Are You Still Taking Requests For Kenny (Were The Millers)?

are you still taking requests for Kenny (We’re The Millers)?

Of course! He's baby😊

Maniacal Me - Helmut Zemo

Alright so, this is something I wrote. Not gonna say why cause that's my fuckin' business. But if you're even the slightest bit squeamish, absolutely skip this one cause it's the darkest thing I've even written in my life so...yeah

Warnings: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING, mentions of sexual assault, roofies, Dark!Zemo (but not towards Reader), revenge, extreme violence and graphic descriptions of torture, stalking, drugging, castration, and sounding as a form of torture

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Zemo's mouth upturned into a fond smile as he heard the front door to his house open and close, signaling that you were finally back from your night out.

Zemo marked his place in the book he was reading, sitting up from the couch to greet you as you made your way deeper into the home, slightly furrowing his brows as you barely even noticed him walked towards you, only looking up at him as he spoke up, "How was your night, Liebe?" He asked softly, instantly noticing how you were stumbling in your heels.

Your gaze was distant as you replied, "Good. It was good. I'm just...really tired." You chuckled weakly just barely slurring your words, leaning up against the wall of the foyer to remove your heels, sighing as your feet were finally free.

"My, how much did you drink?" Zemo asked in amusement.

You shrugged. "Only like, a few shots...and a beer, I think."

"Huh..." He hummed in thought, "You don't usually get wasted from that little. Here, let me help you to bed." And as he got close to hold on to your waist, that's when he smelled it; another man's seed. His heart rate quickened immensely as you soon fell limp in his arms, soft snores escaping your mouth, fear filling his senses.

Zemo's eyes started to fill with angry tears as he undressed you from your outfit, seeing bruises in the shape of fingerprints scattered along your thighs, bite marks along your collarbone, and a small trace of blood along your inner thighs. He felt sick as rage placed itself in the pit of his stomach, slowly growing and rising up into his throat until he had no choice but to let it out. He yelled out in pain, punching the first thing that he saw; a mirror, hearing it shatter and cut into his fist, but he didn't feel it. All he felt was pure, searing hot anger.

Zemo stayed by your side all night, well into the late morning, anxious for you to wake. He had cleaned himself up, and the broken glass that littered the floor, the last thing he wanted was for you to worry about him. Your soft sleepy sighs made him perk up, on high alert as you slowly sat up in bed, stretching your arms and squinting your eyes as the sunlight hit your face. "Hey..." You smiled sleepily, Zemo's presence instantly comforting you.

"How are you feeling?" He asked cautiously.

You weren't entirely sure. You had a slight ache in between your legs and your legs were sore, but that could've just been because you pushed yourself to dance along with every song that came on the club stereo; but as for the ache, you had no memory of what could've caused that, unless... "Did we have sex last night?"

Zemo's eyes were downcast, his hands balled up into fists, but he was determined to keep his face neutral. "Do you remember anything from last night?"

You tried thinking back; you remembered meeting your friends and having a good time, you remembered taking those shots, but somewhere during the night, it started to become a blur. The last thing you remember was sipping on that beer...eyes slightly widening as you realized, short flashes of memories in your eyes, remembering a man. He was trying to flirt with you, but you paid him no mind. You don't remember seeing him at all after rejecting him, but then how come the memories flashing in your eyes where ones of him?

You felt Zemo grab ahold of your hand as you started to cry, his so soft, warming your cold one, his brows furrowed and a deep frown adorning his face. "Liebling..." He whispered so softly, you could barely hear him. "What did he look like?" He asked, a more stern tone to his voice, his eyes glossed over.

You slightly shook your head, trying to remember his face causing you physical and emotional pain. "I can't...I-"

"It's okay. Take your time."

You tried your best to describe the man from last night, your voice trembling terribly as you recounting all the bits and pieces that were coming back to you. You recalled him telling you his name, but only his first. But with the description paired along with the one name, Zemo had all the information he needed to know to find this monster. "I wish I was there to protect you, I'm so sorry that I wasn't. But I promise, I'll make sure that this never happens again. Ever."

Zemo shifted in his seat impatiently, his eyes trained on the front entrance of the club like he was hypnotized. And he was, in a way. So focused that it almost felt like he was.

He watched as various people walked in and out of the double doors, laughing and smiling or some clearly too drunk to walk in a straight line. But then, he finally spotted him, the waste of a human being that assaulted you. He was finally leaving the club, a random's arm around his shoulder, head swaying side to side and barely standing on her own two feet. Fuck, he was doing it again, not even two days after you. Oh, Zemo was going to enjoy this.

Getting out of his car, Zemo closely trailed behind your assailant, following him into a dark alleyway. His expression darkened as he saw the man feeling up the woman in his arms, kissing on her neck as she weakly pushed against him, her eyes involuntarily fluttering open and closed, in and out of consciousness.

With heavy steps, Zemo stormed over to the man, grabbing onto his shoulder and pushing him off the drugged woman, the force so powerful that he stumbled over and fell on his ass on the damp concrete. Zemo quickly called over Oeznik, giving him the go ahead to tranquilize the fallen man. "Put her up in a nice hotel room, a suite, if it's available. Make sure no harm comes to her." He ordered sternly, helping her over to the parked limo and gently placing her in the backseat.

"Are you sure you don't need any more help, sir?" The elderly man asked.

"No, thank you. I'm quite capable of handling this trash by myself." As the limo drove off, Zemo turned to look down at the now unconscious man, smirking darkly. "You're gonna wish you had never been born."

Unlike how gentle he was with the woman, Zemo handled the man roughly, dragging him by one of his ankles. Hogtying his limbs, he forcefully stuffed him in the trunk of his car, subtly admiring the way the body contorted unnaturally to fit in such a small, confined space. He would definitely be sore when he woke up, but that'll be nothing compared to what Zemo had planned.

Zemo watched with an amused smirk as the man finally came into consciousness, his expression twisting into that of extreme discomfort. Upon seeing Zemo sitting comfortably in a seat in front of him, casually sipping on a glass of whiskey, his eyes frantically looked at his surroundings. He was chained up to a wooden torture cross, the wood old and splintering, digging into the man's back through his clothes. "Hey man, who the fuck are you? Where the hell am I?" The man asked angrily, only noticing his restraints as he tried to pull on them, his eyes slowly growing in fear and his breaths turning into heavy pants.

Zemo chuckled darkly. "Now, now, you're in no position to ask me questions, and so rudely as well. As you can probably tell, unless you're as stupid as you look."

"Please, just, where am I?" He almost begged.

Zemo narrowed his eyes as he deliberated his approach, but decided to entertain the man first. "We're in one of my warehouses, just on the outskirts of Riga."

"What do you want from me?"

"What do I want?" Zemo snickered, giving the chained up man the most condescending look he could've possibly mustered. "What I want, is to know why you go around drugging woman?" The man's eyes widened comically, starting to shake his head until Zemo backhanded him, his head snapping to the side briefly. "Don't you dare play coy, I saw you last night."

"Dude, you don't understand. She was into me, she was flirting with me all night. She wanted it."

"Oh, did she now? Then how come she could barely even stand as you walked her out of that club?" The man stayed silent, Zemo nodding and pacing back and forth in front of him. "Lucky I was there when I was, but unfortunately, I couldn't protect all the other woman you must've done the exact same thing to. You're already a fucking scumbag, but you made the grave mistake of choosing one certain person as one of your victims, who just so happens, belongs to me. Two nights ago, you singled out a woman with her group of friends. She was wearing a dark blue dress, her hair done up perfectly, she was so beautiful. You tried flirting with her, but you couldn't take the fuckin' hint. So you spiked her drink when she wasn't looking...you raped her...and now, you're gonna die because of it."

