#baron zemo x you

[vervainariadne]

Yep. That's right guys. I wish i was sam.

WE WISH WE WERE SAM.

#baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #zemo #zemo x reader #zemo imagine #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #sugar daddy zemo #soft zemo #zemo fanfic #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl x reader

[undercoverpena]

Interesting (ii)

interesting (i)

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

[gif not mine]

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

You should leave the room.

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

But you’ve already gone too far.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A better version of you would.

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

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

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

It’s why you should leave the room.

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

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

Somehow, it just makes you want him more.

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

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

It’s then you stand up.

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

You don’t take it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a charmer,” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

The fur of his coat tickling your skin.

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

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

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

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

Until he moves you.

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

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

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

Your tongue peeks out, circling the tip of it.

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

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

He laughs.

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

“I assure you I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

He smirks, but less cocky.

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

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

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

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

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

And everything else around the two of you is forgotten.

Your brain forgetting you should hate him.

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

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

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

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

And you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want those three, Liebling…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve got until the count of th—“

You move.

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

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

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

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

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

[marvelslittlewhore]

How I think Zemo would teach the reader how to jerk him off.

WARNINGS | 18+MDNI! smut, handjob, praise

NOTE | I also wanna say I'm very gay so I may not get some stuff right. -MaKayla 💜

котенок = kitten

You трахни котенка, если ты не перестанешь, я кончу = fuck kitten if you dont stop im going to cum.

я собираюсь кончить- в кончить- = i'm going to cum- I'm cum-

            ◃◦---------------●--------------◦▹

Zemo definitely sits in a big, luxurious chair. It doesn't matter where he just has one in every room. And in any room and chair, he'll take you in.

He would be spread his arms on the arm rest, scooted to the edge of the seat, and legs spread really wide. He'd make you undo his pants. He wants you to get comfortable with the feeling of taking his cock out.

He'll would slowly instruct you. "OK котенок now take my cock out, it's ok," he'd say it to you softly he doesn't want to scare you away. He looks at you, and you look like a frightened puppy.

First, he jerks himself off to show you what it looks like but he makes sure not to cum yet. Zemo wants you to make him cum. He wants you to work for it.

Zemo grabs your hands and places them on his cock, when he does he hisses and you jerk away.

"Did I do something wrong!?"

"No котенок your hands are just very cold."

"Sorry, Baron."

He'd grab your hands again. This time, he was ready for the coldness.

Oh, might I add Zemo is a very vocal man during anything sexual.

He'd place your left hand on his thigh while the other was wrapped around his cock.

Zemo would put his big hand over yours to slowly start you off.

He showed you to slowly go up and down and when he moaned louder to start going faster. Then he started to show you to twist your hand slightly.

"That's it котенок, good girl, now on your own." He'd put his arms back on the arm rest.

You'd slowly started to jerk him off, going up and down, and a slight wrist flicks here and there.

"Now котенок start playing with my balls with your left hand but keep jerking me off."

You took his balls in your hand, fondling them.

"'M I doing it right?" Your words started to slur the more horny you got from watching your man pant and moan

"котенок you're doing it so right, oh fuck".

You wanted to start going faster so you did.

In the spur of the moment, you put his balls in your mouth. You licked and sucked at them while you used 2 hands on Zemos cock.

"Fu-, oh fuck. Kitten, you've gotta slow down. You're going way too fast."

You wanted to be naughty. You wanted to go faster.

"трахни котенка, если ты не перестанешь, я кончу." He was too lost in his pleasure to speak English.

"я собираюсь кончить- в кончить-"

He is cumming in second all over your hands and on himself.

He had finally come down from his orgasm high.

"Good job котенок you did so good, good girl."

            ◃◦---------------●--------------◦▹

Taglist

@lokigirlszendaya

#zemo smut #zemo fanfiction #zemo x you #zemo x reader #zemo x reader smut #zemo x fem!reader #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo smut #marvel smut

[hope-to-hell]

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

—-

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

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

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

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

Like now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[nocapesdahling]

Life Eternal

Helmut Zemo x F! Reader

My Masterlist

Prequel to Cousin Helmut (Can be read as a stand-alone)

Summary: Helmut Zemo is an Addams. When an Addams falls in love, they fall fast and they fall hard. After the loss of his Heike, he never thought he would love again. Until he saw you.

Rating: M (18+, Minors DNI please)

Warnings/Tags: Smut - Unprotected piv sex; Implied sexual content; Crossover; Darker Zemo; Darker Reader; These two are made for each other; Artist! Reader;  Canon-typical Addams Family elements, such as casual discussions of and attitudes towards murder, violence, and poison; Macabre; Possessive Behavior; Love at first sight; Implied Dom/Sub; Implied breeding kink; One mention of exhibitionism; Brief mention of bondage; Some references to polyamory; Slight Canon divergence

Word Count: 9.1k

A/N: It only took a year, but it’s finally time for the long-promised Cousin Helmut prequel. This is officially my longest one shot I’ve posted, which I’m rather proud of and I really hope you enjoy. Have a very happy Halloween!

Being in prison had given Helmut a lot of time to think and to remember. He didn’t have much choice. He was alone with his thoughts and there wasn’t much else to do in solitary confinement, besides working out, sleeping, or reading books and newspapers, so he spent his time reminiscing.

One of his first childhood memories was of his mother. They were sitting eating breakfast, which Oeznik brought them — Oeznik had been his mother’s companion for as long as Helmut could remember and he had always looked the same. 

Helmut watched her add something, which he later realized was arsenic that morning though sometimes she favored cyanide instead, to her tea, stir it, and breathe it in with contentment. His mother’s dark red lips curved into a small smile that contrasted with her dark hair and black dress. His father was out of town that weekend, so she was wearing her favorite hemlock berry lipstick that she said made her lips tingle. She only wore it when his father was traveling because it was too strong of a poison for his resistance levels and his father could never resist kissing his mother, poison lipstick or not, so there would have been some unfortunate trips to the hospital.  

Helmut was a child and wanted to do everything his parents did, especially his mother, so he asked for some for his juice. His mother laughed, her chuckle low and mesmerizing, before smiling at him.

“Oh, my Helmut. You are not ready for arsenic yet. I’ve only just started you on corn cockle, my little monster. We have to work our way up to arsenic, cyanide, and belladonna. Now drink your juice, and we will learn more about the Plague. We’ve reached the picture portion of the lesson, isn’t that exciting?”

He smiled and eagerly drank his juice. He loved his mother’s lessons. It was only later in life that he realized most children were not served poison by their parents and that most mothers did not teach their children about the Plague, about wounds, or how to use all manner of weapons before they reached the age of 10. Fencing and swordplay were always his favorite, and he enjoyed practicing with his Uncle Gomez whenever he and his Aunt Morticia came to visit.  However, his mother was not a typical mother. She was an Addams and that made all the difference.

Helmut Zemo was only half Addams and it was a well-kept secret in Sokovia. The Addams Family had a bit of a reputation throughout Europe, and his mother had wanted him to keep his heritage hidden as something of a trump card. 

His father was a normal man and a Baron of Sokovia, who fell in love with a beautiful woman that he met at his parents’ funeral. As his mother told it, she had been on vacation and after visiting some family buried in the graveyard and having a lovely séance, she had seen the funeral and decided to attend. She loved funerals and didn’t want to miss what looked like a delightfully unhappy one. As his father told it, even if she had been uninvited, she had bewitched him at first sight. He had fallen madly in love and asked her to marry him within weeks. To the surprise of the rest of the Addams clan, she accepted and Helmut was born a few years later.

Looking back, his childhood had been idyllic, full of mayhem and his mother’s lessons in how to be an Addams. He only wished there had been more murder involved. He excelled at his mother’s lessons and wanted to put them into action, so when it came time to choose a career, he chose the military without a second thought. It was expected of him as a Baron’s son to serve in some capacity, but he went outside the norm and chose to join a covert kill squad after training. It let him indulge his Addams’s side in the best ways. The danger excited him, giving him a thrill when he almost died and even more so when he killed. He enjoyed what he did, relishing in the thrill of the hunt and the joy of leaving no survivors.

Then, he met Heike. She was a doctor at the hospital, where he brought an injured member of his squad, and when he met her she was covered in blood. It appealed to his baser instincts with the smear on her cheek being particularly lovely in contrast to her eyes. She had been and still was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. While Helmut’s last name might have been Zemo, he was an Addams through and through; when an Addams fell in love, they fell hard and they fell fast and he was no different.

He still chuckled to himself when he thought of Heike’s reaction to his gifts of flowers after they started dating. It took him a while to realize that she wanted roses with flowers still attached. His mother had always cut the blooms off and Helmut preferred them that way too. The thorns were the best and most dangerous part of a rose after all. Yet just as his father had learned to gift his mother bouquets of poison plants, Helmut learned to gift Heike bouquets of actual flowers.

They married within the year and Carl followed soon after. It was quickly apparent to Helmut that Carl was normal. He had not inherited the Addams constitution, traits, or ability to cheat death, so for the sake of his son he reined in his Addams side and played at being a normal man, a normal father. And he was good at it, even as it chafed at him. His mother had prepared him for this too. He always excelled in his childhood acting lessons. If he wished sometimes that he could go commit a nice murder, then he stopped himself with the thought that Heike needed him. That Carl needed him.

Then, they died along with his father. They went where he could not follow, at least not yet. His mother had been on a “trip” at the time, hunting down a serial killer, so she was not there to protect them. To save them. He knew that he had only survived Sokovia because he was an Addams and that his family did not have that benefit. Oh, how he wished they had.

He called his mother with the news, knowing that she would help him in what he had resolved to do, and let his facade disappear. It was time to let his Addams side out to play again, the side that relished violence and was good at it — the one that would help him get his revenge, no matter the cost. Hiding did not matter anymore, not when you lost practically everyone you cared about all at once.

His mother helped him with his plans, which came to fruition in exactly the way he hoped. Well, besides his death of course. He had been ready to die, ready to join Heike six feet under in a matching coffin. He wanted to rot next to her for all eternity, but he would face the keen torment of living for a while longer it seemed, biding his time in prison.

He had a visitor today. It had been so long and as he opened his eyes and caught sight of the Winter Soldier, he smiled a devilish grin that he hid using the shadows and began to speak. Longing…

His escape from jail was exhilarating . It was nice to stretch his legs again and engage in some casual violence, though the guard had barely put up a fight. How disappointing. He wondered what his Uncles would make of it. After all, he hadn’t had to kill anyone or set off any explosions. He left the guard alive to avoid suspicion and to curtail the scale of the manhunt for him, and he had a feeling that Uncle Fester would deduct points for that.

It was a pleasure to see Oeznik again, looking the same as the last time he had seen him. Helmut had never asked Oeznik what he was because it wasn’t his business, though he had ruled out whatever Lurch was. Oeznik had served his mother and now Helmut faithfully for many years and he knew that he would continue to do so for many more, so what did it matter?

----

Ah, Madripoor. He had missed it, the people, the lights, and most of all the aura of danger that permeated the air. This was his kind of place. He only wished that they had been there for pleasure and not on a mission. Surely, there were plenty of people here that no one would miss. Oh well, he would do what was necessary. Having any additional fun would draw both Sam and James’s suspicions.

Sharon Carter and her stately residence had been a surprise, but now that they were here he was determined to enjoy the party. It had been too long. Prison had kept him from his vices, and now it was time to indulge.

He surveyed the room from the bar, feeling the presence of James and Sam alongside him. He would start with a drink, then maybe a dance. If he were lucky, then he’d get to use the knife he’d pilfered from the plane. He had plenty of practice blending in and even as every fiber of him wanted to cause “trouble”, he would resist it. Somewhat. A little trouble wouldn’t hurt anyone. Much. His mother had chosen his middle name of Tribulatio for a reason.

But then as he glanced towards the artwork, Helmut Zemo spotted you and froze. He never thought he would feel this way again, not after Heike, but there you were in all your glory and beauty and he fell. He fell as an Addams did — hard, fast, and with no regrets.

He began to approach you and as his Uncle Gomez’s words ran through his mind on how to woo a woman, his walk turned into more of a prowl and people unconsciously got out of his way — scattering like prey in the presence of a predator.

You hadn’t wanted to attend this party but Sharon Carter, one of your few friends in Madripoor, had insisted. She thought that you spent too much time working and not enough time having fun, so here you were.  You would rather have been home, preparing for the week ahead or painting, but you figured that since you were here that you might as well admire the artwork. Your attention had been drawn by one of your favorite paintings, Artemisia Gentilischi’s Judith Beheading Holofernes, which was supposed to be in The Uffizi at the moment. The music and the other guests had faded away as you stood entranced by the painting and its use of chiaroscuro.

