"I'm bisexual which means that I like all genders and yes that includes men unfortunately đđ" well guess what. I'm bisexual and I love men. I love them so much and I'm at all not ashamed or embarrassed about it. How about that.
You are a former Flag Smasher living alone in Madripoor. You quit the gang some time ago. When the winter soldier stands in your door one night, you expected to be killed. But this wasnât your end. It was the start of something that nobody saw coming.Â
Warnings: smut, swear-words, (sexual) persuasion.
A/N: As always, english is not my first languagge. I am way too lazy to proof read. I really wanted to do something for Zemo but I just canât get over Bucky?Â
You tossed your keys down the hall table and stretched. You changed into a pair of boxers. It was another hot night, and as you pulled out the futon, you really wished the air conditioner were still working. You turned the box fan on and fed your cat. As soon as heâd polished off his fancy feast, took up pacing in front of the sliding glass door to your balcony.
Lightning flashed and you went over and slid back the glass door, moving the screen into place. Youâd leave the thing open for only a little bit â the night air smelled good for once. Not a whiff of the usual garbage of madripoor.
You ducked into the bathroom. After brushing your teeth and scrubbing your face you ran a washcloth under some cold water and rubbed the back of your neck. Cool rivulets ran down your skin, and you welcomed the shivers as you walked back out.
You frowned. Something wasnât rightâŠ
You went over to the glass door and you saw that your cat had sat down on his haunches and was purring as if he were welcoming someone he knew.
What theâŠ
The man from last night was on the other side of the screen. You leaped back and dropped the washcloth, dimly hearing the fleshy flop when it hit the floor.
The screen slid open.
You panicked, but found you couldnât move. You knew this man. He was called the winter soldier.
Oh, man, he really was handsome. He was tall and with your apartment being small to begin with, he turned it into a shoe box. He looked even better than the photos youâve seen. Dressed in black with dark hair and matching brown eyes. He wore gloves despite the heat.
Wait a minute.
What were you doing, measuring him for a suit? If this really was the winter soldier, there was no time for staring.
Running, you should be running. You should be making a break for the other door, running like hell.
But all you could do was stare at him.
You craned your neck to look up at his face.
God, he was gorgeous.
He must be coming to kill you, you thought. You didnât know what youâd done to deserve a hit, but the longer you looked into his eyes, you could barely remember where you were.
You body swayed as he closed the distance between them. You were terrified of what was going to happen when he reached you, but noticed, absurdly, that your cat was purring and wrapping himself in and around the mans ankles.
That cat was a traitor. And if by some miracle you lived though the night, the cat was getting downgraded to mediocre cat food.
Your neck jacked back up as you met the manâs steady, feral gaze. His stare burned.
And then the extraordinary happened. As he stepped in front of you, you felt a blast of pure, unadultered lust. Your body got wickedly hot. Hot and wet.
Your core bloomed for him.
It was chemistry, you thought numbly. Pure, raw, animal chemistry.
Whatever he had, you wanted.
âDonât be afraid, (Y/N). My name is James. I wanted to ask you some questionsâ, he said.
His voice was low, a deep rumble in his solid chest. He had the sliver of an accent you couldnât place.
âWhat questions?â, you breathed in a whisper.
âAbout your friends. The Flag Smashers...â
Dizziness made you reach out for the wall.
âKarli? Why..â Confusion closed your mouth. âWhat do you want from them?â
His metal hand crossed the distance between your bodies and he took your chin between his forefinger and thumb. He tilted your face to one side.
âAre you going to kill me fast?â you mumbled. âOr slow?â
âNo killing. Just answers.â
As his head bent down, you told yourself you should fight him off in spire of his words. You needed to Gotthold arms of yours working, your legs, too. Trouble was, you didnât really want to push him away. You took a deep breath.
Good heavens, he smelled fantastic. Fresh, clean sweat. A dark, masculine musk.
His lips hovered over your ear. The leather of his jacket creaked as his chest expanded.
âYou are not one if them,â he said softly, ânot anymore, right?â
God, this had to be what people talked about when they waxed poetic about sex. You didnât question the need to have him inside of you. You only knew that you were going to die if he didnât take his pants off. Now.
You reached out, curious to touch him, but when you let go of the wall you started to fall. In what seemed like on motion, he turned around and caught you easily. As he swept you off the floor, you leaned into him, not even bothering to put up a pretense of fighting. He handled you as if you were weightless, crossing the room in two strides.
When he laid you down on the futon his dog tags fell forward, and you lifted your hand, touching the metal. You lifted your hands higher, touching his dark hair. They were thick, soft. You put your palm on his face and though he seemed surprised, he didnât pull back.