The man quickly shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes as he finally seemed to grasp the severity of the situation, the skin his wrist rubbing raw as he kept trying to fight against the restraints. "No, man, please, it was an accident. A mistake, I promise!"

Zemo nodded as he started laying out his surgical tools on a metal tray that sat on a wooden table, situating the tray to sit right next to the wooden cross. "You accidently roofied her?"

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry! I'm...messed up. I know that. I was abused as a kid, man, I need therapy. I'll get help, I promise, just please don't kill me!" The man started to sob, mucus trailing down his face along with his thick tears, the pungent smell of urine permeating the air as he pissed himself out of fear once he saw the various terrifying looking instruments Zemo set up on a table.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet." Zemo held up one of his tools towards the ceiling lights, a slight smile coming to his face as the light hitting the metal made it glow. "I'm gonna take my time with you first. We're going to have fun."

Zemo placed on his thin rubber gloves. It was honestly the worst part, the starchiness of the material grating against his skin, but it put it out of his mind as he had a job to do. "So, how should we start, hm?" He taunted, looking the man up and down, hoping that he felt just as helpless as his victims. "I have some ideas, but I'd be open to hear some of your opinions, I am fair after all." The man just kept crying weakly, still trying to pull on his chains. "No suggestions then? Alright, fine. Good thing I have a well developed imagination."

Zemo started to feel a giddy feeling in his chest as he picked up a pair of pliers, the metal covered with dark brown leftover blood, rusting from the lack of use. He hadn't done this in a long time, he hoped he hadn't lost his touch. That would've been embarrassing.

Shrugging off his heavy coat and rolling up the sleeves of his dark purple sweater, he went to work.

Zemo would start with the man's right hand, wanting to make this as slow as possible, but not induce enough pain that he'd die. No, he had many ideas that he wanted to try and it wouldn't be worth experimenting if his subject was dead, now, would it? He started to smirk as the man made no effort in hiding his fearful whimpers as Zemo started to cut off his clothing with his knife, exposing his pale torso. "Please, I won't tell anyone about this. I'll pay you, just please, let me go." The man cried, clearly, too stupid to realize that nothing he said was going to stop this.

"Do I look like I need or want your money?" Zemo grinned darkly, surprising the man and himself when he jammed his knife in the flesh of his palm, a scream mixed with a sob escaping the man's throat. "Oh, sorry, that's not how I wanted to start this. Usually I have better control over my anger," He pulled the knife out of the man's hand with a grunt, another sob being released as the blood seeped out like a waterfall, dripping copiously onto the concrete floor. "My apologies." He coughed awkwardly, placing the knife onto the table delicately and pushing it away a little, to make sure he wouldn't do something so impulsively again. There was an art to this, Zemo knew that, and he'd be doing a great disservice if he was to rush through this with such carelessness. "Let me make up for my impulsivity."

Zemo reached up slightly so that he could reach the man's wounded hand, situating the previously discarded pliers so that his pinky sat in between the rusty metal, a rush of excitement bubbling in Zemo's veins as the man started to beg for mercy once again, immediately letting out a scream as Zemo slowly closed the pliers, hearing the piercing wet squelching sound as the layers of thin skin start to cut open, then a splintering noise echoing around the empty warehouse as the bones in his finger shattered and breaking until the small digit completely came off, falling to the floor. "Well, that was exhilarating." Zemo laughed breathlessly, picking up the bloodied finger and inspecting it. "One down." He smirked.

A sickening feeling grew in Zemo's stomach as he removed another digit from the man's fingers, not because of the way the bone crunching from the pressure of the instrument echoed around the warehouse; no, it was because some blood managed to splatter on him. He cringed and sighed in frustration, ignoring the screeching noises of pain coming from the man as his index finger dangled off the rest of his hand, barely hanging on by a thin piece of mangled skin. "You got blood on my favorite sweater. Well, at least I can hire someone else to do my laundry. I looked in your wallet and it was like a barren wasteland, no way you could pay for my laundry. I hope the stain can come out, at least. Oh well, I guess I could just buy a new one. God, see what you're putting me through? You could've spared me the waste of having to go shopping if you could've not been actual human garbage for once in your pathetic life."

Situating the rusty pliers on one of the man's toes, he slowly started to squeeze. "This little piggy went to market," Zemo started to sing over the man's painful animalistic wailing, his bones in his toe crushing and splintering inside his skin, hearing the tear as the toe came off completely. Zemo moved to the next one, "This little piggy stayed home." Another one removed. "This little piggy had roast beef, and this little piggy had none." Finally getting to his big toe, the one that would be the most struggle to remove, he laughed as the man continued screeching loudly. "And this little piggy went Wee Wee Wee," He sang over the man's screams, almost harmonizing with him, "all the way home!"

The man was dazed, almost falling unconscious from the immense pain he was in, but he was quickly perked up forcefully when Zemo threw cold water onto his person. "No sleeping just yet, sir. We still have much to do. Drink this. Slow." Zemo pushed a bottle of water up to the man's lips, him immediately gulping it down and coughing as it went down the wrong tube briefly. "I told you to drink it slowly. You never listen, huh?"

"Please..." The man choked out weakly, "just kill me..."

Zemo smiled softly, contrasting his dark eyes. "Oh, you can't die just yet. Not when we're having so much fun. Are you not having fun?" He snorted when the man's bottom lip trembled, bursting out into tears yet again. "I attend to savor this. I'm only allowing myself one night so, we have to make it count, yes?"

Slowly twirling a scalpel in his hand, Zemo unbuttoned the man's pants, pulling down his boxers along with the pants. "What're you doing?" The man yelled angrily, getting a sudden second wind as his manhood felt threatened. "I'm not into dudes, you fuckin' psycho!"

"Oh, what? Do you think I actually wanted to rape you? Even I wouldn't stoop to that level, not even for people like you. No..." He smirked, "I have something better planned. I'll ask, do you have any last words for mini you down there?"

The man's eyes widened. "What?" He stuttered. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm going to remove your balls, moron; like the dog that you are." Zemo said nonchalantly.

"No. No, no, please, don't!" The man balled hysterically, trying his hardest to escape his restrains, as if he hadn't try multiple times already and got nowhere.

"What's the problem? It's not like you're gonna have to live with no balls for the rest of your life, cause you're dying tonight, whether you like it or not. Plus, what's that when you've already lost your fingers and toes?" Zemo didn't give the man any time to reply, getting on his knees, duct taping the man's penis out of the way so he could have a better access to the testicles. "I'd say brace yourself, but I don't give a shit."

Without wasting another second, Zemo dug the scalpel into the sensitive flesh, trying to hold back his grin as the man continued to damage his vocal cords, a slight splash of blood landed on Zemo's face. "Haha..." He chuckled dementedly, focusing on his torturous surgery. "Don't worry, I'm almost done here." He said with a faux sympathy. "Aha-!" He exhaled sharply as he finally cut through the last pieces of skin that kept the man's balls attached to the rest of his body, falling in the palm of Zemo's hand. "Would you look at that?" He smiled approvingly, holding up the detached parts up to the man's pale and sweaty face. "I've got you by the balls." He giggled.

