#zemo imagine

[multific]

Ghosts of Sokovia

Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

Summary: As a journalist chasing the truth behind Sokovia’s fall, you expected danger, but not Baron Helmut Zemo himself finding you first. 

You had been warned.

Dig too deep, ask the wrong questions, and eventually, someone will come looking for you.

It seemed that day had come.

Your apartment door was already open when you returned. A chill ran down your spine as you stepped inside, clutching your bag as if it could serve as any real defence. 

The room was untouched, no signs of a struggle, no shattered glass, no ransacked drawers. 

That was almost worse. 

Whoever had been here didn’t need to search. 

They had simply waited.

The soft clink of glass drew your eyes to the living room. 

There he was.

Baron Helmut Zemo sat comfortably in your armchair, legs crossed, a glass of whiskey in hand. 

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes watched you as if he already knew your every thought before you could speak it.

“You’ve been asking dangerous questions.”

Your heart pounded, but you tried your best to steady your voice. “And you’ve been answering them by breaking into my home?”

Zemo smirked, tilting his glass in a slow, lazy gesture. “Consider it an act of courtesy. Others might not be so... civil.”

You knew who he was. 

A man responsible for the collapse of the Avengers, and for the deaths of countless people. 

A man who had spent years in prison, only to escape and disappear into the world like a ghost. 

And yet, as you sat across from him in a dimly lit café hours later, you realized you were not afraid. 

Not exactly.

“If you’re here to threaten me, Baron, I should warn you, I don’t scare easily.”

He chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink. “If I wanted you gone, you wouldn’t be here at all.”

You swallowed hard, refusing to let his words shake you. “Then what do you want?”

Zemo leaned forward slightly, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across his face. “You seek the truth about Sokovia. I can give it to you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Why?”

He exhaled through his nose, something almost like amusement flashing in his eyes. “Because the world has already painted its version of events. You believe you are uncovering a hidden story, but in reality, you are only seeing what they allow you to see. If you truly wish to know what happened, then listen to someone who was there.”

It was a gamble. You knew it. 

And yet, you found yourself unable to walk away.

---

The more time you spent with him, the more difficult it became to separate the man from the monster.

Zemo spoke of Sokovia not with the cold detachment of a war criminal, but with the grief of a man who had lost everything. 

His wife. His son. His people. 

He did not seek pity, nor did he ask for forgiveness. He merely laid the truth before you like a blade, sharp and undeniable.

“I watched as the sky fell,” he murmured one evening, standing by the window of a safe house he had taken you to. “I heard my son call out for me. And I was too late.”

Your chest tightened. “That’s why you did all of this.”

He turned to you then, eyes dark with something unspoken. “Would you not burn the world for the ones you love?”

Your breath caught. Because at that moment, you weren’t sure you could say no.

Somewhere along the way, the lines blurred.

What began as careful interviews turned into late-night conversations. What started as caution became trust. 

And trust was far more dangerous than fear.

One night, as the rain drummed softly against the rooftop, Zemo studied you in the quiet glow of a single lamp. 

“You should leave,” he said, but there was no conviction in his voice.

You took a step closer. “Do you want me to?”

He said nothing. 

But when your fingers brushed against his, he did not pull away. 

Instead, he let out a breath, as if surrendering to something he had fought for too long. 

His hand closed around yours, firm and warm, and when his lips met yours, it was not the kiss of a villain, nor a desperate man seeking salvation.

It was something else entirely.

You knew there was no simple ending.

Zemo was still a fugitive. You were still a journalist. 

The world would not allow what had grown between you to exist without consequence. But as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before disappearing into the night, he made a promise:

“This is not goodbye.”

And you believed him.

Because for all the ghosts of Sokovia that haunted him, you had become the one thing that reminded him he was still alive.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Undercover Hurt- Zemo x Reader

Summary: Zemo hurts you when he pretends to sell you to Selby while undercover

Word count: 1, 101

TW: mentions of inappropriate and unwanted touching

✨Want to be tagged in my next Zemo fic? Click here✨

Feeling Selbys cold fingers stretch across your abdomen makes your stomach twist, and you fight to stop the shiver that threatens to run down your spine. Keeping your head high seemed to be your only option, as you dare not look at Selby, nor your companions.

While Zemo had made Bucky go undercover as the Winter Soldier, you were made to play a role that filled you with just as much dread, fear, and anger. Sam may have joked that he looked like a pimp, but you were playing the product.

Standing in this room with Selby and her associates in nothing but a tight lingerie set, you felt like a lamb thrown to the wolves. Your heart beats faster and faster as Selby raises her hand between your breasts.

“Is she trained, Baron?” Selby asks, the question causing your stomach to drop and a lump to form in your throat.

Braving a look at Zemo, you’re met with a confident smirk; he sure does play his role well. Your eyes can’t stay on Zemo too long as they sweep to Bucky and Sam, whose eyes are similar to the pain filling your heart.

“Oh yes, she will do anything you ask her to,” he smugly confirms, his smirk confident and sly.

In that moment your heart broke, and any positive feelings you had for the baron vanished.

******

Storming through the doors of the safe house, Bucky was hot on your heels, making sure you were far away from Zemo. Buckys protective behaviour didn’t stop him however.

“Just leave her the fuck alone, Zemo!” Bucky shouts over his shoulder as he follows you to your room.

“How about you both fuck off! I don’t want to speak to any of you right now!” You shout at all three of them.

You rage-filled face and red tear-filled eyes stopped all three men in their tracks. A pitiful mix of worry and regret in their eyes. Turning back around, you quickly stormed to your room.

Slamming the door behind you, the force of it makes the mirror on the wall shake. Sliding down the door, the tears finally fall as you scream into your hands. The tears pour out of your eyes so violently that you feel you might drown in them.

Embarrassment, shame and anger fills every fibre of your being as you let your body shake and purge the feelings.

*****

“Don’t you fucking dare go near her, Zemo!” Bucky growls as he grabs onto Zemos upper arm.

“I am simply going to apologise,” Zemo replies, and while his voice appears calm, there is venom in it.

“She doesn’t want to hear from you,” Bucky growls back.

“Just let him go, man. Maybe she’ll kill him,” Sam butts in.

“Thank you, Sam, very helpful.” Zemo retorted sarcastically.

“You’ve got a good point, Sam. Go ahead, let her stab you. She has every right after what you pulled,” Bucky scoffs as he literally shoves Zemo towards your room.

Though the force of the shove causes Zemo to stumble, he quickly retains his composure as he makes his way to your room.

*****

It’d been about thirty minutes since you had shut yourself away, and you’d managed to stop crying. You had crawled yourself to rest with your back on the bed as you stay sitting on the floor.

Instead of crying until your eyes hurt, it seems your body had changed to simply staring at the floor, feeling numb. That moment replying over and over in your head as your eyes stay stuck to the floor. Her touch, Zemos words, Sam and Buckys eyes, all playing over and over, and it only seems to get faster and faster.

You could feel yourself begin to spiral with these paralysing thoughts, but as your body begins to rock and before you can start crying again, you hear a knock.

“Y/N?”

You knew it was Zemo, and you knew you should hate him, but that numbness just seemed to put your feelings on hold for a moment.

“Come in,” you simply say, your voice has no feeling and your eyes still stuck to the floor.

Once Zemo walked in and saw the mess you were, his heart shattered.

Your hair was all over the place from pulling at it, your eyes were red from crying and your body was frozen, besides the small anxious rocking you did to try to soothe yourself.

“Oh, darling, what have I done?” Zemo sadly asks, his voice cracking slightly as he softly sits in front of you.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Zemo apologises as he gently tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

His touch makes you flinch, and your body begins to shake as your feelings begin to return. Rage fills you as you look up at him. How dare he cry for you, his apology means nothing to you.

The numb expression on your face quickly turns brutal as your hand raises and you slap him hard across the face.

One slap, then another, and another. Shoving him back, your slaps turn into punches.

“You fucking prick! You let her touch me! You said I’d do anything! You treated me like a fucking object!” You scream at him, tears fill your eyes as your rage begins to morph into sadness.

Catching your wrists to stop your assault, Zemo looks into your bloodshot eyes.

“I know. I know. I deserve every hit you give me. I hurt you in a way that is shameful and I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” Zemo admits as he looks deeper into your eyes.

“I thought you cared about me,” you meekly admit, your words feeling stupid but necessary in that moment.

“I do care about you. I was a fool and I never should have hurt you like that.”

“She touched me, she looked at me like I was property,” you lament once again as you return Zemos gaze.

As his hands begin to leave your wrists, they slowly come up to your face as he wipes your tears away.

“I know, and I promise, no one will ever lay a hand on you like that again. I will never make you feel scared like that ever again. I want to protect you, please give me a chance to care for you.”

You’d never thought you’d hear Zemo plea like that, and as you look into his eyes you can tell it is genuine.

“You promise?” You softy ask with a crack in your voice.

“On my life,” he simply replies as he places a soft kiss to your forehead.

[volklana]

Honey Whiskey

Title comes from this song: 

Request:  An idea just wont leave my mind and I would love for you to write if its no trouble. What if during tfaws during Madripoor Bucky sleeps with Sharon and y/n is absolutely devastated, Zemo offers her the chance to get back at Bucky and jealous/protective Bucky ensues and reminds her who she really belongs to?

I kind of took it in a bit of a different direction but I still hope you enjoy xx

Warnings: Zemo x Reader//Bucky x Reader// Smut (With Both)//Angst

A/N:  любимая (pronounced lyubimaya) means darling.

         Not proof read but all mistakes will be corrected in time.

It was stupid to be crying in the bathroom.

There were so many bigger things at hand but here you were, holding yourself steady on the bathroom sink, tears streaming down your cheeks and forcing yourself to take deep breaths.

The worst part is you had seen it coming from the moment they locked eyes in Madripoor, their chemistry was undeniable. The stolen looks, the lingering touches and the sly smirks she threw your way when she realized you were wary.

But seeing her, sneaking out of his room, in nothing but his shirt certainly solidified it.

“Ooops,” she giggled, brushing past you with a shove, and you made it precisely to the close of your door before the tears fell.

You did your best to push your feelings aside, finding Nagle was way more important than whatever was going on with Bucky, Sharon and by extension you. 

Pulling up to Zemo’s apartment, Bucky suddenly fell back, and announced he was going to take a walk. You followed after him intending to ask if he was ok, until you caught up to him and he was on the phone. 

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” he laughed and you hung back a second, heart pumping a thousand miles an hour in your chest and slinked into an alley before he could see you, and it felt like you scrambled up the streets of Riga until you made it inside the door of Zemo’s apartment. 

And here you were, propped up on the washbasin trying to prevent the tears falling.

You washed your hands and as you were drying them the bathroom door swung upon and now you were face to face with a pair of brown eyes that for the first time since you’d met him seemed genuinely kind, Zemo. 

“What is this?” he said softly “Why do you cry?”

You scrunched your face, trying to answer but simply shook your head as the tears stung your eyes. 

He moved to cup your face and you found yourself quite unable to move away, trapped between his warm body and the basin behind you. He used his thumb to gently sweep away the tears that stained your cheeks and you felt so ashamed looking up through wet lashes to examine the eyes baring down into yours.

