S!O!S! I’m obsessed! I feel very much like I did as a teenager, with my brain taken over by this singular thing. Season 4 ended before I thought to resolve my issue, and season 5 is here and OOPS IT’S BACK AGAIN AND IT’S MATURED WITH ME.
summary: You get to teach Ivar a lesson. || bucky barnes x reader x ivar the boneless ||
warnings: soooooo NSFW, poly relationship, cursing, come-eating, bdsm elements, punishment, oral, fingering, lots of sin tbh
notes: This is a little bit different form my usual sin. (Never thought my first time writing a threesome would be between these two) So some lovely anon started this thing called WinterBoneless and spammed me, as well as @persephone-is-here-omg and @captainpoopweinersoldier, with marvelous asks. It’s the ship between the beloved Murder Daddy, Bucky, and the adorable Murder Baby, Ivar. Those of you who don’t know who he is, go watch the show Vikings. You won’t be disappointed. Not one bit.
I didn’t add my usual tag list bc I don’t know who’s really into this.
Bucky peers over the back of the couch, watching curiously as you storm through the door, the shoes you wore for the evening clutched in your hands. You turn. the skirt of your dress fluttering, chucking one heel at Ivar as hard as you can, narrowly missing the side of his head. As it clunks to the floor, you hurl the second one in close succession, and if Ivar hadn’t been paying attention, it would’ve nailed him straight in the eye. He catches it with ease, holding it in his palm with a glare.
Bucky almost expects you to lunge at him, wrap your hands around Ivar’s throat and make him pay for whatever offense he’s committed this time. Instead, you make a mad dash for the bedroom you share with both men, slamming the door shut behind you.
The silence that follows is a bit deafening.
“You two are home early.” Bucky muses eventually. Ivar drops the shoe he’s holding to the floor with a angry huff, running a hand through his thick hair in frustration. It was out of it’s usual, messy knot, hanging freely around his shoulders. Bucky thinks it’d make him look less abrasive if it weren’t for the angry expression Ivar was wearing. “What did you do to her now?”
This was not an unusual occurrence in your household. Ivar liked to push buttons, liked to provoke you, in turn causing you to provoke him. Things would escalate, such as now, and Bucky would have to step in and try to restore peace.
Bucky rises off the couch quietly, took in the hard set of Ivar’s jaw and the anger brewing in his eyes. He cups his face, smiling gently when Ivar’s lashes flutter. Someone of the tension drops out of his shoulders and he sighs quietly. “I called her a whore.” Ivar mumbles quietly. He doesn’t meet Bucky’s gaze as he says it, listening to the way Bucky sucks in a surprised breath. “I thought she was flirting with our waiter.”
“And was she?” Bucky asks. Ivar just shakes his head, biting down on his lip with a pained look on his face.
“I fucked up.” he admits. “I fucked up bad.”
“Go fix it. I don’t like going to bed when our girl is angry.” The soldier shoves Ivar in the direction of the bedroom, following behind closely. They open the door slowly, finding you standing in front of your vanity to take down your hair. The dress you wore to dinner is strewn on the floor, leaving you in nothing but a lacy black lingerie set.
“Fuck.” Both men say in unison. Twin sets of blue eyes are as wide as they can be, eyeing you up in down like a hunter would it’s prey.
If it were any other time, you would preen under the attention. Instead, you shoot them the meanest look you can muster, shaking your head. “There’s no way in hell.”
Bucky is the first one to inch closer, sidling up next to you to help remove the bobby pins holding your hair up. Ivar tries to do the same but you immediately wrench away from his touch. “If you lay even just a finger on me, I will break your goddamn hand.”
Ivar sits on the bed, watching dejectedly as Bucky gets to run his hands through your hair. Bucky presses a kiss to your shoulder, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. “I think Ivar wants to apologize to you, doll. You gonna let him?” he asks. His hands grip your waist, turning you around so you can see the guilt crossing Ivar’s face. His eyes are wide, pleading.“He wants to treat you real good, show you how sorry he is.”
“No, he doesn’t.” you say, sneering. “He doesn’t want to touch a whore like me.”
“I didn’t mean it, dove.” Ivar brings out the tried and true nickname, trying to diffuse someone of your anger. The hopeful smile that crosses his face nearly cracks through your resolve. “Let me make it up to you.”