"Stop squirming, you're gonna mess up my perfect sutures." Zemo hissed, keeping a steady hand as he sewed up the empty space where the man's testicles used to be. "There, now hopefully, you won't bleed out faster."

Placing a thin metal rod onto an open flame, Zemo looked back at the sweaty broken man with an almost sympathetic smile. "Are you familiar with sounding? It's not too extremely common, but it's supposed to make cumming all the more pleasurable for a man. Unluckily for you, I don't have experience, so it'll be painful, especially when this rod is boiling hot." Zemo went to the almost dead man with the rod in hand. "Now, hold still, or else I might accidently stick it in wrong. Hm, it probably would've been easier if you could get hard. Maybe I should've saved the castration for last...oh well." Zemo grabbed a hold of the man's limp penis, forcefully inserting the rod into his urethra; the deep guttural moans of pain increasing in volume as it turned into sharp earsplitting screams, so loud that Zemo caught some blood seeping out of the man's mouth from his torn up vocal cords, hearing the weak sobs along with the sound of sizzling skin, burning from the inside out.

Zemo examined his work, nodding in approval. "Well, how is it for you?" He asked with a smirk, only to roll his eyes when he saw the man was passed out from the pure pain he was in. "God, so lazy, aren't you? Guess I'll have to wait until you wake up...again." But after an hour, the man didn't wake up and Zemo started to get impatient.

"Hey, wake up, arschloch." Zemo slapped the man's face roughly, only for it to jerk to the side limply. "Oh, come on. Really? You're gonna tap out now?"

Zemo couldn't help but feel a wave of relief wash over him as he felt the man's pulse, feeling no throbbing in his neck or wrists. He had more ideas he wanted to test out, and that was kind of annoying, but he was finally dead. A toxic weed plucked from a rose garden, never to destroy such precious flowers ever again...

You were worried for Zemo, he had been gone all night, not replying to your texts or phone calls. You were really praying that nothing bad happened to him, or he wasn't getting himself into any trouble on your behalf. But you were soon proven right in your worry when Zemo came through the front doors, covering in dry blood. "Oh my god, what happened to you?" You cried, running to him and looking him over. "Are you hurt?" You asked frantically, trying to find the source of the bleeding.

Zemo chuckled tiredly. "No, mien Schatz, I'm perfectly okay."

You furrowed your brows, the smell of so much blood making you dizzy. "Then, why are you covered in blood?"

"I found him...your attacker." Your whole body ran cold, finally realizing where all the blood came from. "I gave him what he deserved, and he'll never hurt you or anyone one else ever again. I made sure of it."

"What did you do?" You asked timidly, tears coming to your eyes.

Zemo shook his head slightly, smiling weakly. "It doesn't matter, precious." He reached up to caress your cheek, thumbing away one of your fallen tears. "All you need to know is that you're safe."

"You...you killed him? For me?" You looked at him incredulously, your bottom lip trembling as you tried to keep in your sobs.

"Of course I did, Liebling. You're the most important thing in my life, and I'd be damned if I let anyone who hurt you walk free. I'd do anything for you, lay down my life if need be. I love you more than life itself."

"I-" You started to shake in his arms, "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything." Zemo kissed your forehead, his hands rubbing up and down your sides gently.

"You made sure you wouldn't get caught, right?"

Zemo snickered. "Who do you take me for, huh? Of course I did. Plus, it's not like anyone is gonna be looking for that barbarian anyway."

"God, I love you so much." You kissed him passionately, tasting the slightest hint of blood on his tongue, but you didn't mind it one bit. Zemo always promised to protect you, lay vengeance at your feet, and he always kept his promises.

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Don't say I didn't warn you

The Hit You Need - Helmut Zemo

"It was about damn time, Jesus Christ." - Me @ myself. Out of all Daniel's characters, Zemo was my first love and I can't believe I didn't write something for him first. Every "Which Daniel Character Is Your Boyfriend" quiz I take, I always get Zemo (don't mind me, just exposing my mental illnesses *plural*) Anyway, yeah, this took a long time, but I also managed to be lazy about it as well (you'll see what I mean lol)

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), slight possessiveness, fingering, oral (m!receiving), scratching, blood, enemies to lovers trope

5.3K Words🤙🏻

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You never wanted this job in the first place, guarding Avengers level criminals wasn't what you had in mind when you started working for Secretary Ross, aka, your uncle-in-law. You wanted to join the military, but your parents were dead set against it. So, with the help of your aunt, she landed you a job at the Raft...how fantastic.

Okay, it wasn't that bad, you could pick your own hours that would best suit you and it had decent benefits. But you definitely did not want to stay at the job forever. Whenever you fantasized about your future, you always wanted a job where you could travel. The Raft may be in the middle of the ocean and you had to travel there, it was so lonely and boring. Nothing fun ever seemed to happen, and it was driving you insane.

Then, Helmut Zemo arrived.

Fresh meat newly brought in by the Wakandans. You had heard about Zemo, being the entire reason the Avengers broke up in the first place. His intense dark eyes ensnared you instantly, but it wasn't surprising with everything you've heard about the man.

"I thought he was imprisoned in Berlin?" You had asked your uncle-in-law.

"James Buchanan Barnes took it upon himself to break him out a few weeks ago, to help with some super solider outbreak or something." He answered nonchalantly, which made you concerned with how apathetic he seemed towards the situation.

"Shouldn't you have looked into that?"

"Not our jurisdiction." Um, it probably was, but you couldn't find it in yourself to give it more thought.

You weren't often tasked with personally seeing over a certain criminal, usually there would be more than one guard looking over each individual. But when you were tasked with watching over the Baron, you tried to hide your excitement.

Every day, you watched Zemo in his cell, often reading a book or simply sitting fiddling his thumbs, but always a pondering expression on his face. You wanted to know what he was thinking, you wanted to talk to him, even just once. You knew Ross would not be happy with you if you did, so you had to wait for the right opportunity, and he handed it to you on a silver platter.

The Baron was called in for a meeting with Ross, and you were to escort him to the meeting office. You had heard rumors and whispers about some plan that your uncle was conjuring up, not one so well received by the sound of the gossip you would hear around the prison. A plan to allow the villains of this prison to be given a chance a redemption, to form a team that would be supervised under the government. It sounded far fetched to be sure, but you were curious to hear more than just the rumors.

"Word of advice, L/n," Your fellow guard spoke as you were putting on your guard uniform in the locker room, "don't let the man talk to you, and vice versa. He's known for brainwashing."

You scoffed a laugh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "I've read his file, and plus, I watch the news."

"Then you know how dangerous he is. I'm just saying be careful."

You smiled confidently. "How dangerous could a man in chains really be? It's not like he's superhuman like others in here. I'll be just fine." Your coworker simply responded with a unimpressed expression. You couldn't really blame them though, you still were considered a greenie being one of the only people allowed to join at the Raft in over five years. But that was just a cause to prove your worth, even though the job wasn't all that fun.

Despite your confident front earlier, you found yourself getting nervous as you loaded your gun's magazine and holstering it in your belt. You didn't know why you just didn't quit the job, considering how much you complained. It's not like you had a fascination with death and you never considered yourself an adrenaline junkie, but the thought that something might happen one day that forced you to use a weapon, it made your heart race and you liked that feeling. That was the same feeling you felt while walking to Helmut Zemo's cell.

You punched in the code to open Zemo's cell, the door opening with a slight gust of wind blowing in your face. "Congrats, Baron, you get to go on a field trip."

"Where are you taking me?" The man asked as you walked him through the halls of the prison, making sure to keep your wits as he walked in front of you.