The overhead lights made his brown eyes seem like honey whiskey that you could easily drown in. And you kind of wanted to...

“No man on earth is worth these,” he said almost in a whisper, stopping to examine the perfect droplet on his finger.

His gentleness scared you, but then again he must have been kind once, he had been married, she had trusted him enough to carry his children, there had to be tenderness there, beneath it all.

“He loves you,” he said simply and you shook your head, “James who you cry these tears for, he loves you. He is not ready to love you the way you deserve but he does love you.”

You wanted to know how he knew these things but you didn’t trust your own voice, you wanted to argue that you couldn’t compare even an inch to Sharon and suddenly he was stroking your cheek again.

“She doesn’t want him,” he stated simply “It’s a cruel game she’s playing. The Captain chose you over her, chose to keep you by his side. So she is taking your James just to prove she can.”

“She wants to hurt me,” you whispered and his eyes moved to look directly into yours, and he nodded slowly, intently. 

“The way you hurt her.” 

 You wanted to argue that you hadn’t been the one to hurt her, but something else seemed more important in the moment.

“Hurt people, hurt people,” you stated looking up into his eyes and he hmmed.

“You were hurt,” you noted, brushing  your hand along his arm, “Behind it all you were hurt.”

He nodded. 

“You need to be careful with Sharon. I had everything I ever wanted, and I lost it all and so did she.” It was a warning. “She is dangerous.” 

“What about you?” you questioned gently, “Do I need to be careful with you?”

“I am dangerous, yes..but I will never hurt you.” 

His eyes flicked down to your lips and for a split second you wondered what it would feel like to kiss him, to fully immerse yourself in honey whisky and amber and bergamot

You startled at the sound of your name being called and you looked into his eyes sadly.

“Go, любимая,” he said sadly “They will be suspicious, I’ll stay just long enough to not arouse suspicions.” 

Bucky and Sam were going to do recon, Zemo had gone to shower and you agreed to stay behind with him.

Before they left, Bucky doubled back.

“Are you sure you’re okay doll?” he enquired tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear “You know you can talk to me about anything don’t you?” 

“I know Buck,” you sighed, unable to meet eyes, “I’ll talk to you when you get back, go on don’t keep Sam waiting.” you pushed and he seemed to accept he wasn’t going to get anything else from you.

Zemo emerged from his chambers in a navy bathrobe and your eyes immediately were drawn to a gold chain nestled in the hair on his chest.

You wanted to slide the robe open and watch it drop to the floor, you wanted to finish what you had started in the bathroom but the air was thick with things unsaid. 

“Whisky?” he asked gently and you nodded. He had left the door to his room open and while he poured you looked at the four poster bed draped in red and gold.

What caught your eye was a cloth bound, faded book on his nightstand and you wanted to see what it was.

“Go ahead,” he nodded, following your line of sight and when you picked it up you gasped.

“Is this a first edition?” you were almost too afraid to turn the pages and he scoffed in reply “Of course!”

You were holding in your hand a first edition of Dostoevesky’s The Idiot.

“The world will be saved by beauty,” you mused, holding the book out to him, and he quirked his head in amusement.

“You have read Dostoevsky?” 

“Of course,” you seemed offended.

 “Do you think it’s true? That beauty can save the world.”

“I believe so,” he said no hint of teasing, as he came to join you in his room, “You are very beautiful and you do your best to protect the world. And there are still so many beautiful things in this world. Sit,” he instructed and you sat gently on his bed as you accepted the glass of whisky he handed you. 

You looked at him for a long time and shook your head “Helmut, you could have had a good life. Look at this place,” you gestured around “You could have done some good.”

“I have no regrets, любимая. I did what I felt I needed to do to make sure nothing like Sokovia ever happens again. Now I live with the consequences.” 

You brought your knee up to rest your chin on, he couldn’t quite make out your facial expression.

“You are sad for me?” he almost gasped coming to kneel before you, realisation hitting him like a brick in the face

“Yes,” you replied sadly, “And I am sad for me, because now that I see you, I don’t think I can ever look away again.”

He surged forward to meet your lips pushing you down into the mattress behind. You gasped, grasping the material of his robe and as he climbed on top of you, gold chain dangling in front of your eyes.

You slipped your hands along his chiseled chest and pushed his robe down his arms until the belt gave way and it slinked off his body and tumbled to the ground.

“My god,” you mused as you drank in his body, chiseled and lean and powerful, and he had you in the palm of his hands.

He pulled the flimsy material of your top apart and slid his hands up under the band of your bra, fondling your breasts until your back arched off the bed, without warning that was ripped away too and he made quick work of your jeans and underwear kissing his way up your inner thigh and all the way up to your breasts which he absolutely devoured, you were sure you would be marked tomorrow with the way he nipped the supple skin.

That gave you a sick satisfaction knowing you might carry his mark with you for days and nobody would know but him. “So fucking beautiful.” he mused. 

He pushed your legs apart with his knee, “Tell me to stop, he panted in your ear “Tell me to stop before I can’t.”

“No, no,” you ordered, yanking on the gold chain to pull him closer “Don’t dare stop!” 

His thrusts were slow and languid, and he pulled one of your legs over his shoulder, relishing in the feel of you, he chuckled as your eyes rolled back in your head. Face flushed red from the action. 

Your eyes widened as his hand closed around your throat and he began to pick up speed, slowly. 

“Your life is in my hands, and you would trust me with it?" 

"Yes, I trust you," you panted honestly and he took his hands away completely, looking at you with an expression nothing short of adoration, before diving down to meet your lips again. You clasped his gold necklace in your hand for something to grasp as he pounded into you as you came undone, and ever the gentleman, once you had taken your turn he came after you. 

You were close to sleep when he nuzzled into your hair "This is my only regret. That I will never get to do this again… not with you." 

You didn't know how to respond so you simply placed a kiss to his chest. 

You knew he was right, there was no way you would get to do this again, as soon as Sam found Karli, Zemo would be headed straight back to jail.

 He was twirling a piece of your hair around his finger, content just holding you close, before you broke the silence.

“Would you like another glass of whisky?” he hmmd against your hair and you clambered out of the bed, picking his discarded robe off the ground and tossing it on, you reached for his glass on the nightstand and placed a kiss to his lips.

You had been right, his eyes were honey whisky and you had gladly drowned in them.

You filled up two glasses from the decanter on the island, and you heard his door close.

“You are so impatient Baron,” you giggled, turning around to come face to face not with honey whisky eyes, but cold, startled blue ones, Bucky.

"What the fuck is this?" he was seething, chest visibly rising and falling rapidly. 

You were like a deer caught in headlights, too stunned to move a muscle.

“This is what’s been wrong with you? You’re hung up on that piece of shit? God!” he actually fumed “I left Sam on his own to come home and check on you because I was worried about you and all this time you were fucking him?” 

“James,” Zemo’s voice startled Bucky from behind, “It wasn’t like that.” 

Bucky moved so quickly it was like a blur and suddenly his metal arm was around Zemo’s throat and he pushed him back against the doorframe, “You fucking touched her, I told you I would kill you if you touched her! I told you she was mine!” 

“Bucky,” you rushed trying to force yourself between them “Bucky, stop! Please!” You managed to get a hand on his chest and he allowed you to push him backwards, slowly releasing his hold on Zemo’s throat. Keeping your eye on him as he gulped in air, you kept your hand on Bucky’s chest, and he laughed suddenly.

“She actually cares, oh this is priceless. Tell me doll, how does it feel to be nothing but a conquest? To be a pawn in a game you didn’t even know you were playing?” 

You looked at Zemo but he was refusing to meet your eye.

Was it true, he’d done all this for some sick joke? Or to get one up on Bucky?

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Is it true? It was just a game to you?” you asked, voice so small you were ashamed and he lifted his eyes so quickly to meet your eyes, he began to shake his head but the way you were looking at him, so small, he couldn’t lie.

“Initially, yes. But I cannot deny that you got under my skin and I grew to care for you. Nobody could fake this past night we spent together.”

You hugged the fabric of his robe tighter around your body suddenly feeling way more exposed than you would have liked.

Your eyes were burning with red hot tears and you willed them not to fall.

Bucky huffed out a laugh again and you met his hard eyes, finding no compassion there, “I’ve always been a joke to you Buck haven’t I?” 

You weren’t sure why in this moment it was Bucky you were mad at.

“You give me just enough to keep me holding on, and then fuck the next woman that comes your way, but it’s okay because you know I’ll be there to pick right up where you left me.” 

“What on earth are you talking about?” he demanded, taking an angry step towards you.

“Sharon,” you offered meekly, taking a step back from him as shock crossed his face, “Yes James, I knew. I knew the moment it happened, that has been what’s wrong with me these past few days. I've been hung up on you. You James, not him.” 

He couldn’t answer you, eyes scanning the room for some inspiration on how to respond.

“I’m done being a joke to men like you,” you directed at them both and Zemo took a step towards you only for Bucky to turn on him in warning not to come closer. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you wiped swiftly at the tear that rolled down your cheek,” you sighed before laughing at your own stupidity, “Fellas, it was fun while it lasted.” 

You sidestepped Bucky who reached for you as you made to move by and you didn’t spare Zemo a second look.

Neither of them tried to stop you leaving when you pulled your suitcase out the door and got into the taxi waiting outside. 

You cried so much in the first few days you were home, you honestly had no tears left to cry. 

You really missed Nat, she had always been the one you went to with boy trouble, she always knew how to kick your ass into action. 

You’d seen the news the night before which meant Sam and Bucky would be home soon and you were not ready to face either of them, in fact you were actively dodging Sam’s calls which really wasn’t fair.

You heard his shuffled footsteps behind you, he wanted you to hear him, otherwise he was well capable of sneaking up on you.

“Why are you here?” your voice came out shakier than you wanted but you didn’t turn around.

“I needed to see you,” he pleaded.

“Buck,” you sighed, fumbling with your key in the lock before finally getting your apartment door open and stepping inside, Bucky followed suit closing the door behind him “I’m not doing this again. Whatever this toxic thing is, I don’t want it anymore.”

“Will you look at me?” he begged and you shook your head quickly.

“I can’t,” you cried. If you looked at him all your resolve would melt. 

“Y/n, look at me please”

“Doll,” he begged, turning you to face him but you refused to meet his eye, arms folded across your chest to protect yourself, “Hey,” he pleaded, hooking his index finger under your chin and rubbing your bottom lip with his thumb.  

“Will you please look at me,” he whispered and finally you allowed yourself to meet his eyes.

“I handled this all wrong,” he whispered again, continuing to brush his thumb gently over your lip “So wrong doll. And I am so sorry.” You wanted to lean slightly into his touch but you also wanted to protect yourself. 

 “I was scared,” he began but you rolled your eyes, he gave you a pleading look and continued “I know you don’t want to believe it but I wasn’t ready doll, I wasn’t ready to open myself up to being hurt. That’s the truth. It was a cop out, but I was scared.”

“Scared that I would hurt you?” you laughed incredulously, and he removed his hands from your face and looked genuinely upset.