You almost jumped when you heard an accented voice speak close to you, “A beautiful painting, isn’t it?”

You turned your head to look at the man next to you, only to stop short. He was more handsome than you’d expected him to be and now that you were looking at him you couldn’t seem to stop, taking in the details of his clothes and the angles of his face until you met his amused eyes. He smirked at you, having noticed your appraisal, and tilted his head towards the painting.

You cleared your throat. “Yes, I’ve always thought so, though I don’t find many others who do. Many find it too gory for their tastes.”

He turned his face away from you to look at the painting, giving you a view of his profile, which was just as handsome as the rest of him. You wished you had your sketchpad with you in order to capture this man and his features. You hadn’t felt this inspired in ages.

“I find the moment that the artist has captured and the way she has depicted the women compelling. They are front and center, determined, strong, and in control. They have chosen to do this deed and are unafraid of getting bloody while doing so. They are powerful.” His voice seemed to linger over the word bloody.

You nodded along, listening to him voice what you had always thought out loud. “Exactly. You do not find it frightening? It was considered so for its time.”

He turned back to look at you, stopping his scrutiny of the painting, and smiled with a small upturn of his lips. “It is often the so-called horrors of life that are the most arresting. It is a beautifully depicted scene, but not as beautiful or bewitching as you.”

“As me?” Your voice showed the surprise you felt.

“I found myself enchanted by you from across the room and knew I had to approach you. That I would not rest until I had.” He stepped a bit closer to you as he spoke and you enjoyed his increasing proximity.

You stared at the man in shock. If this had been anyone else, then you would have found his comments and closeness a bit creepy. Yet for some reason, you didn’t. You found him as compelling as he apparently found you.

“I find you handsome as well. Striking. It’s been difficult to keep my eyes off you.” Your voice was hesitant as you spoke because you weren’t sure how he would take that. This was new territory for you and not at all what you had expected for tonight.

“Perfect. Then, you feel it too.” He smiled and stepped closer, while reaching out a hand. “Would you dance with me, draga?”

You placed your hand in his and were unsurprised to feel slight gun calluses. This was Madripoor after all. You could tell that he either wore gloves while handling a gun or it had been some time. You knew you were one of the few, who didn’t have them, at least not from a gun. Knives left different calluses. You had refined your skills with a knife after arriving in Madripoor. The streets were dangerous and you needed a way to protect yourself that was more dangerous than attempting to stab someone with a paintbrush. In your old life, you never would have considered that you would enjoy the feeling of a knife in your hand so much.

“Ah, but before we do, I have gotten ahead of myself. I am Helmut Zemo, my beauty. And you are?”

You were embarrassed to think that you hadn’t even thought about exchanging names, too consumed by his presence. You gave him yours and enjoyed the way it sounded in his voice as he repeated it.

“Now, we may proceed.” Helmut was smirking as he gestured towards the dancing crowd and he seemed to relish in your laugh.

You walked hand and hand to the dance floor, where he proceeded to make you laugh harder than you had in a long time with his moves. He then pulled you into what you vaguely recognized as a waltz without a care that it didn’t match the music and was causing the people around you to stop and stare. He was going to be Trouble. You followed his lead and forgot about everything else.

After you danced, you walked the gallery together, looking at the paintings and talking about anything and everything. None of the paintings prompted a similar amount of attention from either of you as Judith Beheading Holofernes, but that was to be expected. Nothing was as arresting, when your attention was fully devoted to Helmut and his to you.

As he watched you smile at him, Helmut spoke to you about what he had done to avenge his family, watching your face change to a serious and thoughtful expression. He wanted you to go into this with your eyes open. He also wanted to impress you, even if most people would not have been impressed by murder and arson, but he couldn’t help but want to show off. He knew the Addams side of his family would have been impressed.

He expected you to be horrified as any normal person would be. He was prepared for you to run from him. As though he would let you. He did not expect the look of intrigue that came over your face. It was not difficult to read and he wanted to see that expression directed at him again. He told you why he did it of course — about Sokovia, Carl, and Heike — and you understood and admired his resolve. He had done it for love and he had succeeded. What was more attractive than a competent man, who would do anything for his loved ones? What would he do for you if you were counted among their number?

You told him more about you and how you ended up in Madripoor. It had been because you had no choice, not really. Due to the Blip, you had nowhere else to go and you felt like you needed to be there because that was where the real art was. It was how you’d become friends with Sharon, visiting her gallery and falling into conversations with her about the different pieces. Yet something else about Madripoor had drawn you in and once you were in its claws, you couldn’t have escaped even if you wanted to. Which you hadn’t.

Helmut devoted his full attention to you, admiring the way your eyes lit up while discussing the art and your fascination with the city before responding.  “I understand the appeal of a city like Madripoor. I do. The savagery is beautiful here. People are in touch with their base natures in a way that I find compelling.” Here Helmut paused and grasped both your hands in his and looked deep into your eyes. It almost felt like he had hypnotized you with both his eyes and his voice. It wasn’t hypnosis per se, but his mother had taught him a few skills to gain and keep someone’s attention that he’d never forgotten. “But would you leave here? Would you come with me?”

“Come with you? We’ve only just met, Helmut. I don’t…” You lost your train of thought as you looked at him. It didn’t feel like you’d only just met. It felt like you had known each other for lifetimes.

“My beloved, does that matter? You know me and I know you. I do not want another.” Here he paused and pulled you closer, your breasts pressing against his chest. You wondered if he could feel your nipples through your dress, and had conflicting desires where you both hoped he couldn’t and that he could. That he would touch you there in front of everyone. In ways you had never let anyone else do in public. There was no room for self-consciousness, not with a man like Helmut. Everything he did seemed to arouse and attract you. Like a true apex predator.  

He swayed the two of you to music he must have been hearing in his own head and whispered in your ear — his voice rough and deep, “I have been yours since I first saw you across the room, admiring one of my favorite paintings. I do not know what spell you have cast over me, but I belong to you now. Are you mine?”

You pulled back slightly to scrutinize him. You ran your eyes over his attire and his body then finally his face, meeting his deep brown eyes.

What did you know about this man, really? That he was handsome and that you could listen to his voice for hours. That he had killed before and was likely to do so again. You only knew what he had told you since you met, but you couldn’t imagine never seeing him again. Something told you that you had found a kindred spirit. A man who wouldn’t shy away from your skills with a knife or your more gruesome paintings — you wondered what he would think of the ones where you used some rather unconventional pigments. A man that you wouldn’t mind belonging to as long as he was yours in return. He had already assured you with his words and actions that he was, and you in turn wanted to be his. And his alone.

While you deliberated, he continued to watch you patiently.

“Yes, my villain. I am yours.” The nickname had come out without thought, but it seemed fitting.

His face looked exultant for a moment, almost mad with ecstasy before he hid whatever that had been back behind his calm mask. It would have made anyone else have doubts and regrets for their decision, but you — it only made you more enthralled by him.

“My love.” He leaned in and kissed you passionately in a way that made you feel like he was trying to devour you, to consume you. And you wanted to do the same to him as you reciprocated and lost yourself in the kiss. It could have gone on for hours, the outside world with its loud music and party goers having faded away, when you heard a throat clear awkwardly behind you.

“Zemo. Zemo. Zemo!” The voice sounded impatient.

As Helmut pulled away from you with reluctance, even as you tried to pull him back, you wondered how long the man had been trying to get his attention. For all you knew, it could have been hours. Even after that one kiss, you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your life kissing Helmut Zemo. You didn’t want to let him go. Ever.

He kept his hand in yours as he turned you both to face the other man, who stood behind him with a look of both impatience and confusion on his face. He caught your scrutiny and gave you an awkward smile, even as you caught the veiled suspicion in his eyes.  You smiled back and gave him a casual little wave, acting as though you hadn’t been caught kissing an escaped convict.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” He didn’t sound that sorry, but he stepped closer and stuck out a hand. “I’m Sam.”

You shook it and told him your name, and watched as Sam lost his smile when he turned to Helmut. “Zemo, we have to go. Sharon found who we were looking for.”

Helmut nodded, though he was sure that he looked somewhat exasperated as he willed you to stay in front of his body for a few more moments while he calmed himself down. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“You better not take too long, Zemo.” Sam’s tone was full of warning as he addressed Helmut before he turned to you and smiled again, even as confusion on why you had been kissing Zemo continued to show in his eyes. “It was nice meeting you.”

Sam walked over to where you could see Sharon and a man whose hard stare was focused on Zemo, and was that a metal hand? How fascinating. You turned to face Helmut, knowing this was goodbye. At least for now.

“I’m afraid that I must go, draga. But I will call you before we leave and you will meet us, yes?”

You nodded as you gestured for his phone, inputting your number and thinking of what you wanted to take with you from your small apartment.

“Yes, I’ll meet you at the airport. I just want to pack some things up first. Don’t take too long, Helmut.” Your tone turned teasing at the end. “I won’t wait forever.”

He smirked at you and kissed you again, and as you pulled him closer the effect you had on him was obvious. The same effect he had on you, so it was nice to know that it was reciprocal.

“If I am not there, then Oeznik will take care of you. You can trust him with your life. Goodbye, my love.”

“See you soon, my villain. My Helmut.”

He gave you one last lingering look that promised things to come and went to join his companions. You watched them leave the party, giving Sharon and Sam a wave and cheerfully smiling at the stoic man with the metal arm, who was still staring at you as they left. You blew Helmut a kiss and watched him smile, an actual smile this time, before walking away. That was just as nice a view from the back as it was from the front.

You roused yourself from your small daydream of seeing Helmut’s body and especially his butt unclothed and left the party, knife in hand.  You never knew who you would encounter on the way home in Madripoor and you had a date tomorrow that you were not going to miss.

You arrived at the airport and were met by a man, waiting outside of what you assumed was Helmut’s private plane, on the tarmac. Oeznik seemed to be a wonderful person, who had only fond things to say about Helmut. Now as you got settled into one of the comfortable plane seats, all you had to do was wait.

You’d taken out your sketch pad and were drawing Helmut from memory when you heard men’s voices bickering back and forth with Helmut’s accented voice standing out to you with more familiarity than it should have. He was here. As they entered the plane, you ignored Sam and the man who had been staring at you last night in favor of focusing on Helmut. He looked tired, but no worse for wear. As he laid eyes on you, they lit up in a way that neither of the others seemed to notice.

“You came. My beloved.” He stepped closer as if to embrace you. He smelled like fire. You stepped closer in return, but were interrupted as you went to answer.

“Who the hell is she, Zemo? Why is she here?” The voice came from the man you had yet to hear speak.

Zemo reluctantly faced him, who was still staring at you. Sam had already settled into a plane seat and was looking at you as well, though he too looked confused about why you were here.

“She’s with me, James, and will be accompanying us to our next destination. I vouch for her.” Helmut’s voice sounded proud when he said she’s with me and it gave you a thrill to hear it. You were with him now. His tone begged James to contradict him.

“This isn’t a vacation, Zemo. Why is she here?” James’s voice was hard and he was still staring at you, his blue eyes intense.

Sam also spoke up, “Your vouching for her isn’t likely to make us trust her, Zemo.”

By now, Helmut had settled himself in the seat next to yours and grasped your hand seemingly without a thought. He went to speak and you squeezed his hand before speaking up yourself, “I needed to get out of Madripoor, James. It was not safe for me there and Helmut was gracious enough to offer to help me. Aren’t you heroes? Isn’t helping people your job?”

You had thought Sam looked familiar last night, even without the wings and goggles, so you’d looked him up online and figured out that he was the Falcon. James also had to be some kind of hero if they were traveling together and based on his dislike of Helmut and what Helmut had told you last night, there was some history there. Either way, a little manipulation never hurt anyone.

Based on Helmut’s tightened grasp of your hand, you might have been a bit too blatant but what could you do? What had been said couldn’t be taken back.

James continued to stare at you before finally settling into a seat. “It’s Bucky.” His voice sounded resigned.

Sam spoke up, “Bucky, give it a rest. We can’t bring her back now and we can’t just leave her here on the tarmac, not with everyone coming after us. We have to go.” He then nodded at you. “And if she needs help, then she needs help.”

You knew that both Sam and Bucky would be watching you. You would do the same in their place. It was a good thing that you had nothing but the best of intentions. At the moment.

Everyone settled into their seats and began to talk about what they’d discovered in Madripoor. You tuned them out and focused on Helmut’s thumb that was caressing your hand. You felt him lean closer to whisper in your ear.