"Secretary Ross wants to speak with you." You answered simply.

"Why would he want to speak with me?"

"Quiet. You'll know soon enough. Turn left." You ordered, narrowing your eyes as you heard the man scoff. "Something bothering you?"

"No. It's just, you don't have to be so aggressive when I'm complying."

"You're the one talking out of line."

"Perhaps. But you being so overly eager to dish out orders, maybe you're trying to prove something. Trust me, dear, you're not going to gain respect from your fellow guards by treating prisoners like me with such an uncouth manner."

Now it was your turn to scoff. "I'd never trust someone like you. And you're one to talk about being uncouth, civilized and respectable people don't bomb UN meetings."

Zemo suddenly stopped in his tracks, the action instantly making you reach for your pistol, but just keeping your hand barely hovering over the weapon. The man had a blank expression on his face and slowly moved closer to you until he was almost face to face. As your heart raced, you couldn't bring yourself to upholster your weapon, for a reason unknown to you. All you could do was watch as the Sokovian subtly examined your expression. "Struck a nerve, have I?" He smirked.

Your expression hardened, moving your hand away from your weapon holster to turn the man around by the shoulders and push him forwards harshly. "Keep walking."

"What's the holdup?" Ross immediately asked once you arrived with Zemo.

"Apologies, Secretary Ross, lost my way for a moment. This place is a maze." You thought up a lie quickly, the man couldn't know the real reason or else you probably would've been reprimanded.

Ross waved you off with an eyeroll, gesturing you into the room. You brought Zemo to the metal table that sat in the middle of the room, handcuffing him to the table, a slight pang of satisfaction when you heard him wince softly as you tightened the cuffs. "Will that be all, sir?" You asked. "Shall I wait outside?"

"No need. This shouldn't take too long anyway." You nodded politely and stood up against the wall next to the table, waiting for your uncle to get on with whatever the meeting was about.

"So, may I finally inquire what it is you want from me?" Zemo spoke calmly.

"To save time, I'll just cut right to the chase. After Thanos, we're still in the dark about where the Avengers stand. So, we want to put together another team, one that'll actually be under supervision by the government so no one can cause messes like what happened in Sokovia. Many prisoners here want a shot at redemption, and they can earn a lesser sentence if they participate and follow our orders. I want you to be a part of this team."

So the rumors were true. It sparked a few red flags in your mind, knowing how many evil people were kept at the Raft. You just hoped that Ross didn't want to recruit those certain criminals, but then again, he was trying to recruit Helmut Zemo.

"You flatter me, Secretary." Zemo quipped, an obvious venom in the tone of his voice. "But I must kindly refuse."

Ross' eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "So, you're saying that you're gonna give up a chance of redeeming yourself, possibly getting your sentence reduced? Is that what you're telling me, son?"

"Honestly, did you really think I'd agree to be part of some knockoff Avengers team? After everything that happened? If I may be so blunt, I would not be caught dead helping you and your corrupt government. Thank you, but I'd like to go back to my cell."

Ross frowned angrily, looking back at you. "Take the prisoner back to his cell."

"Yes, sir." You nodded, uncuffing Zemo from the table and escorting him back to his cell. He was silent the entire walk back, no witty comments or questions. Maybe it was for the best, but that didn't stop you from asking questions once you brought him back to his cell. "If I may ask," You started, "why didn't you accept Ross' offer?"

Zemo huffed, rubbing his wrists as you released the cuffs. "I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand."

You furrowed your brows. "Someone like me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Someone who's so desperate for validation that they'd willingly be part of a system that's corrupt. I have more pride than that."

You wanted to be offended, you were, but you couldn't say anything in retaliation or else Zemo would know that he struck yet another nerve. He was already so good at it, and you had only started speaking to the man thirty minutes ago. You locked his cell door in response, leaving him alone with his own thoughts.

It was your responsibility to bring the prisoner his meals after that. It would've been fine if it weren't for your slightly damaged ego from the previous day, but you made sure to hold up that confident front, especially in front of Zemo. "Your gourmet shit, sir." You commented sarcastically...okay, so you were still kinda petty.

Zemo narrowed his eyes at you and you tried not to squirm under his gaze. "Still playing this role, huh?" He replied, causing you to scoff. "Am I wrong?" He smirked subtly, knowing that he was never wrong.

"Annoying is a more accurate description."

He chuckled. "Thank you for the meal, my dear. You may carry on with whatever it is you do here." You rolled your eyes, locking his cell door and walking away with your hands balled into fists.

It was alarming how quickly he got under your skin, the quips back and forth with each other never failing to make you more annoyed with the man as every day passed. Then weeks passed, then months, and then it was your year anniversary since joining the Raft. You found yourself not internally complaining as much about the job anymore, and that was thanks to Zemo. You didn't tell anyone that of course. But if you were to ever think about quitting, you just thought that you'd be leaving Zemo and that put an unwanted pit in your stomach. It was unfortunate, but you started to care for the man.

Coming back to the Raft after celebrating your anniversary (not your choice), you managed to sneak a couple books into the place. But they weren't for you. Seeing Zemo just about exhaust every book he has in his cell, you thought he'd appreciate something other than the old tattered books he always read.

"You're back." Zemo spoke as you entered his cell, his lunch neatly displayed on the metal plate. "Thought you'd finally quit."

You chuckled. "Can't get rid of me that easily." You stopped and froze briefly, immediately cringing at yourself for saying such a thing. But you played it off quickly. "It was my one year anniversary of working here, so my family decided to force me to celebrate. It was pretty lackluster."

"As I'm sure any celebration with family tends to be." Zemo took the tray from your hands and faltered when he felt two thick paperback books underneath. He gave you a puzzling glance.

"Shh." You whispered.

Zemo set down the tray and glanced at the titles of the books. "Machiavelli..." He marveled, his eyes lighting up for a moment. He looked to you with a ghost of a smile, but that was enough for you.

"Heard you enjoyed his books. Our secret, yeah?"

"Thank you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."

You hid your oncoming blush with a nod, stepping out of his cell, almost forgetting to lock the door. Flustered, you punched in the code, not noticing that Zemo was paying very close attention to where your fingers moved.

After that day, you were even more enraptured by the man than when he first came to be on the Raft. You shouldn't have been, but you couldn't help it. He seemed to see through your very soul, and you didn't know if you liked it or not. He was handsome to be sure, but you couldn't possibly have a silly crush on a criminal...right?

You decided you just had to accept it, that way it would go away faster. But it didn't help that you were the one to deliver his meals every day, it's like the world was tempting you, baiting you into ruining your own life.

Every time you offered witty comments, he'd offer some back. Maybe it was wishful thinking, it probably was, but you started to think he enjoyed your company, despite your first encounter not being all too pleasant. Perhaps you both were just lonely, surely he was being kept in a prison cell twenty-four hours a day. And you didn't really have strong connections in the outside world, no real friends and you weren't exactly that close with your family besides your parents, but even they felt like more of an inconvenience. For some reason, you felt like you could trust him in a way. Maybe it was just his charm that lured you into a false sense of security, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. He was the first person in a long time you felt connected to, and you wanted to keep that feeling even if it was fake.

Whenever you had days off and went back to civilization, you found yourself missing the man. Even when you hooked up with some random person just to feel something, you could only think of Zemo. At some point, you just got tired of it. You couldn't even look at another person sexually without thinking of him. So, you just stopped having sex altogether. But almost every night you'd touch yourself, thinking of Zemo: his honey brown eyes, his incredibly sexy accent that made you have butterflies in your lower stomach, his intelligence and the way he used his words so perfectly. You could probably daydream about him all day...