Bucky strokes down your side, hiding his own smile in your shoulder. “He’ll do anything you want, babydoll. Just say the word.”
The smirk that rises to your face can only be described as evil. Ivar feels his heart start to accelerate at the look you pass his face. “Ivar,” you say and he straightens up, ready to do whatever it is you ask of him. “You only get to watch.”
“Now that’s just cruel.” Bucky chuckles. You just shrug, not caring in the least. He was cruel to you, it’s time you do the same to him.
Grabbing the chair from your vanity, you place at the end of the bed. “Sit, Ivar.” He rises without a word, settling down into the chair nervously. You drag Bucky to the bed by his shirt, pushing him to lay down against the mattress.
Bucky’s immediately pulling you down into a kiss, lifting you up only to have you straddle him. Ivar’s sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip as he watches you grind your hips slowly against the soldier, nearly drawing blood when he hears you moan quietly. The two of you part with a gasp.
“Turn around for me, baby.” Bucky instructs. He maneuvers you so your chest is to his back, his strong thighs holding yours open, both of you leaning against the headboard. Like this, Ivar can see your entire body, can see everything Bucky’s about to do to you.
“Ain’t she a beauty?” Bucky asks. He unstraps your bra, tossing it to the side with a smile aimed at Ivar. His metal hand plucks at a nipple while the other one smooths its way down your stomach. His fingers slide smoothly underneath your panties, cupping you with his palm. Your back arches, another shy moan falling from your lips, and Bucky can’t help but laugh at the desperate look on Ivar’s face. “She’s so wet, babyboy. Don’t you wish you could feel it?”
Ivar nods eagerly. Bucky runs two fingers up and down your slit, circling around your entrance and just barely bumping your clit. When he pulls his hand out of your underwear, those fingers are glistening. Bucky pops them into his mouth with a grin, moaning loudly when he tastes you on his tongue. “You’re missin’ out, little one.” Bucky tells him. Ivar can only whimper, hands shaking where he’s laid them on his thighs. “She tastes so fuckin’ sweet.”
Bucky looks down at you, then, sees the smug, impish grin you’re sporting. He captures your mouth with his once more, tugging your lip between his teeth. His metal hand wraps around the side of your panties, ripping them down the seam. Even though you should be annoyed that he ruined them, heat rushes up your spine, making you keen as he dips two fingers into your entrance.
“Look at him, baby.” Bucky orders. You find Ivar with his mouth hanging open, hungry little pants falling from his lips. His eyes are glued to your cunt, pupils overcoming the blue in them as he watches the metal slowly slide into you. “He’s a wreck. We’re torturing him.”
“G-good,” you stutter out, hips titling upwards. He’s languidly fucking you, palm brushing your clit gently. Your body trembles at the slow pace, wishing he’d take it up a notch or two. “He deserves to be tortured.”
“I didn’t mean what I said, dove.” Ivar tells you again. His voice is low, the tempting image in front of him crumbling his composure. “I don’t know what else to say to you.”
“Sweet talk her a little.” Bucky curls his fingers, pressing against your g-spot roughly. Ivar’s chest heaves as you cry out, moaning Bucky’s name. He doesn’t know the soldier’s so calm. Ivar’s not even touching you and he’s a fucking wreck.
“C’mon, Ivar.” Bucky says when his boy stays quiet. Their gazes lock and Ivar could just melt into the floor at how glazed over Bucky’s eyes are. He grunts when you squirm against his erection, throwing an arm around your waist to hold you still. “Make her feel like you want her.”
“You look so delectable, my love.” Ivar rushes out. He’s trying to keep his voice as steady as he can, but when Bucky starts moving his fingers harder, faster, he knows that’s going to be an impossible feat to accomplish. “Y-you’re so fucking gorgeous like this.”
“You can do better than that, sweetheart.” Bucky chides. “Tell her what you want to do to her.”
“I want to get my mouth on that pretty little cunt of yours.” he groans when Bucky spreads apart your folds, gives Ivar a good look at just how much you’re dripping. He focuses on just your clit, rubbing in tight, hard circles. “I’ll eat you out until you’re begging me to stop.”
“Is that all?” Bucky asks teasingly. Ivar shakes his head, sees the way you start to tense and knows you’re about to come.