“Well played, draga. Though a bit heavy handed on the manipulation. Don’t worry, I’ll help you refine your techniques.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder and whispered back, “I look forward to it, my Hel.” You got comfortable and with the scent of smoke and something uniquely Helmut in your nose, you fell asleep.

Helmut breathed in the smell of your hair as he told Oeznik to set the plane’s course for Riga. He was glad you were here, that you were with him. You would not be leaving him again. Not if he had anything to say about it.

You woke as you felt the plane descend, your head still on Helmut’s shoulder.

You lifted it and turned to pull up the window shade to look outside. “Where are we, Hel?”

“Riga. It’s the next stage of our endeavor, and I have a place that we will be staying.”

You turned to face him, noticing that it looked like he hadn’t slept. You decided not to mention it. “You have a place here?”

“I used to come here when I was young with my parents. My mother in particular was fond of the city, though if it has fallen into some disrepair like I expect, then I believe she would be even more fond of it now.”

You filed away the fact that his mother was still alive for later. He stood up. You hadn’t even noticed the plane landing as you listened to him speak. You loved his voice. He offered you a hand and helped you stand.

“I believe you will like it here, draga. There is a bathtub that I hope we can put to good use.” With that, he smirked at you and you laughed even as you couldn’t help but anticipate that very scenario.

----

Helmut watched your face as you entered the apartment behind him and Sam. You had taken everything in, but your eyes kept coming back to the stained glass windows. Understandable, those had always been one of his favorite parts of this apartment. As he directed Sam to one of the bedrooms and moved towards the room he always used when he stayed here, his last glimpse was of you stepping closer to the windows and pulling your sketch pad out of your bag.

He settled everything in his room and stepped out. “I’m afraid there aren’t enough bedrooms for all four of us to have our own, my beloved.” His voice was teasing because while you’d be able to step into the hallway and see that he was telling the truth — both you and he knew that he wanted you in his room and in his bed. Nowhere else.

“There aren’t?” You turned to face him and tilted your head to the side with a grin on your face. “What a shame. Whoever shall I share with? Should I ask Bucky?” You paused and let your grin become even more mischievous, almost devilish in a way that appealed to Helmut more than he would admit out loud. He was pretending to be somewhat normal after all, though he hoped one day that there would be no pretending necessary. At least not with you. “Or is Sam the better option? He seems to like me.”

He let a growl escape as he stepped closer, cupping your face in his hand and kissing you. The pressure of his lips against yours was light before increasing due to your eager response. His lips shifted into a small smirk that you could feel against yours as you opened your mouth to his.

His voice when he murmured your name was deep, causing you to let out a soft moan as his hands slipped down to grasp your butt, pulling you closer. You bit his lip teasingly, first lightly then harder causing him to let loose another growl and for his eyes to go wild as he pulled back. “Don’t tease me, draga. You would not like what I would do to Sam if I thought you had even the slightest interest in him.” He kissed you again before pulling away. “I would kill for you, my beauty. And to keep you. Just as I would die for you. And I would do it all with a smile on my face.

You shivered and tried to pull yourself together because each kiss with this man got better every time. That was also the hottest thing anyone had ever said to you. He was so beautiful to you and he got more beautiful by the minute as he showed himself to be more dangerous.

As Helmut began to fill the tub, you let your eyes rove over the bathroom and your attention was caught by the intricate tiles on the walls before you heard clothes begin to drop to the floor behind you.

You turned your head and watched as he settled into the tub, noting that the reality of his body including his butt, was even better than all your imaginings.

He caught you looking and chuckled, his voice husky, before smirking. “Well, aren’t you going to join me? There’s more than enough room for two.”

You thought that might have been the first time you heard him laugh and you wanted to hear more of it, especially in this context. You sat down to pull off your boots, knowing that he hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

After taking your time and feeling the intensity of his gaze as you removed each item of clothing with deliberate slowness, you approached the tub and looked into his eyes. They were dark with want and an emotion you weren’t ready to name.

It wasn’t the largest tub in the world, but as he helped you enter it you decided it didn’t matter. It would only allow you to be closer to him. As you settled into the tub, your back to his chest, you sighed in contentment. You relaxed together, feeling his warmth against your back and the muscles of his thighs under yours.

Helmut began to run a washcloth over your body, taking his time to caress your arms and hands. He washed your stomach, ignoring your squirming that you couldn’t quite contain. You closed your eyes in bliss as he reached your breasts, lingering on them a bit more than needed to get them clean. You felt hot and involuntarily leaned back even closer to him, feeling him hard and thick against the small of your back.

You gasped, “Hel…”

He continued to caress you. You could feel his breath against your ear, “Yes, draga? You teased me and now I get to tease you. Quid pro quo.” He was attempting to sound unaffected, but you could hear the rasp in his voice and you felt just how affected he was against you. He continued to run the washcloth over your stomach before dipping it in between your legs and replacing it with his fingers. He circled his thumb over your clit and you gasped, rocking back against him without a care if water fell on the floor. It would serve him right.

You turned and kissed him, straddling him and running your hands through his hair as his fingers worked over you and inside you. He gave as good as he got as you rocked back and forth on his lap, pulling  your hips down harder and bucking up against you. You couldn’t take it anymore, crying out and clenching on his fingers — you needed him inside of you and you wanted to feel it. His length was hard and hot in your hand and as you grasped him and sunk down on him with a moan, he groaned.  

“You’re so tight. And wet. All for me.” His pupils were blown wide and his hair had fallen in front of his eye, causing you to reach out a hand and push it back. Your thumb brushed across his cheekbone tenderly and he reached up to grasp your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. You smiled at him and laughed as more water fell onto the floor as you both began to move again. He laughed too before speaking, “Draga, we must be quiet. Sam is right outside. Do you think you can do that?” His voice was rough and close to a growl.

You nodded even as your eyes began to close, feeling him thrust up into you as you rolled your hips.

Helmut grasped your chin. “No, you will look at me. I want to see your eyes — every expression on your face as you come for me.”

You lost count of how many times you fell apart. Let’s just say that you hoped Sam was not too close to the bathroom because your endeavor to keep quiet failed more than once.

----

You laid in what was left of the bath, lazy in your satisfaction, watching Helmut tend to his hair while naked. You looked at the small half moon marks and scratches your fingers had left from digging into his back with no little amount of possessiveness. He was Yours. You had wanted to mark him and you knew he had wanted it too. After all, you had marks of your own. Just as you were His.

He smiled at you in the mirror and turned. “I will wear them as a badge of honor and hope for more in the future.” His eyes were alight with his own satisfaction and possessiveness as he took in the marks he had left on your body in return through the now clear water. “Beautiful, draga.”

Helmut pulled on a robe, before offering you a towel to dry yourself with. Then, it was his turn to watch you.

“I would do this every day. With you.” His statement had the tone of a question. Did you feel the same?

His robe gaped at the top, leaving his chest hair and necklace exposed and you already wanted him again, even knowing that you didn’t have time right now. Sam was outside and Bucky would be back soon.

You had taken too long already.

You turned to him, dropping the towel and stepping closer. You watched his eyes linger on your body, before focusing on your face.

“If every day is like today, then I’m going to want you all the time.”

As he helped you into a matching robe to his, he brushed his thumb over your nipple teasingly before whispering in your ear, “Oh draga, we didn’t even have a bed. Imagine what it would be like in our bed… The things I would like to do to and for you.”

You tied the robe and turned to kiss him, which he cut short. “Come on, my beloved. We musn’t keep Sam and James waiting.”

With that he strode out the door in his robe, towel in hand.

He was so dramatic and you loved it.

You took more time coming out of the bathroom, changing into an extra pair of jeans and a sweater that you’d left on the side. Not everyone had Helmut’s uncaring attitude when it came to wearing a robe in front of strangers. Then again, it was his house.

You exited the bathroom, only to see Helmut rummaging through the kitchen cabinets and rolling his eyes at something that Bucky had said. You waved in greeting to Bucky and gave Sam a smile before focusing back on Helmut, who apparently had killed a man in Madripoor.

Typical. He’d probably looked good doing it too. And did he have a cookie on his finger? This man.

You shook your head and settled into one of the chairs at the counter, watching Hel pull out what looked like candy as the men talked about Sam’s Titi and a funeral for someone important in the community.

Little did you know that Helmut was making sure that this was the non-poisonous Turkish Delight. His mother had liked to make the candy and fill it with all types of different poisons. It had been a game for him as a child to try and guess the poison. By the time he was teenager, he won the game every time. The cyanide Turkish Delight was particularly good with a quite enjoyable flavor. While it was tempting to have you try one of the poisonous ones and begin your acclimation to poisons now, it wasn’t the time. There would be time for that later.

The men discussed heading out into the city and seeing if they could find where this funeral was going to be. You knew even as you ate one of Helmut’s so-called irresistible Turkish Delights that you weren’t invited. That was fine. You’d rather do some sketching anyway.

Helmut had changed back into his clothes, coat included. You loved that coat and were looking forward to getting to try it on for yourself, preferably with nothing on underneath. He kissed you and caressed your cheek before bidding you goodbye.

You watched them leave, worrying about Helmut, yet looking forward to some time alone to draw. As you settled on the couch, beginning to focus on the contours of the skull you were drawing in loving detail, after the excitement of the last few days it didn’t surprise you when your eyes began to close.

----

You awoke with a jerk as you heard what sounded like glass hitting the wall. You sat up, head foggy only to see Bucky facing Helmut whose back was to you. Based on their postures, that must have been Bucky who threw something.

You went to stand and watched as Sam deescalated the situation, even as Bucky and Helmut were still staring at each other.

You held in a laugh at “ the stupid head tilt thing” because you knew Helmut wouldn’t like that he had any tells, but the way Sam phrased it was funny. And also accurate.

Sam left the room and Bucky walked away after saying no to the cherry blossom tea, leaving you and Helmut alone. It was then that you spoke up.

“I’d like some cherry blossom tea if you’re offering, my villain.”

Helmut turned to you. “I am sorry we woke you, draga. Yes, of course.” He poured you a cup and presented it to you. “Here cherry blossom tea for my sweet blossom. Or should that be my thorny blossom?”

You laughed, glad that you hadn’t drank any tea yet, before taking a sip. “Really, Hel? That wasn’t as smooth as normal.”

He joined you on the couch. “I thought you might need a laugh. As do I. Interacting with the children brought back memories.”

You watched him before reaching out to take his hand in yours. “Of your son?”

At his nod, you continued, “Tell me about him.”

He cleared his throat and you were prepared for him to turn away and leave, but to your surprise he spoke, “Carl was… Carl was good. In a way that I have not been nor will ever be. He loved the outdoors and he loved to play video games. He was a good boy and a good son, and I wish that I had gotten to see what he would become.”

His hand clenched tightly around yours, almost to the point of pain, but you said nothing.

“And your wife?”

“Heike was beautiful, both inside and out. When I first met her, I thought I would never see anything more arresting. Her bloody hands as she stitched up my men. Until I saw you, standing in front of Judith Slaying Holofernes. I thought Heike was the love of my life and though she still is and always will be, I have realized that we may be lucky enough to have more than one. She would have loved you. Just as I do. I’m excited for when you’ll meet in the afterlife. All three of us together will be glorious.”

You disregarded him talking about your potential deaths for another time. “You love me?”

He turned his head to look into your eyes, “I have loved you since I first saw you, but do understand if it’s too early for you to know your feelings.”

You didn’t hesitate, “I love you too, my Hel.”

The three men returned from the funeral and you ran towards where Helmut was being supported by both Bucky and Sam.

“What happened?” You looked to Sam as you helped them situate Helmut on the couch.

“Walker happened. He hit him in the head with the shield.”

You moved to the kitchen and ran cold water over a washcloth for Helmut’s forehead.

“And he’s your Captain America?”

Bucky scoffed, “He’s not my Captain America. He shouldn’t even have the shield in the first place.”

Sam sighed, “Here we go again.”

You tuned out their bickering as you tended to Helmut. He had been fine this morning, telling you that he loved you, and now he was hurt. What if he never told you that he loved you again? You watched him carefully and were surprised to see his eyes fluttering. You leaned closer and saw him smirk and put a finger to his lips. You smiled. He wasn’t as bad as you thought. He was going to be okay.

For his part, Helmut had been knocked out but had woken up about halfway back to the apartment. His cousin, Wednesday, hit much harder than John Walker. Even Pubert hit harder than John Walker. This injury was nothing to an Addams but he was planning to play it up for as long as possible, especially if it would get Sam and James off his back for a few hours and give him a little time to plan his escape. Well, his and yours. He would not be leaving you behind for any reason.