"L/n." You were suddenly snapped out of your trance by Ross' booming voice.

"Secretary." You saluted sarcastically, causing Ross to roll his eyes.

"Over the past few days, I've noticed Zemo might have a soft spot for you. Have you noticed this?"

You tried to hide the fact that your heart sank as soon as he said that, furrowing your brows and letting out a breathy chuckle. "The terrorist, sir? Sorry, but no." You said bluntly.

"Well, I have. And I have a mission for you."

"And what might that be, sir?"

"I want you to get closer to him." Alright, not what you were expecting. "And if you can win him over with your...charm, try and convince him to join this team of mine, alright? We could really use him on our side. You can get it done, right?"

"What if he still refuses?"

"Then...get we'll have no use for him anymore." Ross said vaguely, putting a sour taste in your mouth.

"Wait, you wouldn't kill him though, right?"

"Just get it done. I'm counting on you."

The more you thought about it, the more you wouldn't put it past your uncle-in-law to execute Zemo, given his past history. If he could put Avengers in prison, who knows what he'd do to criminals. You would do as Ross asked, but you also had another plan in mind. It would be a long shot, but you needed it to work. You couldn't see it playing out any other way.

A few days after that, spending all those days planning, researching, making sure everything was perfect, you had your plan and you thought it was pretty good, for a person with very little experience in that sort of thing.

You bought a chess board, carrying in its box, the pieces clacking together as you bounced it with every step. This will work, this will work...

"Ah, what do we have here?" Zemo inquired.

"A strategist like yourself, you must be someone who'd like chess."

"Am I that predicable?" He joked.

"Far from it." You chuckled, setting up the board on the little table in the middle of his cell. "I hope you won't go easy on me." He didn't. He beat you in about five minutes. "You don't like to lose, huh?"

"I prefer having a challenge actually. But you opened yourself up to failure as soon as you moved your pawn in front of your bishop. Keep making moves like that and you'll lose every time."

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, Mr. Perfect-At-Chess. Let's go again."

"So," Zemo started after making his first move. "when were you going to tell me that you're Ross' niece?"

"How did you-?" You huffed. "Step niece. You forgot the step. Either way, didn't seem important. It's not."

"He's your family."

"Hardly."

"That's cold. Family is everything. Sometimes, it's the only thing you have in this world."

"For some people, yes. But not for me. My family isn't exactly something to be proud of."

"Why are you doing this?" He asked suddenly. "Or better yet, how are you able to do this? Bring me books, talk to me more than two minutes, play chess?"

"Truthfully...Ross wants me to get on your good side, to try and convince you to be part of his little team." You answered.

"And he's fine with you giving away this knowledge to me?"

"I didn't think to ask."

Zemo hummed in thought. "And what if I refuse?"

You let out a shaky breath. "I think they'll kill you."

Zemo chuckled bitterly. "Hardly the first time someone's tried to kill me."

"I wouldn't think so...Colonel Zemo."

He rolled his eyes, looking back down at the chess board. "And you agreed to do that for him?"

"I didn't really have a choice in the matter."

"There's always a choice."

"I suppose, if I wanted to be demoted or fired."

"Why not? Surely there is something out there you'd rather be doing than be a guard at this place." You tried to hide your oncoming blush by looking back down at the board, fighting against his inquisitive gaze. "Why do you choose to stay here?" Your bashful look have Zemo all he needed to know. Wearing a small smirk, he nodded understandingly. "And how would your uncle react, to know that his niece fell for a criminal?"

You scoffed, gaining your confidence back slightly. "For once in my life, I don't care about his approval, nor anyone else's." You slid the rest of the contents in the chess box to Zemo underneath the table.

Zemo gave you a wide eyed look for a brief moment once he saw what was in the box, before turning back on his calm demeanor. A 9mm, a note attached to it with a five digit code and detailed instructions. "What is this?" He whispered.

"Code to your cell."

"I can see that, but why?"

"I know you were the one that blew up the van that carried the Flagsmashers. I found the man that helped you do it; Oeznik. I'm not letting my uncle kill you or extort you, I'm gonna get you out of here. Checkmate."

Zemo looked back down with furrowed brows, his mouth agape. "You beat me..."

"I did." You smiled.

"Wait." Zemo gently grabbed your wrist. "What's going to happen?"

"I explain it all in the note. Don't worry. It'll be okay." And with that, you left.

And the plan worked...it actually fucking worked.

Once you gave the signal, it all went by like a flash of light. That old man turned out to be quite resourceful, but you knew he'd do anything for his Baron, including helping him break out of one of the most secure prisons in the world, having someone on the inside also helped. It was kind of shocking how little remorse you felt betraying your uncle and...well, your government. Being seeing the look of admiration from the man you helped break out of prison, any remorse you may have felt was gone.

Zemo, being the rich Baron he was, of course he had a safehouse he could go to. And with you now being on the run along with him, you were forced to go with him, not that you minded in the slightest. It was a penthouse somewhere in Europe, wherever you were, it was beautiful. You had never seen anything like it, and the penthouse was extravagant, but you didn't expect anything like from Zemo.

"You like it?" Zemo asked in amusement as he watched your awestruck expression as you looked around the house. "It's not much, but it'll only be temporary until we find somewhere they can't find us, somewhere safer than here. But it'll do for now."

"Not much?" You scoffed, trailing your fingers across the wooden framing of the furniture. "This place is five times larger than my apartment."

"If you don't mind, I'm gonna to wash off this disgusting prison smell." When he came back, he was clean shaven, dressed up in black pants and a purple turtleneck.

"Purple looks good on you."

"There wasn't much in the closet, but anything's better than that blue prison uniform."

"You look good in anything, honestly." You chuckled, biting your lip when he smirked, feeling your face heat up as he took steps closer to you.

"You know, I still haven't properly thanked you, for what you did for me." Zemo said seriously, taking your hand in his, gently running his thumb over your knuckles. "I'd imagine very few people would've done this for someone like me."

"Well, Sam and James did."

"They had an ulterior motive. They only did that because they needed my help."

"And how do you know that I don't have a motive, huh?" You teased.

"You're a kind soul, I can feel it. And I'll admit...you're one of the finest creatures I've ever laid my eyes upon. I never thought I'd be able to feel like this towards someone ever again." Zemo whispered as he reached up to lightly caress your cheek, causing a shiver to run up your spine. "I want you. I want to feel you against me, Liebe, only if you'll have me."

You didn't need to think twice about it. "Yes. Yes, Zemo, I'll have you."

You winced as Zemo suddenly pushed you against the beautifully decorated papered wall roughly, attacking you with his lips and squeezing your sides. His breath was hot on your face as he placed open mouthed kisses alongside your jaw, licking the shell of your ear, the teasing making your core throb achingly. "Please, Zemo..." You all but begged him, anxiously waiting for him to touch you in the places you needed.

Zemo's hardening cock twitched in his trousers as he heard your frustrated whines. He wanted nothing more than to take you right then and there against the wall, prison not allowing for such pleasures, but he was nothing if not a gentleman. He always treated his woman like royalty, and he'd be damned if he didn't treat you the same way. "Shh, I know, I know. Let me take my time with you." He whispered back, guiding you over to his bed, pushing you to lay back on the cool satin sheets.

