#daniel brühl x reader smut

[loki-quinn]

Baron Helmut Zemo is so pretty!

#daniel brühl #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo smut #baron helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #zemo imagine

[therenlover]

Always For A Second (Usually At The Start) - A Helmut Zemo x Reader fic

"And when I imagine life when it's mine / I can try to picture faceless folk to love a thousand times / But always for a second, and usually at the start / You're in the image posing with a cradled beating heart" - Katie Gregson MacLeod, i'm worried it will always be you

Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.

Tags: Explicit Smut (+18), Exes, Getting Back Together, Enemies to Lovers to Exes to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Switch!Zemo, Oral (Fem Receiving), Service Top!Zemo, Aftercare, Bucky is Mentioned Too Much

Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 8,600~

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“I didn’t expect you to come crawling back so soon, schatz,”

The restaurant was crowded enough that nobody heard Helmut’s words, curt and cloying and so fucking familiar. Still, my face heated. It always would for him, no matter how much my common sense protested by body’s reactions. How dare he be so damn effective at getting under my skin? 

Some over-expensive brown liquor sloshed against the rim of the glass in my hand as I lifted it less than gracefully from the table, dribbling down the edge of my mouth as I guided it to my lips and drank deeply. “For one, two years isn’t soon,” I started, swallowing. “Two, you’re the asshole who showed up in my apartment like a robber, which makes you the one who came crawling back. I was just nice enough to let you take me for a free meal to get you the hell out. Three,” I set the glass down sharply, “don’t call me that. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I still haven’t forgiven you,” 

“Apologies,” 

He didn’t mean it. 

“Still, it’s too soon to expect any sort of kindness from you,” he continued, “If I recall correctly, you said you’d rather die than suffer through another night with me for the rest of eternity. I believe an eternity has yet to pass… and yet, here we are,”

His matter of fact tone left little up for debate, unless I wanted to reach for my fork and maim his smug face. Instead, I bit my tongue and swallowed another mouthful of whatever I was drinking.

For once I was glad to be surrounded by the kind of noisy, faceless jumble of humanity that usually made my skin crawl. F. Scott Fitzgerald was on to something with his theories on large crowds and intimacy; there was no better place for two war criminals to meet than the corner booth of a hazy restaurant, lounging and drinking, covered by the blanket of sweet anonymity. Anyone who glanced our way would see two normal human beings sharing a meal in peaceable silence, sharing sparse conversation between bites of this and that. 

They would see lovers.

The thought left a lump in my throat. 

Maybe I looked uncomfortable enough that they would presume, correctly, that we were ex-lovers. I wasn’t hopeful about it, though. 

Helmut noticed, of course, but I knew he would. He had always had an almost supernatural sense for these things, like he could tune into my emotional radio on a frequency I didn’t even fully know myself. Enemy or ally or… otherwise, it was a constant to be seen through and picked apart like carrion. An appetizer for the fights to come. Thankfully, though, he chose to have mercy on me this time in a rare show of respect. Instead of wrapping his lips around another snide comment- even though I could tell it was burning a bitter hole into the tip of his tongue behind his clenched teeth- he chose to pick up a ring of calamari from the plate between us. He held it up to examine the crust in the dim lamplight before placing it delicately against his lips, pulling it from the fork in one bite. Still, he couldn’t be too gracious. Helmut held eye contact as he went.

I could only managed a disgusted sigh but found myself mirrored as his teeth sunk into the squid and his brow furrowed. 

“Bad?” I asked.

He chewed for a good while before managing to swallow the offending clump down, gagging all the way. “Despite my recent diet, that might be the worst thing I’ve eaten in a long while,”

A laugh escaped me before I even knew it was there. “You managed to pick a restaurant where our appetizer is worse than prison food? Serves you right for ordering seafood in the midwest,” 

“I suppose it does.” He nudged the plate towards me with a growing smirk, “See for yourself. I’d hate to see it wasted, and as you said, it is ours. I can’t be expected to finish it alone,” 

As if under the spell of his charisma all over again, I followed his instructions without a second thought. It was just as bad as I anticipated. 

Things were off to a bad start from the moment the tines of my fork hit the batter. The breading seemed to squelch under the pressure, sagging and giving way into meat that was somehow both rubbery and gelatinous, if that was even possible, and if the texture seemed bad outside of my mouth it was even worse inside. Somewhere between its fishy tang and the overly salted batter, there was a bitter, almost sour note that seemed to permeate further with every chew. I spit the macerated glob into my napkin before even attempting to swallow down the remaining spit. 

Across the table, Zemo grinned at my misfortune. “Let’s hope our entrees are less offensive to our palettes,” 

“Fuck off,” I muttered, lips turning up at the edges. 

“You can curse all you want at my poor choice of venue, but I can tell you’re glad you’re the one who ordered the pasta instead of the steak,” 

I went for my glass again, letting the liquor with a name I couldn’t pronounce burn all the way down my throat and into my chest. “I hate that you’re always right, Helmut. Can’t you be wrong, just once? Leave some correctness for the rest of us,” 

Maybe it was the lighting, soft and amber against the dark wood of the table to mask the bloody steaks that would sit below, or maybe it was the music, something old and swinging that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but knew from the radio in my grandmother’s car as a child, or maybe, just maybe, it was the crows feet that popped up around Helmut’s eyes when he smiled that hadn’t been quite so prominent the last time I’d seen him, but no matter the cause, the solid iron wall I had put up around my heart when I walked out of the Baron’s life those two year sago seemed to soften. Weakened, somehow. It was like someone took a blowtorch right to the center of my defenses. Something in me screamed that they had never been all that strong to begin with. 

I only noticed I’d been staring when he looked away, clearing his throat and wiping his thin mouth with the napkin from his lap. 

There went my hand. Helmut, 1. Me, 0… Well, 1, if leaving him those years ago counted for anything, and I refused to believe that it hadn’t. That the blow to his ego hadn’t given me at least a slight upper hand compared to the naive girl I had been in comparison when I first met him. There had been so much good in the world then. 

The silence dragged on as if the structural flaws of my guarded heart could patch themselves up with the defenses created from just a few silent moments between us. That’s all it would take for me to remember all the reasons this would never work: all the pain, the sleepless nights, the snide comments that turned into biting replies that grew into massive, earth-shattering fights that exploded into days or weeks or months living alone in a house with him. One by one, the memories flooded back, reminding me exactly why it had taken me almost two years to find enough peace within myself that I wouldn’t decide to shoot the man in front of me on sight. My heart hardened by the second.

“I saw your concert,” 

I was simultaneously thawed and frozen all over again. “How did you-“ 

“James mentioned it,” 

“You still talk to Bucky?” 

“Here and there,” 

The conversation lapsed into silence. 

He had… been there? I didn’t even bother to think about the talk I’d have to have with Bucky about my privacy, too focused on the more important matter at hand. 

The venue was grungy, a basement bar with a small stage serving the communities aspiring comedians and desperate punk-rock garage dwellers just waiting for their big break. I had barely had the guts to pay the booking fee, though. It was just me, a piano, and my guitar for an hour and a half set of mostly cover songs that had gone better than I’d expected, but hadn’t been anything crazy. The crowd was appreciative and respectful. Several people had left tips, even more giving me a congratulatory clap on the back as I left the building that night, promising to “stream my EP” whenever I released it, despite the fact that I had no plans to do any such thing. Still, I couldn’t imagine that I hadn’t seen his face in the crowd. I couldn’t name what I was feeling as I imagined it; visualized his face on the other side of the smoky room, leaned against the bar with his dark eyes catching hold of mine…

“You came and you didn’t say anything? Not even a hello?” 

Helmut laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “And risk my life over a free concert? No.” He paused, “Despite my tendency to sometimes be… less than kind, I knew it would rattle you to see me. I didn’t want to throw you off before your performance.” 

I didn’t have much of anything to say in response. Instead, I picked at the paper straw wrapper in my lap and tried to look anywhere but in his direction, shoving down whatever was welling up in my chest. He wouldn’t let things go, though. He never could. That was half of why we’d never work. Every time I tried to drop an uncomfortable subject he’d be there to pick it up with a snide comment or two. It was an easy rhythm. Too easy. I had never wanted to fall back into it and yet, here I was, almost excited to snipe his next words down. 

“Cain misses you,” He continued. 

I folded the straw wrapper in my hands, pulling at the crease as I thought about the doberman puppy I had left behind. He would be so big now, as big as the one I’d taken with me was now. My heart ached at the thought. 

“I doubt he remembers me after all this time,” 

“Of course he does,” Helmut’s voice was low. It was almost hypnotic, the way he carried himself. He could fool anyone. I realized, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that couldn’t have been the calamari, he could still fool me. “He’s quite the troublemaker. More times than I can count he’s evaded me in the house, only to be found asleep in your old closet. I think he remembers your scent,” 

“Thats…” I sat quiet for a moment, pursing through choices of words in my mind, mulling over the sharp accented way he pronounced the t in scent, “Sad. Really sad. Makes me wish I could’ve taken them both,” 

“And what of Brutus?”

“He’s good,” A smile crossed my face. “Big, as you saw tonight. I remember when we got them, they told us they’d be 60 pounds at most, but I swear Brutus must’ve snuck in with the rest of those puppies, because he’s massive. Headbutts me every time I walk through the door wondering where I was. He’s a good boy, though. Keeps watch while I sleep, just in case.”

“Just in case I decided to let myself in through the window one night?”

I let myself laugh without judgement this time, reaching for my water. “Looks like it was all for nothing, then. Who knew he’d just let intruders come waltzing in off of the fire escape?” 

“Am I truly considered an intruder in your home?” He asked it as if the answer wasn’t obvious. As if there were any other answer I could possibly give. As if I could’ve wanted him there. His earnestness almost hurt as much as his taunting did, maybe more, because even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, there was a soft ring of truth to his words. 

I took the cowards way out. “I don’t know, what do you think?” 

It was a vulnerability to not give a straight answer, the kind of weak spot that Helmut would catch wind of in an instant before using it to unravel someone piece by piece. Not a no, but certainly not a yes, and the fact that it hadn’t been a resounding yes was enough to glean that maybe, deep down, I wasn’t hating this dinner. He would see through me. Rip me to shreds for the subtle admittance that I hadn’t hated seeing him waiting for me on the couch when I walked through my door, even if I hadn’t expected or wanted him there in the first place. 

I found it was better to lie by omission than to fully lie and let him see through me to the more important truth; For as much as I despised everything about him, I had missed Helmut Zemo. I had missed his stupid expensive taste and the tilt of his stupid head and his stupid shiny white smile. I had missed seeing his coat hung up beside the door and knowing what waited for me inside. It was sick how I had loved him. How I had loved every minute of him picking me apart by the seams and putting me back together. Who could possibly crave their own destruction? Who could live knowing that to be loved was to be deconstructed down to the bone and laid bare as something lesser, something so small compared to the great destroyer I devoted myself to. 

How could he let me live like that if he truly saw through me? 

And that was why I had to leave. 

Loving Helmut Zemo was no way to live. I knew that. I had known that the day I picked up my dog and walked out of our home with nothing but my wallet, car keys, phone, and a polaroid picture of his silhouette. Somehow, I knew that he knew that too. Why else would I move on so suddenly, so sharply, removing every piece of the life we’d built to start myself fresh? A new me, I had said. A new chapter. Yet here I was across from him, shredded bits of paper littering my lap as he puppeteered my heart right back into his arms. 

No. I couldn’t let it happen. 

Not again. 

“Listen, baron,” I didn’t let him answer my rhetorical question. It wouldn’t be wise to let him gain the upper hand again. It wouldn’t be smart to let myself stay weak. “I appreciate dinner. It’s been surprisingly lovely to catch up with you. I’m glad to know you’re not dead, and its great to know Cain is doing well, but I know you weren’t here to tell me that over a plate of mediocre pasta,” 

Helmut smiled, his head in its signature tilt, and swished his own glass a bit. The ice was all but melted giving the liquor an almost clear quality as it diluted. Not a sip had been taken. “Ask the question, schatz,” 

“Why are you here? Why did you stalk me here and break into my apartment when I made it clear that you weren’t welcome in my life?” My words came out so matter of fact even I almost recoiled at them. Not unemotional but detached. 

“Um, who had the chicken alfredo?”

I could feel the blood drain from my face as I looked up at the poor waiter, hot plates in hand, as he took in our table at just the wrong time. Five minutes earlier he would have walked in on polite conversation about the dogs or the shitty appetizers. Now, though, he stood between a man who was known to kill for the things he wanted and me, the one thing he could never have again. 

Surprisingly, though, Helmut waved a hand towards me as I froze. There were none of the usual dramatics, just polite chatter with the waiter as he set my plate in front of me and left Helmut with his, taking the offending calamari plate away with him as he scurried away, surely to tell his coworkers about the crazy exes at the corner table. Helmut didn't even carry on with his answer. He just started tucking in to his steak and potatoes, not sparing me a single glance. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t memorized the way his eyes looked in the low light of a restaurant across from me, I would think he’d been replaced by a skrull.

Where was the tearing? The shredding? The utter evisceration of my waiting throat as he drank deeply of my darkest, most shameful thoughts only to spit them out for the world to see. Where was that shame? In the before times, in the times that the two of us had been a we, he never would have paused to mind a waiter. The world would have revolved around him as he laid me bare, no matter who watched or waited in the wings. What changed? 

How had I not noticed his docility until now?

The pasta was decent. It was better than anything I would’ve made at home, at least. I barely thought about it, though, letting my body go through the motions of eating mechanically while my mind went over a million things I could say. What could I say? There was nothing left to. We had gone over every possibility before I had left, at least I thought we had. Whatever we were was dead. That was certain. But what we could be…

I swallowed hard before I could choke on a relatively large piece of broccoli I neglected to chew in my trance. 

Helmut seemed to be in a painfully similar situation. One look at his plate showed a steak cut into tiny pieces. Almost none of it looked eaten, just diced into a pile and shuffled around a bit on the plate to mix with the potatoes, smashed down from their neat ice cream scoop globe and spread with the back of a fork. 

With a sigh, I set down my fork, pasta already forgotten. 

“Lost your appetite?” 

He paused his fiddling with his fork and knife, mirroring me and letting the utensils rest on the table beside his plate. It was odd to see him rattled. Strange to watch his eyes roll up to the ceiling and pause there, as if he was searching for the right words to say. He always knew just what to say to cut the deepest. Maybe it was foreign for him to not want to cut; To find a soft word, instead of a sharpened one. His mouth opened one… two…three times. Open and shut, open and shut. I couldn’t help but hurt for him. The man of many words was finally struck dumb. 

Finally, it came. 

“I’m sorry,” 

I had anticipated a selfish reply, a demand for me to come back and put the past two years behind us, but time had changed him. It had changed us both. He was no longer the man he had been when he was first freed from behind bars, vengeful and biting and so deeply afraid of being alone again, but I was no longer the lost girl I had been either. I did not need to be destroyed to breathe. I could feel tears pricking up in my eyes as he reached a hand across the table to search for my own. It was such a familiar sight in a time of uncertainty. I kept my hands firmly in my lap, though. I would not give him the satisfaction. 

More, I would not give him hope.

“Come home, schatz,”  

There it was. 

I couldn’t hold in the bitter, wet laugh that bubbled up through me, more at my own foolishness than at anything else. He had changed, yes, but some things never would. 

“Helmut,” The word hurt to say. It was altogether both familiar and unfamiliar, covered in a thick layer of dust from time, but nothing could erase the fact that it had once been used over and over, like a prayer, as easy as breathing or saying my own name. “You know I can’t,” 

He let his hand slink back to his side. “I had to try, you know,”

“I know,” The words were a whisper. 

So this was closure? 

The table was quiet. There was no desperation from Helmut’s side, no attempts to sway me or sudden outbursts of resentment. It was almost peaceful. His voice was sad but there was no manipulation in it. We laid our cards of the table as the game we’d played for years finally came to an end. 

“You were right about us, when you left,” he laughed, “I was, as you so aptly put it, a massive ass. I was still so deeply disillusioned about this world and the horrors of it. It was as if everyone around me was just another cog in it all, even you. I thought if I could puppet it all, make things go my way, everything could just be quiet. The horrors would finally stop. The memories would finally stop. I took it too far, though. I took it out on you. For that, I will never be sorry enough,” 

I put up a hand. “Helmut, you don’t have to do this-“

“I want to,”

His voice was delicate but didn’t waver. For the first time I wondered if this was more about what he needed to say than about what I needed to hear. I nodded him on. Without me even thinking about what I was doing, my hand caught his across the table.

“I wanted to run after you the same day you left. I nearly did, too, before I thought better of it. Then I really thought of what you said. What I did. It was then that I decided I had to change for the better, not for you but for myself. Only then would I allow myself to try again. So I did. I spent my time deconstructing the things I had seen and done and finally facing my own demons. I’m not perfect- believe me -but there are many things I have… worked on, for lack of a better word. James was surprisingly helpful throughout it all,” 

“Is that why you’ve been talking?” My thumb stroked over his knuckles, pausing on a scar. 

“More or less. I needed advice on how to overcome my atrocities, and I owed him an apology either way. He told me about your concert because he thought I would be ready to make amends, and yet I found myself unable to speak to you because I knew that if I did, I would have to beg you for forgiveness, and that is not something I will allow myself to do from anyone. Not now, nor ever,”

I let myself pull away. This was not a movie. There was no happy ending for the two of us at the end of this conversation. It was a chance to clear the air and let go of our grievances before going our separate ways. Treating it any other way would only hurt us both. “Why break in, then, and drag this all out over dinner? Why not just knock on my door, apologize, and leave?”

“I couldn’t have you slamming the door in my face and leaving me to apologize to the wall, now could I?” 

We shared a sad smile, a knowing one. “I guess that’s true.” 

“I needed to know you would hear what I had to say until the end,” he paused, “And one last confession. I must admit, I could not walk away without sharing dinner with you one last time. It’s selfish, as I am selfish, but I could not see you again without truly seeing you, more than just as you shouted at me and threw me to the curb,” 

“You think so little of me?” I asked. There was no bite in it. 

“No, I think so little of myself,” he finally took a sip from his glass, “Any anger on your part is warranted,” 

We did not speak again for a long while. Helmut methodically went through the bite-sized pieces of steak on his plate as I finished the alfredo, which had grown cold in the time it took to sort things out. There was no quiet conversation, no jokes or shared stories in the glow of the lamps overhead. Instead we sat in peaceable silence and breathed in the finality of it all. I was almost grateful for it. I never would have imagined sharing a meal like this with him in all of the years I had known him and loved him. If it was to be the last, and it was, we would savor every moment of each others company. Every moment not spent on my meal was devoted to memorizing the line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes as he did the same for me. 

By the time the waiter came to ask about dessert, I could have written sonnets about his face alone, and by the time he returned with the check, paid discreetly with a 40% tip for his troubles on Helmut’s card, I had committed the sound of his breathing to my mind. I could only hope the memory would last this time.

Realistically, I knew it wouldn’t. 

I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as we approached the front of the restaurant together, pausing awkwardly outside the door as we exited out onto the street. 

“So, this is it,” My hands found the pockets of my coat as I rocked onto the balls of my feet. 

Helmut smiled softly in the lamplight. “Let me walk you home,” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” 

“Says who? I have to follow you either way, my car is parked down the block,” He offered me his arm. 

I took it far quicker than I should have, relishing in the scent of his cologne. Even after all these years he had never switched to another brand, and I refused to admit to anyone else but myself that I was grateful for it. Instead I leaned into his warmth. “Well, it’s only a few blocks anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt,” and with that, we were off. 