“I’d fuck you slow, so slow until you’re slurring your words because the pleasure is that intense.” Ivar grinds out. His cock is pushing painfully against the zipper of his tight black slacks. He wants to get a hand on it, palm himself to relieve some of that pressure. But you said he couldn’t touch, so he’s gonna listen. “I’d make you come, over and over again. I wouldn’t come until you let me, until you were so euphoric that you were melting against those sheets.”
You come with a shout, nearly rolling off of Bucky as you writhed against him. Bucky fucks you through it, slowly easing the pressure until you settled down once again. You’re gasping for breath, gulping down air as he strokes your hair.
“What now, babygirl?” Bucky questions. “You think he’s learned his lesson?” Your head tips side to side sluggishly. “No? What then?”
You grind against him, grinning when he moans into your ear. “Fuck me, soldier.”
You lift your ass, letting him shimmy his pants and boxers just enough to free his cock. It’s glistening, the head an angry pink as it drips precome. Ivar whines at the sight. “What’s wrong, babyboy?” you pout mockingly. “You want Bucky’s cock?”
“Please.” he whispers, hoarse. His eyes are watering as he watches you jerk the soldier off, whom of which has his tilted head back, eyes squeezed shut as you play with him.
“Too bad, baby. It’s mine.”
“You can share, doll.” Bucky rumbles out. There’s a smile on his face. “There’s more than enough of me to go around.”
“Right now I’m not sharing. You’re mine until I say so.”
“Yes ma’am.” Bucky shifts you around until his head is pressing against your entrance, hips clamping down heavily on your hips as he thrusts into you. You keen at the stretch, hands flying to your breasts as he bottoms out with a sigh. “How do you want me to fuck you, babydoll?”
“Ruin me.” Your smile gets wiped away as Bucky starts drilling into you, taking no mercy as his hips slam into your ass. He’s biting down on the skin of your neck to muffle his noises, both of you watching as Ivar shifts helplessly in his seat. His face is red, shirt sticking to his skin from where he’s sweating.
It doesn’t take long before the two are are practically screaming your release. It takes a minute before Bucky’s recovered enough to slip out of you, his come dripping from your entrance and onto your thighs.
“You think he’s had enough now, darlin’?” Bucky inquires. “You think he’s been good? You wanna let him clean you up?”
Ivar waits with baited breath, practically vibrating in his seat at the thought of getting his tongue on you. At your nod, he bounces out of his chair, lying between yours and Bucky’s legs on his stomach. “Be gentle, babyboy.” Bucky laces a hand through his hair, pulling him closer towards your cunt. “She’s sensitive.”
Ivar drags his tongue gently up your slit, making sure to avoid your clit. He slurps quietly, whimpering as he tastes both his lovers. You’re sighing softly at his ministrations, eyelids fluttering as you try to fight the exhaustion coursing through you. When your cunt’s clean, he licks over both your thighs, sucking kisses into the skin when he’s finished.
“That’s a good boy.” Bucky praises. Ivar smiles shyly, licking the corners of his mouth.
“Have I been good enough to come?” he asks quietly, fearing your answer. Both he and Bucky look to you for an answer. “I need it. Please.”
“Let me take care of him, doll.” Bucky tells you. “I think he deserves it now. He was so, so patient, didn’t even touch himself once.”
Ivar could nearly cry in relief when you give the permission. Bucky gently slides you off of him, making sure you’re comfortable before pulling Ivar into a kiss. shushing him quietly when he mewls. “It’s alright, baby.” Bucky coos. He gets Ivar’s pants undone, sliding them down to his knees.
The front of his grey boxers are soaked with the evidence of his arousal, his dick begging to be touched. Bucky pulls them down slowly before wrapping his flesh hand around it. Ivar hisses through his teeth. It only takes a handful of strokes before he’s coming, spilling over Bucky’s fist with a loud, startled cry. “There we go, baby.” Bucky whispers. “Feel better now?”
With a weary nod he grabs Bucky’s wrist, bringing it to his mouth to lick the come from his fingers. Ivar hesitantly turns his head to find you staring back at him. “I’m sorry.” he apologizes. “I love you.”
Light, bright, and cheerful. It’s some of the most familiar of all early 18th century music. It’s been featured in uncounted films and television commercials, but what is it and why does it sound that way? “The Four Seasons”, by Italian composer Antonio Vivaldi, are famous in part because they are a delight to the ear. However, even more notable is the fact that they have stories to tell.