Zemo had a dark lustful expression in his eyes as he slowly pulled your pants off your legs along with your underwear, leaving your already glistening cunt exposed to him. You could've sworn you heard him growl. "How long has it been since you've been with anyone, Liebling?"

You gulped nervously, almost squirming under his intense gaze. "A couple years..."

Zemo smirked. "Really? A beautiful woman like you, you must've had many vying for your affection. But you couldn't when you had to see me almost everyday, hmm? You couldn't fuck someone without thinking it was me, wishing it was my cock inside you, huh?"

You whined. "Yes, Helmut, only you. I've only wanted you." You moaned out as he placed rough possessive kisses up the inside of your thighs, skipping over the place you wanted him most. "Please, I need you..."

Zemo came to lay right beside you, helping you out of the rest of your clothing, kissing your collarbone before trailing his digits down your body. You gasped as he started running his fingers up and down your folds, gathering up your slick before rubbing slow circles on your clit, his mouth latching on to one of your nipples as your back arched. "I want you to come on my fingers first. Think you can do that for me?" His husky voice raised goosebumps all over your body, a shiver shooting down your spine and pooling heat in your core.

"Yes, anything you want." You kissed his jaw, instinctually opening up your legs further for Zemo as he continued to work on your clit, slowly inching two fingers inside you.

"How does it feel?"

"So good, Helmut, so good." You moaned, shocks of pleasure spreading throughout your body, causing your eyes to close.

"Look at me." He demanded, but still keeping a soft tone to his voice; and like you were his pet, you obeyed him instantly and looked up at him with glazed over doe eyes that could've made him melt if he wasn't so focused on your pleasure.

It had been so long since you've been with anyone, his long fingers thrusting and curling inside of you while his thumb kept a rapid and steady pace on your bundles of nerves, it didn't take you long to feel your body building to your climax. Zemo could sense it too, he could feel your walls clenching around his digits, your hand on his shoulder and the other holding onto the sheets tightening as soft gasps and moans got louder and louder. "Oh, fuck-!" You cried out, involuntarily bucking your hips against his hand. "I'm so close."

"I can feel it. Let go for me. Come on my fingers, mein Liebe." He rushed out, his mouth sucking and biting on your nipples, neck, lips, anything he could reach while increasing the speed of his hand. You had no problem obeying right away again, a loud shout escaping your lips as all encompassing please washed over you like a tidal wave. "Good girl, such a good girl."

"Fuck me, my Baron..."

Zemo groaned, shifting to lay on his back. "As much as I want to take you, I want to know how your mouth feels first."

You smiled as you moved in between his legs, helping him remove his own clothes, slowly rubbing your hands over his thighs, inching them closer and closer to his erection. He hissed as you licked a stripe on the underside of his cock, pleased with his reaction, you did once more before you started kissing his tip. Relaxing your jaw, you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his leaking cockhead. "Scheiße-!" Zemo gasped, "Haven't forgotten how to pleasure a man I see." He commented, causing you to smirk around him.

"I'm doing a good job, then?" You asked innocently, the look in your eyes downright sinful.

Zemo smirked. "You know you are, you little minx." You wiped that smug smirk off his face by taking him as far as you could fit in your mouth, eliciting a groan from man, causing him to chuckle breathlessly. "God..." He placed his hand on your head, not pushing you, but simply holding on to your hair. "You're gonna make me come, mein Liebe, can't have that just yet." He gently pulled your mouth off of him, guiding you to lay back down on your back.

"You're so beautiful..." Zemo breathed, trailing sloppy kisses up your body until he returned to your lips, positioning himself in between your legs. You gasped as he rubbed himself up and down your folds, your slick and his saliva causing him to slip inside you easily, feeling his cock stretch you deliciously. "You feel incredible, Liebling. You take me so well." He started thrusting slowly, allowing you to adjust so you could fit him deeper and deeper, so deep until the blunt tip of his cock brushed up against that special spot inside of you, eliciting a loud moan from you.

"Oh God, Zemo...!" You cried out, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, digging your nails into the soft flesh of his back. Zemo groaned as he felt the sharp burn of his skin ripping open, blood slowly beading through the scratches cooling as it hit the cool air, causing him to shiver.

"You're already so close, aren't you?" Zemo teased, thrusting faster and pinning your wrists above your head, burying his head into the crook of your neck and biting harshly. "I can feel it. Be a good girl and come for me again, Schlampe." Obeying his command yet again, the tension in your lower stomach snapped and you came with a silent gasp, your walls clenching down on him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you clawed at Zemo's back like a lifeline. "May I come inside you, mein Schatz?" He groaned out, feeling his release getting closer and closer, but waiting for your permission.

"Yes, please-!." You begged, tears brimming your eyes as he fucked you through your orgasm, trying not to squeal in overstimulation. But you couldn't help it once Zemo let out a loud groan, feeling him spill inside you. He all but collapsed on top of you, planting gentle kisses along your neck as he tried to catch his breath.

"That was amazing, and I'm not just saying that because I've been in prison for a few years." He chuckled breathlessly, moving to lay next to you.

"I believe you." You giggled, turning on your side to face him. You didn't know if you'd ever get used to his intense gazes, he could still stare through your soul.

"I could say I brainwashed you." He said suddenly.

"What?"

"If we get caught. I could say I forced you to help me escape, that I threatened you or something."

You sat up with a frown. "Zemo, no. I'm not gonna let you do that. Plus, we'll be careful. We won't get caught."

Zemo smiled weakly, sitting up with you, rubbing his hand over your thigh. "I'm sorry, Liebling, but I'm not giving you a choice. If we get caught, you'll get thrown in prison with me and I can't have that happen. Promise me that if we get caught, you'll say I forced you to do this, yes?"

"No!" You scoffed.

"Please, Y/n. You've already done so much for me, just do me this one favor. Promise me, Y/n." He lifted your chin and forced you to look into his eyes, filled with determination that you couldn't say no to.

"Okay..." You exhaled shakily, "I promise."

"Good. Good." He brought up your hand, closing his eyes and kissing your knuckles lovingly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Guess we'll just have to not get caught then, huh?" You smiled slightly, brushing a piece of hair away from his face.

"I will do everything in my power to make sure we never do. I can promise that to you."