The night was cool. Summer had given in to the pull of a lush fall, the temperatures dropping to a comfortable but windy chill when the sun fell below the horizon. The leaves were not yet falling but they’d begun their slow transformation from green into a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens, forming a rustling canopy above the sidewalk that allowed a flash of stars and moon through the foliage every few steps. 

We were not the only pair walking through the streets that night, but if you had asked me about it later I would have said we were the only two people in the whole city, matching each other step for step under the flickering streetlights. Helmut’s crows feet were in full force as he laughed at my terrible jokes, and I couldn’t help but feel warmth rush through my neck and cheeks as he recounted the moment we first met. 

It had been fall then, too. A brief, chance encounter in the streets of Paris was all it was, a night spend with a stranger, until I had seen him again in Sibera, and again in Germany, and again on the Raft, and again, and again, and again, and again…

He had been younger then, much younger, and still raw with grief, but I had loved him even then.

I was so lost in my own memories that I almost missed the stairs up to my apartment, but Helmut paused there, keeping me rooted with him even though the look in his eyes told me he almost kept walking past, hoping to gain one more turn around the block before he had to let me go. He didn't, though. This was the end of the line. 

My arm slipped easily from its place against his own, hand catching briefly on the crook of his elbow. “Walk me to my door?”

His laugh felt almost nervous, a paid mockery of my own earlier reticence. “I don’t think that’s wise,” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman, baron?” 

“I have never claimed that,” For a moment, when he paused, I thought that would be that. I would turn my back, ascend the stairs, and turn around to find he’d shifted back into the shadows from whence he came, but then the moonlight caught on his soft, wet eyes. “But for you, schatz, I try to be,” 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say as we walked up the front steps and into the building. 

It had been so angry last time. I had vomited up every hateful, raging, repressed thought that I had shoved down into my chest over the course of our turbulent time together all at once and left without a second glance. This time, though, it felt wrong to end things without giving him credit for all of the other things, the things I had forgotten in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded us. How could I thank him? How could I tell him every wonderful thing about himself only to close the door in his face a moment later? I spent the whole trip up to my apartment trying to find a way to express even an ounce of what I felt, and then it was far too late. 

We stood there on my novelty doormat, boots settled over the dirty cartoon chickens, hands in our pockets, and breathed in the stale hallway air. 

“Thank you for dinner,” I said. If I shut off my heart and my mind and every other little betraying ache in my bones it was like it had been all those years ago. We were just meeting. This was the end of our very first date. There was a future instead of a past in the time that lay beyond us. 

Helmut averted his eyes from mine. I could tell he was pretending too. “Of course,” 

“I’ll see you again,” I lied, “I mean, it’s inevitable. We’ll end up at Bucky’s place at the same time,” 

“Or run into each other at a busy cafe,” he offered. 

“Exactly! Or our cells will end up next to each other in maximum security prison,” I laughed, but it caught, pathetic, in the back of my throat.  

He took a step back, boots leaving my doorstep. “I look forward to it, whenever it may be,” 

My shaking hands found my keys, an autopilot motion I had done a million times, and the door to my apartment swung open. I could hear Brutus in his kennel, beginning to whine the moment he heard me come home, but I paused there for a moment, one foot in and one foot out. 

“Goodbye, Helmut,” 

“Sleep well, schatz,” 

I stepped inside and locked the door without turning around for a last look. 

My tears came quicker than expected as I took in the room around me. It was the antithesis of my home with Helmut, all whites and beiges and grays from the sparse walls to the lonely couch against the wall. There was one great shock of black, though; a solid footprint on the windowsill. One last souvenir to remember him by. 

I had done the right thing. 

I had to have done the right thing. 

Life with Helmut was hell. It was exciting and lush and romantic and alluring but it was destructive and painful too. It would mean being seen and unseen for the rest of my life, living with the ghosts of those lost in Novi Grad. He would never stop being the man his grief had created. He was just too broken… wasn’t he? 

All at once I knew I had to see him again. This wasn’t going to be the end. There were still so many chances to make it right. 

Before I knew my own feelings, I was undoing the latch and throwing my door open, only to find him there, feet planted solidly on that stupid welcome mat and fist raised to lift the knocker. Our eyes locked. 

We didn’t need words then. 

No, all I needed was his lips on mine and my hands in his hair. It was a need easily rectified. 

He didn’t pull away as I grabbed the edges of his ridiculous fur coat and dragged him in for a kiss, letting the remains of that day’s lipstick smear against his chapped lips as the parted and made way for me. It was like a piece of my puzzle fell back into place, like the thing that had been lying dormant in my empty chest for the past two years had jumped to life and jumped into my throat. The tears weren’t coming anymore, though Helmut’s cheeks felt wet when I guided one of my hands to rest against it, dragging him closer. I needed him urgently. I needed all of it. Every moment I had missed. 

At least one time in my entire tiny, useless life I needed to know him as he had always known me. I had to see him through eyes that would know every atom of him by heart. 

It could have lasted second or hours. I was lost in it; lost in every heartbeat and the messy clack of teeth on teeth as we remembered exactly how our mouths locked into each other. There was no need to breathe. I would happily drown in him if he would let me. Through the passion I distinctly remembered this fervor, the endless need for him. It wasn’t frightening anymore, though. I knew how to walk away. We both did. 

This time I didn’t want to. 

Helmut was the first to pull away. His mouth was wet and red as he panted there, just a breath away from diving in for more, but he pulled away when I advanced again, instead choosing to speak between placing kisses on my cheeks and down my jaw. “I couldn’t let you walk away from me. Not again,” his voice shook as he kissed me, “Does that make me a bad man? Does that mean you can’t love me?” 

I could only breathe a laugh as I pressed my chest to him. No measure of closeness was enough. I needed him to cover every inch of me. “I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried, and I’ve tried,” 

“Please, stop trying,”

With that, he caught me in another kiss. 

“We should probably go inside,” I panted, gesturing towards the apartment with my head and Helmut nodded, maneuvering us over the threshold and into the barren entryway of the home  I’d made without him. It didn’t matter, though. That wasn’t what I was focused on. Instead, my hands were more focused on pulling his coat from his shoulders and discarding it loosely in the direction of the coat rack between fevered kisses. 

The old Helmut would’ve pulled away and make some snarky remark about keeping the place clean. This Helmut, though- my Helmut, as I had selfishly started to refer to him mentally in the past few moments -just dragged me in closer after his arms were freed, letting his hand drift to the small of my back but not even an inch lower.

Suddenly, though, things seemed to cool. The kisses grew shorter, softer. His arms still held me but seemed to loosen their grip. 

“Tell me you want this,” He whispered softly against the shell of my ear, “That you want me,” 

Ah. So that’s what this is. 

“Helmut, of course I do-“ 

“That’s not enough,” his voice was laced with a rare seriousness as he pulled away to look at me properly. His brown eyes glowed a million honeyed colors under the shitty, flickering overhead lighting I should have replaced months ago. They flitted from my swollen mouth to my cheeks to my watery eyes as his hand came up to cup my cheeks again. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake or a bad decision you’ll regret the second we finish,” 

The rest went unsaid. 

(Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me this means something to you, even if it doesn’t mean as much as it does to me. Tell me I won’t wake up alone tomorrow morning. Tell me anything and everything except the cruel reality that neither of us really knows what the future looks like once this is over)

I simply nodded my head, coming in for one closed mouth kiss. “I want this. I want you. Whatever I choose to do next, you’ll be a part of the decision. No more running away,” 

Like a shot, we were off to the races again. 

It was hard to detach our bodies long enough to give Brutus a treat to quiet him down, harder still to lead him to the bedroom and drop his hand long enough to turn on a nearby lamp, but somehow I managed. For all of the small things I’d forgotten about Helmut in the two years we’d spent apart, his bitten nails and the silhouette of his nose and the sound of his labored breathing as he took in my body with something akin to animalistic hunger, it was easy to fall back into the rhythm we’d always found ourselves in intimately. 

His shirt came off first, exposing the soft curve of his stomach. I kissed down from his neck to his chest, letting myself pause on each and every pinkish scar that graced his flesh. I made a mental note to ask him about a few new ones, including a wicked one across his collarbone that still puckered into an inch long divot in his flesh. My fingers followed my mouth, mapping every inch of his flesh. They caught on every soft yielding place he offered, a worship on the altar of his body, dragging his flesh ever so slightly but never enough to leave a scratch or bruise. 

I would not mark him any more than the world already had. It was not my purpose to remold him into my image. Instead I would venerate what he was, what he had become. 

Helmut had put so much effort into changing himself, rebreaking the things that had never healed correctly and setting them right again. I refused to let him break down to splinters again. Not on my watch. 

He shuddered at my attentions. 

“Let me see you?” It was a question, not a demand, and how could I deny him when he asked so nicely? 

I stood up again, relishing in the feeling of his fingers against the hem of my t-shirt, the gentle scratch of nails on skin as he lifted it over my head. When he looked at me, it was like he was looking at the most precious thing in the world. Usually he was so hungry for it that there was never a pause once my shirt was discarded. My bra would be thrown off with it, then my pants, then my underwear, all in such quick succession that I barely distinguished one article from the next in the order of things. This time, though, he paused, hands just inches from my bare flesh. 

“My sweet girl,” he whispered to me like a prayer, a confession, “I don’t think I can hold back much longer,” 

Slowly, deliberately, I stepped forward and pressed my body into his awaiting hands. He squeezed my hips once, gentle, and twice. Then they were roaming up to the clasp on my bra with that usual hunger again, freeing my breasts for his attentions. I don’t exactly recall how he manhandled me on to the bed, I was too busy feeling the hard press of his bulge through his crisp dress slacks. The first thing I was fully cognizant of was his hot breath on my sternum as he hovered over me, still standing but bent at the waist, boxing me in with his knees. 

“So fucking sweet,” he whispered before taking one of my nipples between his lips and laving his tongue over the hardening tip. 

I felt like a live wire. Heat was building everywhere. Dazzling electricity shot through my head and fingers and toes and cunt and gods especially my breasts. They were always my weak spot, and how he knew it, how he knew me. I wanted to thrash against him, to buck and gain his attention where I really needed it, but his body above mine held me fast, keeping me right where he wanted me, vulnerable to him and his specific brand of torture. With a particularly sharp pinch and a well timed suck he had me keening against him, curling into his every move. 

How had I lived without him? It was hard to imagine a night not spend here with Helmut, wherever here was, not that that mattered. I was embarrassingly wet. The slickness had gathered enough that I could feel it on my thighs despite my jeans. When I tried to relieve myself, though, the baron caught my hand, tutting softly. 

I expected to have to ask permission. Soft begs escaped my mouth. I needed him. I had no patience for games. Instead, though, he lifted up off of my chest and smiled, pulling my hand to his lips. “Let me help you, love,” 

There are no words in the human language that could adequately represent the sound that escaped my mouth. I could not even begin to try. It continued even as I lifted my hips to shimmy free from my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, only ceasing when Helmut was on his knees with his face buried in my cunt. I was making different noises then. Loud. Guttural. If I had any mind left at all I would worry what my neighbors thought, to see me out on my doorstep desperately pawing at a man only to hear the noises we were making in tandem now. Thankfully, any sensible thought I had left seemed to fly out the window with Helmut’s first lick to my cunt. 

It was clear that he hadn’t forgotten me, and if he had, the muscle memory was coming back quick. His tongue was deft as it worked its way over my aching nub in a pseudo-figure eight; circling once, twice, and three times before dipping back through my folds. I held him in place this time, though, rocking into his mouth. At some point my hands found their way into his hair. It was so soft between my fingers, so pliable as I pulled against him, desperate for more of him, anything he would good. 

Every time he relented to me. Each sharp jolt was rewarded with a kiss against my thigh or a muttered curse in Sokovian, hot breath teasing my glistening mound. 

He was so giving, so attentive to my every need. He had always been a generous lover, never leaving me wanting for anything, but this felt… different. The way he sucked bruises into my thighs, relenting to each and every sobbing please that escaped my soft lips, was a new and devastating experience. There were no power games left to play, no lording his sexual prowess over me as he brought me slowly closer and closer to the ever distant goalpost, just his mouth on me over and over and over again as he wrung the first orgasm of the night out of me, then the second in short measure, barely ceasing from one to the next.

By the time he decided I’d had my fill, my legs were a trembling mess against his shoulders and my cunt was a sopping mess. 

He grinned a crooked grin at his masterpiece.

“How was that, my love,” 

I could barely catch my breath enough to speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, thrumming a frantic drumbeat even as the room quieted. “So good- really really good, Helmut,” 

Slowly, he rose up from his knees, undoing his belt. “Please say my name again, schatz,” 

“Helmut,” My voice was hushed. Reverent. 

He undid the button at his fly, pulling at the band of his boxers. “Again,” 

It fell from my lips like a prayer. “Helmut,”

His cock bounced free, bobbing as he took a sharp, steadying breath. He placed his hand at the base and squeezed slightly. 

“Again,” 

“Helmut,” 

“Fuck, that’s good,” The trance broke momentarily as I gazed up at him, watching the sweat roll down his forehead in shining rivulets despite the chill in the air. He wiped at them with the back of his free hand and smiled sheepishly. “Scoot back and get comfortable, please. I don’t think I’ll last long,” 

I did as he asked, settling against my pillows on the still-made sheets. “Neither will I,” 

“Where are your condoms?” 

“Bedside drawer, way in the back. I’m on the pill too, so no worries,” 

He moved quickly, grabbing a foil package from the small pile I’d accrued, just in case. 

It felt odd to have him be the one using them. 

There had been a few other men who had been invited here, fewer still that made it to the point that Helmut and I were at now. Every time, though, I hadn’t been able to go through with it, because every time they had finally settled themselves above me, I would close my eyes and, just for a moment, see Helmut in their place. It was unsettling the first time, enough so that I sent the guy home right away. The next time, though, it was more thought provoking than anything. I chalked it up to him being my longest lasting sexual partner and left it at that, but now, watching him roll the condom onto his length and crawl into his position over me, I knew. 

I would never get over him, even if I tried for years. My heart had a space carved out in the shape of his own. No matter how long I stayed away, I would never find something quite like what we had. He was it. This was what people dreamed about. And to think, I had almost let it slip away…

He slid one hand into mine, lacing our fingers together in the gentle lamplight. “Are you ready for me?” 

“More than ready,” My thighs spread as I canted my hips up.

Physically and mentally and every other possible way I needed him. I was prepared. 

So Helmut pumped himself once with his free hand before guiding himself into my wet heat. 

It was impossible to last long once we were finally complete. 

Feeling him inside me was like knowing the truth of the universe. It was comfortable, and thrilling, and so deliciously enough. He filled me well, finding his rhythm as he swore and released my hand to prop himself up more comfortably. We were linked together like the final pieces of a puzzle. I closed my eyes at let myself relish in it. 

There was nothing left to worry over while Helmut was inside of me. All thoughts that weren’t of him were banished. It was something to be cherished, every thrust paired with a whispered confession of love from one of us, a fleeting kiss, a curse, a plea… We laid ourselves bare. I let my legs wrap around his warm, soft hips as he rutted into me, bringing a hand between us to circle my clit once more. Even after everything he refused to leave me behind while he chased his own pleasure. It didn’t take much to send me tumbling over the edge into oblivion. 

As always, Helmut followed me down. 

His thrusts quickened, then stilled as he came to rest upon me, panting and heaving and begging for breath. I didn’t care much. He smelled of cologne and sweat as I buried my face in his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could feel him soften inside of me but I was far too spent to urge him to move.

We only shifted apart when he slipped free of me.

Helmut quickly kissed my forehead and gathered himself up, shuffling to the trash can to discard the used condom and grab a tissue to wipe himself up. I didn’t let myself move an inch. If I moved, would the bliss run away? Would I realize what I’d done? I let myself lay instead, eyes closed, panting in the autumn chill as my lover approached and wiped up our beautiful mess as gently as he could manage. With one last kiss to my thigh, he discarded the rag, opened the window, and crawled back into bed with me. 

The process was indelicate, a lot of awkward shuffling of sticky limbs, but we were settled beneath the blankets soon enough. Helmut stroked his fingers down my arm languidly while kissing the back of my neck. 

I broke the peace between us. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what this means for us,” 

He sighed gently. His breath was soothing and familiar against my shoulder. “That’s not something we have to decide at this very moment,” 

“But I just don’t want you to think this means something… or at least something more than it does? If that makes sense? I don’t know,”

“Schatz, please,” 

“I want to keep my own place, at least for now. I don’t know what that means for when I’ll see you or if we’ll keep doing this,” I gestured vaguely to my nude body beneath the sheets, “or if we’re even a thing anymore, bu-“ 

Helmut reached his arm around us, placing a quieting finger over my lips and another soft kiss against my shoulder. 

“I swear, your mind sounds even louder than mine,” 

“Sorry,” 

“No reason to be,” His hand left my lips, running down to my stomach and pulling me back towards the softness of his chest. “As for your questions, I shall respect your wishes about distance and housing and labels, whatever they may be. That being said, as long as you’re still up for… this, as you put it, I will never deny you, no matter the distance. I would cross oceans for you,” 

A cum-drunk, half-asleep giggle escaped me as he nuzzled in, kissing my ear. 

“Thank you,” 

“No, thank you,” he matched my laughter with his own, “I believe this is what James would call post nut clarity,” 

“Now you ruined it!” I huffed. The faux anger only lasted a moment, though, before I was rolling to face him, cheek pressed to the soft, downy hair of his chest. “I love you, Helmut.” 

“I love you too, sweet girl. Now sleep. I’ll get up and deal with the dog once you’re resting,” 

For the first time in two years, I breathed in the scent of Helmut’s cologne before lapsing into a peaceful sleep.

---------

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into smut in literal years, and it was literally all written within a 12 hour period, so I hope any mistakes weren't enough to take away from your enjoyment. Comments are always appreciated, but never expected. See you on the next authors note!

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

[blackleatherjacketz]

Point of No Return

Baron Helmut Zemo x Original Female Character

Summary: While preparing for a mission where she has to seduce their target, Zemo convinces her to show him how she plans on doing it.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Daniel Bruhl’s Magnetic Essence, Dubious Consent, Manipulation, Sugar Daddy Undertones, Soft Dom Zemo, Roleplay, Oral Sex (Male and Female Receiving), Vaginal Sex, Lingerie, Dresses, Tuxedos, Kissing, Face Holding, Teasing, Hair Pulling, Zemo’s Hands, Eye Contact, Classical Music References, Zemo Possibly Catching Feelings

Word Count: 3.7K

Tags: Thank you to @bullet-prooflove for helping me concoct this universe! @letsby @imadeadpoett @mrsmaxwelllord @genevievedarcygranger​

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“How does it fit?” He doesn’t bother to look at her as she walks into his room wearing the gown he had made especially for her, one he was certain would fit every curve and angle of her body. He takes care to glance over just as she looks away, pretending not to notice how the vibrant color of the cloth complements the olive tones in her skin, accented only by the raven locks that cascade down her shoulders.

“Well enough, I guess.” She lifts her arms up, defeated by the fact that her chromosomes drew her the short straw in the group tonight.

She had dressed up a handful of times before; weddings, parties and funerals all placing her in dresses of varying lengths throughout her lifetime, but none of them were quite like this. None of them had clung so tightly to her skin, restricted her movement or made her feel so incredibly vulnerable that she questioned her ability to carry out her skill set in the presence of her colleagues… and him.

The baron looks up at her as she slowly turns around in front of him, noticing that the zipper on the back of her dress is still only halfway up. “You’re not zipped all the way.”

“What?” She turns to each side to get a better view of the back of her dress, bending her arms backward in a failed attempt to get a grip on the elusive zipper, splaying her fingers out across the fabric.

“Here,” he presses his lips together and walks toward her, motioning for her to turn around, “Allow me.”