“Yes,” he answered honestly, “Raynor she said I shouldn’t do this unless I was fully willing to be open and vulnerable with you. And I was afraid If I opened myself up to you-showed you all the ugly parts, it wouldn’t be enough. I was scared that I would not be enough for you. Those other girls didn't matter. Sharon didn’t matter. I’ve always been yours, Always. I’ve been yours from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

He truly looked upset, tears in his eyes and biting his cheek.

You  honestly felt shell shocked and just about spluttered out “All this time I thought I wasn’t good enough for you! And you, you let me think that back in Riga. God!” you huffed “This is such a fucking mess!” 

“I was out of line, I said things I didn’t mean because I was hurt.”

You hugged your arms around yourself “I was hurt too.” you cried and Bucky was before you in seconds.

“Tell me what to do, because I’m yours doll. I’m yours!” he was begging.

“Show me,” you panted pulling him to you “Show me you're mine” 

He surged forward and pulled you to him in an instant and threw you over his shoulder and you squealed as he plopped you down on the bed.

He made quick work of both your clothes and catching your hands in his metal arm he trapped your arms above your head. He kissed his way down your neck, stopping to inspect a little mark just above your left breast, you watched his expression turn almost animalistic as he realised just who had given you that mark, he bit down and sucked hard on your neck, spurred on by the sounds he was eliciting from you.

“Nobody but me ever gets to mark you like this again,” he growled before he picked up a ferocious pace. You managed to wrangle free and he allowed you to flip him over so his back was pushed into the mattress, and you climbed on top.

You ran your hands from his muscled torso all the way up his chest and stopped to wrap your hands around his neck, “Who do you belong to?” you whispered, stilling all action. He groaned and shifted his hips in an attempt to get you to move. 

You squeezed slightly tighter and god damn he made the hottest noise you had ever heard, begging from somewhere in the back of his throat.

“Who do you belong to Buck?”

“Fuck! You...doll. Belong to you,” he moaned “Please, please,” and with that you began to move your hips in ways that had the supersoldier crying out your name, hand fisted in your hair to expose the soft skin of your neck to him, he suddenly rose up and bit down again before he suddenly reached his release.

“Fuck!” he cried out again, collapsing back onto the bed pulling you down with him. 

You were making some lunch when he emerged from the shower, towel wrapped around his waist and he began rummaging through his rucksack. He pulled out a square parcel wrapped in brown wrapping  paper, and seemed to be hesitating giving it to you before finally conceding to whatever mental battle he was going through.

“As much as this literally, and I mean literally kills me to admit, I truly don’t believe you were just a conquest to Zemo. I promised him I would give this to you and to prove my devotion to you, I am keeping my promise.” 

You gingerly unwrapped the parcel, and felt your eyes water as you realised what it was. The first edition of Dostoevsky’s The Idiot that you had picked up from his nightstand. There was a little note scrawled in beautiful cursive writing on a piece of parchment inside “любимая, my feelings were real, and the night was beautiful. And I do believe your beauty can save the world. HZ.”

  Tagging: 

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[loki-quinn]

Baron Helmut Zemo is so pretty!

[lunaroserites]

Anyone have recs for a Bucky Barnes/Reader or Zemo/Reader fics where they’re protective of her/them and John Walker is an antagonist in it? Please I beg

[celestialsarcasm]

hard to hate you

baron zemo x reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You’re an Avenger, so of course, you and Baron Zemo exist in a state of mutual hatred. Or at least, you’re supposed to. It’s the natural order of things. Too bad you lose sight of that a bit more each time you end up in his bed…

Tags/Warnings: smut, a tiny bit of fluff at the end, but mostly smut, dom!zemo, sub!reader, enemies to lovers, piv sex, dubcon (not really, but maybe? just in case?), dirty talk, degradation, condescension, name calling, choking, praise kink, begging

Word Count: 1.5k

You aren’t sure how you ended up like this, pinned underneath the man you claimed to hate. Some unfortunate lapse of judgment or the wine you drank earlier, probably. Never mind that this was somehow becoming a regular occurance. But you always managed to come up with an excuse, even if they were starting to sound a little ridiculous even to your own ears.

This time, you’re sprawled out under Zemo on the silk sheets of his enormous bed. He’s thrusting his fingers into you while his other hand pins you to the sheets, and you’re about ten seconds away from losing your fucking mind.

“What would your precious Avengers say if they saw you like this? If they knew how desperate you are to be fucked by the enemy? How you turn into a cockdrunk little slut as soon as I get my hands on you? How when I do this-“

He curls his fingers inside you and bites down hard on your pulse point, and you wail.

“You seem to forget how much you hate me.” He laughs darkly as you squirm underneath him, wanting to retort but instead finding yourself reduced to a string of pitiful whimpers.

“Hmm, nothing to say to that? I really have made you into a brainless little whore. Too bad, you’re still going to have to beg if you want to cum.”

The final words are spoken against your ear, his lust-filled, accented voice clouding your head with desire. You fight to think through the haze. “Please, Zemo,” you whine. “I-I need it!”

He tsks and shakes his head. “You know better, draga. Try again, what’s my name?”

You can hardly think as his thumb starts tracing teasing circles on your clit, but eventually it clicks in your brain. “Baron! Baron, please, make me cum, I want it so bad!”

He hums approvingly, moving his thumb faster. “There’s my good girl. You’re close, aren’t you, mein schatz?” He smirks knowingly. “Beg for me some more, and I just might let my little slut cum.”

His fingers are working you so good you can barely stay afloat, waves of pleasure washing over you as you fight the urge to cum without permission. “Please, Baron, feels so good! Want to cum on your fingers, please let me! I’ll be so good for you!”

His eyes darken and he all but growls, “Do it, then. Cum all over my fingers like a good little slut. Cum for me, now!” His mouth moves to your nipple and sucks, just as his fingers hit that perfect spot inside you and his thumb presses down on your clit.

You scream, shattering around him. “Fuck, fuck, yes!” Your eyes roll back in your head as you ride wave after wave of ecstasy, hands finding purchase in Zemo’s hair and tugging, if only to anchor yourself to this reality.

Zemo eases his fingers out of you, laughing softly when your cunt clenches involuntarily around them.

You gaze up at him breathlessly, mind still reeling from your orgasm.

“Open,” he commands, holding up his fingers still covered in your cum.

You groan at the implication and open your mouth dutifully, sucking eagerly on his fingers when he slides them between your lips.

“Good job, schatzi, being such a perfect slut for me,” he praises, pulling his fingers back. “But you know I’m not done with you yet. I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to take it like I know you can. Isn’t that right, princeza?”

Even though his words threaten to ruin you, you keep quiet. You’ve regained some consciousness by now, and the post-orgasm clarity is reminding you of all the reasons why this is a bad idea, all the things about Zemo that would send any sane woman running. And yet…

You know you’ve hesitated too long when he leans in closer and wraps his hand around your throat. “I said, isn’t that right?” he growls. “Come on, slut, use your words. Tell me how you’re going to be good for me and take my cock in that tight little cunt.”

Just like that, your mind is once again blank of all thoughts except for his words and the feeling of his hand on your throat, squeezing just enough to make your brain go fuzzy. And, goddamn him, what else could you do but obey?

“Fuck, fine, I’ll take it for you, I’ll be good,” you say breathlessly.

Zemo’s grip on your throat loosens slightly. “That’s more like it.” With his other hand, he reaches down and grips his already hard cock, groaning as he gives it a couple strokes before bringing it to your slick entrance. “Already stretched you out around my fingers, so you should be all wet and ready for me, hmm?” he asks, smirking.

His words are driving you crazy, and you gasp when he teasingly rubs the tip of his cock over your clit. “Yes, Baron, I’m ready. Please, just fuck me already!” You’re vaguely aware that you’re begging again, but at this point you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Someone’s impatient,” he chuckles. “But since you asked so nicely…”

He slides into you with a single thrust, forcing a loud moan from somewhere deep in the back of your throat. He groans along with you, cock twitching inside you as he bottoms out. Quickly, he starts thrusting in and out of you, not giving you much time to adjust. But fuck, you love it.

Needing something to ground yourself, your hands fly to his shoulders, digging your nails into the skin so hard they’ll surely leave marks.

Your whimpers combine with his groans in what may be the most flawless harmony you’ve ever heard. Your bodies slot together perfectly on each thrust, as you arch your back and lift your hips to meet him. You’d never admit it, but at times like this it seems like the two of you just fit.

The thought is driven from your mind as Zemo starts talking again. “Mmm, that’s it, draga, you’re taking it so well for me. Such a perfect whore, just for me. C’mon, tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Baron, only you! I’m yours!” you moan, knowing somewhere in your lust-addled mind that it was true.

“That’s right. Mine,” he growls, and the possessiveness in his voice makes you clench around him. “My - fuck - my perfect whore, my desperate little cockslut. Tell me how good my cock feels inside you, I know you love it.”

As he says it, he adjusts his angle to hit a spot even deeper inside you, and oh, you’re fucked.

Words fall from your mouth without your permission. “Feels so good, it’s - oh - so fucking good! Please don’t stop, need you!”

His pace doesn’t falter as he grabs your hair and turns your head to the side so he can lick and bite over the column of your neck, moaning against your skin. You writhe, the attention he pays to your sensitive spots driving you closer to the edge.

You couldn’t seem to stop talking, babbling nonsense at this point. “Ahh, s’ good, feel so full, I need it, more, please!”

You’re getting close, and you can tell he is too by the way his hips start to stutter. “Fuck, schatzi, I’m going to cum,” he breathes shakily. “Want me to cum inside you?”

“Yes, yeah, cum inside me, want you to fill me up!” You’re practically screaming at this point, so close that you know feeling him spill inside you would be all you need to send you over the edge. “Please, Baron, cum in your good girl’s pussy!”

That does it. “Fuck!” he shouts, biting down on your shoulder as he cums.

You follow not a second later, a strangled “Oh god, yes!” falling from your lips. You shake around him, moaning incoherently as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Once you’ve started to come down from your respective highs, Zemo pulls out and makes to roll off of you, but you grab his arm. “Can we…” you bite your lip, suddenly shy. “Can we stay like this for a minute?”

He grins. “You like having me on top of you that much, hmm?”

You rolled your eyes, moving to push him back off you. “Well if you’re gonna be cocky about it-“

“No, stay, princeza, please,” he says softly, and you’re surprised to see something like longing in his eyes. Appeased, you sink back against the bed, Zemo’s weight on top of you somehow making you feel safer than you have in a long time. You’ll save the analysis of that thought for later. For now, you close your eyes, and he surprises you yet again when he starts gently stroking your hair. The two of you lie in silence for a few minutes until you open your eyes and narrow them in what you hope is a menacing expression.

“You tell anyone about this, so help me, I’ll kill you, Baron,” you say in what’s meant to be a threatening tone, but comes out like more a lover’s teasing quip. After a second of silence, he starts laughing softly and you can’t help but start too - laughing at your pitiful attempt to scare him and, well, at the whole situation.