At the time of their publication in Amsterdam in 1725, they were accompanied by poems describing exactly what feature of that season Vivaldi intended to capture in musical terms. The birds welcome spring with happy song, but soon, a thunderstorm breaks out. Not only is there musical thunder and lightning, there are also more birds, wet, frightened, and unhappy.
In “Summer,” the turtle dove sings her name “tortorella” in Italian, before a hail storm flattens the fields. “Autumn” brings eager hunters dashing out in pursuit of their prey.
The “Winter” concerto begins with teeth chattering in the cold before one takes refuge by a crackling fire. Then it’s back out into the storm where there’ll be slips and falls on the ice. In these first weeks of winter, the old year is coming to a close, and so does Vivaldi’s musical exploration of the seasons.
Not until the early 19th century would such expressive instrumental program music, as it was known, become popular. By then, larger, more varied ensembles were the rule with woodwinds, brass, and percussion to help tell the tale. But Vivaldi pulled it off with just one violin, strings, and a harpsichord. Unlike his contemporary Bach, Vivaldi wasn’t much interested in complicated fugues. He preferred to offer readily accessible entertainment to his listeners with melodies that pop back up later in a piece to remind us of where we’ve been. So the first movement of the “Spring” concerto begins with a theme for spring and ends with it, too, slightly varied from when it was last heard.
It was an inspired way to attract listeners, and Vivaldi, considered one of the most electrifying violinists of the early 18th century, understood the value of attracting audiences. Even in the composer’s own time, Vivaldi’s music served as diversion for all, not just for the wealthy aristocrats. 300 years later, it’s an approach that still works, and Vivaldi’s music still sounds like trotting horses on the move.
After many questions and a few requests, I think it’s time to make a longer post about this. An enigmatic figure has floated around in witch lore for a very long time. A particular spike in his appearance comes into place during the Early Modern Period. A tall man, comely and swathed in black, adorned with either the horns of a goat or that of a buck, approaches men and women alike to offer them a new life. If they decline, they will go about their life as if it was an illusion. If they accept, they will be granted gifts and wealth (of all kinds) in exchange for loyalty to him. Throughout the centuries, he’s acquired many different names. He’s been called Old Nick, Old Scratch, The Black Goat, Akerbeltz, Black Donald, The Dark Man, and countless other names. Of course, they’ve all been summed up rather quickly with the word ‘Devil’. And is he? Yes and no. The Man in Black is not to be separated from the Christian Devil, but that is not his sum total. He represents much more than that and is an extraordinarily complex figure; so complex that his nature cannot be completely known (a trait that I’ll see to in a bit). He is Lucifer, the Usurper, the Light Bringer, the Torch Bearer, and the Opener of Eyes.
The Man in Black is intimately connected to the topics of the dead, the underworld, fertility, sexuality, and magic. Though the intermingling of life and death might seem befuddling at first, it is important to understand that this is the truest representation of the wilderness. Thus, in total, the Dark Man is, above all, a spirit/deity that represents the Wilderness found both inside humans and outside of them. He also represents ‘The Great Other’. Where there is order, he is Chaos. This too can be said for all things natural. In a world where we live between giant, rectangular towers, he is the storm that makes them shiver. He is the flaw in the bricks. He is the tree that crashes into them. Beyond that, he is the concepts that have been shunned by polite society. Most importantly, sexuality and aggression. These primal instincts are intertwined and deeply misunderstood. Sexuality does not always mean lewdness. Aggression does not always mean butchery. Sexuality is the force through which life is animated. It is the conjoining and drinking of souls. Aggression is competitiveness. It is a will to survive and thrive. In these, we find the origin of him being Satan. Satan is the Lord of Sin, the Liar, and the Roisterer. The Man in Black drinks deeply of Earthly pleasures. He cannot be predictable, for that would make him orderly, where he is chaos. He excites primal passions, of both lust and fury. His Chthonic associations don’t help with this. Beasts that are usually thought to be messengers and walkers-between-worlds are his symbols, like crows, flies, snakes, toads, foxes, deer, and most importantly, goats. This Underworld association also deals with his link to primal emotions and concepts we tend to ‘push deep down’ for the lack of a better term. Death is one of them. This too deals much with his associations with Chaos. Hell is simply the Underworld. Where the Underworld is Chaos, the Heavens are Order. Earth is the marriage of the two. Where there is civilization, there is also wilderness.