She walks over to the full sized mirror to get a better look at herself, making an effort to grab hold of her dress as if to show him that she can do it herself. She’ll be damned if she actually needs a man to help her to get into this thing, even if he is the one who paid for it. And the flat they’re currently staying in. And their mode of transportation. And all their meals. And everything else.

Damnit.

She huffs before letting go of the silky cloth, reluctantly letting him take his place behind her. Although she had thought about it a few times before, she had never let the baron get this close to her, heeding her partners’ warnings of his hidden agendas and dual nature. Even with the heels she has on he still towers over her, the top of her head barely meeting his eyeline as they both look straight forward into the mirror. It’s almost as if they’re posing for a formal portrait, a snapshot of this moment in time portraying them as an opulent couple who had been together for years, his hand finding a sudden familiarity on her lower back.

“It suits you,” he whispers into her ear, tracing his way down her shoulder blade with his opposite hand.

“Does it?” She keeps her eyes on their reflection in the mirror, hoping that her makeup is heavy enough to hide the flushing of her cheeks as his fingers send a shiver down her spine. She’s supposed to be getting into character, one who is single and ready to mingle with their target long enough for Sam and Bucky to get the information they need; not one who can’t get over the intoxicating scent of her benefactor’s cologne.

“You don’t think so?” He takes his time feathering his fingertips over her silken strap as it curves its way into the unfastened bodice. He follows it down the inner arch of her back, noticing the absence of black lace or any other delicate fabric underneath. “You’re not wearing the lingerie I set out for you.”

“It was too bulky, didn’t look right.” She pauses as he excites the skin on her lower back, sparking a hint of heat into her core. “It’s just been a while since I’ve worn a dress, is all,” she starts to explain herself, feeling his breath warm against her hairline as his lips brush the shell of her ear.

Good God, why does he have to be so fucking handsome?

“You should wear them more often.” He reaches the tiny metal zipper at the base of her spine and slowly pulls it upward before laying it down flush against the material of her bodice. “You’re a vision in red, but every piece of your costume serves a purpose, tells a part of the story.” He takes a breath, pausing before continuing on, “You’re going to have to do more than just look the part tonight.”

“I know that,” she says, more to herself than to him as she watches his hand smooth its way over her hip in the mirror. She holds her breath as he guides it up her belly, inhaling as it curves over her breast and touches the bare skin on her chest.

“Do you?” He reaches her chin with the pads of his fingers, turning her face away from the mirror. “You’re going to have to distract him.” He tilts her chin up so that she has no other choice but to look into the dark caramel of his eyes. “You’re going to have to seduce him.”

“I can do that.” Her sentence wavers as it leaves her lips, a pathetic whisper of a promise as he drags his fingers off of her face.

“Can you?” He lets go of her completely, taking a step back before turning on his heel. “Sam seems to have a lot of confidence in your abilities, but I have my doubts.”

“Really?” She watches him walk away from her, his musk still lingering on her skin as he casually makes his way over to the vanity. “Is that why you can’t stop touching me?” She does her best to sound level headed as she challenges him, her body already yearning for his touch. “Your doubts?”

“My attraction to you isn’t in question here.” He states the obvious so matter-of-factly that it takes her by surprise, keeping any rebuttal she may have prepared still in her throat. “Your ability to stand out from the dozens of other European socialites is. And we want him… need him to do more than just touch you.”

“I can’t apologize enough for being an American,” she puts her hands on her hips, still flustered by his flippancy, “But I can do a British accent if you want.”

“No.” He puts a hand up to stop her before letting it fall to his side. “I want you to be as believable as possible.”

“Okay, then I just won’t talk as much.” She takes a deep breath. “That usually works on men of any social class, they all love the sound of their own voice.”

“Is that so?” He scoffs, leaning his back against the vanity. “If you’re so confident in your skills, then why don’t you show me what you plan on doing.”

Her heart nearly stops as it’s beating, its last contraction a loud and heavy thump in her chest as she swallows the lump in her throat. If he wanted her so badly, then why didn’t he just keep touching her? Why didn’t he take the chance to kiss her when his lips were so close to her mouth only moments ago? Why pull away at all? Maybe he is just as manipulative as Sam had warned her about.

“Excuse me?” She checks, her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline as his lips curl into a smirk.

He can’t be serious, can he?

He merely nods with a sound confidence that only the baron of Sokovia could have. “I’d like to see how you’re going to keep his attention. The lives of dozens of people depend on it.”

“Well,” she starts, eager to play his game. They have a few hours to kill before the party starts, and she can’t think of any better way to fill each passing minute than to get his hands back on her body. “I’ll walk by him and… I’ll give him the look.” She’s never really had to think through what she’s done in the past to get a man’s attention. It always just seemed to happen to her without her really trying.

“The look?” He stands up straight, tilting his head to get a better grasp of the idea.

“You know…” she turns to the side and glances at him, lashes batting with feigned desire. “The look.”

“And?”

“And?” She laughs, exacerbated. “And I’ll look away then wait for him to approach me.” She looks up to see an unamused look on his face, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I’ll laugh at his jokes, touch his arm, touch my neck, things like that.”

“And if he doesn’t have any jokes for you to laugh at? What then?” He raises his eyebrows scoldingly, his tone dripping with acid. “Julian isn’t nearly as kind or as generous as I am, and it’s imperative that you distract him tonight. We can’t count solely on the luck you’ve had with men in the past.”

“What makes you think I’ve had any luck in the past?” She decides to commit to the bit wholeheartedly now, wondering what it will take to bring that sensual side of the baron back out to play. She steps toward him in her heels, careful not to make too much noise in them as she corners him against the dresser.

“Women like you usually haven’t had to seduce anyone before.” He inhales as she gets closer, pressing his back against the vanity as the different colored liquids sway to and fro inside their delicate glass bottles.

“Women like me?” She smiles and touches the hem of his waistcoat, a timeless piece he undoubtedly kept in storage from a lifetime ago. “What do you know about women like me?” She slides her fingers up his chest, following the design of his tuxedo to the fastened collar of his dress shirt.

“I know enough.” His words barely blow a few stray strands of hair away from her face, their tone shaking just a little at the end.

“Really?” She stands up even higher on her tiptoes, the bottom of her heels leaving the ground as she smoothes her hand beneath his tuxedo jacket. “You seem so confident in your skills.” She uses his own line against him, whispering her taunt against his ear as she slides her hand up the base of his neck. “But your years behind bars would prove that you’re a little out of practice.” She smiles against his skin as his palms warm her waist.

“One would venture to say that it’s as easy as pedaling a bicycle.” His fingers find the zipper they spent so much time and effort pulling up just moments before, holding it delicately between his thumb and forefinger. “A muscle memory, if you will.” He tugs it slowly down her backside, loosening her bodice along with the straps around her shoulders.

“Well, I’ve always heard that practice makes perfect.” She presses her fingers into his hairline, forcing him to look down at her as she brings her other hand up to mirror its movements. She can smell his cologne even deeper at this proximity, his raging pulse enriching the notes of cedar wood and patchouli into her nostrils as she massages his scalp. It’s different than anything else she’s ever smelled before, a perfect signature scent for a man unlike anyone else she’s ever met before.

She continues to card her fingers through his hair as she gazes upon him, the chestnut hues in his irises making way for expanding pupils as they dart nervously over her features. She can feel his chest as it rises against hers, expanding with each prolonged inhalation as his heart beats wildly inside. He must be just as rapt as she is with the scent he dabbed onto her wrists earlier, a rich floral perfume with a hint of orange that is ‘fit for a queen’, if she remembers his words correctly. She presses her thumbs into his temples before sliding them down his cheeks to hold his face merely millimeters away from her own.

“Don’t you want to be perfect?” She parts her lips and feathers them over his, teasing the idea of a kiss that’s only just out of reach.

“More than anything.” He nods as he takes her in, his body giving him away as his nose gently nudges into hers. He opens his mouth and kisses her, tasting the savory combination of her lips and tongue as he slides his hands up the muscles of her exposed back. He pulls her in close, finally exhaling into her as he lets his guard down for the very first time in over a decade. He wants to relish every inch of her, to memorize how she feels as she trembles against him, but he must stay on track.

“Remove my jacket,” he tells her, smoothing his palms across her neck and shoulders before letting his arms fall to his side.

She nods and presses her hands over his chest, sliding her fingers beneath the thick black fabric of his coat. She takes her time sliding it off of his arms, carefully folding it in half before draping it over the back of the chair next to the bed.

“Now my tie.” His words are cold against the warmth of her cheek as she unfastens his off-white bow tie. “You’re doing well, darling, but I’m going to need you to look up at me with those eyes while you undress me.” He lifts her chin with a curled finger beneath it, holding himself back from tugging on her bottom lip with his thumb. “Let him know how badly you want it.” He tries to circle back to his original plan by taking his own needs and desires out of the situation, but it’s obvious that he’s already dipped his toe into the shoreline of the point of no return.

“Okay.” She finishes pulling his tie out of his collar, the fancy bow now reduced to a single flat piece of cloth as she makes quick work of unbuttoning his vest and shirt between intentional stolen glances.

With his clothes off he’s absolutely beautiful, his broad chest and trim figure nothing how she imagined it would be, but somehow that much more alluring to her. Dark hair scatters its way across his chest, mixing in with a constellation of moles down his belly and into his pants that seem to be growing tighter in between his thighs, proving the effectiveness of her skills.

“Now get out of that dress and onto the bed.” His order ties a knot into her stomach, the authoritative tone of his voice pulling on her muscles as his callous words do more for her libido than she cares to admit. She should probably unpack the origin of that gut reaction when she gets a chance, but there’s a time and place for all of that.

She turns around and unzips the rest of her gown, casually sliding it off her shoulders with ease as she steps out of her heels. She takes a moment to look back at him with her practiced stare, catching him with a hungry look in his eye as she follows his instructions. She only smirks before looking away again, stepping out of the gown and over to the king sized bed in her bare feet. She hears him undress his bottom half on his own, the sound of him undoing his belt buckle and pants zipper echoing loudly in this tiny little bedroom as she climbs up onto the freshly made bed.

She takes her time turning over onto her back, spreading her legs in full display as he finally approaches her, now just as naked as she is. All of the sudden he isn’t this manipulative mastermind who lied, cheated and killed his way to revenge. He isn’t an escaped felon, a criminal or an enemy of the state. He isn’t even a baron, her benefactor, or the one hope to get the information she needs for this mission.

He’s just a man.

She sits up and reaches out to him, wrapping her fingers around his wrist before bringing his hand to her breast. She waits for him to squeeze it before looking up at him just like he’s told her to, letting her eyes fill up with desire as he grows right in front of her face. “Still doubting my skills, Baron?” She chides, opening her mouth to lick his tip.

“No.” He takes a deep breath as she tastes him, slowly taking more of him into her mouth as her perfect lips wrap around his cock. “Not at all.” He runs his other hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear as she opens the back of her throat to take him in completely. He lets his eyelids fall down as her lips reach his pelvis, tugging on her hair so that her tongue encases his shaft as she sucks her way back up. He guides her back down again, repeating the motion over and over as he nearly gets lost in how good her mouth feels as it glides over his throbbing member. He can’t get over how the warmth of her lips and the sensation of her tongue are far superior than that of his hand slick with spit in the cool recesses of his prison cell.

He also can’t get over the fact that he’s actually here, a conditionally free man who gets to enjoy a woman so utterly gorgeous as she does nearly anything that he asks…. a real, tangible woman. She looks so beautiful like this, eyes wide as she nearly chokes on his girth, saliva dripping down the corners of her mouth. He could finish like this in a matter of minutes if he wanted to, his hand in her hair as she swallows his release; leaving Sam and James none the wiser to their current activities, but he wants something more. He wants to know what she feels like from the inside, how the warmth of her cunt compares to the warmth of her mouth as her features contort with the pleasure he’s so ready to give her.

He pulls her off of him and loosens his grip on her hair, smoothing it out as he memorizes every curve of her face before leaning down to kiss her. He can feel himself walking straight into the depth of his desires, subconsciously crossing that line between motivation and need, between restraint and reckless abandon. At this point he doesn’t care what they’re supposed to be doing or how he’s supposed to be acting, all he can bring himself to care about is how he can taste himself on her lips as he presses his knees into the mattress.

He pushes her onto her back and climbs on top of her, kissing his way up her legs before tasting the moisture between her thighs, savoring the delicacy of her tangy flavor with muffled moans. He feels her fingers weave their way into his hair as she writhes beneath him, groaning as he laps her up until those groans increase in pitch, climbing up the octave scale one note at a time. It’s as if she’s singing her very own aria, telling the story of her pleasure to the centuries-old walls as he greedily dines on her flesh.

He grabs onto her wrists as the twitching of her hips becomes more sporadic, holding them down at her sides as that inner music moves its way through her. It steals her breath, turning that consistent vibrato in her lungs to a stifled staccato as her flavor grows sweeter beneath his tongue. It’s the most divine thing he’s ever heard in his life, each note sticking out in his memory forever as he kisses his way up her pelvis and chest, trying his best not to suck a few bruises into the delicate skin of her neck.

He releases his grip on her wrists, lifting her thighs around his waist as she nods for him to continue, pushing that staccato deep inside of her. He watches her mouth fall open as he stretches her out, leaning down to kiss her lips as he takes his turn adding his own groans to their proper duet. He takes advantage of the freedom of these walls, moaning into her as she envelops him with her velvety warmth, bringing him even closer to the brink.

He grabs onto her jaw as he rocks into her, gradually picking up the pace as their hearts provide the drum beat to their chaotic song of groans and grunts. He can’t help but bury his face in her shoulder to soften his fervor, tasting the salt of her skin as she reaches another octave while he pushes inside at a brand new angle.

“You feel so good,” she barely whispers, crossing her legs behind his back to keep him there. “Oh my God, Zemo!” She wraps her arms around his back in a similar fashion, pulling him in even closer as their steady collection of notes build upon each other, one right after the other with each rhythmic thrust of his hips until they both reach the height of their crescendo.

He cries out against her shoulder as the pleasure washes over him, releasing his bliss inside her walls in irregular spurts as he merges his body with hers, both of them vibrating in rhythm together. He kisses his way up her neck and jawline, still holding her face in his hand as he kisses her lips and cheeks. He pulls back, opening his mouth as if to say something mean or witty, to reinstate the power dynamics of their relationship, but the ecstasy wreaking havoc on his nervous system won’t let that happen. Instead he only kisses her again, soft and gentle as he rests his forehead against hers while he allows himself to forget everything that’s happened except for this very moment. He allows himself another scene of romance after their passionate duet, knowing full well that it can only last as long as it takes for the curtain to fall and the next act to begin.

#baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #daniel brühl #Helmut Zemo #Helmut Zemo Fan Fiction #Daniel bruhl #the falcon and the winter soldier

[addict-rat]

Night Ties

Summary: You were a very famous hunter monsters, one day you decide to go after a famous vampier, but he was very aware of that and he change all your life.

Paring: Helmut Zemo Vampire x F!Reader Human

Words count: 3595 words

Warnings: +18 explicit, mention of blood, poor written smut, p in v, spanks, unprotected sex, bitting, ropes, bondage, desk sex, a little CNC, bondage. fingering, dominant/submissive.

Author’s note: Holas, I was writting this long ago, but I kinda forget when I get obsses with Ch.ai and all that, but here it is, I might be writting more of Zemo in the future. Please feel free to write me for any mistake I made or any suggestion.

You had begun to make a name for yourself within the small towns that were frightened by all those over-natural beings. It was many of those people that lived dominated by supernatural beings, whether they were werewolves, witches, vampires, etc. However, among the people they were more feared and dominated by vampires and werewolves.

It was for that reason that you began to gain popularity, you were known as part of the good cause dedicated to killing or hunting such beings. Not only were you doing that, but they were very few, not many survived them, and for that very reason it was that very few wanted to take their lives to kill a few of them. The few people who did so had a reason to simply want to get rid of them.

You did it for revenge, your mother had been killed by one of them, all the people you lived in had been attacked by werewolves, but it was not them who killed your mother, you had managed to flee before they saw them. Deep in the woods when they thought the werewolves could no longer find them, they stayed for a moment near a river to grab strength and find safety, yet their mother heard noises in the distance, afraid that something might happen to you, I took her to a small cave near the river, told her to rest there and come out until there was sunlight. With the ingenuity of a child, he was obvious and did what I ask, when the light came out he called his mother without any answer from her, came out of the small cave, I looked for her by the gunmen until he found her pale and lifeless body.

She wasn’t looking to find the killers who killed her mother, because she knew she’d never find him, she knew it wasn’t human, what killed her, she knew it was what killed her, but again she wasn’t looking for her killer to never happen to anyone else. He was aware that he could not kill each of them, but with his perseverance and courage he could perhaps make more people unite and decide to end the dominance of these beings.

You had come to a small town where it was dominated by vampires, especially a special one. You knew how to deal with vampires, you’d learned from your group, they’d taught you their weaknesses especially. You could say that you were a little popular not only among humans but also within these "monsters", they had divided to hunt these vampires, it was expected that the majority lived in mansions or even castles, were arrogant and presumed most of them, but they were also intelligent, manipulative and persuasive.

You had decided to go ahead, you already had experience you did not believe that something could go wrong, so you had made a plan to get into that castle, which was simple, it was not like vampires had bodyguards or anything. They didn’t watch the whole castle, so you looked for a room that nobody had set foot in many years ago.

That’s how you ended up like this now, kneeling, your hands tied on a short chain that was stuck on the floor. You heard a few steps and saw a man dressed elegantly, his hair well-groomed. —What a foolish, hunter— he sneered, his voice echoing throughout the chamber. —I’m surprised you made it this far. You must be very brave or very dumb— You only stare at him as if you look could kill him. —Don't look at me like that, darling. Who are you to judge me? You are the one trespassing on my home. I could kill you right now for your insolence, if I so desired. But I feel... merciful— He say getting closer to him, in your position you have to look up to him, feeling like so insignificant in that position. —I don't know if you are brave or foolish, or just a bit of both— He was now very close to you, you feel his hand touching your cheek —You intrigue me.—

That took you for surprised other vampires they have just taken all your blood of your body and leave you completely drain. —How can I intrigue you? — Your voice sounds almost sarcastic, but there was confusion there. —Oh, little one, you’re so much more than “just a human”— He leans down and run a finger along your face, gently stroking your chin and jawline. —You have hunted my kind… Even I don’t really care about those ones, is really fascinating to see someone like you murdered that kind of vampires— He takes your chin tilting up so you can his eyes, his crimson red eyes, you could not deny that I cause you to send a chill in your spine. —But that doesn’t take the fact you’re very foolish to come to my home and try to kill me… You’re here not just by coincidence, I bring you here you alone… Ever since I found out about your existence, which wasn’t a year ago, I’ve been watching every step you take, every decision you make, piqued my curiosity, my dear… Of course I had to bring you here with me.—You feel his fingers caressing your chin as he doesn’t let you go, the two of them staring. —M-my friends… They know I’ll come here, they’ll get worried and they’ll come here to help me— Your voice trying sound convinced that they will come to rescue you. —Yes, they certainly would come here and try to rescue you… But let me ask you a question... Do you know how many hunters have entered my domain? How many have existed?… Like I told you, you’re here because I want you to be here alone, I know where your friends are, and I know who are with them, I can make your friends get killed right now, but I will not do that yet…—He says in a threatening voice —B-but there are a lot of people that know me… Th-they will get worried… And they know I’m here— You say with a desperation tone —Hmmm... I'm sure there are many that know you, yes. But what will they do about it, hmm? Come to my domain? The place where hunters never return from? I admire your courage, my love, but I do not think your "friends" are going to come rescue you... And talking about your friends, I know you love them because you see a family in them.— Your eyes get worried and surprised —What if we make a deal… You have two options, you can stay here and we both wait for your friends and I killed them one by one, slowly and painfully in front of you… Or you can save them by submitting to me and save them, but you have to behave or there will be punishments for you for your bad behavior… You’ll have to write a letter to your friends saying that you retired from vampire hunting, that you found love and now you’ll dedicate yourself to staying with him and pleasing him in all his spades… Now take your decision, but we don’t have all day, darling so you better hurry up— You couldn’t believe that not only he have trapped you, now you have to submit to him to save your friends, he’s using them to get you, and he’s achieved it. You don’t have any option. You regret coming alone and not waiting for others to accompany you.