Despite your better instincts, you let yourself relax under him again, and eventually the soft strokes of his hand against your hair, combined with the steady beating of his heart, lull you into a peaceful sleep.

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS VILLAINS x FEM!READER

You are in a toxic relationship with the Marvel Comics Villains

Characters: Dr. Doom, Bullseye, Taskmaster, Venom, Carnage, Loki, Green Goblin, Kraven, Dr. Octopus, Shocker, The Lizard, Crossbones, Zemo & Muse

DOCTOR DOOM (VICTOR VON DOOM)

- Doom does not love lightly. He does not love kindly. But he loves. His iron will bends for no one, yet for you, it has shifted—an anomaly he cannot ignore, a flaw he will not permit. You belong to him; a sovereign claim written in the air between you, in the way his gloved hand tightens around your wrist, never enough to bruise, but enough to remind. When you question him, his voice is measured, calm, edged with the warning of a storm waiting to be summoned. “I am your salvation. You will not defy me.”

- You are the only one permitted to see beneath the mask. The weight of it, the suffering behind it, the ruined flesh that others would recoil from—he allows you to touch what no one else has touched. But your love is not a healing force, not for him. You do not soften him. If anything, you are his indulgence, the one weakness he refuses to cut out. And if you were to leave—no, you will not leave. Doom does not lose. Doom does not allow.

- There are gifts, grander than you could have imagined. Lavish, excessive, proof of his power and his devotion. A kingdom at your feet, riches beyond measure, knowledge beyond human understanding. But a golden cage is still a cage, and Doom’s affection is a thing of iron, of walls that do not crumble. You once thought his love might free you. You understand now—it only reshapes your chains.

- You are his equal in name, never in power. He calls you queen, but he is still the god of his world, the ruler of all. He will never bow to you, but he expects you to bow to him, to stand beside him as he burns the heavens and reshapes the earth. And if you resist—if you dare resist—his fury is not loud, not wild. It is quiet. Devastating. “You forget yourself,” he will whisper, and you will feel the walls closing in.

- He would never kill you. Not even in his deepest rage. But he will remind you of what you are, where you stand, who he is. You are his. Not his prisoner, no—but not quite free, either. And somewhere in the depths of his ruined soul, where he will never let you see, he wonders if you will ever truly love him back the way he loves you. Or if you, too, only see the mask.

BULLSEYE (LESTER)

- You are the only thing he has never missed. The first time he laid eyes on you, he knew—knew the way a bullet knows its target, the way a knife knows flesh. Obsession came naturally. Love? Love was unfamiliar. Messy. He was always precise, always perfect, but with you, he is reckless. Your laugh hits him harder than a sniper’s round. The way you say his name? A wound that never quite heals.

- He is chaos, and you are caught in the storm. His moods shift like a blade flicked between fingers, unpredictably sharp. One moment, he is draped around you like a lazy cat, lips at your throat, whispering filth and affection in the same breath. The next, his grip is too tight, his eyes too wild, his smile wrong, like he’s deciding whether to kiss you or cut you. “You like it,” he tells you, and maybe the worst part is—you do.

- Violence is his love language. Every scar on his body has a story, and sometimes, he gifts you the same. Not in cruelty—never in cruelty—but in something warped, something dark. A knife against your skin, not breaking, just resting, just waiting. A bullet casing dropped in your palm, engraved with your initials. “Got bored on a job,” he says, but you know better. You always do.

- He does not beg. Not for anything, not for anyone. But the one time you tried to leave, the one time you thought you could walk away, you saw something raw in his eyes. Something broken. He didn’t chase. He didn’t drag you back. No—he simply waited, appearing where you least expected, watching, watching, watching. “You’re mine,” he said, not a demand, not a plea—just fact. And when you came back, he only grinned.

- You love him, and it will ruin you. But what a way to fall. What a beautiful, burning, all-consuming thing you have become, in the hands of a man who never misses.

TASKMASTER (TONY MASTERS)

- He knows you better than you know yourself. The way you move, the way you breathe, the slightest shift of your expression—he reads you like muscle memory, like a sequence he’s learned a thousand times over. It should make you feel safe. Instead, it makes you feel watched, dissected, like a puzzle he’s already solved.

- There is no normal with him. One moment, he’s charming, teasing, almost easy to love. The next, he’s cold, distant, slipping into the void of who he is—who he’s been made to be. “I don’t remember everything,” he tells you, voice low, almost bitter. “But I remember you.” And maybe that should be enough. Maybe it isn’t.

- He does not show jealousy, but you know it’s there. You feel it in the sharpness of his grip, in the way his voice drops when another man looks at you too long. He doesn’t act on it. He doesn’t need to. A glance, a smirk, a quiet, lethal warning—you are his, and the world knows it.

- He is not cruel, but he is not kind. His affection is measured, calculated, a thing given when he decides, when it suits him. And yet, there are moments—rare, fleeting—where he lets his guard down, where you see something unguarded in his gaze. You try to hold onto those moments. They always slip through your fingers.

- He would never forget you. Even if the rest of the world fades, even if his own past crumbles into dust, you are written into him. And that is both a comfort and a curse.

VENOM (EDDIE BROCK)

- His love is not singular. It is him. It is the symbiote. A force that wraps around you, claims you, fills every part of your life until you cannot remember what it was like to be alone. And maybe you don’t want to. Maybe you never did.

- He is protective, possessive, primal. The world is a threat, and he is the shield between you and it. No one touches you without consequence. No one looks at you the wrong way without meeting something dark, something hungry. “Ours,” the symbiote purrs, and Eddie only nods.

- He is rough but careful. His hands are big, his strength overwhelming, but with you, he tries. He tries so hard. But sometimes he forgets, sometimes he grips too tight, kisses too hard, loves too fiercely. “Sorry,” he mutters after, and you wonder if he is apologizing to you, or to himself.

- You are his anchor. Without you, he is lost. Without you, the hunger is too loud, the rage too consuming. He would burn the world to keep you, to hold you. And you—God help you—you would let him.

- You will never be free. But maybe freedom is overrated when love feels like this.

CARNAGE (CLETUS KASADY)

- He doesn’t love like a man. He loves like a fire, like a slaughter, like something that was never meant to be gentle. He loves in blood and laughter, in the gleam of a knife, in the way he whispers your name like a hymn before the killing starts.

- You are not a weakness. No, no, no—you are a prize, a conquest, a thing he has decided is his and his alone. “Ain’t nobody touchin’ what’s mine,” he says, and the world listens. The world fears.

- He is chaos incarnate, and you are caught in the spiral. One moment, he’s sweet—almost boyish, playful, crooning about how good you are, how perfect, how he’s never had a reason to be soft before. The next, there’s blood on his hands, and he’s grinning like the devil himself.

- You will never know peace. Not with him. But you will know passion, madness, devotion. You will know what it means to be loved so entirely, so terribly, that nothing else will ever compare.

- And if you ever tried to leave—well. You won’t. Not really. Not for long.

LOKI (LOKI LAUFEYSON)

- Loving Loki is like loving a storm. He is not constant, not safe, not something you can hold onto without feeling the sharp bite of the wind against your skin. One day, his hands are gentle, lips tracing whispered sonnets against your throat, promises woven in silver and silk. The next, he is a tempest—cold, distant, his voice sharp enough to cut. “Did you think you could own me?” he sneers, eyes burning with something unreadable. But he does own you, doesn’t he?

- He loves in illusions. Words spun like spider’s silk, so sweet, so delicate, so convincing that you almost believe them—until they unravel. He tells you that you are the only real thing in his life, that you are the one person he cannot deceive. But then you wake in an empty bed, the scent of him fading, and wonder if he was ever really there at all.

- He is jealous in ways you do not see. Not possessive in the way of mortal men, not in anger or in violence, but in something deeper, something ancient and godly. He does not rage when another looks at you, does not make threats. Instead, he smiles, charming, effortless. And then, days later, your admirer is humiliated, ruined, their life quietly destroyed by misfortune that does not seem like misfortune at all. Loki never admits to it. He doesn’t need to.

- He will test you, always. He will push, he will deceive, he will break your trust just to see if you will forgive him. “If you loved me, you would know,” he tells you, after yet another lie, another disappearance, another game. You wonder if he is trying to prove something to himself, or to you.

- And yet, he always comes back. No matter how far he runs, how many times he swears he is done with love, with weakness, with you—he returns. And every time, you let him. Because you are just as much a part of this game as he is.

GREEN GOBLIN (NORMAN OSBORN)

- His love is a dangerous thing. A poison, slow-working, seeping into your bones before you even realize it. He is charming, confident, the kind of man whose presence fills a room, whose voice makes you feel like you are the most important person in the world. And for a while, maybe you are. Until his moods shift, until his gaze darkens, until the weight of his temper presses against your throat like an invisible hand.

- He is a man of control. Everything in his life is structured, calculated, dominated by his will—including you. You are not a woman, not a person, not a lover. You are a piece of his empire, a treasure that belongs to him alone. If you step out of line, if you disobey, if you dare to question him—oh, how disappointed he is. And Norman’s disappointment is worse than anger.

- There are moments of softness. Moments when he holds you close, when his fingers brush through your hair, when he murmurs that you are the only thing keeping him sane. You believe him. You believe him even when you shouldn’t. Because those moments are rare, and they are beautiful, and you would rather live in the warmth of them than acknowledge the cold that follows.

- You are not afraid of him. At least, that is what you tell yourself. But when his voice lowers, when his eyes gleam with something manic, when the Goblin lurks beneath his skin—you know better. He has never hurt you. He never would. Would he?

- And yet, you stay. Because Norman Osborn does not lose. And you? You are not sure you would survive being without him.

KRAVEN THE HUNTER (SERGEI KRAVINOFF)

- You are his greatest hunt. Not prey, no—never prey—but something just as thrilling, just as dangerous. He looks at you like a predator watching a storm, something wild and untamed, something that he alone has the right to claim. And claim you he does, with hands that grip too tight, kisses that leave bruises, love that feels more like conquest than devotion.

- He loves you fiercely. Too fiercely. It is not gentle, not soft, not something that can be tamed or reasoned with. His love is obsession, possession, a thing that devours. “You are mine,” he tells you, eyes dark, voice thick with an accent that only makes the words more final. “And I will kill any man who dares to think otherwise.” You do not doubt him.

- He is both man and beast. There are nights when he is human—when he speaks of his mother, his honor, the burdens of his bloodline. He tells you that you are his salvation, his reason. But then, there are other nights—nights when the hunter takes over, when his hands are rougher, his words sharper, when he drags you beneath him with all the primal hunger of a lion taking down its mate.

- You run, sometimes. Not away—never away—but just far enough to remind yourself that you can. That you are still your own. But Kraven always finds you. Always. And when he does, there is no punishment, no anger—just satisfaction. “You wanted me to chase you,” he says, smiling. And perhaps, deep down, you did.

- You wonder if he loves you, or if he only loves the hunt. But does it matter? Because no matter how far you try to stray, you will always belong to him.

DOCTOR OCTOPUS (OTTO OCTAVIUS)

- He is not cruel, but he is not kind. He loves you, of course he does—what fool would not?—but love, to Otto, is not a thing of tenderness. It is logic, calculation, the certainty of possession. You are his as much as his machines, his work, his mind. A brilliant, beautiful thing that he has claimed as his own.