He could be considered a trickster, but more appropriately, he is the Trickster. He isn’t an other, he is the Other. Where in Christian mythos, God created Order, the Dark Man usurps control and creates Chaos
His title as the ‘Witch-father” denotes his fondness for, and interest given to, witches. Witches, even separated from the Devil, always have represented the wilderness, or the most wild, primal, and beastly parts of mankind. Naturally, they would be joined with the very spirit/deity that is the embodiment of these qualities. The Man in Black is the embodiment of the thing that witches hold precious, and when they are joined, he teaches and guides them to be the best witches they can be. Many view this as servitude, and while it is true that many witches hold allegiance to the one who pulled them onto the path, it isn’t necessarily true that they are his unwilling servants. The ones who do favors for him are also the ones who are quite affectionate towards him. He isn’t a slave-driver with a whip. Instead, he represents the man who steals the whip from his master’s hand and gains freedom. Similarly, witches are often people in folklore who have gained powers not intended by God to override His own Divine Will. They are selfish and they change the world to suit their means, and for some, that meant bringing kings and queens to their knees. As Lucifer coveted the Throne of Heaven, so these witches would no longer be subservient.
Since ancient times, people have looked to find the wilderness in horned male spirits and deities. They pray to them when they hunt, they pray to them when they wish to have children, they pray to them when they want connection to the wild. Magic practitioners and religious priests wore horns atop their heads as symbols of spiritual importance. Horns were thought to bestow the ability to see, hear, and interact with the spirits. They were, in essence, both crown and key. They were thought to bestow strength and a will to survive, but also a sensitivity to things beyond the perception of most. We find these qualities in the Man in Black.
Commonly, he is portrayed with a flame between his two horns. This flame is called the Cunning Fire. Those witches who he has created and initiated are lit by his own flame. He passes the Fire Between the Horns to his witches, and they too have power over the world as he does. How does he do this? He is known as the one who swallows what is and spits out what will be. He eats away the parts of a person that stops them from traversing the witch path. This common theme, even outside of witchcraft, is found in folklore of him, especially in the American South. He puts them through a test of sorts, where they are made to suffer internal and external turmoil. If they pass, they leave changed, new, and somehow improved. For witches, he gives them fire, and in doing so, gives them power. If they don’t pass, they either try to walk away as unscathed as they can, or they leave broken. In some witch myths, he has drawn his initiates to the woods and attacked them. If they survived, he rewarded them. Still, this happens spectrally when some fly. Some account for being attacked, torn apart, and put back together. He didn’t always create the witches, either. Some of them were waiting to have latent skills awoken, and during his testing phase, he spurred them. Those witches who were said to have power asleep inside them would go through this to awaken their talents.
Witches of the past, and even many in the present, initiate under him. During this process, many people believe that a witch is selling her soul for powers and a new life. While it is true that a ‘witch’s sixpence’ is required when asking, it is not the soul that is bargained off (though I’m sure he wouldn’t refuse it if offered). Instead, the witch is bound to the path and the spirits of that path. They become a part of one another. Their soul, though their own, is part of a larger whole then. The witches before then and the spirits who guide the tradition, in this case the Dark Man, become a part of the initiate and vice versa.
He is to be considered the Master of the Hidden Art. Some people interpret this as widely magic in general, while others feel that it is specific to witchcraft. He is often called the First Sorcerer, the Shapeshifter, the Wanderer, the Trickster, and the Horned One. He stole the Fire (the hidden knowledge), the light, from Heaven and gave it to humankind. This theme has repeated throughout history, of a wild God stealing fire and giving it to the world. In this case, that fire is magic and forbidden knowledge. He is the Light-bringer and is called Lucifer. The fallen angels, too, known in some mythos as faeries and in others as gods, impart their Divine Spark to humans as well.
He appears as many things. He does not have one form. He is the great buck, standing tall with a full set of antlers. He is the black wolf that eats it. He is the goat with great horns. He is the fox that enters the peaceful henhouse and eats to his content. He is both hunter and prey, for the two are sometimes one and the same. He is the man wearing a black suit, handsome and tall.