----

Walker burst into the room, causing you to move closer to Helmut who had stood up with his whiskey still in hand. You didn’t want to take your eyes off of Walker, the threat in the room, but you couldn’t help but let them admire Helmut in his shoulder holsters. He looked good. As always.

You watched Sam stand up for Helmut and listened to Walker, who unsurprisingly made you angry with his attitude. This was the man who had hit your Hel in the head with a shield? What an asshole. You stepped closer to Walker, reaching to pull the knife that you always kept in your boot. No one was looking at you, too consumed in the interactions between Sam and Walker. Or so you thought. You felt a hand on your arm and Helmut gently pulled you back, shaking his head as you looked at him and motioning for you to come closer. He offered you some of his whiskey, smirking as you shook your head no. He wanted to pull you into his arms and press a kiss to your forehead, but resisted. He knew you both might need your hands free for what was to come.

It was enjoyable standing next to Helmut as he casually sipped his whiskey and you watched avidly as the Dora Milaje fought Walker. They were amazing. As Bucky and Sam joined the fight, you glanced at Helmut to see if he was enjoying this as much as you were. He had an interesting look on his face and as he put down his drink and grabbed your hand, you had a feeling that you knew where this was going. He led you to the bathroom and had you step in front of him as he subtly closed and locked the bathroom doors.

“Time to escape, my villain?” You whispered as you watched him fiddle with the tub.

“Time to escape, draga. It should be just here. Ah, yes.”

The tub began to move, leaving a sewage grate exposed in the ground. You helped him lift it and each of you went through one by one. Helmut helped you down the ladder and kept hold of your hand once in the tunnel.

“Come, my love. I have a place we can go.”

“You always have a place we can go, my villain.”

You enjoyed the time that you got to spend alone with Helmut in one of his family’s properties, not far from where Sokovia had fallen — even with the knowledge that it couldn’t possibly last. That Sam or Bucky or both would eventually catch up with you and send your Hel back to prison. It had been blissful and satisfying here as though you and Helmut were in your own little world, cut off from everything.

You had never known another partner, who could satisfy you the way that Helmut could. You had lost count of the variety of different ways and places that he had made you come. He anticipated your needs in a way no one else had and he knew the perfect balance between pleasure and pain. He began to teach you the same and you were a diligent student, looking forward to those lessons with anticipation.

Flashback:

You were reading in the library when he stepped in, wearing one of his many robes. You knew that he did it on purpose to entice you and it got your attention as always. He sat across from you and let the robe gape open, leaving his chest exposed. You couldn’t help but stare at him, taking in the necklace and chest hair, your interest in the book lost. Helmut acted oblivious, picking up one of the books on the table and beginning to read.

You closed yours with a snap and placed it down.

“My Hel.”

He hummed absentmindedly, keeping his eyes on the book even as he hadn’t turned any pages yet. He wasn’t fooling anyone. “Yes, draga?”

“I would like to try something new today, Hel.”

“Hmm?”

“I would like you to be the one restrained this time, my villain.” You leaned in close and grasped his chin, tilting his head up. His eyes were dark. “Would you like that, darling?”

“Yes, my love. Please.” It came out as a gasp.

“Do you have everything prepared?” You assumed he did because that had to have been his intention coming into the library, looking like temptation personified, in the first place.

“Yes.” His voice was giddy with anticipation.

You smiled at him and caressed his cheek before walking away with the expectation that he would follow. He always did.

“Such a well behaved villain. You deserve a reward. Meet me in the bedroom.”

You smirked to yourself as you heard the chair hurriedly push away from the table.

End Flashback

You never wanted to give him up. You wanted to be by his side forever. In life and in death. But it was not to be. Your time together was coming to an end. Helmut would be going to the Sokovian Memorial to await Bucky’s arrival and leaving you behind.

“You will be safe here, my beloved.  No one, save Oeznik and my mother, knows of the existence of this house.”

You nodded as you let the tears that you were trying to hold in flow.

“I promise that I will see you again. Nothing shall keep me from you, even in death we will be together. Always. With my Heike too of course. She will adore you. Just as I do.”

He proceeded to give you instructions for what to do after he’d gone, which you committed to memory. You knew that while he did not want to go, he was ready to leave. If he didn’t leave now, then he didn’t know if he’d be able to do so. You kissed him desperately and as his hands grasped your waist, pulling you closer, you ground against him. He pulled back in admonishment.

“I know what you’re doing, draga. It will not work. I must go.”

Even so, he was the one to lean back in and reinitiate things. He couldn’t resist you. Not in this. By the time you were in the bedroom and Helmut was inside of you, he had forgotten why he had protested in the first place. He made desperate eye contact with you and held you close, committing every detail to memory. It was slower than normal, tender, and as you came you gasped his name. He picked up the pace and followed suit, hoping that you didn’t notice his worshipful gaze on your stomach and the hidden hope on his face.

He would never be over Carl’s death. Never. Carl was His. Yet he wanted another child with you, one that you had made together. One he hoped to teach about poisons and the best way to kill a man, just as his mother had before him. One he could introduce to his mother as an Addams, just as you now were. He wanted it with a quiet kind of desperation and a secret yearning. You would look so beautiful carrying his child.

----

You kissed him again before he left, and you didn’t make any attempt to stop your tears this time.

“Don’t cry, draga. All will be well. You will see me again soon, and I will count the days until you are once again in my arms. You won’t even have time to miss me.” His voice was teasing, but rough as he held in emotions of his own.

You humored him with a watery laugh. “Good bye, my villain. Don’t torture yourself in prison, Hel. That’s my job.”

“Oh, my love. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He gave you one last smile before getting into the car with Oeznik behind the wheel.

You stood in the doorway until you couldn’t see the car anymore before letting yourself give into your tears. You didn't know how long you sat there sobbing, but some time later you began to carry out Helmut’s instructions. This would not be forever, not if you had anything to say about it.

It was time to take a trip to 001 Cemetery Lane and meet your new family. Something told you that you’d get along just fine.

Reblogs, comments, and likes are much appreciated. Thanks so much for reading!

A/N: This goes right into Cousin Helmut if you’d like to read the fic that started this little crossover series. Hope you all enjoyed this, and please let me know if you did! 

I do have ideas for a sequel, where the whole family breaks Zemo out of the Raft which I think would be a lot of fun. 

Many thanks to my beloved @clints-lucky-arrow​ for giving me a much needed confidence boost, for your feedback, and for beta reading 💜 And to the lovely @lafemmedezemo for being a big supporter of Zemo as an Addams since the beginning and for requesting this fic’s moodboard -- you’re both the best and ily!

My Masterlist

#Zemo x reader #Helmut Zemo x reader #the addams family #addams family #Zemo x you #Helmut Zemo x you #Baron Zemo x reader #Zemo is an Addams #crossover fic #halloween fic #Baron Zemo x you #Zemo x f! reader #zemo fic #Zemo fanfiction #Zemo fanfic #Daniel Brühl x reader #Zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #crossover #nocapeswriting

[morguevampire]

(Un) Fortunate Encounters - Chapter 6

Masterlist for this fic

summary:  Fighting boredom and missing genuine human interactions you make it your mission to find out more about the Baron. He ignores your questions but tension builds up eventually, when you don't stop prying.

warnings/tags: fluff, smut, angst, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of torture, drinking, mild alcoholism, dark themes, slow build romance, not really Stockholm syndrome but that’s up for interpretation 

chapters: 6/?

word count: 1.934k 

pairings: Helmut Zemo x fem!Reader

author’s note: 

Uhhh, it's been a minute. Whoopsie.

Here's the usual excuses of being busy with uni and real life responsibilities but if we're completely honest I did not really feel like writing and I think I needed a (quite long) break from this story but I am back and i had fun writing this! Wrote this chapter pretty fast, so excuse the mess lol. As usual, english not my first language bla bla bla.

Feedback is always appreciated and THANK YOU to whoever is still reading this and has not given up on me. I have the intention of finishing this... i just need time. But as Zemo said: I have experience. And patience. A man can do anything if he has those.

Muchos besos mis amores <3

You can also find this work on https://archiveofourown.org/works/43158162/chapters/119680711

The more time you spend talking to Zemo, the more intriguing it becomes to find out more about his person. He’s like a closed book, not giving you any more information than is visible on the cover. Little side notes sometimes helping your brain in forming a genuine personality around him. But it feels like a one-sided game. He asks you questions about your family and friends, your hobbies, your feelings and your morals but in return you get almost nothing.

Mentally you make a note to pay extra attention when talking to him. Taking in all the crumbs he gives you about his private life. It almost feels like a game, and it does keep you entertained.

With time you get bolder in returning his questions. Simple little inquires, which aren’t too intimate but when answered could reveal something.

It’s obvious that they annoy him, most times he won’t answer or even leave the room in a sort of nonchalant way which makes you even more curious. As if he didn’t hear you. But his ignorance doesn’t stop you from prying. He’s fast to tell you his values and morals in a general sense, yet he will not go into specifics about his actions or his past.

On one occasion, it was during your dinner-routine, he seemed to be in a particularly chatty mood and gave you quite a few personal insights, so you figured it might just be okay to ask him about his family. You were both indulging in some whiskey and at the beginning it seemed to have lifted some of his secretive nature. You even catch him smiling at one point. Like a full-on laugh. But that changes immediately once you ask him about his son.

“So, what was Carl like? That’s your son’s name right? I think I read it in a news article somewhere?”

The noise of his cutlery clashing against the porcelain plate startle you. You immediately fix your gaze to your own plate, not wanting to look at his furious face and be reminded of the incident in his study. Your intentions were innocent enough but you knew you had overstepped a boundary. Instead of rage or screaming, his eerie soft but sharp voice tells you it’d probably be best to retire for the night. You mumble a quiet “sorry” but he’s already out of the dining room.

With that you’re left alone, food half eaten and the light mood of the evening ruined.

It bothers you. The way his mood changes so dramatically. It was difficult to navigate. On one hand you feel welcomed and heard and safe in his presence and on the other hand you feel like walking on very thin ice around him.

You were also sick of apologizing for asking questions. He seemed to know everything about you, yet you had no idea who the man you were staying with was. For the next day he was nowhere to be seen. Your trust had been broken.

You decide to distract yourself with books and a cup of tea, spiked with rum to ease your nerves. That evening you eat dinner on your own. Sulking in your own stupidity in thinking such a manipulative, egoistic man would open up to you. You still couldn’t even figure out what his intentions with you were. What did he want? Why were you still here? After all, it has been two weeks or so.

Time seemed to fly by when you were in company with either the Baron or Oeznik, but when you were alone it was like living in a never-ending dream. Not necessarily a nightmare, but the sort of dreams that made you feel stuck and anxious.

After dinner you decide to lounge around the living room, nursing a glass of the expensive liquor stashed in a cupboard next to the bookshelves. Alcohol helps pass the time, you figure. You were staring at the words in a random book, absently touching the stitched up wound above your left eye when his voice interrupts your aimless thoughts.

“We should probably take out those stitches. The wound seems healed enough.”

It wasn’t a question or a request. It was a command to get up and follow him into the downstairs bathroom.

He instructs you to sit down on the edge of the bathtub, where he kneels in front of you, unpacking the medical kit which seems to have magically appeared. You feel yourself caught in a sort of haze, intimidated by the situation. You’ve never been this close to the man before.

Perhaps that time in the warehouse where he carried you towards safety but having him in front of you, on his knees, face so close you could feel the ghost of his breath on your cheek not only made you blush, but also tense up.

You try avoiding his keen stare, rather just looking down at your sweaty hands fumbling around nervously.

When you dare to look up for individual short moments you notice light freckles on his skin. Also some stubble on the cheeks. But his face seems soft, even with his focused gaze, eyebrows furrowed to assess the wound on your forehead.

Whenever you feel your staring becomes too intense or obvious and you look down again, his smell overtakes your senses. His cologne smells citrusy, mixed with notes of cedar wood. 

You curse yourself for being so desperate. It must be your lack of social interaction with other humans besides him that makes you so overwhelmed with the closeness. Needless to say, it is an invasion of your private space, whether you appreciate it or not, you can’t really tell just yet.

After assessing the healing process of the wound Zemo mumbles a simple “looks good” and proceeds to take out tweezers and medial scissors.