- He is a man of ambition, and you are caught in the storm. He speaks of a future where you will stand beside him, where the world will bow, where he will rewrite the laws of science, of nature, of reality itself. He speaks of your place in it, but never as an equal. You are not a scientist, not a genius, not a mind like his. You are something greater—you are his muse, his reason, his beautiful, fragile thing.

- There is jealousy, but it is cold. Otto does not throw tantrums, does not break things in fits of rage—no, his jealousy is quiet. A lingering gaze, a remark too sharp, a conversation steered into dangerous waters. And if someone else dares to look at you, dares to try and steal what is his? Well. Accidents happen.

- He does not like defiance. Not from you. Not from anyone. And when you push, when you try to remind him that you are your own, his temper is not loud but cruel. Words like scalpels, sharp and precise, cutting in ways that cannot be stitched back together. “Ungrateful,” he murmurs, almost amused. “Do you think anyone else could love you as I do?” And the worst part is—you don’t know if they could.

- He adores you. He does. In his own way. And perhaps that is why you stay—because there is something beautiful in being loved by a man who bends the very world to his will. Even if, in the end, he will bend you, too.

SHOCKER (HERMAN SCHULTZ)

- He is not a good man, but he tries for you. He is a criminal, a thief, a man who has never known softness—but for you, he tries. He buys you gifts, leaves you notes in his messy handwriting, does his best to be gentle with hands that were made to break things. “Don’t deserve you,” he mutters sometimes, eyes dark with something unspoken. But he never lets you go.

- He is rough around the edges. Sarcastic, sharp-tongued, impatient. But when you look at him, really look at him, you see the exhaustion, the fear, the quiet desperation of a man who has never had anything good in his life—until you.

- He does not know how to love without holding too tight. He is not cruel, but he is possessive. He cannot lose you. He won’t. And if you try to leave, if you pull away—he doesn’t threaten, doesn’t shout. He just looks at you with something hollow in his chest. “Please,” he says, voice hoarse. And you stay. Because how could you not?

- He is dangerous, but not to you. Never to you.

- And you wonder if that makes you lucky, or just another thing he refuses to let go of.

MYSTERIO (QUENTIN BECK)

- Loving Quentin is like being lost in a dream. A beautiful, haunting dream spun in golden light and smoke, a world where every word he speaks is poetry, where every touch is a promise wrapped in silk. He makes you feel like the center of the universe, like a goddess sculpted from mist and stardust. But dreams are not real, and neither is Quentin.

- He lies, effortlessly, constantly, beautifully. You do not know if he even realizes he is doing it anymore. “You’re the only thing I see clearly,” he tells you, voice thick with something like devotion. But you’ve seen the way his illusions flicker, the way his masks slip just for a second. You do not know if he loves you or the idea of you—the version of you he has created in his mind, the one that exists only in the stories he tells himself.

- You never know what is real. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night, gasping, reaching for him—only to find an empty bed. A trick. A performance. A cruel game played by a man who needs control over every scene in his life. “Did you think I would leave you?” he asks, amused, when you confront him. “You know me better than that.” And you do. That is the problem.

- He is jealous in ways that are terrifying. Not loud, not violent—no, his jealousy is theatrical. He does not scream when another man looks at you. He does not threaten. He simply makes them disappear. Ruins their lives. Turns them into shadows, forgotten faces in a world rewritten by his illusions. You do not know how many times he has done it. You do not ask.

- And yet, you stay. Because when he loves you, when he looks at you with those dark, endless eyes, when he whispers your name like an incantation—you feel like magic. And isn’t that worth the cost?

THE LIZARD (CURT CONNORS)

- Curt loves you in two minds. One of them is gentle, human, the man he was before. He kisses you with careful hands, calls you his brightest light, tells you that you are the only thing keeping him grounded. But the other—the Lizard—does not know how to be gentle. Does not understand softness, does not understand love as anything but possession.

- There are days when he does not remember what he has done. When he wakes up with your bruises under his fingertips, with your fear still thick in the air, and he does not understand why you flinch. “I didn’t mean to,” he whispers, eyes wide, horrified. And you believe him. Because this is not him. Not really.

- You are afraid, but you do not leave. Because when he is Curt, when he is himself, he is everything. Brilliant. Kind. The man who kisses your fingertips and tells you stories of science and discovery, the man who wants to heal the world. But then the scales come back, the hunger in his eyes, the way he grips your wrist too tight. And you wonder—will there come a day when he does not turn back?

- He begs you to stay. Even when he knows he shouldn’t. “I need you,” he tells you, voice breaking. “I need you more than anything.” And maybe you need him too. Maybe that is why you stay.

- But love cannot fix what he has become. And one day, you will have to decide if you can love a man who is not always a man at all.

CROSSBONES (BROCK RUMLOW)

- Brock does not love gently. His love is bruises, rough hands, the sharp edge of a knife pressed against your throat—not to hurt, never to hurt, only to remind you that he could. He is danger made flesh, violence wrapped in a smirk and a scarred mouth that kisses you too hard, too possessively, like he is afraid you will disappear if he does not leave his mark.

- He is a man of war, and you are his greatest prize. Not a woman. Not a lover. A thing he has taken, claimed, wrapped in his arms and his rage. “You’re mine,” he growls, lips against your skin, voice thick with something darker than devotion. And you know he means it. In the way that means no one else ever can have you.

- He does not understand softness. Not really. But he tries. You see it in the way he pulls you close in the dead of night, in the way he buys you gifts—things he does not know how to give properly, shoved into your hands with a scowl. “Take it,” he mutters, looking away, as if the act of giving is something he is ashamed of.

- He is jealous in a way that leaves scars. Not on you. Never on you. But you have seen what he does to the ones who look too long, who think they can touch what is his. “You don’t need to know,” he tells you, when you ask what happened to them. And maybe you don’t.

- And yet, you love him. Love the way he makes you feel untouchable, love the way he looks at you like you are the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. But love is not enough to save a man like Brock Rumlow. And you do not know if it will be enough to save you.

ZEMO (HELMUT ZEMO)

- Helmut Zemo loves like a king loves his queen. Regal. Absolute. The kind of love that does not ask, does not plead—it commands. He does not need to raise his voice, does not need to threaten, does not need to demand. He simply looks at you, and you know. You are his. You always will be.

- He is not cruel, but he is not kind. He does not hurt you, but he does not comfort you either. If you cry, he does not hold you. If you are afraid, he does not reassure you. “Do not be weak,” he tells you, voice cold. “You are better than that.” And so you learn not to be weak. You learn to be strong. Because that is what he wants.

- He does not trust easily, but he trusts you. And that, perhaps, is the most dangerous thing of all. Because to be trusted by Zemo is to be owned by him, to be a part of his world in a way that cannot be undone. “You are the only one who sees me,” he murmurs, fingers tracing your jaw. And you wonder if that is a gift or a curse.

- He is possessive in a way that does not need words. There are no threats, no punishments, no rules spoken aloud. But you know, without question, that you are his. And if you ever forgot—well, Zemo has a way of making sure you remember.

- And you love him. Because how could you not? How could you not love a man who holds the world in his hands and still chooses to hold you?

MUSE (UNKNOWN NAME)

- Loving Muse is like loving madness itself. He does not speak often, does not whisper sweet nothings, does not fill the silence with promises. He only watches, eyes dark and empty, head tilted in quiet fascination. You do not know if he loves you, or if he simply finds you… interesting.

- He paints you. Again and again. In blood, in ink, in shadows cast against moonlit walls. Sometimes, you wake to find your face scrawled across canvases you do not remember posing for, your likeness stretched and twisted into something almost inhuman. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, fingers stained red, gazing at his work as though it is the only thing that exists. As though you are the only thing that exists.

- You are never afraid. Or perhaps, you have simply learned not to be. You have learned that fear does not matter. That love, to Muse, is not about touch or words—it is about obsession. About the way his hands shake when you are not near. About the way he does not kill when you tell him not to, even though you know he wants to.

- He is not jealous. But he is possessive. He does not threaten those who look at you. He does not hurt them. He simply… removes them. And when you ask, when you demand to know why, he only blinks. “They did not belong,” he says. And somehow, that is enough.

- And you wonder—if one day, you will not belong either.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Fluffy Headcanons 🩶 | Hemut Zemo

Marvel Masterlist

Being in a relationship with Zemo would look like:

The man spoils you, to the point it's kinda suffocating. Considering this man is rich you can expect extravagant gifts on birthdays, anniversaries, and whenever he sees something and thinks of you. It doesn't have to be an occasion for Zemo to spend his bottomless pit of coin on you. 

Date night involving a dinner doesn't exactly mean you guys have to go out. This man can cook. He'll present you with the most gourmet meal you've ever seen, paired with a wine likely the cost of your life insurance plan, with candles lit and music flowing from the record player. "You've out done yourself once again, Helmut. It seems like I'm saying that every time we have dinner." "Well, darling, I only ensure the best for my love."

Zemo has several homes throughout the damn planet, so if you're ever feeling a change of scenery all you have to do is pick where you want to go. Paris, England, Rio, Sydney, Moscow, Los Angeles, Morocco, etc. You name it, Zemo has property there. You'll stay for weeks, maybe months, and sometimes if you like one more than the others, you'll live there for a few years and then move when the time feels right.....or when Zemo breaks the law again and now, you're on the run. 

You're the type of couple people stop and stare at. Zemo wouldn't consider himself a fashionista, but he likes to dress nice for any occasion--even grocery shopping--and that rubbed off on you. Often you'll be walking down the street and notice in your peripheral vision people pointing you out to their friends and admiring you guys from afar. "People are staring again." "Of course they are. They cannot believe they are seeing a living God/Goddess among them." 

If you have animals, it'll probably be a cat. Zemo gives off cat energy more so than dog and he'd be the type of cat person who says he dislike cats but then falls in love with one and it changes his perspective. How came to have cat likely was you feeding the neighborhood stray and taking it in, ignoring Zemo's refusal but then you catch him putting tuna on a plate and bringing home flea medicine.

Your house is covered in artwork because Zemo is a collector. There's not a single wall that is not straight out of a museum. Monet's, Picasso's, etc. Paintings and sculptures. If you ever wanted to make an exhibit in your house and have people pay to see it, you could for sure do it. 

When you have movie nights, it's basically you two analyzing every single detail and having a full-on discussion rather than watching the film. Especially if it's movies you've already seen and are rewatching. Zemo can't shut up, and you shove popcorn in your mouth while he vents about how stupid the main character was or how plot lacked consistency. If Zemo really liked a film, he'll actually shut up because he doesn't have anything to say. 

His love languages are acts of service and quality time. And you can add gifts into the mix because he loves to give you gifts. 

You two play chess a lot--It's one of the ways you have quality time together. Zemo is a master at chess and while you were weak in the beginning you quickly became a master yourself and now you two have matches lasting hours. 

Zemo has a photo album dedicated to you of all your dates and trips or special moments you shared. All taken on a film camera because while he does have hundreds of pictures of you on his phone, there's something personal and intimidate in capturing the beauty of you on film. 