He kneels before you, his head moves to your neck as you can feel his breath, he lift a trail of kiss on the side of your neck —Frist I want a little bite, I want to taste your sweet blood— his teeth and fangs brush in your neck, you can feel the sharp of his fangs on your neck, then you feel how his fangs they break through your skin, you bite your lip trying to not make any noise, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of the sound of your pain. He sucks your blood for a few minutes, you start looking dark circles as you feel more weak until you close your eyes and you remain unconscious.

When you wake up, you were laying on the ground, your hands remain tied, you tried to sit down but your body was so weak, you didn´t know how long you were there locked. You don’t have any other option, so you have to access his deal. He comes back after some time. —Did you take your decision?— He looks down at you, looking deep at your eyes, you only could nod —I’ll submit to you— Your eyes look down as you say that, he smiles at your choice, he kneels and take your chin looking at your eyes. —Good girl. I will untie you, I know you’re weak so you can’t attack me, even if you try you only have your hands to try it, darling.— He takes the handcuffs in your wrists, you don’t even try to do anything, he lifts you up in his shoulder, your tired eyes didn’t even look the way he is taking you, until you feel the soft mattress of the bed, after a few minutes you fall asleep.

You couldn’t believe after years of hunting and killing vampires you end up cleaning the castle of a vampire. You were walking in a corridor and open one of the rooms, you look around and see there were black curtains on the wall, that’s when you notice it wasn’t a wall is a window, you open the curtain and you realize it wasn’t evening yet, you calculated around 4 or 5 pm, that means the sun was still up. You haven’t noticed the time until right now, and after Zemo wasn’t around, you could escape you have a few hours before the sun sets.

You didn’t take too much to find a door that leads to the yard, and for your luck it wasn’t locked. You open the door and go out, you see your surroundings and walk through the yard, it didn’t take you long to arrive in the forest that surrounded the castle, you walk with joy to the forest, without noticing there were two deep eyes looking you walk in the forest.

One of Zemo’s butler have notified about your “escape”. —My Lord, the lady has run away to the forest alone, I think she’s trying to escape, but I don’t think she might go too far after the sun sets… I know the forest is very tricky for someone doesn’t know it— Of course Zemo knows the forest like the palm of his hand.

Zemo looks up at the butler with a sharp look. —Very good, I'll take care of it.— He says, as he stands up from his desk. —Thank you for the information.— Once the butler leaves, Zemo smiles slightly to himself. —Run away, have you, my love? So eager for danger, eh?— He thinks for himself looking at the window of his room.

When the sun went down, Zemo went out to look for you soon enough to find you, you were lost and your solution was to climb a tree to the top and see from above, which clearly did not work and only served to stay trapped in one of the branches, you couldn’t get off and you probably stayed there for a few minutes until I found you —Do you know what a stubborn and foolish creature you truly are, my love? — He gets close to you, but he did nothing to help you. —Can you help me please, sir? — You didn’t have any other option but plead for his help. His cold, dark eyes look down at you. —Why should I help you? You were so eager to leave. To run away. To defy me. And yet now, when you are caught, you beg me for help?— You weren’t in a position to act up and try to get the worst out of him —Don't worry dear, I already have an idea of what to do with you…– You watch him walk away, he didn't come back after some minutes, you were scared and cold, you couldn't see anything in the darkness of the night.—

Of course, he leave you in the damn tree for a few hours and then one of his servants brings you back to your room. You wake up in your bed, one of the servants enters after some minutes to your room, he was very nice to you, he serves you food and make sure you weren’t hurt last night. Until he mention that Zemo wanted to see you in his room after you have eaten, your face goes pale you know the reason why he wanted to see you.

You finish your food and get dressed before to go to Zemo’s room, with a soft knock at the door you make your presence noticeable to him, you heard him talk in the inside of the room, you open the door and Zemo look up to you to meet your gaze. –Do you want to see me, sir? – You asked when you enter into the room –Yes come here, darling– You obey and stand closer to him, he stands up from his chair behind the desk –So, darling… You have a bad behaviour last night, and you know the consequences of your bad behaviour– He moves behind you while he talks, you softly nod when he finishes, feeling his hands on your hips caressing slowly you feel your cheeks getting hot, you couldn't help but bite your lip when you feel his lips brushing your neck, leaving light kisses, You bite your lip as he moves closer to that sensitive spot on your neck, his kisses getting more longer as he was close to that sensitive spot, you almost moan when you know he was about to kiss you there but instead he pats your hips lightly and pull away slightly. –This is a punishment, my dear. I know you're enjoying this and maybe you get a little more if you behave after your punishment… Now bend over the desk. – He says in a commanding tone, you didn't hesitate and do it, one of his hands move to tease your legs, his fingers brushing your thighs lifting slowly the hem of your dress, your face now red for the situation, he saw the way you press your thighs together, his fingers move to pull down your panties slowly until the small fabric falls on the floor.

—Such a pretty thing… See how obedient you can be— You bite your lip when his hand starts to caress your ass cheek, in the unexpected moment he slaps your ass a little to hard to make you moan, Zemo smirk when he gets a reaction from you. You heard one of the drawers open, you couldn’t see what is going on, you just wait impatiently. Then you feel his hands covered in the gloves of leather caressing your thighs –Oh darling we gonna have so much fun– he leans closer to you in a soft whisper, his hot breath against your ear, as you feel his grown erection inside your ass —I want you to count this one, I want you to count 20 and then I’ll stop, but if you don't say it loudly and right I’m gonna start again. — He pulls away and his hand caresses your ass cheek with the glove leather then again he slaps your ass, the leather makes your soft skin sting —O-one… — a soft moan come out of your mouth.

The slaps get even harder when the number gets higher, making you more difficult to count right —I didn't hear you right, sweetheart he has to start again… — You were for the 17 slap after start over 3 times, his slaps get harder every time you make him repeat.

After several times, you finally reach to 20, you couldn’t believe how much your ass sting and hurt, you didn't have to look to see how red it was, as you couldn't believe how wet your inner thighs and folds were, you don't want to admit how turn it on you have get when he spanks you. Zemo look at you with satisfaction, he leans closer to you, a soft moan leaves your lips when you feel the rough fabric of leather caressing your inner thighs —Such a good girl… Already so wet for me, that was supposed to be a punishment not for you to enjoy— He chuckled softly, his hands moving to your wet folds, a soft moan leaves your lips as you feel his finger teasing your folds to your clit making slow circles, making you squirm under him, with a warning he push two of his fingers deep inside of you the leather glove makes his finger more thick, he moves his hands in a slow pace, he was enjoying the way you squirm under him, your little whimpers and moans. —You're so responsive— he murmurs, his voice dark and seductive. —I can feel every pulse, every quiver. You belong to me now, don't you? — His voice possessive close to your ear in a whisper —Y-yes, I’m yours… — You whine, you were so close to your orgasm. —That's what I want to hear— he says, pushing another digit inside you. —You're mine and you'll do as I say. — His fingers thrust into you in a faster pace, filling you up completely.

—You’ll cum when I say you can— With that he continues to finger you, his other hand moves closer to your clit, his fingers start rubbing that sensitive nub. Your walls squeezing his fingers as you were trying to not cum in his hand, not until he tells you that you can. You squirm and beg for him to let you come.

—Cum for me, sweetheart… Cum around my fingers. — And you did, you cum around his fingers with a loud cry, he continue milking your organs moving his fingers in and out while he continues rubbing your clit. He stops when you finally finish your orgasm, he withdraw his fingers slowly, a soft whine comes out of your mouth.

You close your eyes for a few seconds trying to get your breath –Don’t fall asleep already, sweetheart… I'm not close to finish with you. – You try to turn to look at him when you feel the tip of his cock on your swollen folds, he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pushed into you, filling you up with his length. You only could moan loudly and squirm under him. Your tightness around him felt incredible as he began to thrust slowly, taking his time to stretch you out. —So tight and warm for me… — His lips curled into a smile as he felt your pussy clench around his cock. He increased his pace, thrusting harder and faster. The sounds of their bodies slapping together filled the room, punctuated by your moans and gasps of pleasure. You don't want to admit it, but he was making you feel the pleasure you never though you could get. Zemo moves to kiss your neck and shoulders as he continues thrusting in you in a rough pace, his grip on your hips was strong, that's gonna leave you bruises the next day. You cry louder when you feel his fangs break the skin in your shoulder, taking your blood. —So sweet and all mine— he whisper on your ear after take some blood of your body, his hand move to your clit, he moan when he feel your inner walls clenching around his cock, he pick more faster and rougher the pace, you can feel the tip of his cock hitting om your cervix, making you squirm under him, you didn't even think straight in that moment he was fucking you deep and senses that you only moan and whimper, you have lost the count of how many times he had make you cum.

Seeing you all ruin for the pleasure just arouse more Zemo, he grabs your face making you to face him and he takes you in a messy kiss, with a deep thrust his cum inside of you filling you up with his warm seed.

Zemo stays inside of you for a few seconds as he catches his breath, you were laying on his desk, blushing and panting, he pulls out of you, his seed come out of your swollen pussy, dripping on your thighs and floor, your red ass checks just give him the imagination of you that he wants —What a messy girl you are, What you're “fans” will think of you? Their little hunter here on my desk all marked by me, you don't want they find out the truth about you? That you enjoy being my little maid and warm my bed. Don't worry, my love that's not gonna happen, because you're mine and you will stay here by my side—

You try to run away a few more times, but the punishment gets even worse with the time that you start to get used to stay around him, you even start to crave for his touch and his sweet words, you fall in love with him, and now you were tied to him for the rest of your life.

#fanfic #zemo x y/n #baron zemo x reader smut #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo #marvel #smut #zemo x you smut #zemo x reader smut #baron zemo #female reader #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel brühl #vampire #vampire zemo #dark!fic #dark!zemo #dark!helmut zemo x reader

[undercoverpena]

Interesting (ii)

interesting (i)

Baron/Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader | 1.5k | Smut, you’re warned — not promising it’s the best, but I’m rusty with smut.

[gif not mine]

+++++++++++++

You should leave the room.

Cheeks warm, thighs pressing together. All signs you shouldn’t have even replied. Should have kept your mouth shut.

But you’ve already gone too far.

You could argue you did that when you kissed him to appease Selby. Not needing to sell it as well as you did, not needing to slide your tongue into his mouth or let his hands wander, scorching your skin.

The same way his eyes are right now. Them burning into you, making your throat dry, desperately needing to slide your thighs together because… you want him.

You want him to rip your clothes from you, to leave marks on your skin. You want him to pull on your hair and throw you over his shoulder and take you to his room.

Thoughts you shouldn’t have about the man you helped break out of prison. Thoughts that shouldn’t be summoned about a man who was dangerous.

And yet, you didn’t fear him. Not even a little bit.

You wonder if he expects you to leave, to shout at him.

A better version of you would.

An even better version wouldn’t have said anything, to begin with. You’d have taken the drink and then excused yourself.

Not give into your lust. Because that’s all this was. Lust.

He’s a criminal—a man who was able to impersonate your friend, who blew up a building. Whether spurred by loss and grief or not, he still did it.

It’s why you should leave the room.

Bury your face into your pillow and get yourself off. Not hope he’ll do it for you. Because you shouldn’t let him touch you.

“It’s not too late to run from me,” he says, wringing his hands in front of you.

Somehow, it just makes you want him more.

The challenge. The confidence. The fact it’s frowned upon.

Not helped by the fact he keeps staring at you. Likely undressing you, his words running through your mind.

It’s then you stand up.

Mustering some confidence. He doesn’t move when you stand up. Not even when you stop in front of him. He doesn’t reach for you, giving you a land chance to bow out, to walk away.

You don’t take it.

Instead sliding the hem of your skirt up with your fingers, sliding a thigh either side of his. Watching his eyes flash, him not taking them from your face as his lips twitch.

The warmth of his palm against your thighs almost makes you rock your hips. His aftershave, musky, and wooden, hits your nose as a strand of hair falls over his forehead hearing him clear his throat.

“It’s not too late to ask me to leave…” you tease, tracing your bottom lip with your teeth. “If you don’t think this will be interesting…”

He smirks, ever so slightly as his finger slides up to your hip.

“I was interested the moment my eyes landed on you.”

Your lips curl, eyes flicking from his lips to his eyes, watching him do the same as your body moves closer.

“Such a charmer,” you whisper.

Your hand finding the back of his head, nails digging into his hair as your mouth latches onto his.

He tastes like a mix of sugar and whisky, a muffled vibration as he groans fuck against your lips. You don’t fight it when he pulls you closer by your hip, desperately wishing his other hand slid further north on your thigh.

Your stomach knotting, warmth and need spreading through you. Suddenly desperate for friction.

Even more so as your body inches closer to him until there’s no space between the two of you.

The fur of his coat tickling your skin.

Practically feeling his heart thundering against yours as you lose yourself in him.

You welcome the way his mouth nips at the skin under your jaw, sliding his tongue up to the spot under your ear as you roll your hips.

For someone who has been locked up, and as someone who didn’t know you, he knew you. Letting you rock ever so slightly, his hand urging you to as you feel the outline of his arousal through his slacks.

And you let a whimper escape, just as both his hands snap to your hips, halting your movements. A stern look meeting yours, one you were prepared to protest.

Until he moves you.

Flipping you so your spine is against the sofa, hovering over you. For a second, you’re disorientated. Feeling your own lips remain parted, eyes staring up at him, frozen. Rendered useless as his eyes darken as he drinks you in.

“I should say,” he says in a low growl, “If there’s a likeliness that you’ll regret this, I implore you to tell me to stop now, Liebling.”

Watching his eyes trace your face, his finger sliding over your cheek, dragging it until it’s tugging on the bottom of your lip.

Your tongue peeks out, circling the tip of it.

Hoping it’s enough of a sign. A silent plea for him not to stop as he inhales, before clearing his throat.

“You’ve piqued my interest, Zemo. I need to know if you’re all talk.”

He laughs.

Low. Dark. One which makes you wet as he stares at you hungrily. As if he’s been hiding his thoughts from you until now.

“I assure you I’m not.”

You arch your brow, ready to speak. But, he slides two fingers in your mouth, pinning your tongue down.

“Shh,” he whispers darkly, “You’ll need your voice, Liebling. To beg me. To moan my name.”

Your cocky response falls from your mind. Mouth parting in surprise.

“Because I’m not going to stop until you’re calling me Helmut… and I suspect,” he continues in the same tone, pulling his fingers back, “It’ll take me making you come at least three times before you’ll even consider calling me anything other than the enemy.”

Fuck.

Almost choking on your own breath as his lips slide into a smirk.

And you guess he thinks he’s won. All set to reconnect his lips back to yours.

But, you smirk, before adding, “I hope you fuck as much as you talk.”

He smirks, but less cocky.

And then he snaps—his mouth against yours, groaning as he pulls your hips towards him. The two of you kissing with an intensity you imagine both of you have been running from, so much so, you groan against this lips.

Your nails claw through his hair, his hand snaking in between the two of you, making your mouth fall open as he slides his mouth down your neck. The feel of his touch in two places making you whimper.

Because you’re pinned, his body keeping you in place. Not able to move, or shift, to gain the upper hand.

And then he slides his fingers over your underwear, silently meeting your eyes, checking for permission—one you quickly give.

Your hand finds his shoulder as he slides his fingers inside your damp, silk underwear. His lips sliding into a devious smirk, ghosting his touch over you until you’re about to plead—to beg. Before he slides his fingers inside of you, filling and stretching you as your head falls back to the cushion.

And everything else around the two of you is forgotten.

Your brain forgetting you should hate him.

Just needing him, desperately craving more that he quickly gives you. Focusing on not moaning his name as he curls his fingers inside of you. His thumb swiping over your clit as you whimper.

You try to pull him down, needing to bury your moans against his lips. But he just watches. Eyes glinting, shimmering as he does so.

Occasionally teasing you by ghosting his lips over yours as you whimper more, and more.

“Sweet, sweet, Liebling. How long have you been craving someone to do this?” he whispers, darkly. His nose tracing your cheek as he inserts another finger. “A while I guess. I can tell. You’re so wet. So responsive. Look at me.”

And you do.

You meet his burning eyes with all you have. Not able to tear them away from him, unsure how you’ve let him command such power over you already.

“Is this enough? Or do you want more?”

Your mouth contorts, shapes and words want to blossom. Your mind rendering useless as you near your release.

Only able to mumble a mmm, wanting to say more.

Wanting to beg for his cock, wanting him to turn you over and fuck you until you forget your name.

And from the expression on his face, he can tell.

Zemo touching you with more precision, as though he has an end goal in mind, knowing he’s doing this to you.

You knowing no one else can do this to you. Hasn’t done so, as he said, in a while.

“For now, this is all you’ll have. Even if I want to fuck you on this sofa, on this floor. Even if I want you,” he continues, his free hand cupping your chin. “The wait is half the fun. Isn’t it?”

Your gasping, so close and he must know it from the sounds falling from your lips.

“I want those three, Liebling…”

Because even if you want it, even if you need it, you’re fighting him.

“So you need to let go now, before they’re back—your friends,” he adds, his eyes burning into you as you fight how good it feels. “Unless you want them to see you like this. Being a whore for me.”

“Fuck,” you groan. Swallowing his name. “Plea–please.”

Not wanting to think it, never mind mumble it. His name so close to the tip of your tongue.

His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing small circles as you clench your eyes shut. Your back arching, fingers digging into his side as he twists his fingers inside of you, hitting that spot you’ve been internally pleading for him to touch.

“You should give me the first one now, Liebling.”

And you do.

Your eyes shutting, your head swirling with pleasure. Your back arching into him, your moan filling the room as he continues his ministrations until your hand tries to push him away.

But, he only stops when your hand unclenches from his side, and then his hand falls from between your thighs. Pressing a pleased, chaste kiss to your lips as your eyes slowly blink open as you watch him stand, shaking his coat from his shoulders before folding it slowly.

Your eyes falling to his bulge, before studying his movements as he places the coat down. Adjusting himself as he licks his lips.

And then he pulls you up, catching you as you almost fall on shaky legs. Barely recovered from what he’s just done to you.

“Two to go, Liebling.” Your chest rises and falls, heat blossoming across your cheeks. His knuckles brushing your cheeks. “Now, go to my room, and strip.”

Clearing your throat, you suddenly find your voice again. Brain coming back to you. “And if I don’t?”

Helmut slowly retracts his hand, before pulling you flush against him by your hips, nose against your ear.

Feeling how hard he is. How much he wants you.

Ignoring the little quake in your legs even with him holding you.

He pushes your hair from your cheek, smiling as if he hadn’t of just made you see stars. “I’ll strip you here myself, and let your friends find you cock-drunk and spent on this expensive, but dusty floor.”

His hand retracting, burning his brown eyes into you as he smirks.

“You’ve got until the count of th—“

You move.

Your fingers are undoing your zip, hearing him chuckle—hearing his footsteps. Knowing he’s following close behind—heart in your throat, excitement bubbling in your stomach.

Opening his door, stepping through as you pull clothes from your body until cool air meets your skin. Turning to face him, eyes drinking you in.