It’s in that moment that he briefly catches your stare. For some unknown reason, instead of avoiding his eye, you decide to look right back at him. It’s probably only a fraction of a second but it feels like minutes of staring into each other’s eyes and by the time he finally concentrates on your forehead again you’re a wreck. Shaking even more than before and trying to breath as quietly as possible. What was wrong with you? Why did he have that effect on you?

He must have noticed your discomfort as he tells you that “it’s alright, just stay calm and relax” while he’s preparing to remove the stitches.  

It really just isn’t that easy to relax when your brain decides to completely eliminate the function of self-control and all you can think about is the fact that your kidnapper/host/new-friend-who-also-happens-to-be-a-Baron-AND-a-terrorist is actually quite an attractive man and very caring and gentle when he wants to be. His fingers just ever so slightly ghosting over your skin, giving you goosebumps all over. Underneath all those rigid, strong features definitely lies something soft and vulnerable.    

You try to calm yourself down, you really do. Closing your eyes and easing your breathing when Zemo suddenly burst your meditative bubble.

“He loved Turkish delights.”

Your eyes snap open, finding Zemo’s but he’s not looking at your confused expression, but instead focusing on the wound above your left eye. He senses your confusion though.

“Carl. My son.”

Now you were even more stunned. He was actually opening up. In all of the possible situations, he chooses to tell you about his son while being mere inches from your face. But you didn’t want to break the spell. Staying quiet and assuming he talked to distract you, why he chose such a personal topic, you didn’t know but you appreciate his story.

He tells you about how Carl was a tough kid. Nothing ever hurt too much and he wasn’t scared of anything, besides maybe wasps. But he most likely got that from his father. 

  He would come home from playing outside spotting bruises and cuts from branches or wounds from falling from his bike but he’d be so casual about it. Simply asking for a band aid, just to rip it off again after a few hours because it was “annoying on his skin”. 

His mother was worried he’d be too reckless, but she knew he’d learned from his father to always calculate the risks. 

It was only once, when he suddenly came running from playing with friends outside. When jumping over a little stream somewhere in the woods surrounding the Zemo’s Estate he must have slipped and cut himself quite deep on his shin on a sharp rock. The ever cool Carl he was, he told his friends it was nothing, just a scratch and he’d just get a band aid real quick.

  He really did try to hold back the tears, but when he spotted his father sitting on the balcony and alarmingly getting up when he saw his boy limping towards him, blood running all over his legs, the tears came, even for tough Carl.  

The wound was quickly fixed up, the tears dried and the mood lifted with a treat of Turkish Delights. 

“With all my efforts, I've always encouraged him to freely express his emotions. And not to shy away from embracing his weaknesses.” He sighs.

“But then again, I suppose I wasn’t much of a role model in that regard.”

You don’t know what to say. You want to say something. Anything. Mostly you want to thank him for opening up. For telling you about something so intimate. Essentially telling you about his own failings. Making himself vulnerable, right in front of you.

“I think he still really looked up to you. And I don’t think you failed.”

It’s all you say.

Zemo has long finished taking out the stitches but he’s still there. Not having moved from his position and it seems you’re back to simply staring at each other. In that moment he looks like a normal man. A bit of a broken man but a genuine one. An open book, really to be read and ready to be understood.  You catch yourself wanting to touch him then. Just softly run your hand along his cheek, or just give him a hug, a long one. You search his face, wanting to take in as much as possible, before the moment expires or worse: it turns out to have been a dream. He’s doing the same, his stare dropping to your lips in an almost antagonizing rhythm. It takes everything in you not to reach out. You’ve never been one to make first moves, and you feel it isn’t your place to take action or advantage of his vulnerability. So you wait, and continue to stare and hope he just leans in and kisses you already. You know it probably isn’t a good idea, but you also feel it to be something you both would need at the moment.

It could be your imagination but you feel as if he was leaning even further into your space, ever so closer, breath hitching and heart beating too fast, too loud in your chest….

“Right… the scar should heal quite nicely.”

It is pure disappointment. The way he pulls back in the last second, right before you could have tasted his lips, mumbling whatever about your scar. You just nervously clear your throat and thank him.

He’s stood up and is out of the bathroom before you can even think about saving the situation.

Needless to say, that night you can’t sleep. And for once, it’s not because of nightmares.

You lie there, wondering if his thoughts are circling around as well.

#helmut zemo fanfic #zemo fic #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #mcu #baron zemo x you #zemo x you

[mlmxreader]

Scraps | Helmut Zemo x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Hi! Can I request a Zemo x gn reader where the reader comes home with a bloody nose and bruises from being attacked? Zemo obviously gets really fucking mad and makes sure the people responsible for this will suffer.

summary: you and your best friend get jumped by some drunk assholes, and when your boyfriend finds out, he's ready to jump at their throats and make them pay... only, he has to make sure that you're alright, first.

tws: blood, injury, bruising, fights, alcohol consumption, swearing

It wasn't exactly like it hadn't been a long time coming, a bunch of assholes at the pub you and your best friend Frank often visited always making some sort of bullshit comment, and although you never threw the first punch, you and Frank had managed to get yourselves into a fight; sure, you worked well as a team, you were a fucking formidable pair and even your boyfriend Zemo had mentioned a few times that if there was anyone he didn't want to meet in a dark alley, it was you and Frank. But there were more of them than there were you, and while four of them held Frank down after kicking the shit out of him and even going so far as to knock his head against a fucking brick wall, two of them had started on you.

At least you could say you didn't throw the first punch; you and Frank were actually on your way home when they jumped you, taking you both by surprise. Of course you tried to fight back, but you could only do so much when Frank was practically out cold and you felt like you were getting your fucking teeth kicked in; at least they left you alone after they thought they had definitely knocked you and Frank out. But he picked you up, wrapping your arm around him as he helped you to get up and trudge home; the sight must have spooked a few people but you and Frank had gotten into worse scraps before. This was just a bunch of drunk assholes, this wasn't the likes of Billy Russo.

"You sure you're gonna be alright?" You asked, holding Frank's face in your hands when he got to the door, your brows furrowed.

Frank nodded, licking his split and bloodied lips. "Yeah, I'll get Micro to pick me up and patch me up - you gonna be good? Is Zemo home?"

You nodded, wincing a little. "Yeah, I'm not as beaten to shit as you... you wanna come inside and wait?"

"Best I don't," he told you with a shake of his head. "I'll wait on the steps outside."

"Alright, well... let me know how you're doing later, yeah?" You pulled away from him, steadying yourself against the door for a moment with a weak smile. "Y'know, we ain't had a scrap like that in ages - long overdue."

He dared to laugh, knocking on the door before he turned tail and yanked himself outside; you were worried, he was your best friend and he was badly hurt, but he was also the Punisher, he could look after himself. Micro would look after him. You went inside, groaning softly as pain shot through your shoulder, and you collapsed on the sofa, resting your head against one arm and kicking your feet up on the other, squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

"My god," Zemo breathed out, brows furrowed as he knelt beside you, one hand on your cheek and the other on your chest as he looked you over. "What happened? Tell me everything."

"Just some drunk assholes," you groaned. "Jumped me and Frank on the way home, beat us to fuck."

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head and working on getting you out of your clothes so that he could properly assess the damage; your nose was fucked without a doubt, you had bruises almost everywhere and it was clear that something sharp had caught your sides although it wasn't deep enough to cause any issues to your organs. At least there was that, none of it looked like it needed stitches. But you truly looked like you had been to Hell and back; he had to think quickly, discarding your clothes in the washing basket and setting everything up.

Liquor bottle. To steady his hands and to help you put up with the pain. Antiseptic. Bandages. Plasters. Painkillers. A cloth to bite down on. Kitchen paper. The speaker blaring 'How Many Tears to Nurture A Rose?' by Cradle Of Filth, if only to give you something he knew would cheer you up a little and would take your mind from it all. More than anything, though, he was angry.

How fucking dare someone bruise and bloody his partner? How fucking dare they hurt you?

He had more important things to focus on right now, like patching your wounds and making sure that you were going to, at least, not be in agony throughout the night; he was quick to work on it all, though. Blood soaked blue kitchen roll building up on the coffee table; empty plaster packages; a mountain of orange stained antiseptic wipes; a half empty bottle of Grant's whisky in your hands; a spit and blood covered cloth on the floor. The last of the strong painkillers finished off, the metal packet chucked in the pile with the rest of it. But it didn't take long at least, and Zemo was as careful as he could be; even though all he could think about was tracking those assholes down and making sure that they paid for what they did to you. Not so much Frank, you.

As he tightened up the last bandage, Zemo couldn't help but to sigh. "I'm going to find them, Bärchen, I'm going to make them all pay."

You groaned softly, offering him the whisky. "Can it wait til tomorrow? I'd quite like to see it."

He nodded, daring to smile a little as he traced the outskirts of the bruise on your jaw, knowing that he would give those responsible far far worse than a bruise. "Natürlich. I need to find them but... that won't be too hard, and I suppose Frank will want to join, too."

"More than likely," you tried to move to lay on your side, but Zemo pushed you down gently and kept you pinned there on your back. "Can I at least get in my own bed?"

"Not without help," he told you sternly. "It might actually be better if we both sleep here tonight."

You raised a brow, trying not to laugh because you knew that it would sting like a motherfucker if you did. "Why both of us?"

"Someone has to look after you," Zemo pointed out. "And as your boyfriend, that would be me. I won't hear any excuses."

"Fine, fine, alright," you mumbled. "You win."

"Thank you," he sighed, going to grab a couple of blankets and the pillows from the bed. At the very least he could make sure that you were comfortable. He set everything up, asking you if you were okay, if you needed anything extra, but you shook your head. "Tomorrow. I'll track them down tomorrow, and I'll make sure that they pay for what they did to you."

Watching Zemo make himself comfortable on the floor by the sofa, you let your hand drift down, letting him hold it tightly as he hummed softly; you cleared your throat. "Tomorrow... I think we all just gotta get some sleep for tonight. Pretty sure Frank's knocked the fuck out with some strong shit Micro dosed him on."

"I don't care about Frank, he can look after himself... but you... no one fucks with you, Bärchen, you're mine. I'll make sure they fucking suffer for what they've done."

He would, you didn't doubt it for a second; when Zemo got angry, he didn't just get even. Oh, no, he made whoever his wrath was directed at fucking wish for someone kinder, someone like Frank, they would beg and they would plead and they would sob and their snot would trickle down to their lips. But Zemo would drag out everything, when he got angry, he was more than dangerous. He was worse than you and Frank. Far, far worse. You almost wanted to pity those drunk assholes who had jumped you and your best friend, but you couldn't bring yourself to; you couldn't even force a fake beg for him to go easy on them. Zemo would make damn sure that each and every one of them would suffer, and he was capable of more cruelty than you and Frank were. He could be more cruel than anyone. At the end of the day, no one made Zemo angry, and those assholes were about to have an entire shit storm rain down on them.

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

#mlem writes #helmut zemo imagine #helmut zemo x yn #helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo #zemo x y/n #zemo x reader #baron zemo imagine #zemo imagine #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x y/n #baron zemo x you #baron zemo #daniel brühl x you #daniel brühl imagine #daniel brühl x reader #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl imagine #daniel bruhl x you #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel bruhl

[anasweetlywrites]

Fanfics / Imagines recommendation list - Part 3

─────────── •°• ❀ •°• •° ❀ •°• ───────────

► ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ◄

Another blog with fanfics I like and recommend so whenever I’ll want to read again I can tap the link and other people can discover them as well~

Warning !!! : smut,fluff,angst . All of them are x reader.