God, everything about him radiated sex, from the strength in his body to the way he moved to the smell of his skin. He was like no man youâd ever came across before. And your body knew it just as clearly as her mind did.
âKiss me,â you said.
He hovered above you, a silent menace.
On impulse your hands went to the lapels of his jacket, and you tried to pull him down to your mouth.
He captured both your wrists in his metal hand.
âEasy.â
Easy? You didnât want easy. Easy was not part of the plan.
You struggled against his hold and when you couldnât get free you arched your back.
Your breasts strained against your Shirt, and you rubbed your thighs together, anticipating what it would feel like to have him between them.
If heâd only put his hands-
âSweet Jesus,â he muttered.
You smiled up at him, relishing the sudden hunger in his face. âTouch me.â
The winter soldier started shaking his head. As if he were trying to clear it.
You opened your lips and moaned in frustration.
âPull up my shirt.â You arched again, offering your body to him. âDo it.â
His eyebrows were drawn tight, and you had some vague thought that you should be terrified. Instead, you brought your knees up and lifted your hips off the futon.
You imagined him kissing the insides of your thighs, finding your core with his mouth. Licking you. Another moan boiled out of your mouth.
ââ
Bucky was dumbfounded.
And he wasnât a man who got struck stupid very often.
Holy Shit.
You were the hottest thing heâd ever gotten anywhere near. And heâd cozied up to a lightning stroke once or twice before.
You groaned again, your body undulating in a sexy wave, your legs opening wide. The scent of your arousal hit him hard as a body shot. God, he would have been sent to his knees if he hadnât already been sitting down.
âTouch meâ, you moaned.
Buckys blood pumped as if he were in a flat-out run, his erection throbbing like it had its own heartbeat.
âThatâs not what Iâm here for,â he said.
âTouch me anyway.â
He knew he should say no. This wasnât fair to her. And they needed to talk. He had questions about... what again? Maybe he should come back later in the night. Try again.
You arched up, pushing against the hand heâd clamped around your wrists. As your breasts strained against your shirt, he had to close his eyes.
Time to go. It was really time to go. He would check back with Sam and Zemo and just come back later, or tomorrow, or-
Except he couldnât leave without at least having a taste.
Yeah, but he was a selfish bastard if he laid one finger on you. A nasty, selfish bastard to take any of what you were offering without knowing who he really was. Dangerous, murderous, broken... a monster.
With a curse, Bucky opened his eyes.
Man, he was so cold. Cold down to his marrow.
And you were hot. Hot enough to make that ice go away, at least for a little while.
And it had been so long for him.
He let your wrists go.
Your hands grabbed his jacket, trying to push it back from his shoulders. He wrenched the thing off, and as it hit the floor with a thud, you laughed with satisfaction.
Bucky bent down over you and captured your lips with his mouth.
This time, when you thrust your breasts out, he got rid of his gloves and slid his normal hand under your thin shirt and onto your smooth, warm skin. Greedy to know the rest of you, he peeled your shirt off and tossed it aside.
Your breasts filled his palms, your nipples tight buds underneath the soft satin of your bra.
Buckys control snapped.
He let out a hiss and latched onto one of your nipples with his lips, drawing it into his mouth. As he drew circles with his tongue, he shifted his body and stretched out on top of you, falling in between your thighs. You absorbed his weight with a throaty sigh.
Your hands came between them as you reached for the front of his shirt, but he didnât have the patience to let you undress him. He lifted up and ripped the material off his body. When he came back down, your breasts hit the wall of his chest and your body surged under his.
He wanted to kiss your mouth, but he was way past anything soft and gentle, so he worshipped your breasts with his tongue and then moved down to your belly. When he got to the waistband of your boxers, he drew them off your smooth legs.
Bucky felt something in his head pop as your scent reached him in a fresh wave. He was perilously close to orgasm, already. His release poised in his shaft, his body shaking with the need to take you. He put his hand between your thighs. You were so wet and hot that he growled.
Crazed though he was, he had to taste you before he invaded you.
He pressed kisses over your hips and across the tops of your thighs. Your hands tangled in his hair as you urged him exactly where he was headed.
He kissed your softest skin, drawing your core into his mouth, and you came over and over again for him until he couldnât fight his own need any longer. He pulled back, shrugged out of his pants, and covered you with his body once more.
You wrapped your legs around his hips, and he hissed as your heat burned his erection.
He used what was left of his strength to pull back and look down into your face. Waiting for your okay.