And you’ve never felt hotter, never felt more attractive.

And then he slams the door shut behind him, his hands on you once again.

#Helmut Zemo #Helmut Zemo x reader #Helmut Zemo smut #baron zemo smut #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader smut #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x fem!reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #zemo x fem!reader #zemo x you #zemo x y/n #daniel brühl x reader

[rhey-007]

𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐥

Daniel Brühl x supermodel!reader | 18+ soft smut

Summary: You're a supermodel hired to model Zegna's new collection along side Daniel Brühl, but your session takes an unexpected yet pleasant turn.

Pairing: soft/sub/nervous Daniel x bubbly/full of energy reader

Warnings: 18+, soft smut, semi public sex (?), blowjob

___________________________________________

Daniel wasn't a model but he did pretty good on photoshoots when he was alone, at least he hoped so. With a partner though? That was a whole nother story. That is why he was a little stressed this time. He was going to work with one of the best, and prettiest, models in the world – Y/N L/N – for ZEGNA's new fall/winter collection.

He arrived to the set way ahead of time to make sure he would be ready when you arrive. To his surprise you were already there, waiting for him, getting your hair done.

„Daniel! "

You chirped happily, noticing him in the mirror in front of you. The man corrected his collar nervously with a smile before making his way over to you. Instead of shaking your stretched out hand, as you would expect, he kissed it gently as a gentleman should - which took you aback but you didn’t complain.

„I'm really happy to finally meet you”

„I'm glad to meet you too! "

Daniel's voice was like honey to your ears making your skin shiver. You took a better look at him as he stood near you. He was even more handsome in real life than you could've imagined. When he sat down you noticed his leg jump like crazy – he was stressed... You didn’t like that... Not because he could 'ruin' the photoshoot. No... You knew it couldn’t happen, he was too good at it. But because you were afraid of his well being.

„Hey... It's gonna be okay. You're gonna do great... As always "

You whispered with a chuckle, your hand making it's way over to his jumping leg and soothing it gently. Those actions made Daniel's heart go crazy. He felt like he would have a heart attack soon if you kept rubbing his leg.

„I hope so... Don't want to ruin your photos after all "

You gasped theatricaly.

„Oh honey! You're the star here! Not me. I should be the one scared. But I'm not, and neither should you. Cause I KNOW you're gonna do amazing! "

Daniel admired your enthusiasm and faith in him. It seemed as if you had it more than himself. He chuckled to your words while looking down and softly shaking his head.

„Okay, okay. Let's say I believe you”

„You have to believe in yourself and not believe me”

Through the whole preparation, the man noticed your flirty demeanour and affectionate touches. He didn’t mind that though, he found it nice to get attention from women - especially from you - and now he felt relaxed in your presence.

You were a flirtatious person who usually didn’t notice they flirt with everyone, but with Daniel? Ohh... You were heads over heals with that man - you were since you found out about him which was quite a long time ago - and you flirted with him purposely, hoping to take him out for dinner later.

„Tell me... Is there some lady Brühl waiting for you back home or can I steal you for a few hours after the shoot to go eat something? "

You asked between conversations. Daniel shook his head softly then turned to face you with a smirk.

„I guess you can be my lady for the evening”

He blurted our before realizing what he just said and after he did, he turned back to the mirror, dark blush on his face. What that woman did to him...

„I would be flattered, dear”

The cheerful smile on your face made Daniel's knees weak, good thing he was sitting or he would've fallen down right there and then.

When the photographer arrived you started your job. He put you really close to Daniel. His smell was intoxicating, making you crave for him even more, and the closeness made him even more nervous than before.

You were just supposed to be casual, relaxed, have fun with it, but Daniel was rather... Stiff... And not in the good way. So after about 10 minutes of work the man behind the camera sighed heavily signaling a short break.

„Hey... What is it? "

You asked Daniel, your voice soft, one of your arms resting on his shoulder while your hand played with the hair on the back of his head. He didn’t reply, looking around the room nervously and breathing heavily. His hand ‘unintentionally’ brushed against yours, making you grab it and interwine your fingers. You smirked devilishly and leaned closer, your lips almost touching his earlobe.

„Oh honey~ There’s no need to be so nervous. What do you say for this... I'll give you a little heads up, so you would relax and later you'll get an award if you do a great job, okay?’’

‘’Wha- What do you mean?”

“oh come on! You know what I mean~ I can feel you getting excited with my every touch”

You pulled closer, your bodies pressed against each other, lips almost touching. A blush spread across Daniel’s face, making you smile from ear to ear. His eyes avoided yours, he felt unprofesional, ashamed of his state, but you didn’t mind.

‘’Meet me in the bathroom”

You whispered and placed a soft kiss on his lips, before leaving. The man took a deep breath then followed in your tracks almost immediately. He didn’t even managed to knock on the bathroom door when you pulled him inside by his clothes and pressed against the door. You locked it then slowly dropped down to your knees.

„You have to be quiet... "

You whispered then started your sinful ministrations, without any objection from Daniel, to your surprise. With one swift motion you undid his pants and pulled them down, revealing a big bulge strained by his boxers. You bit your lip, looking up at the flustered man. His eyes were dark with lust, but his body didn’t show it, it was rather shy. You took a deep breath and freed his member. He was big, both in lenght and breadth, and you liked it... You liked a little challenge.

You licked it slowly from the perfectly trimmed bush up to the tip, then without any hesitation took him in entirely. The gagging motion signaling that it’s a bit too much made you pull away a little. You started to bob your head ahead and back, occasionally stopping to rub your thumb against his tip. You could see, and partially hear, that Daniel enjoyed it as he tried his best to quiet down his moans and grunts. You tried to be as fast as you could, as you didn’t have a lot of time, but also tried to tease the man, which you would usually do. You sucked him fast, almost bringing him to the edge to then pull away, smiling brightly and softly massaging his balls, then again and again.

Soon Daniel couldn’t take it anymore and started to quietly beg for the release. It made your panties even wetter than they already were. His pleas and cries filled the room and stroked your ego. You were so proud of yourself for being able to make one of the most handsome man in the world so vulnerable and crave for your touch. Soon you decided you tortured him enough. You went as fast as you could, massaging his balls roughly.

‘’Liebchen... I-I'm close...’’

Daniel breathed out before a loud moan escaped his lips and his warm seed filled your throat. You pulled away and showed him the mess he made in your mouth, before gulping down everything. You stood up, pulling his boxers and pants up.

‘’You did such an amazing job...’’

You praised with a warm smile, cleaned yourself up and left the bathroom after placing a soft kiss to the man’s cheek. You were really satisfied with your job as later, almost every photo came out perfectly.

After the photoshoot was done, you took Daniel out for dinner and late at night, he made you his lady Brühl, just as he promised.

#daniel brühl #daniel brühl x reader #daniel bruhl #smut

[hope-to-hell]

Winter’s bite. Helmut Zemo x Reader. Smut, bondage, s/m dynamics, brief wounds/broken bones, post-unsnapping. This is a conversation, a persuasion, an attack on dignity and a breaking-open of the hollows left inside those who were gone-then-not. Zemo has some trouble dealing with loss.

—-

Hey, yeah, listen. I know it’s been a while, and I guess maybe you’re not so thrilled to see me but here we are and you said talk, so I’m gonna talk and you’re gonna listen; maybe you’ll find those little tells you’re hoping for. There’s been all this running and hiding and yeah, sure, a little bit of dying— but don’t hold it against me. It’s like this: here one minute and gone the next, which doesn’t matter much because if you’re nothing then you’ve got nothing to worry about, ya dig?

Well. Until everyone and their dog gets unsnapped and suddenly you’re looking at your own shinbones all wet and sticky because you were thirty feet up the side of a building that doesn’t exist anymore. Listen, I didn’t want to see my own marrow and I know you don’t want to hear about it either, but I’m one of the lucky ones. Lot of people were falling out of the sky, you know. They came back but their airplanes didn’t. And there’s others, too: so many of us were in the wrong place all of a sudden, part of the miraculous rebirth for less than a heartbeat before dying in some stupid way or other.

Maybe we just should’ve stayed gone. Maybe then there’d be at least an ending even if there was never any closure, but like. Coming back has been this weird no-man’s-land where I’m legally dead, physically alive, and mentally still five years in the past. So yeah. Maybe bringing us back was a mistake. Z doesn’t agree, but then again he’s real close with loss; he wears it on his chest in bloody ribbons and he’ll tell you no no, nothing personal, don’t take it so hard when he’s stepping on your neck. ‘Course it’s personal, though. It always is with him: he’ll take your eye for a slight, and for losing a loved one? Christ, he’ll burn the world. Don’t make him angry, and for fucksake don’t take from him, because he’s got a long memory and a hell of a lot of imagination in the whole pain-and-suffering department.

So anyway. I’m laying there with pins in my legs and my ears all full of beep beep beep every time my vitals go a little wacky, and this motherfucker comes strolling in with a face like he’s filing taxes— you know, that neutral if I must with just a tinge of murder underneath— and all he says is hmm. No hi how are you, no thank the stars you’re safe, just that look. He’s gonna take whatever’s in his head and let it eat at him until it all comes pouring out, and when it does— oh, it’s really gonna be something.

Like now.

Do you know why you’re here? he’s asking, but it’s not a question, not really. It’s a trap. Not like there’s anything to do but see this through; he’s real fucking good with rope and he’s made sure to get the knots right over the most painful pressure points. And it’s cold; everything he says hangs solid in the air, like he could grab hold of his you were gone, you left and drive it deep, past bone and meat right down to where my heart’s beating hard enough to crack ribs, and listen. Listen. Fuck. I know maybe this part makes you feel all icky but you’re gonna hear it anyway. And hell, maybe it’ll get you feeling all antsy. Maybe you’ll be jerking off to this in the middle of the night. I don’t mind.

I just wanna make sure you know he waited til all my bones were knitted together, all those strands of shredded muscle repaired and revitalized— and I don’t want to see another treadmill as long as I live; I walked backwards on that fucking thing for hours— he waited with the patience of a thousand fallen saints so he could wake me up one midnight with his gloved hand heavy over my mouth and and his breath carrying ice into my ear. You are well, he said, like he was talking about the weather, but you know it’s always winter wherever he goes. You are well, you are whole, but through all those years there was a rift in the world in the shape of your flesh.

So, anyway. Buckle up, big guy; I know you’re desperate to know where he’s gone, and I know it’s more than anger, more than vengeance; you think I can’t see it but it’s all over your face. You’re not as good a liar as you ought to be after— well. Don’t let me get off track here, not when I’m about to get to the juicy part. Now, where was I? Right.

So there I am buck-ass naked— ha— with my knees going all pitted from kneeling on concrete, tied up tighter than anything, and he’s even got mirrors all around because you know how Z is. You know he wants you to see exactly what he’s doing to you from every angle but it’s more than that: this way he can see the effect of every little thing he does, every tiny detail he adds to make sure he’s got you exactly where he wants you to be. If I could move enough to look down, I bet I’d see rice all over the floor, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it was thousands of tiny garnets. Like I said, details. If he’s gonna make it hurt, you can bet he’ll do it beautifully.

Have you ever been fingered by a man in leather gloves? Listen. It’s— it’s a lot, especially when he’s crouched down right there with me, one hand wrapped around the ropes at my back and the other one two fingers deep and thrusting hard. No warmup, no preamble, just the sound of his boots, then that nasty spit-slicked do you understand grief? Have you felt the bile that chokes, or the bruises that bloom across your ribcage from the inside?

Five years. Maybe I can’t fathom it, but fuck can I ever feel it; the next time he moves that hand there’s another finger and he’s got to be spreading them wide as he can because between that and the leather I’m gonna split apart. Five years. Can you picture it? God, I hope you can. I hope you think about it later, when you’re alone and needing to get off so bad. Maybe I’ll think about you thinking about me and him, touching myself and feeling your eyes on me even from another room. Would you like that? Or would you like it better if I was bound, squirming and helpless, desperate for what I can’t have?

Either way, I want this right at the front of your mind: Zemo with his punishing hands, composure in shreds, pulling me apart from the inside and neither of us has any words left, just these snarls and whimpers all mixed together til it doesn’t matter who they’re coming from anymore. He made me come, of course he did; he ripped it right out of me with a twist and shove, every bruise tied together with this bright-burning silver thread.

You know I couldn’t help leaving; we’re alike in that regard, but has anyone ever given you what you’ve needed so badly since you came back? No. I can see it: you’re so full of guilt you haven’t earned, and sorrows you haven’t let yourself begin to feel. But you can take that rawness and put it to work; you’re a good man who got a bad deal and you have to know that. I see it; he sees it.

He’s on his way; any minute now those doors will open and he’ll be there with that half-smile, the one that says I’ve got a little secret; for all your efforts, you can’t find him until he wants to be found. You’ll see him dressed for the cold, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of his left hand. It’ll look artless, casual, but you know what it’ll mean. He’ll make you an offer— and you really, really oughta take it. After all, I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t worthwhile. And yeah, I know you were expecting to have to pry it out of me, maybe reach down deep for those parts of you that you wish you’d burned away, the parts of you that get answers out of tight lips, but here we are. Everything is on the table— well, not everything; there’s got to be something left for later, but I think you’ll find it in your favor— and everything I’ve said tonight is true.

It still aches, even now. I can still feel the stitching along the sides of his fingers, not to mention all those tiny pocked bruises on my knees, all those knots pressed deep, his coat buttons imprinted on my spine from where he fell against my back and let his words fall wetly on me. I will move heaven and earth to keep you here. You mustn’t doubt that. And I believe him, James. I really do.

#daniel brühl #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo #baron zemo fic #baron zemo smut #helmut zemo fic #helmut zemo smut #zemo fic #zemo smut #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #zemo x you #tfatws

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

A Sensual Education - Laszlo Kreizler

I learned a lot about clits for this fic, didn't realize how much people (mostly men) hated them. Everyone, go touch your clits, treasure them, they deserve it after people like Freud wanted to get rid of them cause they were too insecure of themselves and scared of women🙃

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), typical 19th century ideology, misogyny, religious guilt, pining, innocence kink, fingering, virginity loss, soft dom!Laszlo, consent is sexy, flufffff