You have matching jewelry you both wear and hardly ever take off. If you're married, of course you have the rings but even then, you both have matching bracelets or necklaces. It's probably got your names or initials engraved or has your birthstones. 

[andy-15-07]

The News

Summary:Y/N anxiously prepares for Helmut Zemo’s return, holding a secret—she’s pregnant. When he arrives, they share an emotional reunion, and he’s overjoyed at the news of their growing family.

Paring: Baron Helmut Zemo x reader

Words count: 2594

Daniel Brühl Masterlist | Masterlist

The soft hum of the rain tapping against the windows filled the quiet apartment, adding to the warm, cozy atmosphere Y/N had tried to create all day. She had spent hours preparing for this moment—cleaning, cooking, and nervously adjusting everything in the living room a dozen times.

The smell of dinner—a mix of Zemo's favorite dishes—lingered in the air, and soft music played in the background, trying to mask the excitement and nerves building within her. Y/N checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time, her eyes darting to the time.

He should have been home by now.

Helmut had been away on a mission for weeks, leaving her with nothing but sporadic, cryptic messages that barely hinted at when he might return. But today was different. Today, she was certain he'd be home. She had received a brief text earlier that morning, "Coming home tonight. Don't wait up."

Of course, she couldn’t just go to bed, not with the news she had been holding close to her heart, a secret she had been dying to share with him. She glanced down at the little box in her hands, flipping it open and shut nervously. Inside was a tiny pair of baby shoes—white and soft, with delicate lace around the edges. She smiled softly to herself, a rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

She had found out a few days after he had left. The initial shock had been overwhelming, but the idea of them starting a family had slowly taken root, filling her with a joy she hadn’t expected. Y/N could already imagine Helmut’s reaction, the way his eyes would light up, the way he’d pull her into his arms, overjoyed at the news.

The rain picked up, drumming harder against the window, and she glanced outside. The city was dark, a few lights flickering through the sheets of rain, but there was no sign of him yet.

Minutes felt like hours, and the worry she had tried to suppress started to creep in. What if something had gone wrong? What if he was hurt? But no, she pushed those thoughts away. Helmut was too skilled, too careful. He always made it back to her, no matter what.

She placed the baby shoes back in the box, setting it on the coffee table and rubbing her hands together nervously. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting a warm glow over the room, but it did little to soothe her nerves.

Then, finally, she heard it. The unmistakable sound of keys jingling at the door, followed by the soft click of the lock turning. Her heart leapt into her throat as the door slowly creaked open, and there he was—Helmut Zemo, soaked from the rain, his hair tousled, but very much alive and home.

“Helmut!” Y/N exclaimed, rushing to him before he could even close the door behind him. She threw her arms around him, ignoring the dampness of his clothes as she buried her face in his chest.

“Schatz…” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion, but there was a softness in his tone as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in, as if grounding himself after weeks away.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. She had missed him terribly, every moment he was away felt like an eternity.

“And I missed you,” he replied, pulling back slightly to look at her. His dark eyes were tired but filled with love as he cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, meine Liebe.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection for this man she had chosen to spend her life with. But she could see the weariness in his expression, the way his shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of whatever he had gone through. She knew better than to ask about the mission, not right away. There would be time for that later.

“You’re soaked,” she said, her voice tinged with concern. “Come on, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”

He nodded, allowing her to guide him toward their bedroom. She helped him out of his coat and boots, and then he peeled off his wet shirt, tossing it aside. His body was as strong and lean as ever, though she couldn’t help but notice a few new bruises marring his skin.

Y/N frowned, reaching out to touch one gently, but Helmut caught her hand, bringing it to his lips instead.

“It’s nothing,” he assured her, his voice low. “Just a few scratches.”

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed with worry, but he gave her a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was trying to protect her, as always, but she could see through the façade. He was tired—emotionally and physically—but he was here, and that was what mattered most.

“Come on,” she whispered, tugging him toward the bathroom. “A hot shower will help.”

Helmut didn’t argue, and soon the sound of water filled the space as steam began to rise around them. Y/N stayed by his side, helping him rinse off the grime of whatever battle he had been through. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as she ran her fingers through his wet hair, massaging his scalp gently.

They didn’t speak, the silence between them comfortable and intimate, a reminder of how connected they were, even after all these years.

Once he was clean, she handed him a towel, watching as he dried off and wrapped it around his waist. His gaze softened as he looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he pulled her into his arms once more.

“Thank you,” he murmured into her hair, his voice filled with a deep, unspoken gratitude.

Y/N smiled against his chest, her heart fluttering with love for this man who was always so strong, so capable, and yet so vulnerable in moments like these. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him.

“I made dinner,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Your favorite.”

His eyes lit up, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “You spoil me, Schatz.”

“Only because you deserve it,” she teased, leading him back into the living room where the food was waiting.

They settled on the couch, plates in hand, and for a while, they just enjoyed the meal in comfortable silence. But Y/N could feel the weight of the secret she was holding, the news she was so eager to share. She glanced at the small box on the coffee table, her heart pounding in her chest.

Helmut noticed the shift in her demeanor, his brow furrowing slightly. “Is something on your mind, Y/N?” he asked, setting his plate aside.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to begin. But then she took a deep breath, reaching for the box and holding it out to him.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly.

Helmut’s eyes widened in surprise as he took the box from her hands, his expression curious as he opened it. His gaze softened instantly as he saw the tiny baby shoes nestled inside, his breath catching in his throat.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he looked up at her, his eyes searching hers for confirmation.

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m pregnant, Helmut. We’re going to have a baby.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, as if trying to process the words. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a smile so full of joy and love that it took her breath away.

“Meine Liebe…” he murmured, setting the box aside and pulling her into his arms. He held her tightly, his hands trembling slightly as he cupped the back of her head, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she clung to him, feeling his love and warmth enveloping her completely. “I was so nervous,” she admitted, her voice cracking with emotion. “I didn’t know how you’d react.”

He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands and looking into her eyes with a seriousness that made her heart skip a beat. “Y/N, there is nothing in this world that could make me happier than this news,” he said, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “You and our child…you are everything to me.”

She smiled through her tears, overwhelmed by the depth of his love. “I love you, Helmut,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“And I love you, more than anything,” he replied, pressing his forehead against hers. “Thank you…thank you for this gift.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other close, their hearts beating in sync. The rain outside had slowed to a gentle drizzle, the soft patter against the windows a soothing backdrop to the moment they were sharing.

Finally, Helmut pulled back, a playful glint in his eyes. “I suppose I’ll have to be extra careful on my missions from now on,” he said, a hint of humor in his voice. “I have more than just you to come home to now.”

Y/N chuckled, wiping away her tears. “Yes, you do. And you’d better keep that in mind.”

He smiled, leaning in to kiss her softly, his lips lingering against hers as if savoring the moment. When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with a tenderness that made her heart swell.

“We’re going to be a family,” he repeated, his voice filled with awe as if he was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea. His hand moved gently to rest on her stomach, his thumb tracing small, tender circles over the place where their child grew.

Y/N placed her hand over his, the warmth of his touch sending a wave of comfort through her. “Yes, we are,” she whispered, her voice full of love and certainty. “Our little family.”

Helmut’s eyes shone with emotion as he stared down at her, his usually composed demeanor softened by the weight of this new reality. He had faced countless challenges, confronted the most dangerous of foes, and yet, this moment—this simple, beautiful moment—was enough to bring him to his knees.

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “A family of my own… I never thought it would be possible after everything that’s happened. And now, here we are…”

Y/N smiled, her heart breaking and healing at the same time. She knew his past was riddled with pain and loss, and she understood how much this meant to him. “You deserve this, Helmut. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

He shook his head slightly, his expression one of disbelief. “I don’t know if I deserve it, but I’m not foolish enough to let it slip away. You and our child…you’re my future now. My purpose.”

She could see the determination in his eyes, the promise that he would do everything in his power to protect them, to give them the life they deserved. It was a vow unspoken, yet she felt it in every fiber of her being.

Helmut gently pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered again, the words heavy with gratitude. “Thank you for giving me this gift, for giving me hope.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with love for him, a love that seemed to grow stronger with each passing second. “You’ve given me so much, Helmut,” she replied softly, her fingers threading through his as they rested on her stomach. “This is our gift to each other.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the reality of their future slowly sinking in. It was a future filled with the unknown, but for the first time, they faced it together, not just as partners, but as a family.

After a while, Y/N broke the comfortable silence, her tone laced with playful curiosity. “So… have you thought of any names yet?”

Helmut chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, breaking through the seriousness of the moment. “Already? You’ve only just told me!”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and full of joy. “Well, we should get a head start, don’t you think? We need to be prepared.”

Helmut’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he considered her words. “True. But I think we should take our time. We have many months ahead of us to decide.” He paused, his gaze turning thoughtful. “But if I had to choose… something traditional, perhaps. Something with meaning.”

Y/N nodded, her mind racing with possibilities. “Something that honors your heritage, maybe? A name that connects our child to their roots.”

Helmut’s expression softened, a deep pride flashing in his eyes. “Yes,” he agreed, his voice low and serious. “Something that carries the weight of history, but also the promise of a new future.”

She could see how much this meant to him, and it warmed her heart to know that he was already thinking of their child’s legacy. “We’ll find the perfect name,” she assured him, leaning into his embrace. “One that represents everything we’ve been through, and everything we’re going to build together.”

Helmut kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering there as if sealing a promise. “We will,” he agreed. “And no matter what name we choose, our child will know they are loved. That is the most important thing.”

Y/N sighed contentedly, feeling a sense of peace settle over her. This was what she had always dreamed of—a life filled with love, a future full of hope. And now, with Helmut by her side, that dream was finally becoming a reality.

As the evening wore on, they talked about their plans for the future—the changes they would need to make, the things they would need to prepare for. They discussed where the nursery should be, what color to paint the walls, and how they would balance their new responsibilities. It was a conversation filled with excitement and a little bit of fear, but most of all, it was filled with love.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day caught up with them, and they found themselves curled up on the couch together, the warmth of the fire lulling them into a comfortable drowsiness. Helmut held her close, his arms wrapped around her protectively, his hand resting on her stomach as if to keep their child safe even in his sleep.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart swelling with love as she watched him drift off. There was a contentment in his expression that she hadn’t seen in a long time, a peace that came from knowing they were finally moving forward together.

And as she closed her eyes, her head resting against his chest, she knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—united by the love they had for each other, and for the family they were about to start.

In that moment, Y/N realized that the future was no longer something to be feared. It was something to be embraced, something to be cherished. And with Helmut by her side, she knew they would create a life filled with happiness, love, and endless possibilities.

As sleep finally claimed her, Y/N’s last thought was of the tiny heartbeat growing inside her, a new life born out of the love she shared with Helmut Zemo—a love that would carry them through anything.

The rain outside had stopped, leaving the night quiet and still. And in the warmth of their home, their hearts beat as one, full of love, hope, and the promise of tomorrow.