"Good. Because I'm not planning on leaving you anytime soon, Helmut Zemo."

~~~~~~~~~~

Yeah, I wasn't gonna waste my time writing out a whole fuckin' action/breaking out of prison scene. I'm not smart enough for that, plus, that's where my laziness comes in. Sorry not sorry lol

Hello Raven, my friend! How are you? I really hope you’re doing well! -E

Omg hiiiiiiiiii, I'm doing okay!! Suffering a bit of writer's block (but that's not new lmao) but other than that I'm good! I hope YOU are doing well!🥰

Contemptress - Jonathan Levy

I don't know why or how, but this imagine came out of me. I birthed it into existence with my fucked up brain. I started it when I was in a bad mood and decided to finish it. Sorry, I guess?

This is DARK. Like, really dark and sad. Triggering content. Please, please, mind the warnings

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), switches between noncon/dubcon, infidelity, rebounds, extremely toxic relationships, oral (m and f!receiving), rough rough sex, little to no foreplay, sadism, dacryphilia, overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, Dark!Jonathan, seriously he's a major dick in this fic, no happy ending :(

3.2 Words🤙🏻

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You didn’t know Jonathan too well, he was more like a friend of a friend for the most part. You occasionally went out for coffee or dinner with your friend and her husband and he and Mira would tag along. From the outside, it seemed like they were the perfect couple. They both seemed like they never had any problems or the typical couple's quarrels, so when your friend told you that they were getting a divorce, you were shocked.

You were curious but you didn’t think to pry, it wasn’t your business after all. You felt bad for their kid, being a child of divorce yourself, you knew she would have a difficult time dealing with it, especially at such a young age. But that was the extent of it, you didn’t think of it any more.

You soon discovered that you and Jonathan went to the same coffee shop most of the time, you were pleasantly surprised when you saw him there one morning. You noticed he frequented the place more often after the separation, sometimes in a hurry or on rare occasions would actually sit and eat a bagel with his beverage. 

You were flattered that he remembered you well enough to start up a conversation with you, asking how you were and what you had been up to since the last time he saw you. He seemed put together well enough on the surface, but you knew that you couldn’t possibly know what was going on behind the scenes. You could almost see it, the emotions he was hiding behind his eyes. They were tired, the slightest tinge of red blemishing the corners of his sclera. You could see the faintest bite marks on his hands, and your heart ached at the thought that he did it to himself.

You didn’t know how you got the courage to initiate it, but you invited him for breakfast whenever he was available. You were relieved he said yes, almost enthusiastically. You would allow him to rant with no judgment, you even found yourself taking his side. You couldn’t believe Mira would do something like that, leaving her child just to be with her lover. It was unforgivable in your eyes, but you kept those opinions to yourself because it was clear Jonathan still loved her. But he was in so much pain.

After that morning, things started to escalate.

You started seeing each other more often, getting dinner together as well as breakfast. When Mira came back and started keeping Ava at her place sometimes, you would even share drinks at his home. Then he started coming over to yours.

You were both drunk, feeling sorry for yourselves, and it just happened. The sex was messy, sloppy, the taste of booze on each other’s tongues. It didn’t last that long, and you both felt guilty the morning after, along with major hangover headaches. He made his escape quickly, saying that he had to pick Ava up from school, even though it was a Saturday. But it was okay, you needed time to yourself to think anyway.

You didn’t see each other for a couple weeks after that. You didn’t even go to your favorite coffee shop in fear of having to see him. But the hiatus abruptly came to an end when a loud knock on your door woke you up at two in the morning, a disheveled and rain drenched Jonathan standing outside your door pitifully. It didn’t take but two seconds to give into his puppy dog eyes, forcefully pulling him into your house and frantically tearing off his wet clothes while he did the same to you.

It became a habit. Whenever something happened with Mira that made him angry or upset, his first instinct was to come to you. You never turned him down. You never disagreed with anything he said or did. You never did anything that would make him upset, you didn’t want to. He needed you, and you would give him exactly what he wanted.

But it was never soft, loving sex. That's not what you were for. No, it was rough. Passionate. Intense. Sex with Jonathan always left you with more than a few bruises, but you didn't mind. In fact, you liked it. You liked waking up the next morning sore and in pain, you liked seeing the marks he made on your delicate skin. It made you feel special, in a way. You felt special being the one he chose to take all his anger and frustration out on, no matter how rough he could get. No matter how much pain he put you through. You took it. All of it. 

You were addicted to him. Every single thing about him. You knew you shouldn't have fallen in love, in fact you told yourself that you could never allow yourself to. But there were moments where Jonathan was so into it that he’d whisper soft I love you’s in your ear, but he never said your name, you could always hear the faintest moans that was the beginning of Mira’s name but he always managed to stop himself before saying it fully. But that didn’t matter to you. There were also moments, though fleeting, where he’d wrap you in his arms and fall asleep next to you. It warmed your heart despite yourself.

But he’d always leave. Even before you woke up, Jonathan would be gone. You weren’t surprised either way, but you did feel disappointed when it happened. You made the grave mistake of accidentally whispering an I love you after he had given you a particularly amazing orgasm, it just slipped out. He was not happy.

You still felt a lump in your throat every time your thoughts drifted back to that night. He immediately slapped your cheek, not hard but just enough to leave a bright red mark on your face, sternly telling you to never say that shit again. And as you usually did, you obeyed him and you never said it again.

You had confided in a couple of your closest friends, wanting, no, needing their opinions. Even though you knew what they were going to say, you still felt angered by how adamant they felt you needed to call off this fucked up friends with benefits because it started to not even feel that way anymore. But you just couldn’t, no matter how much you knew you needed to listen to them, you always came crawling back for more.

You had never known what addiction felt like until you started sleeping with Jonathan. All those stories you had heard and read about drugs or alcohol being so important that you’d disregard all others, even your own family and friends, just to get that fix. You couldn’t rightfully say that’s exactly how it felt, but you imagined it felt somewhat similar. You’d cry yourself to sleep every time he left your apartment after fucking, you felt anxiety every time you were apart, you started to feel like you couldn’t live without him. 

You needed to end this. Right fucking now. But of course, all those thoughts went out the window as soon as Jonathan came knocking at your door with that same intensity in his eyes that meant he needed to abuse your cunt until you were weeping.

The two of you didn’t even have to exchange words anymore. You’d make the subtlest expression that you couldn’t possibly turn him away, and he’d be on you in an instant, and tonight was no different.

“Such a good little slut. Always ready to take me.” Jonathan growled in your ear, as he bit your neck hard enough to break the skin, causing you to hiss in pain. “Right?” When you didn’t answer right away, he grabbed you harshly by the throat and forced you to look into his eyes. “Right?” He asked more sternly.

“Y-Yeah…” You stuttered, yelping when he grabbed your pussy through your pajamas.

“By the time these clothes come off, you better be fuckin’ wet and dripping for me cause I ain’t planning on being easy with you tonight, sweetheart.” Even the harshness of his voice and the threatening tone, it still made you throb for him, the added sweetheart sending your pleasure signals into overdrive. “On your fuckin’ knees.” He ordered, not allowing you a response by shoving you to the floor anyway.

You yelped when your knees hit the hardwood too roughly, but hearing Jonathan’s belt buckle come undone made your mouth water and the pain easily retreated to the back of your mind. “Open wide, babygirl.” You instantly gagged as he shoved his half hardened cock into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and keeping it there until tears ran down your cheeks. “That’s right, take my fuckin’ dick.” He groaned loudly, his thrusting slowing and becoming shallow as his cock hardened fully, which finally allowed you to catch your breath. But that didn’t last long.

Jonathan grabbed you by the back of your neck, tangling his fingers in the roots of your hair and brought you up to kiss you roughly. You felt his growls reverberating in your mouth as he kissed you, if you could even call it that. He was trying to swallow you whole. “Bedroom. Now. Take off your clothes on the way.”