3.4K Words🤙🏻

~~~~~~~~~~

From an early age, you were always taught that anything do to with sex was a sin. You weren’t really told why but it was an unspoken moral rule. 

Women weren’t allowed to have sex until after marriage and if the man wants it. Women were for men’s pleasure and to make babies; that was it. From an early age, you were always doubtful of this but you were always too scared to make your concerns known.

You had asked your mother about it after you started your courses, but you were immediately shut down and scolded for even thinking such a thing. So every time you had a question or concern, you always had to push it down and you never spoke about it.

Once, you had heard, in the middle of the night, your mother with your father in their bedroom, it sounded like they were both in pain. You peaked inside their room and what you saw shocked you to your core. It was not in fact your mother, but it was your father with another woman. It looked painful. Why would someone engage in such acts if it was painful? It didn’t make sense.

From an early age, you were already seeing contradictions from everyone and you didn’t know what to believe.

One night, you tried touching yourself, just out of curiosity. It felt…different, but good. Though you were too scared and embarrassed to continue. Surely, you were going to hell for what you did. You prayed for forgiveness, and you never touched yourself again.

You knew it would probably bring shame upon you and your family, but you had always wanted to pursue a career in psychology. The mind was fascinating, and you had always wanted to figure out what causes people to do what they do; why they lie, why they hurt others, why they are so insistent on following old rules. Doctor Laszlo Kreizler had been looking for someone to intern for him. Despite being a woman, the doctor seemed happy to welcome you to his team.

It was very early on when you started to see Doctor Kreizler in a different light, one that you had not seen anyone before. He was very handsome, even your mother had confessed that to you privately. But it felt different this time. You had crushes before, but you never thought to act on them. You just figured that your parents would find you a man to marry and that would be that, but thankfully they weren’t that old fashioned. You were allowed to choose someone for yourself if you wanted, and you found that Laszlo was someone you wanted very badly. Just one small problem: he was your boss and you had no idea if he’d ever feel the same way.

You’d feel embarrassed every time you interacted with him, which was a lot. You would have to really concentrate whenever he was teaching you what to do with certain patients, and you managed well enough. Sometimes you’d sit in on one of his counseling sessions to see what he does and how he goes about it, but his voice was so mesmerizing that you’d forget exactly what he had been saying. It was debilitating, your crush, always feeling such yearning whenever he caught your gaze; but you had to move on. It definitely would not be professional if you acted on your sinful feelings to him. 

Your lust got even worse when Laszlo started to get more touchy feely with you. He wasn’t inappropriate of course, just lingering touches here and there whenever you did a good job with the patients; but that was more than enough for your fantasies to run wild with false hope that he might’ve liked you back. He even insisted you call him by his first name, before you always addressed him as Doctor Kreizler. He unknowingly was only fanning the flames of your infatuation.

Your crush just kept growing stronger and stronger.

Finally, one day, one of the doctor’s other employee’s told you that he needed to see you in his office later that day. You were instantly worried, thinking you may have done a bad job or worse, he had found out about your crush on him. But the employee said you had nothing to worry about, telling you that you were the fastest learner they had ever seen. It lessened your nerves…only slightly. You’d just have to find out for yourself.

You decided to go to his office early, otherwise you’d be worrying yourself to death and you didn’t care much for that. But when you arrived, the doctor wasn’t there. Serves you right for being impatient, you supposed.

You waited in Doctor Kreizler’s office, twiddling your thumbs and failing to calm your nerves. So instead, you decided to look around, despite knowing you shouldn’t, but you didn’t know what else to do. 

Scanning his bookshelves absentmindedly, you came across a particularly eye-catching name. Kama Sutra? You let out an audible gasp as you saw the cover on the front of the book. It was a man and a woman being…intimate with each other. You tried not to judge, but what kind of deviant would keep a book like this? Despite your initial horror, you couldn’t help but skim through the pages, feeling yourself growing uncomfortably hot at the words and illustrations. There were words on those pages that you didn’t even have a clue what they meant, but they felt dirty regardless.

You were so enraptured by all this new information that you didn’t notice Doctor Kreizler walk in. You all but jumped out of your skin as you heard him clear his throat, looking at you expectantly. “Oh, Lord, I am so sorry, Doctor. I was just waiting for you to get back but this caught my eye, I didn’t mean to pry, I promise.” You rambled with a slight stutter, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest when Laszlo took the book from you with a ghost of a smile. “Please, sir, don’t tell anyone I was looking at this, if my parents found out, they’d throw me on the streets! I’ll pray for forgiveness!”

Laszlo gently shook his head, patting your shoulder reassuringly. “It’s quite alright, it’ll stay between us. Please, you don’t have to put on the pious act for me.”

You furrowed your brow, tilting your head slightly in confusion. “An act, sir? What do you mean?”

“The whole pretending that you think every single thing pertaining to sex is sinful and immoral.” He said with a brittle chuckle.

“It…it’s not?”

Laszlo froze, his eyes scanning your face for any indication that you were playing up the innocent act, but he didn’t find anything about your expression that would lead him to believe that you were lying. Were you actually this innocent? “You’ve never been taught about sex before? Anything about it?”

Your cheeks felt like they had been lit aflame, you looked down, your hair hiding your face slightly. “It’s a sin, especially before marriage. The only reason to do it is if you want to have a child.” You recited from what you learned from your parents and pastor.

“God, is that what your parents taught you? Hypocrites. It’s ridiculous. Of course sex isn’t sinful.”

“But…what about touching oneself? Surely that’s a sin, right?”

“It’s a natural part of growing up. Everyone has done it, there’s nothing to be ashamed about.” Laszlo noticed your nervousness, the fiddling with your hands and your eyes anywhere but his. “Have you never touched yourself before? Never even tried?”

You bit your lip, rubbing your hand up your arm as you felt goosebumps start to rise. “Once, but it didn’t feel right…at all. I never tried again. I never should have done it in the first place.” You felt ashamed talking about this with someone as professional as Laszlo. He must’ve been so ashamed of you as well, you wished you never even set foot in his office. But what you didn’t know was Laszlo was feeling ashamed of himself for how lustful he felt all of a sudden. The thought that you had never experienced sexual pleasure made his pants feel way too tight in that moment, and he felt sorry for you, but not in a condescending way. It would be a risk for your professional relationship, but it was one he was willing to take.

You didn’t notice Laszlo walking closer to you until you felt his hand gently graze your hand that was nervously holding your other arm. You felt your heart skip a beat as you finally looked up at him, finding his eyes to be searching yours. His tantalizing stare felt like it was penetrating your soul, him being so close to you that you could see your own startled expression in his dilated pupils. “Do you want me to show you how it’s done?” Laszlo asked in a low tone, his voice almost gravelly, causing a shiver to run down your spine in anticipation.

You didn’t know why, but you suddenly felt a burning hot desire in your lower stomach, a slick wetness pooling at the apex of your thighs. Your expression reflected in his eyes turned from being startled to almost dazed. Out of anything he could’ve said, Laszlo surprised you with that. You wanted to say yes, so badly. But… “What will happen to me if I say yes?” You asked timidly, glancing down at his hand on yours.

“Nothing that you don’t consent to.” He smiled softly, but with your fearful expression, he realized what you actually were asking. “I promise, you’re not going to hell if you allow me to do this.”

You exhaled shakily. “Okay.”

Laszlo smiled, running his hand up to your shoulder and moving a piece of hair out of your face. “Sit on my desk and lift up your skirts for me please.” He instructed, and you obeyed nervously, feeling your whole body heat up as he watched intently as you exposed most of your legs to him. “Good girl.” You try not to squirm as Laszlo stood right next to you, feeling his breath on your neck as he lightly held you in place with his right arm and using his left hand to gently trail up your inner thigh, eliciting another shiver from you. “If I do anything that you don’t like or want to stop for any reason, just tell me and I’ll stop. Okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

You took a deep breath as Laszlo finally reached your aching cunt, exhaling sharply when his fingers made contact with your sex. “Spread your legs for me, my dear.” You gasped as he touched a spot that was particularly sensitive. “Is that painful?” He asked, but you quickly shook your head no. “This spot is called the clitoris, it’s the only human organ where its sole purpose is to provide pleasure. Isn’t that extraordinary?” He spoke huskily into your ear, causing goosebumps to rise all over your body, all while you were still struggling to keep still as he kept slowly rubbing circles on your clit. You wanted him to go faster, but all you could do was whimper pitifully as Laszlo started to kiss and nip at your neck. “How does that feel, Schatz?”

“G-Good…” You whimpered, “so good but…”

“What is it?”

“Can you…move a bit faster, please?” Laszlo smirked at your stuttering voice, finding your shyness adorable. Instead of giving you what you craved, he did the opposite, removing his hand from you and moving to stand in between your legs, spreading your legs even further. “What are you-? Oh!” You gasped as Laszlo slowly pushed one of his fingers inside you, the intrusion foreign but not entirely unwelcome…

“And how does this feel? Still good?” He asked, adding a second finger and gently thrusting into you, the stretch causing you to wince slightly but you didn’t want him to stop. You let out your first moan as he rubbed your clit with his thumb in tandem with his thrusts. “I assume that was a yes, hm?”

“Y-Yeah…” You moaned, your hips moving against his hand mindlessly, starting to feel pleasure building and building inside you. “Feels so good, Laszlo…” 

Laszlo lifted your chin with his other hand, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He wanted to see your face. He finally kissed you as he sped up his hand movements, swallowing your loud moans, a deep guttural groan escaping him as he felt your walls clench around his fingers. “You feel that pressure building in your body?” You nodded quickly, panting and moaning but you still tried to pay attention to what he was saying. “You’re getting close to what’s called an orgasm. It’s a feeling of euphoria when you reach the peak of sexual pleasure.”

“Are…are you getting close?” You stuttered.

Laszlo smiled, hiding a wince when his cock jumped in his pants. “I’m not the one getting pleasured, you are.” And as if right on cue, you felt yourself reach that peak and it was indescribable. Your body burned all over, but in a good way. You moaned loudly as you rode out that wave, gripping onto the doctor’s waistcoat for purchase. Your corset felt almost painful as your nipples hardened as you came, it felt all too restrictive. But you came down from that high, and you already wanted to feel it again. “Are you okay?” Laszlo’s soft deep voice brought you back to reality.

“Can…can you make me do that again?” You asked shyly, causing Laszlo to chuckle.

You winced as Laszlo lightly tapped your clit, the feeling almost too much to handle. “You’re too sensitive. Some people can’t come again right after because of the oversensitivity. But you might be ready to go again after several minutes.”

“But I want you to feel good too. I want you to…come.” You spoke timidly, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. He almost melted on the spot.

Laszlo frowned, shaking his head, trying to ignore his aching cock that was just crying out for stimulation. “I don’t want to hurt you. It might be too much, especially right now.”

“But I want you, Laszlo. I really do.” Laszlo didn’t say anything as you reached for the buttons on his pants, feeling guilty as he let you nervously palm his member through his trousers. “Please, I want you to be my first…”

Laszlo exhaled a shaky breath, grabbing your face and kissing you lightly with a frustrated growl. “First times for women can be painful…”

“I don’t care. I want you to show me what it’s like.” You begged, gently biting his bottom lip, doing everything in your power to let him know that you’d be okay.

Laszlo finally gave in, kissing you again with much more fervor, allowing himself to crave your touch. Your hands were all over him, messing up his perfectly styled hair and undoing the buttons of his waistcoat so you could feel more of him. You moaned as he squeezed your breasts through your dress, running his hands up and down your torso as you pulled his cock out of the confines of his pants. But he suddenly stopped, taking your hand away before speaking. “We’re going to take this slow, okay? If I hurt you, tell me and I’ll stop, okay?” He said seriously.

“Okay.”

Laszlo slowly rubbed the head of his cock in between your folds, you letting out small whines as he rubbed himself on your still overly sensitive clit. He looked into your eyes when he lined himself up with your entrance, silently asking for your approval. You nodded, holding onto his hand that was gripping your thigh.

His cock was much bigger than his fingers, that’s for sure. You let out a silent cry when he entered you, just his tip stretching you far more than his fingers. It was a burning pressure, but you still didn’t want him to stop. Despite the initial pain, it felt so natural for him to be inside you. You accepted him as best you could, him stilling inside you when he bottomed out. “Are you okay?” He asked, already panting from holding himself back.

“Yes, Laszlo, please. Keep going.” You and Laszlo both let out deep guttural groans as he started to thrust into you slowly, him keeping a firm grip on your thigh as he rocked his hips back and forth. Soon, you started to feel a new type of pleasure. It didn’t feel the same as when he was rubbing your clit, but whatever it was, it felt amazing. Every time Laszlo thrusted, the tip of his cock would hit that spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull. His slow thrusts weren’t enough now. You wanted more. You needed more. “Faster…please.” You whined, moving your own hips up to meet his.

“You sure?” It was sweet that he was always checking in, you appreciated it, but sweet wasn’t what you needed at that moment. You nodded vigorously, grabbing the collar of his shirt roughly and bringing him down to kiss you.

“Oh, my God-!” You gasped, moaning in his ear as he sped up his thrusts, his skin slapping against yours echoing around his office. “You feel so good.” You smiled tremulously, tears of overwhelming pleasure brimming your eyes. Laszlo’s grunting and soft moaning had to have been the prettiest sound you had ever heard, each others’ moans mixing together like a symphony. 

“You’re exquisite, my dear.” Laszlo breathed out, moaning every time he felt you clench around him, your velvety walls taking him in deep and holding on with a vice grip. “You’re doing so well…fuck.” He cursed, his cock twitching as he sped up even more, chasing his own release desperately, your pretty moans spurring him on. “I’m so close.” He voiced, his words coming out strangled, his hand tightening around yours, bringing it up and placing a light kiss on your knuckles.

“Do it, come. Please, come.” You whimpered, crossing your legs behind his back, not allowing him to remove himself from you, pulling him as close as possible. His heavy breaths and soft moans fanned across your skin as he neared his climax, placing sloppy kisses on your cheek and down your neck, his neatly trimmed beard scratching at your skin. You cried out as Laszlo started to rub your clit once more, desperate to feel you come around his cock. “Please, please…” You whined, not even sure what you were asking for. His circular motions on your clit paired with his cock roughly splitting you open over and over again was almost too much, but you fully relinquished yourself to him, happy to be used by someone you admired so much.

“Come for me again, Schatz. I want to feel you, please.” Laszlo moaned, speeding up his ministrations on your clit.

“Laszlo!” You squealed, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you reached that peak once more, falling limp in his arms as you rode out your second orgasm.

“Oh, Scheiße!” Laszlo stilled as you clenched around him, letting out a loud strained grunt as he finally released inside of you, coating your walls with his cum. He buried his head in your shoulder, panting heavily along with you, trying to steady his heartbeat. “Are…are you okay?” He asked nervously as he pulled out of you and stuffed himself back into his trousers, looking into your eyes with concern. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no. You didn’t.” You shook your head, wearing a tired satisfied smile. “I really liked it.”

Laszlo let out a relieved sigh. “Good.” He said, wearing a lopsided grin, placing a short light kiss on the tip of your nose. He chuckled breathlessly, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t expecting the day to turn out like this…but I’m glad it did.”

“Me too.” You smiled timidly, but then you remembered something. “So, um, why did you want to see me in the first place?” You asked.

Laszlo chuckled nervously, gently caressing your cheek while a slight blush. “Oh, I was, uh.” He cleared his throat, “With how well you’re doing, I was going to ask you to work for the Institute officially. Paid and everything. But now…I want to take you out on a date too, if you’d allow me.”

“Really?” You beamed.

“Really.”

“I’d love that. Both. Both of those things. To work here and go on a date with you.” You rambled with a giggle, making Laszlo smile.

“Great…I suppose we should get back to work now.” He said reluctantly, holding onto your hips like he never wanted to let you go.

“I promise, I won’t let you regret hiring me.”

“I don’t think you could make me regret anything, my dear.”

~~~~~~~~~~

back on my bullshit (aka, i'm obsessed with Daniel again). nobody talk to me.

#the alienist #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler imagine #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler x fem!reader #laszlo kreizler smut #daniel brühl

[violetmuses]

Expensive - Helmut Zemo (18+ MINORS DNI)

TITLE: “Expensive” - Helmut Zemo (18+ MINORS DNI)

FANDOM: Marvel - “Falcon and The Winter Soldier” 

CHARACTER: Helmut Zemo 

MAIN PAIRING: Helmut Zemo + Female Reader 

MAIN STORYLINE: Everyone has a vice… 

Author’s Note: Hey! As a warning, this One Shot includes SMUT content. (18+ Minors DNI) Adult themes, strong language, etc. This project is also dedicated to @norabrice1701. Thank you so much for helping out with my writer’s block, Nora! Happy reading and feedback would be greatly appreciated. - V. 💜

Main Masterlist 💜

__________

2024

Eight years of both isolation and silence. 

Despite dodging bullets and running out of the Brass Monkey Saloon with James and Sam, Zemo moved on, giving himself one chance to enjoy this semblance of freedom. 

In truth, there was only a matter of time before the mission would slap him in the face with reality all over again. 

He wouldn’t stay out for long. 

Not long after saving lives in the dark, Sharon Carter threw a party, showing everyone from art dealers to other guests an opportunity to mingle and dance. 

James and Sam cornered elsewhere, surely not moving on the dance floor or partaking in alcohol. 

Soon after ordering another drink, Zemo turns and notices you standing with your own glass of champagne. He prefers whisky, taking careful sips regardless. 

Meanwhile, you were different. You make a point to look at this man cautiously, like you’d seen him before. 

Maybe. How could you forget this handsome face? You think to yourself. 

He’s wearing his dark turtleneck, casted in blue lighting that strobes from the ceiling found overhead. 

His skin pales through this aqua light, but his nearly amber eyes watch you as he peers over that whisky glass. Light brown hair falls out of place, showing one loose curl that angles by his forehead. 

“I stopped drinking for good…” His voice rasps towards you, revealing accented English over booming music that plays out loud. 

“That's great! You say, ironically lifting your glass of champagne and plotting a joke of your own. “Did the bartender find Apple Juice for you tonight?” 

“No, Dear.” This possible stranger laughs for only a moment and the amazing sound nearly tickles your senses. He even sends a joke right back to you, lifting his own glass. “I drink for evil. This is whisky.” 

“Good one. Cheers.” You clink glasses with him, celebrating tonight with this one man who has definitely caught your attention. 

_____________

After trading this conversation back and forth, you threw caution to the wind and conjured a dare, kissing him at the stroke of midnight. 

You could hardly breathe when his lips first met yours, almost shaking and trying to step away in public before James and Sam could notice. Those men were his friends there, apparently. 

You couldn’t leave him behind without “consequences.” 

Bumps and stumbles echo your trail back to him later on.  

Right now, you’re cornered in one guest bedroom, trapped by Helmut’s lips once again as this man holds your face with both hands. 

He’s set one leg between your thighs, angling just right. You can already feel his clothed erection pulsing without fail. 

In the middle of him kissing your neck and mouthing hickies that will bruise at dawn, you tremble speaking. 

“Condom?” You struggle because it feels so good, but still try to remind him of safety for countless reasons. 

“Yes.” Helmut pulls away from your beautiful skin during that one moment and nods, caressing your cheek as if you were the most stunning woman on Earth. 

He smiles against your lips before taking out the condom and taking off his belt. Both of you keep nodding towards one another, absolutely sure that tonight would happen like this. 

It’s almost precious, bonding with a stranger. 

In anticipation you remove underwear, lace for the evening, and wrap both legs around his nude waist. 

“Go.” You whisper, giving him full consent to line up with your entrace and plunge at last. 

Obeying, Helmut listens, almost delicately filling you to the hilt. 

“Do not get us caught.” He warns, lowering his tone through every lethal movement of those damn hips. 

“Shit.” You nearly cried, clutching his shoulders of the turtleneck for balance somehow. 

Since you can’t yell out loud in pleasure, he holds the back of your head, but uses that opposite hand to cover your whimpering mouth. 

Before either one of you could speak again, warmth heats up all space found between your legs and thankfully reaches the condom. 

“Shh…” Helmut calms this moment, not letting your feet reach the floor just yet as he continues holding you in place. Even still wearing the condom, he rests inside of you, silent. 

His hair, now dishelved in the name of ecstasy, looks even darker through casting moonlight. 

He breathes towards your neck, burying his nose as if to forget so much. 

He wants to forget everything.

And yet, he can’t, even right now. 

Regrettably, he pulls out to make you hollow and trashes the condom elsehwere, prompting you to readjust your clothes. 

Of course Sharon won’t mind if you snuck out of this apartment, but Helmut returns from the bathroom and looks at you, peering those gorgeous brown eyes again. 

“I should um… I should go.” Pointing near the door, you’re awkward now, sobering through lack of more alcohol and this strange mix of relief from sex. 

“Of course.” Helmut nods, dressed once more and fairly opening the door for you like a gentleman. 

Just seconds before you walk out the door and leave him for good, you hold these heels and stand up on your bare tip-toes, kissing Helmut’s cheek. 

“Bye.” You smile, giving him one last farewell as the bedroom door closes. 

When Helmut goes to sleep that night, this man dreams of you, content for once. 

#daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #zemo x you #smut warning #strong language #adult themes #slight angst #18+ only #minors dni #minors do not interact #tw alcohol #tw alchohol mention #marvel mcu #mcu #marvel #zemo x y/n #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo x reader #violetmuses #the falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #fatws

[mrsmaxwelllord]

VIPEROUS – true self

Pairing: Dark!Zemo X F!Reader

Sumarry: You arrive home only to find out that you've gotten pregnant by the worst man you can think of.

Words: 1,5K

Warnings: zemo is not so sweet in this one. unplanned pregnancy. loneliness. daydreaming. self-doubt. fear. drink-spiking.

A/N: First of all, i know that unplanned pregnancy isn't everybody favorite plot and I'M SORRY.

But you didn't thought I'd name a fic "viperous" and not write zemo at his fcking worst, did you?

previous chapter

.

You had discovered it pretty early on.

 After parting ways with the boys, you were feeling furious. You didn’t bother saying your goodbyes or listening to theirs, you simply held your bags and walked away from Zemo’s private jet; no turning back, no fake smile. Although, you could pull your pissed expression only for a few minutes, as soon as you turned a corner tears blurred your vision.

 Nonetheless, you went your way. In less than 24 hours you got to your home country and ten hours later you arrived in the dense rainforest you called home. It took you a few days to settle in again, to forget — or better, to ignore — the fateful events and get back to your routine.

 You stayed recluse at your house for a bit more than a month, before you had to come down to the nearest village; your supplies had their days counted and you could no longer postpone a visit to the hospital, the wound in your ribs had healed but the area was still too sore.

 You were expecting a broken rib or two, but the blood test they ran came out with a different outcome. One that you had no idea how to deal with.

 A pregnancy. You were about six weeks pregnant. It was very hard to understand the simple sentence coming out of your Doctor's mouth, it seemed impossible even; but you haven't used any protection the last time you were intimate with someone.

 It was obvious to you who the father was and it terrified you. Zemo was miles away running away from James and Sam after having managed to kill Karli Morgenthau and half the members of the Flag-Smasher. He didn’t know your whereabouts or condition, yet even the idea of him finding out was enough to make you shiver. His actions in the past decade made it clear that he loved his son, yet, you didn’t know how he’d react this time around with a woman he didn’t know nor loved – all while hiding from her own friends.

 You weren't sure if you wanted to keep it, but something was clear in that moment: he could never know, no one could.

 So after getting the exam result and making sure your ribs were okay, you scheduled a prenatal appointment with a discreet Doctor in a distant city and went your way home.

.

 You had a lot to think about. Parenting a child was hard enough with the help of others, but completely alone… Yet, you realised quite fast you wanted to keep it. 

 You also realised that you didn’t know shit about babies. You spend the first trimester of your pregnancy researching and studying everything you could, buying everything the internet said you’d need and having horrible nightmares almost every week.

 Because you were worrying about everything at once, three month went by fast.

 The lovely lady who owned the grocery store you go to regularly became your acquaintance and gave you very good tips. Your most dear tea recipe — the one that could treat the worst of nauseas or anxiety — was given from her and even some sleeping position for when your belly gets too big. You were visiting her more and more, especially because your nightmare was making you kinda paranoid.

 There were two that seemed to never let you in peace. The first one involved the Avengers taking the baby away and was very simple, it was always James or Sam and you were left alone, crying. The second, though, was more stange; you had the baby in your hands, feeding him, and there was always a figure looking at you. Later, you followed their cry to a cradle, but it was empty and you knew exactly who took it.

 Most nights you wake up in a cold sweat. And you end up always thinking of Zemo. You tried your best to let it go, to forget about him but you were feeling really guilty and scared.

 In Madripoor, when you were in his arms, every concern you had seemed to go away and you longed for that feeling on a daily basis. You knew you couldn't have that. You didn't know where the hell he was, or wanted to be with a man who killed a child without any guilt. You agreed with Sam about Karli and really thought a solution could have been made if Zemo hadn't shot her – as you later found out.

 Sure, you wanted to feel the comfort of someone's warmth against you. You wanted to not have to think about the possible outcome of failing as a Mother. You wished you weren't feeling so alone.

 You wanted to have everything Helmut offered you in whispers back in that dirty town.