Notes :

I have more saved in my drafts and reblog them or add them in another list like this one~

I'm also working when I can on recommendation lists with stories with other fandoms kinda like a warning? cuz you'll see me reblogging or posting lists with anime or something else other than marvel related content

Steve Rogers

Say it Steve @ussgallifrey

Wake Up Call Steve @ardentcupid

All these 3 by @punani

My girl Steve

Dead of the night Steve

+ this one with Christ Evans Before the birds sing  

It's great @disasterofastory

Fingering with mafia!Steve  @angrythingstarlight

butterfly  @lanadelreyscokewhor3

it’s artistic vision,pumpkin @lanadelreyscokewhor3

+ this one with Christ Evans Three @rocketrhap3000

Bucky Barnes

Comfort  @buckyodinson

Submission  @peachstyles

Overly worried and Touch starved @multi-stann

Blurry lines @idy-ll-ique

Foot massage @tomhollandsstan

Sauna @tomhollandsstan

Stress reliever @lanadelreyscokewhor3

Heat @heavysoldat

in the late hours, i’m yours to have boxer!roommate!Bucky @cityofstqrs

+ this one with Sebastian Stan Good girl  @rocketrhap3000

Bucky x reader x other characters

Dolled up Stucky x female!reader @stevesbestgirl

Siberia Stucky x female!reader @hellsenthero

Looks Like Your Husband Has No Objections  Bucky x female!reader x Zemo @becca-e-barnes

+this one with Zemo 

Zemo x F!Reader Headcanons - Cramps @buckyodinson

#stucky x reader #stucky x y/n #stucky x you #stucky x reader smut #stucky x reader fluff #steve x reader #steve x reader smut #steve x female reader #Steve smut #steve fluff #buckysmut #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x y/n #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans x reader #marvel smut #marvel fluff

[marvelmusing]

The Spider Incident

Pairing: Single Parent!Helmut Zemo x Reader

Summary: Despite the fact that you and your coworker Zemo bicker regularly, the two of you are slowly becoming friends. One evening you offer to babysit his son Carl, to which Zemo agrees. (An AU where Zemo is just a regular single dad)

A/N: I’m not actively writing for Zemo anymore but I found this little drabble and thought it was cute

My Masterlist

»»---------------------►

You’re awoken by someone nudging your arm. You shift slightly, careful not to wake the boy snuggled up beside you. You blink blearily in the lamplight, before your eyes settle on Zemo.

“You are aware he’s old enough to sleep on his own?” He whispers. You scowl at him before sliding out from Carl’s grasp.

“Of course I am. There was a spider in his room.” You explain quietly. Zemo’s eyes flicker down to his son in concern, before looking back at you as you lead him to Carl’s room.

“And you couldn’t handle that yourself?”

“I did handle it.” You argue, a hint of pride shining in your voice as you open the door. You gesture towards the laundry basket overturned on the floor. “I’ve trapped it.” He glances down at the basket, then back at you.

“How you’ve survived as an adult for this long, truly astounds me.”

“In a good way, right?” You tease with a grin. He shakes his head,

“Whatever helps you sleep at night Liebling.” As he approaches the basket you shift your feet warily. Zemo notices and looks back at you. “Would you prefer to stand on the bed?” You smile sheepishly at him before nodding. You jump up onto the bed, peering down at the floor.

“It was huge.” You explain, before showing him with your hands how big the spider was. Zemo plucks a tissue from the box on Carl’s desk and advances towards the basket. When the basket is lifted and the creature scuttles out you can’t help but recoil. When Zemo spots it he drops the basket and jumps onto the bed beside you, clinging onto your arms for support. You grab hold of him to prevent the two of you from crashing to the floor.

“Told you it was huge.” He hums in response, not wanting to agree with you, but certainly recognising the monstrosity he’s just released. “So what’s the plan?” You venture.

“I’m going to use you as an offering.” You tighten your hold on his arms.

“Don’t you dare.”

“It’s a necessary sacrifice.”

“It’s really not.”

“What do you propose?”

“We could evacuate the house?”

“Is that not rather drastic?”

“And using me as a human sacrifice isn’t?” You seize a large encyclopaedia from Carl’s nightstand.

“What are you doing?”

“Solving the problem. You’re going to hit it with this.” You tell him, waving the book for emphasis. He shakes his head slightly before he meets your hopeful eyes. He sighs, taking the book from you. After a few failed attempts on the spider’s life, Zemo finally drops the book onto the creature. As he’s flushing the remains down the toilet and cleaning up the bedroom, you scoop Carl up into your arms before returning him to his own bed. When Zemo looks for his son, he finds you tucking him in with a tender expression on your face. Zemo hovers in the doorway, watching the rather domestic scene. You turn to look at him, a rather embarrassed smile adorning your face as you stand up. You gesture slightly towards Carl’s bed and Zemo nods in understanding. The two of you swap places and you lean against the doorframe as he crouches on the bed. He bends down to press a kiss against Carl’s forehead, smoothing the blankets down as he stands. He turns the lamp off, and you hold the door open for him as the two of you step out into the hallway. You both make your way down the stairs quietly. Zemo looks back at you as you walk,

“Thank you, for tonight.”

“You’re welcome. And anytime you need someone to watch him, I’ll be free. He’s a sweet kid.” He seems rather taken aback by your offer.

“That means a great deal to me.” You smile gently at him. You’re about to reach for your coat when he asks you, “Would you like to stay? For a drink?” You hesitate at his offer.

“I shouldn’t, really. I have to drive home.” He nods,

“You could stay the night?” You hesitate again.

“Okay.” You say with a small smile. “If you’re sure it’s not a bother?” He shakes his head.

“Not at all.”

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo imagine #baron zemo imagine #zemo imagine #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #baron zemo x y/n #baron zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #marvel au #zemo au #baron zemo fluff #helmut zemo fic #helmut zemo fluff #zemo fluff

[f1yogurt]

back again with a fic prompt <3

this one is a little out there.. Zemo grows up in a royal atmosphere, so being a young Baron in a strict regal household or castle would suck. I can't help but wonder if he would eye up a servent who works in their home similar to his own age..

Imagine.. Young Zemo flirting with/pursuing/crushing on servant!reader

I'm sure this has been done- I mean- he is royalty, he get what he want

Flirting with Royalty

Summary: A young Baron Zemo can't help but find himself attracted to one of the servants in his household, and his interest hasn't gone unnoticed by you. You have only been employed for a few weeks, and yet you already feel inclined to engage in a forbidden romance with the handsome baron.

AO3 Link - FLIRTING WITH ROYALTY – Link to my Fic Request Guide

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Helmut Zemo x Reader

Tags: Baron Zemo, servant!Reader, Flirting, Sparring, Banter, Mutual Pining

Word Count: 1.6k

Baron Helmut Zemo was bored. Growing up in a spacious castle had its perks, although often enough, he found himself longing for something new to do. Or at least, someone to share his adventures with. He roamed the vast, empty halls of the castle, brushing his hand along the wall that had pictures of every Baron Zemo before him. Helmut looked up at all of the old men who seemed to be glaring down at him, judging him as he lived out the Zemo legacy.

He sighed and looked away, strolling aimlessly through the corridor. Ah, well. In his spare time, whenever he had nothing else to do, he would go to the training room and practice sparring or new sword fighting techniques. Zemo smiled, and he decided that letting off a little steam in the gym would do him some good.

His feet led him down another corridor and to his room. Helmut paused at the door, which was open, and he watched as a few servants walked out carrying fresh linens. They must have changed his bedsheets this morning.

“Hello, ladies,” he greeted as he stepped into the room. You had been dusting a desk in the corner of the room, but at the sound of his voice, you turned around to glance at him. The other servants gave a cordial, “Good morning, Baron” and continued with their work, but Zemo gave you a cheeky smirk while the other women weren’t looking. You felt your heart flutter at his flirtatiousness. The baron then turned his back to you, and he walked over to his closet to begin sifting through his clothes.

“I think I will spend a few hours in the training room,” he announced as he pulled his sparring outfit from the closet. “Tell my father that I will be late to lunch, and not to wait on me.” A few of the servants nodded, and they slowly began to file out of his room to give Helmut some privacy.

“Of course, my lord, we will inform him,” one of them said, curtseying politely. You were about to leave along with the group, but then you paused. The young baron’s romantic interest in you hadn’t gone unnoticed for the past few weeks, and even though you were hesitant to reciprocate, his attentions thrilled you. The baron was a handsome young man, and yet…he was a baron. You were just a servant, and you couldn’t imagine what it was about you that had caught his eye.

After all of the other servants had left the room, Zemo closed the door and looked back at you. He was pleased that you hadn’t left, that you would stay to spend time with him. Alone. He decided that now wasn’t the time to be coy.

“Excuse me while I dress,” Helmut said, his words laced with cockiness. His gorgeous brown eyes were fixed on yours, and when you didn’t respond to his request, he slowly drew his shirt over his head. You wanted to avert your gaze, to be respectful, but you couldn’t help but steal a long glance at his toned torso. Despite being a baron, Helmut Zemo wasn’t an idle man, and his frequent training sessions meant that he wasn’t lacking for an impressive physique.

Helmut finally finished tugging his shirt over his head, and he chuckled to himself as he caught you staring before you quickly looked away. He grinned. Maybe this flirtation wasn’t one sided, after all.

“I thought that I would find you already in the training room,” he remarked curiously, quickly changing into his sparring trousers while you were turned away.

“I have duties there this afternoon, but I was filling in for one of the girls who usually cleans,” you said, sitting down on the bed, facing away from him. “I know your father hired me for my combat skills, but that doesn’t mean I can’t dust a desk or two.” Helmut nodded in understanding.

“Oh, that is very kind of you,” he said, tugging a shirt over his head. Helmut felt a sort of giddiness that he was unaccustomed to, simply at the thought of spending more time with you today. The training room had become his favorite place in the castle, mainly because he knew that you would be there.

Now fully dressed, Helmut walked around in front of you, heading into his connecting bathroom to stand in front of the mirror. Well, strutted was more of an accurate description, and you suppressed an amused grin at the way he practically preened at his reflection. You let your gaze roam his figure again, and you noticed how his outfit hugged his frame better than usual. It was as if he’d chosen the tightest shirt and pants imaginable just because he knew you were there, watching him.

“Baron, I will meet you in the sparring room in ten minutes,” you said, rising from your perch on his bed. If you stayed there one second longer, you would combust with the desire to splay your hands along his broad shoulders, or run your fingers through his soft, brown hair. Not that you thought Zemo would oppose, but you weren’t going to allow him the satisfaction of you giving into his charms that easily.

“Of course, I look forward to it,” Helmut said, his words sounding more distant as you walked to the door of his room. You smiled. The baron may have had the flirtatious upper hand this morning, in his own bedroom, but the sparring arena was your homeground. If Helmut wanted to flirt with you, then you were going to give as good as you got.

—

He met you in the gym ten minutes later, just as he had promised. When he arrived, you were busy polishing a few of the weapons that were available for use. After all, you were a servant in this household, although your main duty was to tend to this room and train the baron in his spare time. Not that Helmut needed much training, but there was always room for improvement.

Zemo grinned as he saw you, now decked out in your own sparring outfit as you picked out a sword. He swallowed as he gazed at your form fitting attire. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so bold to put on his tightest gear. He had wanted to flirt with you, but now he realized that he would need to work extra hard to not let any of his…physical attraction to you be revealed. “Alright, my lord,” you said, brandishing your sword of choice and glancing over at Helmut. “Are you ready?” Zemo smiled.

“As always, my lady,” he said, a flirtatious smirk on his face. The both of you donned protective gear, and then you stepped onto the mats. You and Zemo went through a few warm up exercises and stretches, and every once in a while, you would correct his form. Helmut had been training for a while now, and he was nearly perfect, but there were still a few things he could improve on.

“When you swing, let the movement flow,” you told him, demonstrating a move that he had just attempted. “Use the momentum to your advantage.” Helmut nodded and copied you, performing the steps a bit differently this time. Today, he seemed…distracted. You grinned, noticing how his eyes would unwillingly linger on you a moment too long. Good, maybe you’d be able to get back at him for teasing you this morning.

“Let’s go a few rounds,” you offered after you finished your warm ups. “Best three out of five?” Helmut grinned.

“If you last that long,” he teased. In response, you swung your sword in a side attack, which he defended easily. Helmut had a natural talent for this, which made it even more fun to spar with him. It wasn’t long until the two of you were breathing hard, and your muscles had the pleasant ache of exertion. Zemo had managed to win the first two rounds, but you made a comeback for the last two. Now, the score was even.

“Two to two,” Helmut said, somehow managing to sound cocky even while he was panting and drenched in sweat. “Winner takes all.” This time, instead of attacking first, you waited for him to make the first move. When Helmut lunged forward, you spun away to dodge his sword, and you managed to get behind him and swipe his legs out from under him. Zemo dropped his sword in surprise as he fell, and before he could think, you rolled over and had him pinned under you, your sword pressed lightly to his throat.

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?” you teased, a cocky smirk on your face. Helmut took a few moments to realize what had happened, but he didn’t try to push you off. Instead, his expression changed, and you watched as his gaze darted down to your lips for a brief moment before returning to your eyes.

“I admit, I was…distracted,” he said. You almost scoffed, but he sounded so sincere, so longing. Before you could think twice, you dropped your sword to the floor and leaned down to kiss him. Helmut made a noise of surprise, but after a moment, he relaxed and closed his eyes, savoring this moment that he had been waiting for so long.

After a few moments that felt like an eternity, you sat up again, breathless from the kiss as well as the sparring exertion.

