwhelmed at being inside you again for the first time in so long.  “Draga...” he breathed, “not that I ever doubted… but you must have been faithful to me; you’re so tight, I know no one has touched you since I left.”
“Only you, sir, nobody but you,” you agreed breathlessly, eyes falling shut.  
He kissed your back as he started to move your body on top of his, the hands at your waist tightening and tugging on the remaining fabric of your dress.  “Tako dobro,” he hissed, “you feel so good, darling, you can’t imagine how long I spent dreaming of being inside you again.”
A tear rolled down your cheek, and it would be impossible to say for sure what caused it— a little bit of everything, really.  
Opening your eyes and noticing the way they were staring at you, you leaned forward and took each of the other men’s hard cocks in your hands, stroking in time with the way you bounced your hips on top of Helmut’s.
The both of them had been on the edge for a bit too long, Sam already biting his lip as James thrust himself up into your palm.
“Fuck, please,” James moaned, “I need to come in your mouth.”
“Come closer then,” you breathed, watching him stand up and bring his cock right to your lips which you eagerly gagged on, any pretense long gone as you sloppily sucked and stroked while Helmut thrust up to slam into you.
“Ohh, fuck, that’s it— gonna come,” he grunted as he reached up to press his hand against the ceiling of the jet, and it all must have hit him rather unexpectedly since the moment his musky taste began to coat your tongue, you heard a clanging sound and realized he had pushed up so hard that he bent the steel interior, his other hand tightening into a fist in your hair.
You moaned happily as you swallowed every drop, still sucking even as James’ moans became loud and higher in pitch.
“Fuck, don’t stop, oh god,” he whined, cock throbbing even after he stopped filling your throat with come.  You reached between his legs and squeezed his balls a bit and you could tell his knees nearly buckled, causing him to finally pull back and tilt your chin up to stare down at you.  “You’re somethin’ else,” he panted, taking a moment to catch his breath before falling back and slumping into his chair.
You looked over at Sam and saw his hand was still lazily guiding yours to stroke over his cock although come already painted his abs and dripped down from his swollen head over your fingers.  “Can I clean up your mess, please, daddy?” you asked, voice a bit hoarse though you couldn’t be sure if that was from the deepthroating or just how hard Helmut was fucking you now.
Pulling your hand back, Sam’s eyes followed as you lapped the thick, hot come from your hand, moaning openly at the taste.  You sucked your fingers down into your throat, not leaving a drop behind.
He leaned back in his chair and began to catch his breath, both of them now staring at you with that exhausted, glazed-over expression.  They looked satisfied, and you considered it your reward for a job well done.
"A belly full of come and a pussy full of my cock, you must be feeling ecstatic," Helmut presumed.
"Yes, sir," you agreed quickly.
All at once he began to fuck you faster, harder, deeper which you hadn't even realized was an option.  He growled a string of the filthiest curses in your ear, in Sokovian so the other men wouldn’t understand, with one hand wrapped around your neck as the other pinched your clit almost too roughly.  Even in your native language you could barely understand it: how could you when he was so deep inside you?
“Will you come, draga?” he finally asked, voice rough with his own desperation.
“Not until you let me, sir,” you moaned, and he chuckled a bit.
“Good girl.”
But wow, the way he rubbed your clit was impossible to ignore, like he was trying to make your promise impossible to keep.  You tightened your jaw, moaning through your teeth now as you fought to keep your orgasm at bay.  
“Please sir, I need to come, please— so close, I’m so close,” you mewled.
“I won’t be much longer, either,” he warned.  "Too long without you has taken its toll, I need to finish."
“Inside me, sir, please,” you begged, “come inside me.”
You felt him nod against the back of your neck.  “Come for me,” he instructed simply, and as obedient as ever, you felt your walls pulsing as pleasure overtook you.  Not even meaning to, you threw your head back, and he had to hold you tightly to keep you from shaking too violently as the waves of sensation washed over you.
The heat of him spilling inside you warmed you from the inside out, making you smile happily through the fog of your high and intentionally tighten your walls around him.  He hissed and throbbed within you, his fingers digging into your hips now as he held you down against him.
He gave a few more lazy thrusts until finally slowing to a stop, both of you catching your breath eventually.
"My... accountant will be keeping my cock warm for the remainder of the flight," Helmut informed the other men, "I hope you don't mind?
"No, no, go ahead," James approved as his head fell back against his chair.
It was still quite a ways to your final destination so it wasn't much of a surprise that you ended up falling asleep in the Baron's arms, something you used to do every night that had been only a dream for years.  Perhaps this afternoon wasn't the reunion you expected, but it was somehow even more perfect than you could've ever wished for.
///
dobrodošla nazad, ljubavi = добродошла назад, љубави = “welcome home, love”
lutka = лутка = “doll”
draga = драга = “dear/beloved”
tako očajno = тако очајно = "so desperate"
tako dobro = тако добро = "so good"
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