Your nipples instantly hardened in the cool air conditioned room, taking a seat on the end of your bed as Jonathan came not far behind you, his shirt and jeans already discarded, his cock bouncing out of its confines. “Lay down. Spread your legs.”

You shivered as Jonathan ran his hands up and down your calves, the cold metal of his wedding ring raising goosebumps all over your body and causing a pit to form in your stomach. Of all the times you fucked each other, why now of all times were you feeling like you couldn’t handle the thought of him still devoted to Mira?

You cried out as Jonathan roughly slapped your cunt, running his fingers along your folds briefly before scowling down at you. “I thought I told you, you better be wet by the time your clothes come off? What part of that wasn’t clear, huh?” He scolded, dryly thrusting his fingers into your tight entrance without caring about your pain. “Aw, does that not feel good?” He teased maliciously. “Well maybe it would feel better if you had done like I asked. Now what I’m about to do won’t feel good at all. But maybe that’s what you want, huh? You want me to hurt you? That can be arranged.”

Your eyes widened as Jonathan hovered about you, lining up his dick with your cunt, spitting down on his dick to use as his only lube. “No wait, ah-!” You cried as he inserted himself into you with no prep, no foreplay, no time for adjustment.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Even with you rejecting me, your pussy feels so goddamn good.” He growled, thrusting into you hard and deep, no matter how much you protested and begged for him to let you adjust. Compassion just wasn’t in the cards for you tonight.

You reached down to rub your clit, just to at least try and force your body to create its own lubricate, but Jonathan slapped your hand and pinned them both above your head. “Jonathan, please, it hurts…” You hiccuped, trying to stifle your cries but failing miserably.

Jonathan first responded by slapping your face, a vice grip on your throat and cutting off your oxygen before responding vocally. “You filthy bitch, eight inches of dick ain’t enough for you, huh? Any woman would be thrilled to be fucked by me, but no, you have to complain. Fine, whore, I’ll give you what you want.”

Jonathan traveled down your body, diving face first into your pussy, focusing in on your clit ruthlessly. You whined loudly, instinctively trying to close your legs around his head but your efforts came up short. “Happy now, bitch?” He mumbled against your cunt, his tongue so expertly giving that it caused so much overstimulation. He scoffed incredulously as you begged him to slow down, sitting on his knees as he looked down on your tear covered face with disdain. He looked exhausted with you, his eyebrows furrowed and angry huffs escaping his lips.

You gasped as he suddenly flipped you over on your stomach, raising your hips up and pushing your head down against your pillow. You moaned painfully as he entered you from behind, shivering as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “No more accommodation. Now, I just fuck you and you take it. Understand? Not a single complaint outta you.”

The cries of anguish quickly turned into moans of pleasure thanks to the new angle. You wanted to hate him, so badly, but his cock was finally hitting all the right places and your clit calmed down from his tongue beating. “Oh, yeah!” You cried out, the tip of his cock hitting against your sweet spot over and over again, the grunting and growling from Jonathan making your clit throb for attention.

“Slut’s finally enjoying herself, huh? Good girl.” He growled slowly, his hands surely leaving bruises from the vice grip he had on your hips. “Such a pretty girl, such a pretty pussy, clenching around my cock so well. Aw, yes, fuck!” He moaned, taking advantage of the angle to slap your ass a couple times.

“Jonathan, can I touch my clit, please?” You whined, already feeling so close but so scared he’d stop.

“Good girl, asking for permission. Yes, sweetheart, rub your clit for me.”

You gasped loudly as your fingers came into contact with your throbbing nub, rubbing it in tight circles, trying to patch the pace of Jonathan’s thrusts. “S-So…close…” You stuttered, crying and moaning absolute gibberish that even you couldn’t understand.

“Come, my little slut. Let me feel how much you love this cock.” He picked up his pace, thrusting into you faster than what should be humanly possible, only amplifying the sensations and fack tracking your orgasm. Hitting you like a train, you let out a loud broken groan that felt like it damaged your vocal cords, but the intensity of the orgasm was so great you didn’t even care. All you focused on was how incredible you felt. “Yes, baby, yes. Feels so good.”

But even after you had what must’ve been one of the best orgasms of your life, Jonathan never slowed his pace. He kept pistoning into you like his life depended on it, and it was so overwhelming. You didn’t know if you could handle it. “Oh, fuck!” You yelped, trying so hard not to beg him to stop.

“Yeah, take it.” He growled, pulling you up by the roots of your hair to bite down on your shoulder hard. “Take it like the good little slut you are.”

You couldn’t stop yourself. “Jonathan, slow down, please.” You whimpered, his cock hitting your cervix over and over, the sensation making you feel like it was going to kill you. “I can’t…” You cried, tears flowing freely from your eyes.

Jonathan only chuckled darkly, not letting up in the slightest. “Not yet, pretty girl. I still haven’t come.”

It felt like an eternity before you felt Jonathan’s cock twitch inside you, his brutal thrusts stilling and feeling his warm cum shoot in you. Before, you loved the feeling, but now it just felt like a curse.

You winced as Jonathan pulled out of you, collapsing on your bed beside you with a satisfied sigh. You carefully turned yourself over, your legs shaking at just the slightest movements. You awaited his check ins, the ones he always did after a rough session. It wasn’t too compassionate or empathic, just a simple “are you okay?” would be enough for him. But that never came, maybe he forgot or maybe he was too fucked out to remember.

You hated it, but you teared up again and he wasn’t even gone yet. You didn’t even know how to bring it up, so you just went ahead and said it. “I can’t do this anymore.” You managed to whisper.

“What?” Jonathan asked in confusion, turning on his side to look at you. “What are you talking about?”

You sat up as best you could, leaning up against your headboard with him following, wiping away the stray tears that had fallen. “This, Jonathan. I can’t do this. Whatever this is between us. I just…I can’t.”

Jonathan scoffed. “Whatever this is? Y/n, we both agreed that this wasn’t anything. Just sex. It’s not my fault you’ve caught feelings. You shouldn’t punish me for it.”

“This is exactly why I can’t do it anymore, because of that exact agreement. In the beginning, it was so…nice. It was fun. But Jonathan you’ve…you’ve changed. I only know what you share with me, but I can tell your divorce with Mira is changing you.”

“Separation.” He corrected, making you roll your eyes.

“You say her name while we fuck, Jonathan. You’re still hurting and you’re taking it out on me now, and I don’t think that’s fair either. This used to be an outlet, but now it’s just torture for me.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve thought about this possibility before you let me fuck you, don’t you think?” He seethed, clenching his fists and keeping still against the headboard. You both stayed in a tense silence before he sighed. “I thought…I thought this would help me get over Mira, come to terms with it better. But clearly, this hasn’t worked.”

“You think?” You chuckled weakly, not even bothering to wipe away your tears anymore. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“I’m sorry, Jonathan, but,” You exhaled shakily, “I think it’s for both our sakes that this ends. It’s not healthy. Never has been. I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want you to hate me.” You looked over at him and the scene shocked you. He had tears running down his cheeks too, and it somehow made you feel even worse.

“All this time…I’ve been turning into the person I didn’t want to become most of all. I’m turning into her.” He sniffled, angrily rubbing his tears away. “God, what is wrong with me?” You didn’t have an answer to that, but you didn’t want him to feel alone, despite all he’s done to you. You grabbed ahold of his hand gently, rubbing your thumb over his bruised knuckles. “I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t mean much right now, but I am.”

“I know…” You whispered, pulling Jonathan into a hug, gently tugging on his hair as he sobbed in your arms. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay…”

“You’re right. You didn’t deserve this. We can’t let this go on any longer.”

You knew you shouldn't have forgiven him so easily, and you didn’t at first. But he seemed genuine in his apology, and he left you alone after that night. It was a difficult process. You didn’t know if you’d survive a week, but you persevered. Every day made you aware of new struggles. You had to avoid every place you had ever been with him. Even your own apartment felt wrong to live in. Everything was tainted. Every part of yourself you could associate it with your time with Jonathan. 

Your body still craved him.

You still loved him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Please please please, if you are or ever find yourself in this type of situation, don't be afraid to reach out for help. There are so many people that love you and want what's best for you. It may feel like you can never escape, but that's not true. You are strong, you are capable, you are more than your abuser, you can overcome, you can heal. You deserved to be loved.