[frost-queen]

A love game (Reader!Stark x Bucky Barnes)

Requested by: @kombuchaqueen04 Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex–awesome–22, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23, @melsunshine  , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @slythetic, @bitchybananaflower, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @evyiione

You still remembered it. The first time you laid eyes on him. On James Bucky Barnes.

Party at Stark towers for no reason as it being your brother’s idea. You remembered how you were. Walking, still wearing your sunglasses and a bottle of wine in your hand as you got out of the elevator. Nearing your brother at the sight at someone new by Steve’s side. – “Who’s beside the popsicle?” – you asked leaning against your brother.

Slowly lowering your glasses further down your nose. – “Barnes. Bucky, a friend of Steve’s.” – he responded, making you remove your sunglasses. – “Ah so popsicle number two.” – you let out with a smirk. Tugging the glasses in the chest pocket of your brother’s shirt with a tap. Giving him a sweet smirk to just accept it. Tony rolled with his eyes, taking your sunglasses out. Placing them on the counter before going over to Banner. You neared the bar where he was sitting. Smiling when Steve got up to leave. Seeing him head for the bathroom.

With a weary sigh you let yourself drop into the seat beside him. – “A drink?” – you offered, showing him the bottle of wine in your hand. He looked briefly confused back at you, before shaking his head. – “No… thank you.” – placing a hand over his glass. – “Nonsense.” – you responded holding your hand out to the bar. From one of the top shelves, you moved a glass with your mind to come to you. Falling perfectly in your hand as you set it down. Scrunching your nose at him with a smile.

Bucky swallowed nervously as you poured a glass for him. You shoved it over to him. – “Like I said, no thank you.” – he repeated moving the glass further away. – “You seriously aren’t going to let a lady drink alone are you?” – you responded shoving the glass back at him. Bucky let his gaze go from you to the glass. Drinking the content down in one gulp. Setting the glass firmly down before taking his leave.

There and then, you think you must have fallen for him. For you couldn’t get him out of his head.

You smiled, quickening up your pace to fall in line with his step. Passing by Sam and Zemo. – “Hey handsome.” – you breathed out, slowing your pace down to his. Bucky glanced briefly your way with a contracted face. – “Are you warmed-up or do you need a lesson with two?” – you teased knocking your elbow against his arm to poke him more.

Bucky swallowed nervously, picking up his pace. You quickened up your pace as well to keep in line with him. – “You could show me a thing or two, Bucks?” – you spoke winking at him, grabbing his metal arm.

The moment your hands were on his, he started moving faster. The abrupt movement made you let go of him. Watching him run off. – “Ha!”- you heard loud behind you. Looking over your shoulder at Sam laughing. Annoyed you moved your hand, shoving a trashcan right in front of him.

“Ha!” – you repeated with mockery as Sam knocked into it, nearly tripping over it. Zemo snickering loud. You slowed your pace down to meet with theirs. – “Someone’s been needy.” – Zemo said as you raised your hand to warn him. He immediately kept quiet, yet kept his smirk up.  

You rubbed your hands together at the entrance of the club. Already hearing the deafening music coming from inside. Zemo spun around to Sam, walking backwards for a bit. – “You better keep an eye out for our party girl.” – he teased pointing at you.

You rolled your eyes at him. – “You boys are just lame.” – you responded coming up to the club. Coming to stand beside Bucky, who nervously looked at the club. – “Don’t worry handsome, I’ll show you the ropes of dancing.” – you swung your arm over his shoulder. Bucky cleared his throat, moving his head away.

When Sharon appeared in the door opening, he removed your arm from around him. Sharon urged you inside. – “I’ll call you when the buyer has arrived. Keep your phones in check.” – she told you all. – “What are we to do in the meantime?” – Sam questioned. Sharon quirked her eyebrow up.

“It’s a club Sam, figure the rest out.” – was her response, throwing her hands up. You called it out from excitement, grabbing Bucky by his hand. Pulling him with you through the crowd. Zemo placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder, but immediately pulled it up at the sight of his glare.

Shaking his head, Sam went after you. – “Stark wait up!” – he called out. His voice dying out over the blasting club music. – “Y/n stop!” – Bucky called out, pulling his hand out of yours hard. It made you look in slight shock back at him at his sudden brute force. – “It’s a club, Bucky. Live a little.” – you told him, getting up to his ear to make sure he would hear you. Bucky’s eyes widened, quickly turning his head away.

Bucky huffed loud, heading over to the bar. Taking a seat. The moment he was gone, some guy already caught your eye. He came moving closer, ready to approach you but turned quick around when Zemo came placing a hand on your shoulder. – “Show us some dance moves Stark.” – he gestured at the dancefloor as you knew he was just teasing you. Sam sighed loud with a roll of his eyes. Walking past the two of you to join Bucky at the bar. – “You got it Zemo!” – you told him, accepting the challenge. For you couldn’t resist a party.

You started dancing. Swaying your hips and letting your hands go down your body. Zemo threw you kissed hands to applaud you. Soon people joined, coming in closer to you as you simply attracted them. A guy came gliding up your back, pressing a hand on your hip. You shoved him off with a dance move. Taking his hand to twirl out. Posing with your hand up, kicking a foot up to knock him back.

You then placed your hand in Zemo’s offering hand, nearing him again. Zemo brought you close to him, placing a hand on your back. Swaying from side to side, his cheek close to yours. Your gaze fell on Bucky and Sam at the bar. Seeing how they were clearly looking at the two of you. Sam’s expression with disgust as Bucky’s expression was clenched. You moved Zemo away from you, patting him on the shoulder.

Zemo shrugged his shoulders, dancing on his own as you moved over to the bar. Throwing your arms around both of them. – “Fancy a dance boys?” – you called out. – “Ha! You think you can make our old timer strip a dance.” – Sam laughed out hinting at Bucky. You turned your head to smile at Bucky. – “Just give me three seconds and he’ll no longer be shy.” – you outed teasingly.

Bucky shoved the barstool back, jumping off. You blinked confused at his sudden departure. – “Did I say something wrong?” – you asked Sam. Sam shrugged his shoulders. You decided to go in pursuit, wanting to know what you did wrong. – “Bucky!” – you called out loud over the blasting music. Unsure if he would hear you. Bucky kept moving through the crowd, creating a distance.

Making his way across as he reached the men’s toilets. The door was open as you knew you couldn’t follow him in there. – “Bucky!” – you called out, shutting the door with a thud using your mind. The door slammed shut right before Bucky wanted to enter. He took a shuddering step back. Turning around to face you. Hands slightly up as he quickly turned his face away. Taking a run for it.

“Bucks!” – you panted out. Pausing briefly to rethink his action. Was he perhaps scared of you? Scared of your powers? While else would he react so frantically around your abilities. The last thing you wanted was for him to be scared of you. Sighing loud, you turned around. Heading back to the bar. Taking a seat somewhere remotely. The bartender poured you a glass as you could use it. You let your hand rest on your cheek, letting your finger go over the top.

No more interest in partying as Bucky was on your mind. You felt like crying that he was scared of you. You only wanted him to like you. Wanted his attention. Approaching him in the only way that you were familiar with. Having learned the ropes when growing up with Tony.

It was just your personality that flirting came out so easily. Sighing again, you covered up your face with your hands to not cry. The vibes for partying completely gone as now you just wanted to wallow in self-pity that Bucky was scared of you. For why else would he keep running away from you?

“Where is Y/n?” – Bucky asked Sam at the bar further up. Sam pulled his shoulders up. – “I don’t know, she was in pursuit of you. Didn’t you see her?” – he responded. Bucky ignored his question, not wanting to respond to it. Slightly worried, he looked around for a sight of you. – “I thought you were supposed to keep eyes on her.” – Bucky called out, close to his ear.

“She went after you!” – Sam shouted back that it wasn’t his fault. That looking after you was a shared agreement. Bucky sighed soft, moving away from the bar. – “Where are you going?” – Sam called out but Bucky couldn’t hear him anymore. Pushing himself through the crowd in search for you. A girl came squealing loud at his presence, throwing her arms around him.

Bucky politely removed her hands from him with a forced smile. Pushing his way further through the crowd. Rushing himself through. Lights blinding and effecting his sight. He searched the entire dancefloor for that was the first place he would find you. When it felt like an endless pool, he moved back closer to the side. Knocking against a person, turning round to politely apologize with his hands up.

It was then that his eyes narrowed. Settling upon the bar as he seemed to distinguish you. A guy leaning against the counter by your side. Bucky’s jaw tensed as he made his way over. Grabbing the guy roughly by his arm, pulling him away from you. – “Beat it!” – he said with a serious glare at him. The man scrambled off as he heard you sigh loud. Tilting his head curiously, he came setting his hand on the bar close to you.

Leaning in to get a good look of your facial expressions. You turned your posture away from him. – “What’s up with you Stark?” – he asked confused. He wasn’t used to this coming from you. Biting your lip, you tried to hold it in, but the emotions took over. Making you spin back to him on the barstool.

“Look I’m sorry okay! I’m sorry that I’m scary!” – you called out with a desperate hand gesture. – “What? What are you talking about Y/n?” – Bucky responded grabbing both your hands to lower them. – “I’m an abomination and I am sorry you are scared of me.” – you cried out, lips pouting. Bucky visibly blinked confused. – “I’m sorry what? I’m not scared of you Y/n.” – he responded, making it your turn to blink  confused.

“I don’t scare you?” – you repeated to be sure you had heard him correctly. – “You make me nervous.” – he responded, looking shy away. – “I do?” – you questioned. Bucky exhaled soft, coming to sit at your side. – “You always catch me off guard with your flirting. I’m not used to women flirting with me so bluntly Y/n. You never even give me the chance to flirt first.”

A bright smile curled up your lips. – “So you want to flirt with me?” – you spoke. – “Is that truly the only thing you have remembered from my entire speech?” – he replied seeing you shake your head. – “Okay flirt with me.” – you told him, poking him in the chest. – “Au…” – he chuckled out. – “I’m not going to flirt with you on command.” – making him turn his gaze bashful away.

“Come on Bucks.” – you poked him again in the chest to annoy him a bit more. You kept poking him when he wouldn’t give you any attention. – “Alright enough!” – he called out, grabbing you firm by the hand. Pulling you off the barstool, moving with you through the crowd of the club. Grinning from ear to ear, you couldn’t wait for him to flirt with you. For he wasn’t scared, he was just flustered.

-----------------------------------------

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[geekstuffkittykat]

My bestie @nocturnal-cryptid genius suggested to me that Zemo has cat energy and an adorable cat smile, that I could mix that with my favourite Disney love Cheshire Cat. Here is the result with my imagination. 😊

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings:

a/n: i wrote this on a plane from memory bc i didn’t have wifi to fact check on fandom wiki LMAO

not requested

Sharon’s conversion with Steve was cut short by a radio to her headset. “Agent Carter, we have a…young person claiming to have information on the whereabouts of the terrorist that bombed the UN building.”

“Well then, send them up. What are you waiting for?” Sharon insisted and waited at the elevator for your arrival. The Avengers privvy to this information all patiently waited in the office, and were surprised to be greeted by a teenager. “This is Y/N Zemo.”