 However, you knew he could never leave the Raft if he ever gets caught and telling him of the child growing inside you would kill him because he couldn't be present. No matter how much you wished. So you resumed the little life you built for yourself.

 Sunbathing in the morning with a book in hand, eating healthy foods you were learning how to cook and visiting the small village down the hill once a week so you didn't feel so lonely.

 On the bad days, you liked to daydream about being someone's housewife; taking care of the chores got a lot easier when you were waiting for your husband to come back from work. Yet not even your silly little dreams could save you from the solitude late at night, when there was only your pillow with a cologne similar to his to hold on to.

.

 It was raining again — a thunderstorm this time. Lately it has been raining a lot, more than you had been accustomed to; not that you disliked it, you adored watching the lightning and thunder. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows you could see the sky clearly, the trees surrounding your house danced and howled as the thunder approached. 

 It was late in the night and you were terribly tired, but you simply could not let a thunderstorm go unwatched. In your childhood, you were terrified of them, you always ran to hide under your blankets with your teddy bear, but, somewhere in your teen years you became bewitched by the loud noise and the flashing lights.

 You were thinking of Helmut again, but, this time, something felt odd. It was almost like you could feel him thinking of you as well. A silly thought really, that you were connected somehow. You took a deep breath and rested in the chair.

 The idea of having a soulmate pleased you but the rational part of you knew you just wanted someone who you could trust fully and completely. A national terrorist couldn’t be that person. Especially not a dead one.

 Less than a week ago the news of him startled you, he had… died. They didn't specify exactly what happened in the little newspaper article except that the Winter Soldier had found Zemo after his attack on Captain America – well, John Walker – and that ended with his death. What was obviously a lie, James wouldn’t kill him. Would he? You were too afraid of looking deep into it. Perhaps… No. It hurted you to think about it.

 You reached out to grab your mug on the coffee table, but that felt like too much effort. In fact, everything felt overwhelming; you could not get up when you heard the front door keys moving, or when the sound around the house got close. Something was wrong with you, the tea made you way too sleepy. You tried to get up.

 When you turned around leaning on the armchair, your eyes got caught like a deer’s by the fleshlight on a road.

 There, standing at the door, the most frightful ghost of all. The soaking wet Baron stared right into your soul before smiling softly.

 “Liébling, what are you doing awake at this hour? Don’t you know it is bad for the baby?”

 You gasped and reached out for something on the coffee table, but ended up dropping the mug on the ground. The shattering startled you even more, in an attempt to get away you stepped into a piece of broken glass and fell down.

 The ghost of Helmut Zemo tried to approach, but upon seeing you hurt yourself further gave up.

 Now the palm of your hands were bleeding as well and you were hiding half of your body, still transfixed. The need to protect your womb was there, urging you to cover your belly with your hands or tighten the cardigan around you, but you resisted it.

 “I promised you I have no intention of hurting you. Ever” he whispered, taking a hesitant step.

 You couldn’t bring yourself to answer the ghost, shaking your head and raising your bloody hands to your face.

 “Liébling. Let me help you.”

 The sleepiness was now worse than before, you could feel yourself slipping away. Then you realise.

 “Helmut, what did you put in my drink?” He took the final steps to you and held you tight. The blood stained his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind a bit, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss it chastely.

 “Don’t worry now. I’ll take care of you” he kissed your temple and your cheeks. Before falling unconscious, you remember thinking he still smelled the same.

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

[loki-quinn]

WHY DOES HIS EYES LOOK SO SAD AND PRETTY!?

#baron helmut zemo #james bucky barnes #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo smut #baron zemo #zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #zemo imagine #marvel #daniel brühl

[italianraviolos]

¡HELP!

Hi Daniel brühl fandom, especially those who are simping for Laszlo Kreizler.

Ages ago, I read a ff about Laszlo falling in love with one of is patients.

I remember the plot, it was the story of a women who's Sara's friend and she suggests her to go to Laszlo due to her problems.

She suffers from panic and anxiety attacks and Laszlo tries to cure her, and one night tries to cure her in a different way (coff* smut *coff) and after that he invites her to the opera but a few misunderstandings happen about a letter (I don't remember what happens) and so she goes but Sara gives her a knife as a defence.

They come back at Laszlo's house after the opera and she feels threatened during a particular situation of sexual tension, so she takes out the knife and then ✨smut✨ again.

IF ANYONE KNOWS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT PLEASE TELL MEEEEE

Thank you✨

#daniel brühl smut #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel brühl x reader #daniel bruhl #zemo x reader #laszlo kreizler #daniel bruhl icons #baron zemo #helmut zemo #lazslo kreizler #laslzo kreizler fanfiction #laszlo kreizler angst #laszlo kriezler x reader #laszlo kreizler smut #laszlo kreizler x reader #the alienist #john moore

[lorna-d-m]

Chapter Eleven: Vengeance

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: 5,440

W: language, violence, drinking. With the title being vengeance I think y'all can expect some pirate revenge. Some sexual content.

A/N: I want to thank y'all for going on this journey with me! It's been a long ride, but I've thoroughly enjoyed it. There is, of course, the companion one shot collection, and you can hold me accountable to writing for it by sending in requests! I'll be making a special announcement soon for my next fic, so stay tuned!

previous chapter

Some days, Helmut and Mary never saw each other on the ship until evening. Helmut would wake at dawn, dress and eat breakfast quietly, write a brief note to leave on his pillow for Mary when she woke, and tackle his ever-changing to-do list. He might see her across the deck, exchanging a wave and a smile, but that was all until nightfall. 

They established a routine for days such as that. Helmut would clean away the dirt and grime from his day while Mary found him something to eat. He had a penchant for skipping meals while he worked, and she did not want him to go to bed without eating. While Helmut ate, Mary would dress and tend to her hair for bed. He enjoyed watching her perch on the edge of their bed and work the fine comb through her hair. However, she had no intention of sleeping yet.

Mary might read during the day, but she and Helmut had a book set aside for them. It was theirs to read on nights when they missed each other’s company. Sometimes Mary would read aloud, others Helmut, and some nights they would alternate between pages or chapters. They could not resist the sound of each other's voices and complimented each other often.

On one particular evening, Helmut sat in the plush armchair in the loft while Mary lay across the window seat bench. Before reading, Helmut put a pillow under her head and draped a blanket over her. Helmut read slowly so she could savor every word. With closed eyes, Mary imagined every little detail and feeling. He loved to see her waiting with bated breath whenever he paused.

Helmut halted mid-sentence when someone knocked on the door. He permitted them to enter and slid the fabric bookmark in place. Oeznik entered the room, immediately apologizing for the intrusion, and stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He glanced at Mary and spoke in English.

“Might I have a word with you?” 

“Of course,” he peered at Mary whose eyes were now open as she watched them, “let’s talk outside in a moment.” Oeznik dipped his head and bowed before leaving. 

Mary did not look concerned, but he knew she was. She wondered what Oeznik would discuss with him at such a late hour, and Helmut knew because he wondered the same. Mary stretched her feet and toes, and she looked at Helmut, albeit upside down. “Should I wait here or the bed?” 

He set the book aside in its usual resting place and stood. Moonlight reflected on the water and through the window, so he closed the curtains. “In the bed. After all, it is getting late.” 

Mary reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’ll wait for you there.” He would find her half asleep, but no doubt eager to hear what happened. She would never pressure him, of course, but she would offer a listening ear and a shoulder to lean on.

Helmut met Oeznik on the quarter deck. He leaned against the railing, his slippers ill-prepared for the deck, and the wind blowing his dressing robe behind him. Being near the waves calmed him. Whether it was the salty air, the endless water, or the soothing sound of the waves against the ship, he did not know, but when Helmut could not sleep he went there. 

“Are you afraid to confront Walker? You have the materials, you know his routes, and yet we are sailing in circles, sir.” Helmut wondered if these were Oeznik’s words or Sam and James’.

Helmut tipped his head back and cast his gaze upon the stars. It was a clear and bright night, so he saw their patterns and intricacies. He swore his little star had the same constellations on her skin in clusters of freckles and her vast blue eyes. Instinctively, his eyes flicked from Ursa major to Ursa minor: Polaris, the north star. Helmut breathed in and filled his lungs with the briny air. 

He spoke slowly and carefully in his native tongue. His fingers curled around the old railing, and his nails dug into the wood. “When I first swore revenge, I had nothing to lose. Walker took everything but my life, and I was prepared to give it if it meant I would have justice.” His fingers relaxed, but he did not remove them from the railing. He softened with concern. “Now, with Mary, I worry I will not be strong enough. I fear making a mistake. I cannot sleep at night for fear of losing her.” Helmut turned to face his old friend.

“It is a heavy burden you bear, but it is not yours alone.”

“It is mine.” Helmut’s voice cut like a knife. “If she should somehow die, by a stray cannon or gunshot, the answer is clear. I cannot live without her.” He discussed his suicide as simply as he would say the sky is blue and the grass is green. “But Mary? If I die fighting Walker, what will she do?”

He ran his fingers through his hair and cursed. Helmut doubted Walker would spare her. He was not known for mercy. Walker was liable to beat her, rape her, kill her. It was the thought of Mary enduring such abuse that kept him awake at night. 

“That is no way to live, sir. How do you expect to defeat Walker when you cannot sleep and your worries are insurmountable? You cannot!” Oeznik protested. “You must be strong when you face him.”

Helmut nodded subtly and slowly. Oeznik was right; weakening himself before entering a battle was foolish. He strengthened his ship, his crew, and even Mary, but he paid little attention to himself. Helmut needed to rethink his approach: rest, reconsider, regroup. However, he was not yet in the mindset to do so.  

As promised, Mary waited in their bed. She left their bedside candle and extinguished all others. Bathed in the warm glow, Helmut could not help but admire her beauty. He wanted to trace his hands over the plush, indulgent lines of her body. Helmut knew the warmth he would feel, the delighted giggles and praise he would hear, and even the perfumed smell of her: jasmine and rose.  

She looked at him expectantly, so Helmut slipped under the sheets and joined her. He leaned in to kiss her cheek, and she rested her hand against his chest. Her fingers dug into his chest hair and grasped his necklace. Intrigued, Helmut moved to kiss her lips and slipped his tongue against hers. In a flash of passion, Mary pulled on his chain, drawing him impossibly closer. Helmut repositioned himself on top of her and let his lips wander.

As Helmut pleased his wife, he could not stop himself from wondering if it would be their last time. What if he never felt her fingers tugging on his hair, heard her moaning and whining his name, felt her reach her peak around him again? Helmut wanted to savor every moment and give them both a night to remember. 

Helmut could not postpone his date with destiny any longer. His plan relied on following Walker’s routes and schedules, so he navigated cautiously. He would kick himself if he was too soon or too early and forced to delay longer. 

Every few weeks, Walker stopped at a small, unmarked island to offload any stolen goods before checking in with his official duties. He would then return to the island to load everything back up. Helmut intended to ambush him at the island. With his boat anchored further offshore, and groups loading or unloading cargo, Walker would be at a disadvantage.

As they drew near, Helmut relayed instructions to Sam and James. The cannons needed to be prepared and loaded, their rifles and pistols should be filled with black gunpowder, and everyone aboard must be ready to fight. However, Helmut raised the flag himself. It was not the crossed swords or skull and bones common for a pirate; it was the golden crown and eagle of Sokovia on a purple backing. Walker may not remember that flag, but Helmut did.

Helmut drummed his fingers against the wheel. It was difficult to find particular, small islands amongst the sea, so he referred to his notes and maps. At one point he enlisted Mary to read what he wrote and hold up the map beside him. He warned her in the morning this could be it, and she moved nervously around him. Helmut considered himself finely tuned to his wife’s feelings, so when she pushed aside her unwanted plate, clenched her jaw, and crossed her arms in front of her chest, he knew she was anxious.

Through his wooden telescope, Helmut could see an island with a shoreline sweeping into a cove. If he was correct, Walker’s ship would be hiding on the other side. He collapsed his telescope and tucked it into his coat pocket. “Mary,” his voice was level but strained, “may we speak in my cabin?”

Wordlessly, with her lips pressed into a thin line, Mary followed him. She sat on the edge of their bed and picked at the red quilt. 

“I believe when we sail around the cove of that island, we will find Walker’s ship.” Helmut paused to let her absorb what that meant. “I need you to stay here in our cabin. I cannot be at my best if I am worrying for your safety, and although it could never be completely assured, I would rather have you hidden out of sight than in the midst of our fight.”

Helmut could see her thinking, the furrow in her brow deepened, and he waited for her response. The suspense of the moment, the day, and the years weighed on him. His shoulders hunched, and the sleepless nights showed under his eyes. Mary reached for his hand, and he calmed under her touch. 

“I understand. If my being there puts you at risk, then I will stay here. Hopefully someone does not break in here,” they both grimaced at the memory, “but I have the skills and the tools to defend myself should I need to.”

“Barricade the door, if you must, or break the ladder to the loft. Whatever keeps you safe, sternchen, you must promise me you will do it.” Helmut pressed a light kiss to her knuckles and slowly moved up her arm. If he could devour her in these last moments, he would. 

He nuzzled in her neck as Mary spoke, and she ran her fingers through his hair. “You must promise me that as well, Helmut. I know how long you have waited for this moment, and I know what it means to you, but I need you to return to me.”

“On my honor, I swear to you I will.” Helmut meant it. Pirates do not have a happy ending, they are killed, imprisoned, or mutinied, but Helmut aspired to be different. He wanted to settle the score between Walker and himself, and then he wanted to sail into the sunset with Mary like in the stories.

Helmut dressed himself for a fight. He tucked his loose linen shirt into his pants, and he gathered his pant legs into his tall boots. Helmut fastened his sword belt as tight as he could, and he reloaded his pistol with gunpowder. He reached for his knife, and he made sure Mary had hers. Not wanting her to be unprepared, he found a spare pistol for her as well. Should she be found, she would not need to wait for her attacker to draw near. 

They embraced again before parting ways. Helmut wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on the top of her head. He did not pretend to be naive; he knew this could be his last chance to hold his wife. For this reason, he treasured every second of her touch. 

 The sky was clear and sunny with the promise of purpose. Everyone could feel it in the air, tension and heaviness, which signified an important day. The crew was a powder keg ready to ignite, and Captain Zemo held the match in his leather-gloved hand. The Bloody Baron crept closer to the admiral, and the admiral did not suspect a thing.

Helmut hoped by the time Walker became aware, it would be too late. He paced across the deck as his ship rounded the edge of the islands and would soon be visible. Helmut hoped Walker would not immediately fire on him, being caught off guard, and Helmut could draw near. What was the point of the revenge if Helmut could not see Walker’s life flash before his eyes?

Eagle-eyed, Helmut spotted Walker’s men panicking when they saw his ship. Men, rowboats, and cargo all lay upon the shore, but Walker's ship, anchored offshore, began to sail away. Helmut was not worried as he knew he could catch him. His left hand strayed to his sword belt and fiddled with the handle of his sword.

Oeznik hid below deck in his cabin, Mary sheltered in theirs, Sam signaled from the crow’s nest, and James waited with some of the company to board. Helmut was truly alone as he awaited the perfect moment, yet he did not feel alone. He felt like a puppet master pulling the strings for the performance.

At his command, they fired the swivel guns. Unlike cannons, these were lighter and meant to target people on deck. They were useful before boarding as the less angry men with rifles and swords to greet them, the better. The Admiral’s men were ill-prepared for the ambush, so they made easy pickings for Helmut’s gunmen. They aimed for officers and anyone who gave commands, but they knew to leave Walker for their Captain. 

Delicately and painstakingly, Helmut came alongside Walker. Several feet separated the two great ships and created a chasm no man wished to fall into. The Bloody Baron’s crew mobilized quicker and used ropes, grapples, and boards to bridge the narrow gap. Lithe and quick, Helmut crossed using a wobbly board. 

Swords and gunshots filled the air and drowned out the thud of his boots against Walker’s deck. Zemo cut through the crowd, his heavy coat billowing behind him, fighting any red-coated navy man in his way. He dispatched them with ease as he sought the Admiral. His form was impeccable, his handiwork and his steps light, and he never stopped moving. 

“Baron Zemo.”

Helmut froze in his step, and everyone around him stilled. Walker’s harsh voice was unmistakable, yet he could not see the man. His eyes flicked around. He spotted Walker on the quarter-deck, his red coat gleaming in the sun, and his tricorn hat casting a shadow over his face. 

Walker barked an ugly laugh. “I did not recognize you, but of late your name has been all anyone hears in pubs and taverns.” He descended the curving staircase, one hand on the sliding along the railing, and paused. His mob cleared a direct path for him to Helmut. “You kidnapped my fiancée, killed Selby and Nagel, all to find me?”

Helmut bristled, then he smiled and scoffed. It was not worth arguing his first point when he intended to kill the man. “I’ve thought about nothing else for years.” His voice was quiet, meant for Walker’s ears alone. “I studied you. I followed you. But now that you’re standing here, I just realized,” he hesitated and tilted his head, “there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes.” Helmut chuckled. “It was too dark that night for me to see, but I could never forget you.” He held Walker’s eyes. “I am here because I made a promise, and I intend to fulfill it.”

“Should I draw my sword to make it even?” The crew already cleared a space around them, but at this, they all stepped back again. 

“Please, Admiral,” Helmut entreated. He shrugged off his heavy embroidered coat and rolled his shoulders. His gold and silver jewelry glinted in the sunlight, and the wind ruffled his hair. Helmut unsheathed his cutlass and took his stance. 

Walker boasted strength, and it was reflected in his choice of weapon. His sword was heavy, deadly with one blow, but difficult to wield in a fight. Helmut was quicker on his feet, and he used a sharp sword meant to slice rather than hack. He dodged Walker’s opening move and turned to the side. 

Zemo’s left-handed attacks confused Walker and allowed him to land several maneuvers. Blood stained Walker’s shirt and trickled down his chest, but he pressed on in anger. Helmut nearly missed two of Walker’s strikes, yet he could not sigh in relief. He must exhaust Walker to gain the advantage or disarm him.

The echo of guns and clanging of swords permeated even their cabin at the back of the ship. Mary heard yelling and screaming, curses and cries of victory. It was when the fighting grew quiet that Mary increased her worries. It was too quiet for her to discern anything from her hiding spot, and her stomach tightened in knots. 

She crept out of their cabin with one hand on her dagger at all times. Mary hoped she would not need it, but she felt prepared from Helmut’s lessons. She stepped lightly around the creaking floorboards and listened. Two swords rang against each other, and men shouted, but it was not the cacophony of a battle between two groups.

Standing on the main deck, clinging to the hall door, Mary could not see much. The crew circled around something or someone, their backs to her, and their heads jerked side to side following action. With her heart threatening to beat out of her chest, Mary ascended part of the spiral staircase to the quarter deck. Even if what she saw terrified her, she needed to see it. 

Her husband and her former fiancé dueled. It was an odd phrase, but their conflict was far deeper than her. Even if Helmut never met her, he would have searched across the seven seas for John Walker. She wished vengeance would bring him peace. 

Bright red blood seeped through Walker’s white shirt, but it was not enough to stop him. Mary breathed shallowly as she witnessed their battle. Helmut fought with speed and agility while Walker moved in a cumbersome manner. Her breath caught when Walker swung at him, and she could not breathe again until Helmut dodged. Mary’s nails dug into the railing to steady herself. 

She watched them fight for several minutes, but it may as well have been hours to her. Each passing second filled her with immense dread. However, she could not pull her eyes away from him. She did not even want to blink for fear something would happen in the millisecond she closed her eyes.