âDonât stop.â you breathed. âI want to feel you inside me.â
Bucky dropped his head into the fragrant hollow of your neck. And slowly drew his hips back. The tip of his erection slid into place beautifully, and he sheathed himself in your body with one powerful stroke.
He let out a bellow of ecstasy.
Heaven. Now he knew what heaven was like.
____
You eased into consciousness slowly. It was like surfacing from a perfectly performed swan dive. There was a glow in your body, a satisfaction as you emerged from the buffered world of sleep.
âYou are beautiful,â he whispered.
His mouth came down on hers. But he wasnât looking for anything. The kiss was not a demand. it was closer to a thank you.
Somewhere in the room, a cell phone went off. The ring wasnât yours.
He moved so fast you jumped. One moment he was by your side; the next he was at his jacket. He flipped open the phone.
A flip phone? Weird.
âYeah?â The voice that had told her you you were beautiful was gone. Now he growled.
You pulled a sheet around your chest.
âGive me ten.â He hung up the phone, put it back in the jacked, and picked up the pants heâd been wearing. His metal arm reflected the tiny lights coming through the blinds.
The threat of re-dressing brought back some reality. God, had you really just had sex - really, really good, mind blowing sex - with the winter soldier?
âJames... You are the winter soldier, right?â, you asked.
As he pulled black leather up his thighs, you caught a terrific shot of his ass.
âNot anymore. Donât be afraid.â
When he sat down next to you, âIâve got to go. I might not get back tonigh, but Iâll try.â
You didnât want him to leave. You liked the feel of his body taking up more than its fair share of your bed.
You reached up to him, but took your hand back. You didnât want to seem needy.
âNo, touch me,â he said, bending his body down, giving you all the access you could ask for.
You put your palm on his chest. His skin was war, his heart surging in an even pump.
âI need to know something.â, you said softly. âWhat the fuck do you want from me, if youâre looking for the flag smashers?â
He smiled a little, as if he liked your swearing.
âAre you trying to stop them?â, you asked.
âYes, but-â
âGet out. I am not helping you.â You stood up and put your clothes back on. There was no way, you were going to be a snitch. Even if you were no longer part of the team.
â(Y/N), they have... we need to stop them. They are dangerous.â, he said while looking to the ground. He didnât seem to confident about that.
He now stood in front of your door to the balcony. Slowly you opened the glass door, took a look outside then went back to your bed.
âBecause of the serum.â You said calmly.
âYou know about the serum?â
You laughed. âI donât just know about it.â You positioned yourself and got in a strong stance. You smiled. âI got it.â
With one forceful kick to his chest, Bucky got pushed out of your room. He could barely grab the railing to not fall eight down on the street. In front of him the glass door closed, big metal bars flew from the top to secure the entry even more. The blinds closed and he couldnât see you anymore.
He couldnât remember the last time he was taken by surprise. It wasnât pleasant. When he looked down on himself, he saw a little piece of paper in the small pocket of his jacket.
1. Abuse survivors often daydream that they are superheroes, celebrities, speakers, and sometimes they are the ones being rescued. They can win wars, fight battles, be the respected person they want to be in real life
2. Use music as an emotional backdrop, like a film. Mouth or sing the lyrics as though they are the star in a music video.
3. Spending countless hours engrossed in vivid, complex daydreams, conversations and imaginary worlds.
4. Dreaming of idealized versions of oneself, including close friendships, fame, romance, rescue and escape.
5. Named imaginary people, creatures or places are frequently visited.
Last night I dreamt that Obi-Wan saved Padmeâs life by whispering in her ear âIf you die Jar-Jar will become Nabooâs Senatorâ. After that she willed herself back to life.
Obi-wan: Fuck you calling me Master like it doesn't turn you on just to say it.
//
(Y/N): why can't we just have sex? Jedi do it all the time. You will not burst into flames, you know...
Obi-wan: Because when I have sex with you I will fall in Love with you. And if that happens I will not burst into flames... But my life will be fucked.
//
(Y/N): It's the order isn't it? That's why you're leaving me...
Obi-wan: yes....
(Y/N): you know what's the worst thing about it? I think I love you.
Obi-wan: It'll pass.
He is getting up, walking away but turning around one last time...
Obi-wan: Don't come to the temple anymore... And (Y/N)? I love you too.
Okay Star Wars Fans, hear me out. So I love Obi-Wan more than anything. And I just watched Fleabag on Amazon Prime and OH MY GOD. I have so strong feelings about the hot priest. And it matches my obsession with Obi Wan so perfectly.
Somebody needs to write a fanfiction about Daddy Wan Kenobi with the whole fleabagxPriest thing in mind. I might even do it myself. I just need it.
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