“Schatz, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for that,” Zemo admitted softly, gazing up at you as you pulled away. You smiled and brushed a rogue curl of hair off of his forehead, gazing into his chocolate eyes. This man was going to get you in so much trouble, but it thrilled you.

“This is going to be complicated,” you said, chuckling. Helmut just smiled.

“Perfect. My favorite kind of romance.”

#helmut zemo #baron zemo #my fanfic #tfatws #helmut zemo fanfic #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo fanfiction #baron zemo x you #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl fanfiction #daniel bruehl #daniel bruhl

[vervainariadne]

He's so bougie here

#zemo #soft zemo #daniel bruhl #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #sugar daddy zemo #zemo imagine #baron zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #laszlo kreizler #sugar daddy lazlo kreizler

[undercoverpena]

I just saw that zemo isn't in the thunderbolts movie and im devastated and would really love some headcanons when you ask him to massage you to cheer me up🥴

never say never. marvel are sneaky snakes, so we don’t know yet fully if he is/isn’t. i’m holding out hope that they’re just trying to keep us on our toes.

also this got away from me, sorry not sorry.

On Your Back

Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

_________________

“You’ve hurt your neck.”

You paused your movements, fingers falling from your neck as you close your eyes, sighing, as you turn to face him.

The most annoying thing about him being here, is that nothing goes unnoticed. You expect it’s the very reason he was able to commit the crimes he did. He’s detail-orientated, patient, observant.

“You keep rubbing your neck, yes?”

When you open your eyes, your glare must say enough because the corners of his lips twitch upwards. “Am I? I wasn’t aware.”

He places his cup down, the steam swirling upwards as he comes around the kitchen counter. Your throat tightening, thighs pressing together as he does.

Because it’s hard to be around him.

Because you should be wary of him, not attracted to him. You shouldn’t want him near you, instead of constantly thinking about being under him.

It’s gotten worse since Latvia. Since the tension mounted to a height you’re surprised Walker didn’t notice, when he showed up.

And then you’d been free. His great escape providing breathing room, until Bucky picked him up, hid him, and landed him on your doorstep.

Please, just until we can be sure there’s 100% no more serum.

That had been two weeks ago.

Now, it’s getting harder and harder to fight Zemo for the sake of fighting him.

Especially when he looks at you with care, adoration even. When he keeps doing kind things like cooking for you, cleaning, and genuinely not being an asshole like you’d expected him to be when he was plonked under your care.

“I did warn you about moving the chaise alone.”

“I remember, Baron.”

He tuts. “If you can recall it, why didn’t you call for me? Now you’re hurt. I had told you to call for me if you were redesigning that room too.”

There are so many options you could consider.

Pain killers and a heat pad, a sedative for the Baron and a restful evening. Or, saying:

“Are you going to assist me or just keep pointing out hindsight’s? Because while you’re a pain in my side, this actually hurts more.”

He blinks.

You’re usually not short.

You’re sarcastic, and dry. Often purposefully argumentative, but not short. Not with him. You reserve that for Bucky—Bucky who asks you to be around handsome criminals and not expect you to drop to your knees for them.

“Of course.”

“Wh—“

“I’ll help,” he says, a curt nod.

And then he moves past you, beckoning you to follow. While you don’t what to follow his instruction, his outright demand, your reluctance is wearing thin quickly, following him through rooms in your home until you reach the room where the problematic chaise is.

You shoot a glare as he stops at the foot of it, hands rubbing together. “If this is you being an ass—“

“Lie down.”

You don’t move. His eyes narrowing, lips thin as he sighs. A set of expressions you’ve grown used to, usually brought on because of his displeasure at you not directly following one of his orders.

He sighs, turning on his heels, leaving the room. You hear his footsteps until you don’t, all set to berate him when you hear a clatter, and his footsteps getting louder and louder.

In his hands are lotions, ones he must have noticed prior to now to have found them so quickly. His eyes scanning over you as he returns to the place he was.

“Lie down. Please.”

You hesitate, but for different reasons, moving closer to the chaise as you say, “It’s my back too. If… if you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“And what is it that you think I’m about to do?”

You hate his smirk. Even if you don’t. You swallow it all quickly regardless. “I assumed offer me a massage?”

“You assumed correctly.”

“So,” you continue, “It won’t solve all my problems if you get me to lie on the chaise, if that’s your intention.”

He smiles, more deviously than you liked.

Which is why you ended up on your bed. The cool air brushing over your skin, your cheeks warm, almost burning through your duvet as you wait for him to enter the room.

He’d insisted on being outside when you removed your upper clothing. Him placing both a towel down on the bed, and handing you one—as if he was a professional masseuse.

“One is for any mess—“ his comment sparking a raise eyebrow. “The other is to cover yourself, to feel comfortable, until I enter.”

You try to reply in an even tone when he asks if you’re comfortable, because you’re not. How can you be? You’re topless, even face down, with him about to massage your strained muscles.

A barrage of thoughts attacking you, faux snapshots of disapproval from Bucky flashing through your mind accompanying all the ways in which this was bad. Especially when the mattress dips, and you feel his knees either side of your thighs.

Because, you should tell him this is a bad idea. Even if it’ll feel nice, even if will stop the pain from pulsing. This was too far.

Your brain hurriedly trying to assess all the rights and wrongs, wants and needs.

“Be aware, I have attempted to warm my hands, however—“

You gasp.

The decision removed as Zemo’s fingers slide over your shoulders, the coolness of his fingers on your skin both soothing and welcomed. Each digit adding a slightly different pressure, as if knowing exactly which parts are causing you discomfort.

And you should hate it. That his touch is precise, that it’s nice, that you want him to slide his palms down your back and rid the ache from the centre of your spine too.

Your lips even about to ask as much, because you’re already over the line. The two of you having galloped so far over it, you weren’t sure you’d get back on the right side of it.

But a hand moves, instinctively. One focusing on an area between your shoulder and neck, and the other sliding to the part close to the second pain point.

“Is it here, the pain?” he asks, his voice darker even in his low volume as he presses the base of his palm down, your spine curling as he does so. “Ah, it is.”

You clench your eyes shut, the pain loosening, his fingers and palm massaging whatever grievance there was from you. Just as the scent of the lotion he used met your nose.

It’s one you recognise, one you remembered smelling in the store. A treat, you’d mused to yourself. One you hadn’t indulged in until now.

And what a unique treat it was.

Especially when his hands moved from soothing to massaging the untouched parts of your back. Ensuring he rubbed your neck, your shoulders. Dipping fingers into your shoulder blades, likely drawing patterns in lotion on your back.

But he always returns to your neck, to your spine. Every movement so calculated, it relaxes you—actually unlocks the tension from your muscles.

Each slide of his fingers, each motion of his palm, wrist and arm settling it all. Making it almost seem worth it for the hours of discomfort moving the chaise caused for all of this.

Because he’s lighting your skin on fire and soothing it all at once. It’s not enough, him just touching you here, now awakening more of your desire to have his hands elsewhere, realising how purposeful he is.

Knowing it’s likely, although not guaranteed, that while he hasn’t ever been with you, he’d know the exact ways to make your toes curl.

It’s this lulled state and ridiculous thoughts which are the cause for why you moan his name. Not Zemo. Not Baron, as you’ve been teasingly calling him.

“Oh, Helmut.”

Your eyes widen, even against the duvet. Your muscles, all of them, flexing into a tensed state. Even his hands stopping, halting. Neither of you even daring to breathe.

He should move. That’s all you think. He should leave the room and you should avoid seeing him for the remainder of his time here—create a schedule, if you have to. Share and split off the rooms in the house—

“Who knew you could make such sweet sounds, Liebling.”

Your eyes flick to the side, frowning, instinctively wanting to clench your thighs together. Because fuck. Double, almost triple fuck.

Needing, and wanting to turn to look at him. Especially when he places both palms on your back gently, less massaging, and more a reminder he’s there and remaining so.

“It’s important you listen now,” he says, leaning down, mouth closer to your ear.

You’re sure you can feel his heart hammering against your spine, even through his top. Even without him being flat against you.

“I think there’s a high probability that you’re as tired of playing this game, yes?” he whispers, fingers spreading out over your skin. “And while you’re in pain, I don’t believe where my hands are now, is the only place you’d like them.”

If your cheeks weren’t already on fire before, they’re now molten. Threatening to torch your bed, and everything else in the room.

“Now is the time you tell me if I’m wrong, Liebling,” he says, returning to kneeling upright.

And you contemplate.

Briefly.

“My back… it still hurts…” you mumble, your head turning more sideways, trying to gain a view of him. “But, no.”

“No?”

“No. You’re not wrong.”

You’d kill to see if he’s smirking or tilting his head. Half tempted to try and roll, even if it meant displaying yourself to him.

But, you’re unsure if it would inflict more pain, your neck less bothersome but your back still twinging.

Until he moves, your focus shifting, slowly gripping the towel under you as you try to roll, finding him watching you, a curious and lustful look on his face as you meet his eyes.

Likely having waited, wanting you to move to face him.

“Zemo…”

“Helmut,” he corrects. “Helmut is the name I’d prefer when you’re begging me not to stop.”

He smirks, rubbing his hands together before he places a knee on the bed.

“I wouldn’t worry about your back, Liebling,” he says, placing his hand down beside your waist. “I’ll only need you to keep still, and remain on it and nil else. Do you think you’ll be able to do that?”

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

[littlebird616]

Zemo left his little bird in prison

Based upon this tiktok I've made. _________________________________

People always wonder how you don’t get crazy. Truth is, you do. Life within four walls is draining. Anyone telling you something else is lying. Nobody knew that better than you. You had told yourself you would stop, behave and not listen to the voices in your head, but it had become impossible. That’s why you're still here, hanging on a thin thread inside your prison cell, talking to yourself. Or whatever voice that keeps you entertained. You fear becoming crazy, that’s fun, and you need to have fun to survive. Right now, life isn't that thrilling. You couldn’t help wondering, if life isn’t fun, what’s the point of living?

The voices recently came back. Shock, you haven’t always been like this. What happened was a tragedy. The kind the whole country should’ve grieved, but instead it was only you eating his Turkish Delight inside your own prison cell. You don’t even like Turkish delight, but that was the only thing he left for you. You tried to stop yourself from thinking of him, you didn’t want to give him that power. You're over him. You have already forgotten about his hazel brown eyes, his broad shoulders, and irritating smile.

You have no memory of him. You deleted them actually. You don’t even remember his way with words. The way he always had to be the smartest in the room. He used to say you needed to read more books, and you did, or… you let him read them to you. The last one he read before he left was quite entertaining. It was called, ‘The No in Love: Demaraction and devotion in the erotic relationship.’ You loved it, most of all because you got to listen to his dark, husky voice for hours whisper the most erotic words you can imagine. He tried to tell me that it was an important point behind the book, but you forgot the second he called you his little bird.

How can you even be his, when he’s not here. He is a bad, bad man. Leaving his bird to fly alone. Who does that? Leave their pet alone? It’s evil. He is evil, and you have no time for his sins. After all, you're wearing white. You're pure, you're innocent. Moving between the fabrics, elegant, alone. You're fine. You're fine. You're fine, without him.

In the distance you could hear heavy footsteps. They might be far away, but by the sound of their steps you could count four men walking towards you. You should’ve probably jumped down, and sit nicely on the floor, but you're not their pet, are you?

“Baa baa black sheep, do you think i’m a fool?” You begin to sing to the beat of their footsteps.

“Yes, sir, yes sir,

You think I’m dumb,

Listen to the guard,

Listen to the dame,

Follow what the baron say-”

You stopped dead in your tracks, not a note came out of your mouth. The steps came closer, and they sounded differently. One of them wasn't on beat with the others. One was the odd one out. You could feel your skin crawl. The odd one out sounded familiar. Heavy. Like he had the weight of the world wrapped around his broad shoulders. You didn’t dare… dare to hope. It couldn’t be.

“How have you been, my little bird?” A dark husky voice said as he revealed himself from the corner. A smug smile on his face, trying to save face from the embarrassment of the guards pushing him inside his old cell. They uncuffed his hands. You had often casted a glance at his hands… His fingers. A human being is allowed to dream. It was too bad the two of you were locked up in a high security prison. The only thing we had in here was dreams.

“Look at who’s back in prison,” you said with the biggest smile on your lips. You leaned forward, trying to get a better look of him,

“You always thought you were the shit,” you said with a laugh, as a smile appeared on his lips. He turned around so you were finally able to see his hazel brown eyes again. Oh, they made prison feel like home.

“Did you miss me?” You asked, playfully.

“You know, no guy has ever come back for me, I’m starting to believe that what we have is special, baron” You add on, telling nothing but the truth.