“My father is the bomber—” You blurted and were quickly cut off by Tony Stark.

“Like we know who your father is.” He retorted.

“Yeah. I was getting there.” Your quick backtalk silenced the room. “His name is Helmut Zemo, my family was killed in Sokovia and ever since…he’s been on this mission to destroy you all.”

“You said you knew his whereabouts?” Steve asked politely, not wanting to be snapped at like Tony was.

“He’s here. With Bucky Barnes.” You revealed.

“You should have started with that!” Sharon yelled just as the power went out and the Winter Soldier was activated. “Shit. Stay here!”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Car Ride- Zemo x Reader

Summary: Zemo gives reader more than just a ride home

Word Count: 1, 751

*wanna be tagged in my next Zemo fic? Click here*

Everyone recovers from a mission differently. Usually your recovery was in more solitude, but with the mix of the stress from the mission, and a certain flirty Sokovian Baron, you needed to recover in a different way.

As the loud music of the club boomed in your ears, and the colourful lights framed the dancing bodies around you, you realised this wasn’t what you needed. You thought dancing and drinking would help the way Zemo had been making you feel, but it didn’t, if anything it only made it worse.

You hate that you were so attracted to him, but you just couldn’t help it. The way he flirted with you didn’t help how you felt either.

Standing at the bar of the packed club, you debated whether you’d get another drink, or whether you’d get an Uber back to the hotel. You could ask Bucky for a lift, but you knew he’d be grumpy if you woke him up this late. Maybe Zemo could take you home.

In your right sober mind, you wouldn’t give such a stupid idea a second thought, but with the alcohol and adrenaline pumping through you, it didn’t sound too bad.

Your body began to heat and tingle as you began to text him.

‘Come pick me up, baby. I need you to take me home 😘’

You texted him. The message a lot more forward then you’d ever been with him. Usually you barely even spoke to him, and now you were calling him ‘baby’ and asking him to take you home.

*****

Zemo’s head lazily turned to the side as he heard his phone ding, on the bedside table. Lightly groaning he sits up and looks to see who was bothering him.

His light scowl turns to a grin as he sees it’s you who’s texted him, and that grin turns into a devilish smile as he sees what you’ve send him.

He wanted to send back something flirty, something to tease you like he has been for the past two weeks, but he doesn’t.

‘I’ll be there in 10, wait out the front for me’

He simply texts back.

If Zemo was being honest, when he began flirting with you, it was mainly a way to annoy James, and that’s why he’d continued. But now with you both just one on one, without Bucky or Sam here to see, he oddly felt nervous.

*****

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you switch between looking at the road and looking at your phone as you wait for Zemo.

The headlights of his fancy car catch your attention, as you playfully bite your lip and climb into the passenger seat.

“Hey, handsome,” you welcome as you close the door.

“Put your seatbelt on,” is all Zemo simply says as he begins to drive off.

Pouting at him, you do as he says. You’re disappointed that your flirting doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere, but what you don’t realise is that Zemo is doing everything in his power to hold back.

Since the moment he pulled up and saw you in your tight dress, he did everything he could to ignore the way you made his cock throb and grow.

******

The drive back to the hotel was quiet and boring so far, and though you tried to fight it, you couldn’t ignore the throbbing in your clit as you tried hard not to grind on the car seat below you.

Looking around you try to distract yourself, but as you look down, you see that Zemo might not be as uninterested as he seems. Seeing the tent in his pants, you realise just how interested he is.

Biting your lip, you begin to form a plan. Taking your seatbelt off, you move closer to him and begin to rub his thigh.

Zemo lets out a surprised moan as you begin to rub his inner thigh, inching closer and closer to where he needs you most.

“Pu-put your seatbelt back on,” Zemo grits out, trying to control himself.

“Mmmm, don’t you wanna play with me, daddy?” You teasingly whisper in his ear, lightly biting his lobe as your fingers trace over his cock.

Zemo can’t help the sigh and moan that leaves his parted lips, as he grips the steering wheel to try to regain control.

“Sit back down, y/n,” he growls out at you.

As he stops at a red light, you do what you’re told with a giggle. Biting your lip, you have another idea as you look at the strained look on Zemos face.

Slightly lifting your short dress, you grab the waistband of your panties, and pull them down your legs. Taking them subtly in your hand, you drop them in Zemos lap, just as the light turns green.

Looking down, Zemo growls at what you’ve dropped in his lap. Looking over at you, he sees you cheekily biting your lip as your fingers begin to trace up your own legs.

So lost in watching you, he doesn’t realise the cars behind him. As one honks at him, his head whips to the rearview mirror, and then back to you.

“Fuck this,” he growls as he takes off from the green lights.

Speeding down the streets, you’re not sure where he’s taking you, and you should be scared, but honestly it just seems to turn you on even more.

Sharply pulling into an alleyway and turning off the car, he wastes no time in wrapping his large hand around your throat. Your eyes begin to widen in shock at his sudden action, and if it wasn’t for his other hand creeping up your thigh, you might be scared.

“You think you can just tease me like that? Standing there in your tiny fucking dress, with your tits and your ass on full display. Getting in my car and trying to fuck me. You are a naughty little girl.” His stern look suddenly turns into a grin as his fingers glide through your wet folds.

“You’re also a dirty little girl, so fucking wet for me, grinding on my hand like a desperate whore. You want daddy to fuck you?” He asks darkly as two of his fingers begin to inch inside of you.

A light gasp leaves your parted lips as you desperately try to hold eye contact with him. You can’t seem to form any words as his fingers begin to move inside of you, instead your mouth just hangs open, frozen in pleasure and submission.

“Answer me.” Zemo growls as his grip on your throat tightens and his fingers begin to move faster.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you desperately moan out.

“Good girl,” he growls at you with a grin as he harshly pushes his lips to yours in a hungry kiss.

Breaking from the kiss, he roughly pushes you back against the passenger seat. Returning to his own dear, he slides his it back and begins to unbutton his trousers. Your mind begins to sober up as you watch him tear desperately at his pants, but you want him no less than you did when the alcohol was fresh in your system.

Wasting no time, Zemo grabs you by the hip and thigh as he pulls you into his lap. Immediately your wet and desperate pussy makes contact with his hard cock, and you let out a needy whine.

“You know, daddy should really punish you for being such a desperate little whore,” he growls, with his hand back around your throat, while his other hand slaps your now bare ass.

“But I’m just as desperate as you are,” he confesses as he pulls you in for another messily heated kiss.

His hand parts from your throat as he pulls down the top of your dress, exposing your breasts to him.

“Oh fuck,” his all he growls out, as he begins to squeeze and press your tits.

Quickly his warm mouth comes over one of your nipples as he begins to bite and suck on the sensitive skin. You can find no words as the pleasure heightens in your body.

Grabbing at his hair with both hands, you push your chest further into his face as you begin to grind on his bare cock.

“Fuck, you really want my cock badly, don’t you sweet girl?” He asks, lightly pulling at your hair.

There’s nothing you can do but attempt to nod, as his touch and his words affect you so intensely. Zemo nods his head along with yours mockingly, while he positions his cock with your entrance, the mockery and light manhandling making you even more aroused.

“God, you’re such a desperate whore,” he belittles, as he thrusts his hips up and forces yours down, filling you up fully.

Your head slams back as you let out a screaming moan, the way he’s filling you feels both amazing and intense. He gives you no time to adjust, as he begins to fuck himself into you, moving your hips to his liking.

“Such a tight little pussy, all for me. For me to fuck, for me to use.” He growls as he harshly fucks you.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens as one of his fingers comes down to your clit, and already you can feel your orgasm approaching.

“Gripping my cock like a good little girl. You going to cum for me already, princess?” He teases, as he grabs at your throat again, bringing your face incredibly close to his, forcing you to look into his intense stare.

“Yes, daddy, gonna cum on your cock,” you moan desperately as you look deep into his eyes.

“Good girl. You look at me while you cum, like the good girl I know you are.” He growls out, his own thrusts becoming sloppier.

“Yes, daddy,” you sigh.

Zemos grip on your hips loosen as you begin to move your hips with his, and his finger on your clit speeds up. You could feel that delicious warmth spread over your body as you stare into Zemos eyes. Giving your hips one last grind, you feel that euphoric feeling wash over you, as you moan loudly against Zemos lips, your sweaty foreheads now touching.

It only took Zemo a few more powerful thrusts before he too was finishing inside of you.

Collapsing against his chest, his strong arms wrap around you as both of your breathing starts to return to normal.

“Good girl,” he gently whispers against your temple, sweetly kiss your forehead.

[the-imaginative-hobbyist]

Zemo not being in Thunderbolts* is a creative decision I don't think I will ever understand. _________________________ Follow @the-imaginative-hobbyist for more content and visit http://TheImaginativeHobbyist.com

[loki-quinn]

WHY DOES HIS EYES LOOK SO SAD AND PRETTY!?

[fandomnerd9602]

Visits

Fem!Baron Zemo x Male Reader

For @wildcardjgambit

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You had gotten your daughter out of the blast zone that was the Battle of Sokovia. And yet with all the loss, it wasn’t enough for your wife Baroness Helga Zemo. Her heart had turned cold, cold enough to commit atrocities in the name of your home country. She wasn’t always this way.

She was your light, a loving wife and mother. And now you hardly recognize the woman that stands before you behind several inches of bulletproof glass, bound in a straight jacket.

“Why?” is all you can ask.

“I did it for our home, the people we lost.” she answers back, tears streaming down her face. “Where’s my baby?”

“S-she couldn’t make it” you lied. The truth was that when little Marie saw her mother’s image up on the news screen with the words terrorist written across it. It broke her little heart, “that’s not my mommy” she cried.

You didn’t have much else to say to Helga, you just slipped her the papers you were dreading to deliver. You hoped it would never come to this but it wasn’t much left for a marriage nor was it the best life for your daughter.

Helga sighed and signed them. “I don’t regret what i did” she whispered as she slid them through the opening to you. “they took everything from us”

“And I tried to rebuild it for you. I don’t blame the Avengers. I just wish you had thought of Marie and I.”

And with that, you turned and left. The microphone allowing you to communicate with Zemo was shut off. And a good thing too, because if it was still on, you would’ve heard her cries of anguish.

The helicopter left the Raft, with you aboard. It dropped you off not far from the border of Sokovia. You found yourself feeling empty but you were ready to rebuild.

You found yourself at a nearby coffee shop, just trying to plan out yours and Marie’s next step. Your thoughts ran rampant when suddenly someone spoke up.

“Excuse me” a young Sokovian woman asked you, “is this seat taken? Everywhere else is full”

“Sure” you gave her a gentle smile, “I’m just planning things out”

“I know the feeling” the redhead smiled back

“Sorry I’m (Y/N)” you offered your hand. She took ahold of your hand and shook it gently.

“Wanda. Wanda Maximoff”

You felt something jump within you when your hand shook hers. You’re not sure if it was the spark of something or maybe rather just finding solace with a fellow survivor. Maybe that’s all it had to be.

Fan Cast: Marion Cotillard as Baroness Helga Zemo