Helmut stopped suddenly. He must have spotted something, possibly even her. Rather than avoiding Walker’s sword, he caught the heavy blade in his right side. Mary screamed out in shock and fear. Crimson blood poured from him, he dropped his sword and sank to his knees. Both clusters and their Captains looked at her as she cried. Her shriek alerted them to her presence, but the damage was already done.  

At any other time, she would hesitate to cross the unsteady beams between ships. Mary ran across them now, hiking up her skirts with her fists. She paid no mind to the treacherous waves below her or the people watching her. She needed to reach Helmut.

Mary knelt on the ground beside him, and her long skirts trailed behind her. Blood and sweat made his shirt cling to his chest. Helmut smiled weakly at her, perspiration at his brow, and he took her hand in his. Tears streamed down Mary’s face, and she struggled to find her words. 

His voice was barely a whisper as he assured her. “It will be okay, Sternchen.” He squeezed her hand and brought it to his side. Helmut pressed against his wound, and her hand laid over his. If only her touch could heal… Warm, sticky blood soon coated her palm. Mary stroked Helmut’s cheek with her other hand.

“I thought you must have been kidnapped. Why else would you be seen with a disgraced pirate?” Walker’s voice cut harsher than his sword as he loomed over them. “But I see you’ve spread your legs for him like a common whore.” 

Walker’s soldiers chuckled at her expense, but Helmut’s prepared to defend their Captain and his wife’s honor. They watched their Captain with great attention. One man smiled menacingly with his ax while another wrapped his fingers around his sword. The rules of the fight prohibited them from acting, but if he gave them the smallest of signals they would come to arms. Helmut’s eyes burned with hate and disgust, but Mary straightened her back. She would not shy away from him. 

“Even a disgraced pirate has more honor than you, Admiral.” Mary spat on his polished boot. 

Walker raised his fist to hit his former fiancée, but he did not. Helmut shot him before he could harm Mary. He aimed true at such a short distance, and Walker collapsed before them. His bloody gloved hand held his pistol and remained in the air. All eyes were on Helmut, but he looked deep into his wife’s eyes. It was not part of his plan, but he would not allow Walker to hurt her too. 

Walker’s second in command made a move toward Helmut, but Sam fended off the attack. That sparked another fight between the two crews. They ignored Helmut and Mary in the center of the deck with the deceased Admiral Walker on the edge of her skirt. 

“Are you alright?” he rasped. His brow pinched in pain, and sweat trickled down his chest.

A nervous laugh bubbled out of Mary’s throat. “You’re the one bleeding on the ground, and you’re asking me?” 

“He was going to strike you, like a cowardly man.” He shifted uncomfortably and clasped his hand to his side again. Helmut heaved a heavy sigh. “But I fear you may be right.”

“Here,” Mary tugged at her skirt and removed the knife from her belt. She cut a stretch of fabric from the bottom, folded it, and pressed it against his wound. Then she cut another strip and wrapped it around him. Mary tied it tight to add pressure and compression. “Can you stand? Can you walk?”

“I shall manage.” He glanced around at the ensuing fight. It could be the distraction he needed. Once he returned to his ship he would order his men to return as well. Helmut achieved his goal, and he did not want more of his loyal people to be injured or killed. 

Helmut stood, and Mary gathered his coat off the deck. He appeared steady enough on his feet, one of his hands still clutched on his wound and gestured for Mary to cross first. “Please,” he insisted. Helmut would not risk leaving Mary behind and being accosted by an angered soldier. 

Mary was anxious to cross. The rush of the moment guided her before, but now her fears set in. She tested the creaking board and turned over her shoulder to glance at Helmut. He ceased grimacing to smile reassuringly. Furrowing her brow and biting her lip, Mary took her first steps. 

Although they were not out of danger yet, it comforted Mary to be on the Bloody Baron. She watched Helmut pause before joining her and whistle with two fingers. Once he heard the reciprocating whistle, Helmut trudged across the board. When Helmut returned to his ship, he placed a light kiss on Mary’s forehead and sent her back to their cabin. 

Mary prepared to treat Helmut’s injuries. She knew he would not return until he settled matters with the deceased Admiral’s ship. Then, Helmut would insist his crew see their barber-surgeon first. Mary did not want him to go so long without treatment, so she gathered the bowl of water, a stack of cloth, and strong rum. 

As Helmut’s brigade rejoined him, he issued new orders. Some stayed on deck to man the swivel guns, while others ran below deck to load the cannons. Helmut wanted to see the ship burn, just saw his ship eight years ago. Some of the men would flee, of course, and they would spread the story of this day. 

Helmut Zemo achieved justice for his family. He fulfilled a promise he made not just to himself, but to Heike, Carl, and his father. He even defended Mary from being struck and further disrespected. 

The cannons blew holes in the hull of the ship until eventually, something caught. Gunpowder stores ignited easily, and soon enough flames engulfed the ship. Mary watched it from their cabin as her nails pressed marks into her palms. As Walker’s ship sank into the sea, the Bloody Baron sailed away. 

Helmut entered after, wearing his dark coat again. He shut the door behind him and shrugged off his coat. Mary winced at the blood staining his white shirt, and she urged him to sit in a chair. 

“I saw Stephen,” he huffed as he sat, “and he treated my wound. He said it was not so deep, but I must remember to keep it clean while it heals.” Helmut looked up at her sheepishly through his eyelashes. “I must confess I knew it was not deadly when it happened, but I pretended it was to make Walker think he had the upper hand.”

She thought for a moment. This admission did not console her. Could she have startled him? What if the cut had been worse? What if Walker hastened his movements and killed him whilst he lay on the ground? Mary’s stomach twisted in knots as she set her materials on the table. 

Helmut gently grabbed her wrist and kissed it. He fluttered his dark eyes at her and pulled her from her train of thought. “I am not upset with you for leaving our cabin. I wish it had not spooked me as it did, but there is nothing we can do to change the past. I am glad you and I are safe.”

Tears spilled down Mary’s cheeks, and Helmut wiped them away. He smeared some of the blood coating his gloved fingers onto her face, but she did not care. Mary needed Helmut’s touch and reassurance after such a harrowing day.  

Helmut pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it to the side. No matter how Mary treated it, the shirt was ruined. She studied his back and chest for any new marks, and she cleaned them with the cloth. Stephan stuck a bandage and wrapping around Helmut’s waist. Mary did not dare touch it, but she would inquire later on how to dress it.

Helmut took a swig from the bottle of rum and chuckled. “The good rum again?” 

“It was all you had,” she smiled. Mary remembered the first time she tended to their wounds. They both came a long way since then. She stopped shying away from his touch and began craving it. Mary was no longer afraid of her feelings, and she acted upon them. 

Helmut handed her the bottle so she could disinfect the cuts and scrapes. Mary surprised him by taking a gulp. She wrinkled her nose at the taste, but she could not say she hated it. “How are the crew?” she inquired, dabbing at a light cut on his shoulder. 

“I should think they’re doing the same as you,” he quipped. “Drinking and tending to their lesser wounds.” Helmut heaved a heavy sigh before continuing. “Peter and Rake did not see the end of the fight, and I am afraid Anna may not survive her wounds.” 

“Is she in such dire straits?” Mary remembered seeing Anna around the ship, climbing up ropes and nets with such grace. 

“She suffered many cuts and lost a great amount of blood. Anna will require careful monitoring before we may know for certain.” 

“Poor girl.” Mary manipulated Helmut’s chin with two of her fingers. She scrubbed the blood and dirt off his face and neck. Her finger grazed his lips, and his molten brown eyes met hers. Mary rubbed her thumb along his jaw and watched him soften under her touch. “And how are you, Hel?”

“Exhausted, but content.” He readjusted in his seat to better face her. “I have achieved something I vowed to do, and I have returned safely to you. What more could I ask for, other than a good night’s sleep?” 

A knock sounded on the door, so Helmut told them to enter. Billy anxiously stepped into the room carrying a tray laden with food. The kitchen must be celebrating and making good use of Walker’s stores. Before Helmut sank the ship, he allowed his crew to loot and scavenge. 

“The galley crew thought you might appreciate a bite to eat.” Mary moved the bowls and cloths out of the way so Billy could set the tray on the table. 

“Ah! That’s what I was missing. A good, warm meal to end my day.” Mary laughed and realized her hunger, too. She hoped they did not hear her stomach growl, and she thought of a wine to pair with the meal. Helmut removed his leather gloves and picked up a crust of bread glistening with butter.  

Billy stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “Captain, sir?” Helmut, who did not realize Billy waited there as he chewed his bread, cleared his throat. Billy rocked on the balls of his feet, but he stopped when Helmut’s gaze fell on him. “I’ve been thinking, sir, I should learn how to fight so I can defend myself and be of use during attacks.” 

Helmut nodded slowly. He had his suspicions, but he wanted to hear it from the boy’s lips. “Why not ask someone else? Sam and James are both excellent fighters and capable teachers.” Mary poured two glasses of red wine and placed one by Helmut.

Billy looked through his shaggy hair to meet Helmut’s eye. He took a deep breath in, ceasing his wide-eyed stare, and spoke. “Sir, you are the best fighter I have ever seen, and I would like to learn from you.”

“It will not be easy,” Helmut warned, “and it will not be quick.” He eyed Billy, thirteen years old now, and knew it was time for him to learn. “Are you certain?”

“Aye, Cap’n. I am sure.” Billy nodded, and his hair fell back into his eyes. 

He left shortly after, and Helmut assured him he did not need to return for the tray of food. They happily tucked into their meal, speaking little as they ate. Helmut and Mary could sit comfortably in silence without feeling the need to fill it. There was much they could say about the day, breaking it down minute by minute, but they did not wish to do so yet.

After their meal, they prepared for bed. It was early, the sun had not set, but it was what they wanted. Helmut changed into loose linen sleep clothes and was careful not to disturb his bandage. Mary unbraided her hair and combed through the knots and tangles with care. 

Helmut propped himself up against the wooden headboard and admired his wife in the soft candlelight. There were times when he thought he would never see her again, so he cherished every part of her. His dark eyes lingered on her lacey nightgown, more modest than others she owned, but enticing nevertheless. Mary caught his watchful stare in her gilded handheld mirror, and she smirked at him. Helmut winked to assure her that on any other night he would trail his hand up her nightgown, nipping at her lace-trimmed skin. 

They craved a different form of intimacy. Mary slipped under the sheets with him, and she rested her head on his chest. She heard the steady beat of his heart and traced her fingers through the hair trailing down his abdomen. Helmut pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and twisted his fingers into her hair. They lay intertwined until the moon and stars shone through the window and they drifted off to sleep, rocked by the constant motion of the ship. 

For the first time in eight years, Helmut could sleep in complete peace with his little star beside him.

tag list: @scuttle-buttle @fictionlandslanddreams @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @hardlyinteresting @sapphiredreamer26 @aedeluca @alycu1 @linkpk88 @rachreads @fandom-princess-forevermore @f1yogurt

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

[blackleatherjacketz]

Baron Helmut Zemo Masterlist

Baron Zemo x Original Female Character

Work of Art - (NSFW One-Shot) While waiting for Sam and Bucky to get back, Zemo compares their partner to a classic painting by Klimt.

Point of No Return - (NSFW One-Shot) - Zemo helps his colleague get into character for an undercover mission.

Baron Zemo x Female Reader

What I Paid For - (NSFW Drabble) - Zemo wants to see what your new lingerie looks like.

Without a Trace - Zemo up and leaves without saying goodbye…

More - (NSFW Drabble) Zemo pushes your body to the limit.

Delightful - (Drabble) Zemo comforts you in the freezing cold.

Ruin Your Plans - (Drabble) Zemo finds you after being on the run.

Baron Zemo x Female Reader x Bucky Barnes

Russian Roulette - (NSFW. One-Shot) Zemo propositions you and Bucky for a threesome.

Read more MARVEL stories!

#baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #baron zemo imagine #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #baron zemo smut

[bluebirdsboi]

MCU Masterlist | Last Updated: 8/13/23

Key

Fluff = 🥰 | Angst = 😢 | Smut = 🥵 | Hurt Comfort = 🩹 Platonic = 🤝 Headcanons = 📝 | ABC Headcanons = 👩‍🏫 | Oneshot = 📘 | Series = 📚 AU = 🌎 | Songfic = 🎵 Male Reader = 💙 | Gender Neutral Reader = 💜 | Female x Female = 💖 Story on hold = ✋| Character on hold = 🔒 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Augustus “Pug” Pugliese (Josh Segarra)

Coming soon... 

Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan)

Coming soon...

Clint Barton (Jeremy Renner)

The New Guy 🥰(🥵) | 📘 | 💙

Dane Whitman (Kit Harington)

Coming soon...

Daniel Sousa (Enver Gjokaj)

Coming soon...

Druig (Barry Keoghan)

Coming soon...

Frank Castel (Jon Bernthal) | 🔒

Coming soon...

Grant Ward (Brett Dalton)

Coming soon...

Helmut Zemo (Daniel Brühl)

Coming soon..

Howard Stark (Dominic Cooper)

Coming soon...

Ikaris (Richard Madden)

Coming soon...

Jack Russell (Gael García Bernal)

Coming soon...

Joaquín Torres (Danny Ramirez)

Coming soon...

Kingo (Kumail Nanjiani)

Coming soon...

Leo Fitz (Iain De Caestecker)

Coming soon...

Marc Spector (Oscar Isaac)

He Won’t Have You 🥵🩹 | 📘 | 💙

Solace 🩹 | 📘 | 💙

Matt Murdock (Charlie Cox) | 🔒

Coming soon...

Namor (Tenoch Huerta Mejía)

Coming soon...

N’Jadaka (Killmonger) (Michael B. Jordan)

Coming soon...

Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire | Andrew Garfield | Tom Holland)

Coming soon...

Peter Quill (Chris Pratt)

Coming soon...

Pietro Maximoff (Aaron Taylor-Johnson)

Coming soon...

Quentin Beck (Jake Gyllenhaal)

Coming soon...

Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie)

Coming soon...

Scott Lang (Paul Rudd)

Coming soon...

Stephen Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch)

Coming soon...

Steve Rogers (Chris Evans)

Coming soon...

Steven Grant (Oscar Isaac)

Coming soon...

T’Challa (Chadwick Boseman)

Coming soon...

Thor Odinson (Chris Hemsworth)

Coming soon...

Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.)

Coming soon...

Xu Shang-Chi (Simu Liu)

Coming soon...

#marvel #MCU #masterlist

[undercoverpena]

interesting

I decided, thanks to some kind souls in my DMs to indulge. I know he’s not why many of you are here, but if you’re a fan of wcrp, you’ll know how much I loved writing zemo.

helmut zemo x f!reader summary: zemo wants you alone. you want him. an: alludes to smut, this man owns me rn, or has done for a while. WC: 1.1k part two

++++++++++++++++

Helmut Zemo has done bad things.

He knows this. Accepts it.

He would argue he isn’t a bad person. Even if his actions, his choices dictate him as one.

Which is why he shouldn’t have kissed you.

But now he has, he can’t stop thinking about it.

The two of you could have sold the lie to Selby with words alone. He’s heard you talk, heard how you can wrap those around your finger in many languages. He also knows the kiss had been an easy out—one which stirred something that didn’t need stirring.

And now the two of you are alone.

Again.

Which is why he pours himself a drink, something strong, something with an amber shade. He considers downing it before refilling, but decides instead to pour you one.

Because he’s hospitable.

He stares at the back of your head, hating how hard you’re pretending to be indifferent. Despising that you’re pretending you’re not unravelling too—because he knows you are.

For a long time, knowing, and understanding people, was his business.

Which is why he’s moving across the room until he’s beside you, offering out the crystal-cut glass to you.

“Drink?”

If your surprised, you don’t show it. Likely instead chanting that ‘You should hate him.’ And maybe, you should. Even as the dark orange liquid sloshes when your hand takes it.

“Thought it would make being around me more… interesting?”

He hears you scoff as he sits on the opposite corner, hearing it followed by the noticeable sound of ice meeting the glass when you take a sip. Because the room is silent, holding its own breath as though waiting for the two of you to snap.

Not that he’ll be the one to do so first.

And, from what he can tell of you, you’re going to hold out as long as you can before you do. He can tell, from the way you avoid his eyes, even as he sits in your peripheral at the other corner of the sofa, enough of a distance, but not enough to likely stop your cheeks from burning, ears and chest wanting to follow suit.

“I don’t need interesting.”

He studies you.

Because he knows you do.

He’s not sure he’s met another soul who needs interesting, who is more bored than him.

But, he’s bored because he made a choice—took revenge. A choice he never regrets, but wonders if he could have done it differently, smarter. Had his cake and eaten it too.

He knows why he’s bored, but he can’t quite place why you are. His dark eyes scanning over you, wondering if the answer is just beneath a layer or two.

Like the fact that you keep pretending that, in another world, in another life, you likely wouldn’t have this faux-hate when it comes to him. One he can sense.

The same as he did on the plane, when the others slept.

When you looked at him, without trying to look at him.

When you smirked when he spoke Sokovian, when he made a comment about your book and your eyes shimmered as if finally meeting someone who challenged you.

It would be a lie to say he didn’t think the same. It had been a long time since he’d met someone with plump lips and curves who could make his brain work harder, and not just smarter.

“You don’t feel it’s necessary to… what did James say, babysit me?”

It would be easy to ignore him. Easier.

But, from the way your shoulders tense, he can tell you’re not one for preservation, not one to back down from a fight.

It’s the very reason he suspects that you’re here, wrapped up in international issues and gallivanting without worries of breaking the laws in cities he suspects you’d love to explore.

“I don’t.”

“Because you don’t believe I can do harm?”

You smile, but he’s not sure they’re at his words—or his digging. “You blew up a building, meaning you are, by definition, harmful.”

He tilts his head, not vanishing the smile which begins to grace his lips. Because he sees it. Before you speak it.

“But, no. I don’t believe you’ll do harm here. To us…”

“To you?” He adds.

Motioning the glass to swirl, before taking a sip, a delicate—almost hidden—smirk behind it. One that is taking more effort than he likes to keep hidden.

Especially when he realises that your pressing your thighs together, that your eyes keep darting from his to his lips. The same as his do, when you’re not paying as much attention.

A devious, and clever game of cat and mouse.

He has to wonder if it’s his features or his chivalry which has caught you by surprise. Remembering your surprise when he asked if he could wrap his arm around you during the showdown in the seedy bar.

As though you hadn’t considered he’d be kind.

“Would you? Harm me, I mean?” You ask, smirking as you take another sip.

He watches you, noticing how you don’t shudder this time, noticing how you’re growing used to the taste. Something which both makes him smirk and spread his thighs.

Leaning back, he swallows, sweeping his eyes over you. Letting the silence sit, just for a moment.

“Not intentionally.”

You nod, short, brief. Before you drain your glass, placing it down on the table, meeting his eyes with the same determination he’s usually sporting whenever he finds himself around you.

“I think you’ve been locked up for so long, you wouldn’t know how to harm a woman. Not in the way you’re insinuating,” you add.

He hears the way you are slowing down your words by just a touch, elongating some, but not all.

“I would never question whether you could kill one, maim one. I’ve seen the evidence of that. But I’m not sure you remember how to please one.”

He swallows before he’s aware, he can feel heat spreading across his stomach. A growing need running through his veins.

“You should be careful.”

“Doesn’t seem interesting,” you retort.

And the corner of his lips twitch, an almost smile. “No. I suppose it doesn’t.”

Your eyes narrow, in either confusion or surprise, he isn’t sure.

“But, Liebling. If you want to know whether I would be able to fuck you, like you so need, all you have to do is ask.”

Your smirk falls, lips parting. He watches as you shift in your seat, thighs pressing together more than before.

He drains his own glass, placing it down on the table, the sound vibrating across the room.

“I think now is when you should use your words, Liebling.”

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