“You talk too much,” he said.

You could feel his eyes scanning your body. You missed being seen, desired. He was the only man inside the prison who made you feel this way. Special. All the thinking inside your cell, all your dreams… and fantasies, he was the face that appeared. You knew deep down, even if he wouldn’t admit to it at first, you were in his too. It was what made the games between you fun. You wanted to remind him of how special his bird was. You let your body fall in the fabric, hanging upside down in a split, before you jump down and let go of the fabric. You run towards the metal ceilings, leaning your heads towards it.

“Zemo has been a bad, bad boy,” you said like you were talking to a baby with a sad pouty face.

It felt good simply to say his name again, loud. Not an annoying voice, but someone you could physically place in front of you. It made him feel good too. He had missed the sound of your voice, however irritating you could be. He chuckled as he laid down on his bed.

“Don’t worry, I like them!” You shouted, to make sure that he heard you.

“I know you do,” he said with a smug smile as he closed his eyes. If only he could share his bed with you. 

#zemo #baron zemo #y/n #baron zemo x you #baron zemo imagine #daniel bruhl #marvel #mcu #captainamerica #tfatws #helmut zemo

[loki-quinn]

Dom Baron Zemo aesthetic

@ironstrangefrostohmy @intheformofstars

#marvel #baron helmut zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #zemo #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo smut #baron zemo x y/n #zemo x you #baron zemo aesthetic #helmut zemo smut #zemo smut #zemo fanfic #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n

[nocapesdahling]

Under the Cover of Darkness

Helmut Zemo x GN! Reader

My Masterlist

Summary: Baron Zemo has amassed quite an art collection over the years and it’s enough to draw your attention. After much surveillance, you don’t know which work you’re going to steal, but know you’ll have plenty of options to choose from. Little do you know that he’s been watching you too.

Rating: M (18+, Minors DNI please)

Warnings/Tags: Soft! Dark Zemo; Degradation; Art Collector! Zemo; Thief! Reader; Dirty talk; Power imbalance; Referenced masturbation; Arrogant! Zemo; Referenced voyeurism; Implied future dubious consent; Brief mention of cockwarming; Hints of Dom! Zemo; Possessive behavior

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: I originally had a very different fic planned, and this ended up going in an unexpected direction. I know this is a bit outside the realm of my usual fics, so I’d love to hear what you think. 

You’d been casing his place for way too long. Baron Zemo, who was one of the wealthiest people in Sokovia and rumored to be one of the most prolific art collectors in the world, hadn’t been the easiest man to find. The scope of his collection had only been a rumor to you, one you’d heard in passing and paid no mind to. Until you’d heard it again from one of your closest friends and fellow thief in Madripoor, who’d been at an auction to see who was buying what for future reference and saw a man, who everyone knew was Zemo’s representative, buy a Raphael like it was nothing. Based on that, your friend thought there might actually be credence to the rumors and that was enough for you to check it out.

From your research and surveillance, you’d learned that Zemo lived mostly alone with only Oeznik, his butler and also his representative at auctions, for company. Well, he also had the company of his art collection. And that was no small thing. You’d been able to discover after almost a month that his collection was everything they said it was and more. You’d caught a glimpse of a Rembrandt, a Monet, the aforementioned Raphael, a Van Gogh, and a Basquiat with who knows what else displayed in other parts of the house. 

After searching for what felt like ages, you’d finally found what looked to be a small hole in his security. A place where the cameras had a blindspot, where the hallway was dark, and where the window could be jimmied. That meant that you were done casing and it was time to do what you did best, stealing. Tonight was the night. Finally.

You got the window open without the telltale sound of breaking glass and pulled yourself through, landing lightly on the balls of your feet. At a crouch you moved forward, towards the Monet you’d glimpsed during your surveillance. Up close it looked like “Meules'' from 1890, a painting that had been held in private collections almost since its creation. You shined your flashlight on it and were mesmerized by the brushstrokes, even in the dark — so much so that you forgot where you were for more than a moment. That was until a lamp turned on in the corner of the room, startling you into dropping your flashlight. No one was supposed to be in here. Oeznik’s room was on the other end of the house and Zemo kept the same bedtime every night. You’d watched his robed form lounge on his bed before he turned the lights out exactly at 10 pm each night enough to know.

Speak of the aristocrat and he shall appear. You turned, eyes wide, to behold Baron Helmut Zemo lounging in one of the leather chairs with a glass of scotch in his hand. The lamp cast his face half in shadow and he looked sinister for a moment. His lips were twisted into a cruel smirk you’d never seen on his face before during your scrutiny of him and his eyes looked triumphant before his face smoothed and became still again – as inscrutable as the depths of the ocean. It was so quick that you may have imagined it.

“It was nice of you to join me, my rogue. I thought that I’d be waiting forever for the pleasure of your company.”

You knew what that meant. He’d known you were coming. How had he known? You’d been so careful.

“Ah, I see it in your face. That moment of realization. You were careful, little thief. But not careful enough. For while you’ve been watching me, I’ve also been watching you.” He paused for a moment in contemplation and tapped his thumb against his lips. “And I have liked what I have seen.”

This had never happened to you before. You chose a mark, you cased their house, and you stole what you planned to steal. Each time was a success, allowing you to make something of a fortune and to even keep your favorite pieces for your own collection. You were a damn good thief if you did say so yourself. No one had ever made you. Not like this.

“You are speechless. That’s fine. I often have that effect. Let me ask you. You saw me swimming in my pool. Didn’t you, my thief? Nod if you can’t summon the words.”

You bit your lip, thoughts meandering back to that day. His surprising muscles with the water dripping off of them and the way his bathing suit had flattered his assets – yes, you’d like what you’d seen even knowing that those muscles were remnants of his recent time in EKO Scorpion. Even so, you were tempted to shake your head no. He had the upper hand here already and you wanted to gain something of your own back.

“Before you respond, I will know if you’re lying. And you will not like the consequences.”

You shivered slightly at his tone and how his voice had deepened before hesitantly nodding yes.  

“I knew you did. I knew you were watching that day you see and wanted to put on a little bit of a show. I knew my collection already had your attention, but I wanted it for myself.”

You cleared your throat, summoning words for the first time in his presence. “And you had it.”

He leaned forward, his scrutiny of your face intensifying. “I know I did.” He sipped his scotch, his mien assured as though he already knew the answer to his next question. “Tell me, my rogue, did you touch yourself afterwards to thoughts of me? If you don’t want to admit it, that’s fine but I will tell you that I did. I imagined what you would look like — below me, riding me, in my sheets, against the wall, and covered in paint in my studio with my cock inside you as I worked. I can detail all the ways I’ve imagined you if you’d like. It’s rather a long list.”

You looked away, unable to hold eye contact. You had in fact got yourself off to thoughts of him as soon as you’d found a secluded place and had a few times since then, but you were never going to admit that to him. Before they’d been harmless fantasies of a mark, which once you liberated one of his paintings, you’d never see again. But now faced with Baron Zemo watching you from the shadows, his eyes intense and burning, they felt anything but harmless — they felt dangerous, like you were about to jump into an abyss without knowing its depth, and it made you shift in discomfort. It was too bad you’d always liked danger more than you should. You shook your head no and began moving towards the window as subtly as you could, which in your current agitated and aroused state was nowhere near subtle.

“Oh, you didn’t? See my thief, I don’t believe that. I think you made it to my hedge maze and no further before bringing yourself pleasure. I think you got lucky that the cameras there were off that day otherwise I would have had that memory preserved forever. But don’t worry, we’ll make new ones.”

You’d almost made it to the window, which with its age had unfortunately slid closed. You only needed to get it open and you would be free. You wouldn’t be around to “make new memories” with him, and hoped to never see Zemo again.

He was still serenely watching you and sipping his scotch as you went for the window.  

“It looks like I’ll be leaving now, Baron. I’ll leave you be. I promise your collection is safe from me, and you can forget you ever saw me.” Your voice sounded as nervous as you felt.

“Leave me be?” He stood, placing his scotch on the table, and prowled closer like a predator approaching its prey. “Now, when did I give you the impression that I wanted that? You see, my rogue, the window won’t open. I closed it and locked it while you were entranced by the Monet. You do have good taste, though I thought thieves of your caliber were supposed to have better senses.”

At this point you’d backed up into the wall next to the window, dropping the tools of your trade to the ground. Zemo’s face was fully illuminated in the moonlight as he loomed over you and he was just as handsome as ever, even more so now that you knew he was a worthier opponent than you’d ever expected.

His voice when he spoke again seemed to linger over the words as he smirked at you. “Oh no, my little thief in the night.” He tsked, “You will not be leaving for a very long time. This is your home now. Isn’t that wonderful?”

You shook your head and a tear escaped from your eye. He wouldn’t be able to keep you here. Your friends would look for you. Your buyers would miss you.

“Look on the bright side, you will be well taken care of here and my art collection will be within your reach at all times. You’ve seen how well I treat my art, yes? I take good care of what’s mine.”

You continued to shake your head. “What about me? What about my life?”

Zemo reached out and caressed your cheek, his thumb catching a tear and his hands shocking in their warmth. “Ah, yes. An important question. As for you – well, you will be within my reach at all times. Mine to do with as I please. Doesn’t that sound lovely?” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “I think we’ll be very happy together, don’t you? You’ll be the crown jewel of my collection.”

Reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated. Thanks so much for reading!

A/N: I will confess that I rather like the last line. Hope you all liked this, and please let me know if you did! 

I do have a Halloween fic in the works for Zemo and a fluffy Laszlo Kreizler drabble I can’t wait to post. I have quite a few fics for Zemo on my masterlist too if you’d like to check them out!

My Masterlist

#Zemo x reader #Helmut Zemo x reader #Baron Zemo x reader #dark!zemo x reader #dark!Helmut Zemo x reader #dark!Baron Zemo x reader #dark!zemo #dark!helmut zemo #dark!baron zemo #Helmut Zemo x you #Zemo x you #Baron Zemo x you #Zemo x gn!reader #Zemo fic #Zemo fanficton #dark fic #Daniel Brühl x reader #zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo

[bullet-prooflove]

Intoxicating - Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader (NSFW)

Rated M for Smut

Tagging: @mysoulisasunflower   @sapphiredreamer26   @wolfers-stuff   @zemoshatz   @1deadpool26     @majestymoon    @purebloodwitch  @blackleatherjacketz  @ marvel-starwars-kenobi-zemo ​

It’s unhinged the way you feel about Helmut, the things you let him do to you. He’s a slow burn, a controlled fire that erupts through your senses eating up every essence of your sanity as he fucks you against the vanity in the bathroom of the manor house you are currently a guest in. There’s a party going on the other side of the door, but he is relentless. His gaze fixes on yours in the mirror, and he smiles, that deliciously sinful grin as his breath ghosts across your ear.

“You’re intoxicating.” He tells you, the fabric of your dress bunched in his fist. “I could fuck you like this for hours my love, keeping you on the precipice of pleasure.”

“Please Helmut.” You whisper, reaching behind you, your fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I need you; I need you to make me come.”

He arches his hips, the new angle hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, the one that makes you cry out in ecstasy. That familiar flush is creeping across your cheeks, you bring your hand up to your lips to cover your mouth, to hide the euphoric moans that punctate the air every time he thrusts into you. His hand grasps yours, fingers entwining as he pulls it away slowly steering it towards your clit instead.

“None of that.” He chides, his teeth grazing that deviant little area underneath the curve of your jaw. “I want everybody to know how good your Baron fucks you.”

His presses your fingers against that needy little nub, guiding them in slow circles.

“Come for me my love, I want to feel you clenching around my cock.”

You feel that moment of rapture coming, it builds, and it builds until it hits you like a force of nature, swallowing you up and drinking you down. It’s violent and consuming, coursing through your body like electricity as it sears through your synapses. It’s too much, you’re drowning in it as Helmut, threads his fingers in your hair and tilts your face back towards the mirror so that your eyes meet.

“Look at me.” He rasps against your throat, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Look at what you do to me.”

He buries himself right up to the hilt, hips stuttering as he spurts deep inside you and it’s the most sensual thing you’ve ever seen because it’s a moment where he allows you to see his vulnerability, his adoration, his bliss.

It’s exhilarating the way this man loves you, the way he forces you to abandon everything else to chase your pleasure.

“I love seeing you like this.” He tells you, his lips tenderly brushing over your shoulder, his gaze drinking you in through the reflection in the mirror. “So ruined, so debauched, filled with me. There’s nothing in this world more beautiful.”

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