The wild places are his domain. Not just in the woods does he dwell, but back alleys and bus stops late at night. Crossroads lit by moonlight but shaded by fog are his home too. He walks among beasts and humans. He walks the woods quietly and slyly. He walks among the people at midnight in the city.
The Man in Black is an enigma, even to those who know him. He is Chaos, and therefore is eternally shifting shapes. As nature changes over the span of 100 years, so does he change with the world. His nature is to never fully be known, but truly be felt. He is, perhaps above all, feeling. Fear, aggression, lust, excitement, bliss, etc. These are his calling cards.
Working with him isn’t something that someone else usually teaches. Someone might teach you how to call him, but they can’t tell you how to work with him. Like I said, he ever changes. His way of working with each is different.
How would you call him? How was the Devil called in folklore? Almost always at a crossroads or in the woods, but as I stated before, these are not his only domains. Alcohol, money, black hen feathers, antlers and horns, bones, poisonous plants, etc are all things that will draw him close. But the most important ingredient is feeling. Whatever feeling you have while calling him has to be felt fully. Envelop yourself in it. Fear, bliss, or whatever it is, must be sat in. The reek of it will call him.
He is known to appeal to feelings and senses when he arrives. He is not only drawn by them, but he is an embodiment them. He is inside the fear and the bliss. Through that, a connection can come. That connection can be so vivid and profound that it is often found to be either extraordinarily comforting or deeply unsettling. It is to touch the other half.
If no other spirit or deity will remind you that working with him is a relationship, he will. Everything has a price on it, and that goes for his end too. Whatever favor or task performed, he will grant favors in kind. It is always important to remember that he is a trickster, however. His favors are always repaid, but not always in the way you’d expect them to be.
Witches who walk a traditional path will run into him, be it through the pages of a book, a fleeting thought, or a full-blown ritual. It is impossible to avoid him when practicing folkloric craft. He is not, however, required to be worked with. He is beloved by many witches, and will welcome more into his fold, but it is not required that a witch becomes one of his. Instead, it is always important to remember what he stands for as a champion of witches and what kind of qualities he puts forth as a sorcerous spirit. He is a reminder that, in the traditional and folkloric ways, a witch is a wild being; truly, both hunter and hunted, both crown and key, both king and usurper, both natural and supernatural.
Summary: In an alternate universe where monsters roam freely among humans, eight of these creatures group together under one roof. Their newest member, a dark vampire, comes to meet their reoccurring house guest who may be more than what she seems.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 1601 Genre: AU Warnings: Mentions of blood, sexual content. A/N: This wraps up a very Heathens filled weekend, thank you lovely people for sticking with me! Not sure when I’ll be posting it but just a heads up that pt.9 is going to be the final installment for this series! The song Gold by Eurielle was definitely being played during the writing process for this part so thanks @gondorgirl01 for recommending it to me months ago! And of course, Heathens by Twenty One Pilots because always. (gif credit)
Click HERE for more character information
** The links in this part don’t seem to be working even after I’ve tried fixing them. Sorry loves! **
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9
[ previously ]
He was distracted from his thoughts when you shifted positions. The thin strap of your nightgown slid from your shoulder and exposed the curves of your breasts pushing against the silky material. Subconsciously, he ran his tongue over his fangs as he imagined biting into the soft mounds. A wicked thought crossed his mind and his eyes turned to coal as he slowly stepped forward. The only light in the room came from the moon shining through the windows and now the ominous glow emitting from his dark limb as he waved it as his side. He smirked when you started to react. I’ll start making it up to you, doll. You’re in for a long night.
[ Night of the full moon ]
It was almost midnight and the last glimmer of hope for seeing Bucky was flickering out. You wanted to scream into your pillow. Hell, youwanted to scream at Bucky for taunting you and leaving you alone all day. He had a taste of you but just the same, you had a taste of him. The feeling of having his teeth sunken into the flesh of your neck was intoxicating. He was gentle and feverish at the same time. Slow but hungry and aching for more yet still maintaining control. You wanted to feel it again. Craving the sensation just as much as he craved the blood.
You didn’t realize you had drifted to sleep, too exhausted from your frustrations and hoping to put this whole mess behind you. You woke when you felt it again; your skin was tingling and warming up until you couldn’t take it anymore and yanked the sheets away. Images started flashing through your mind as you tossed and turned. You could see yourself interacting with Clint, then Sam and Tony and the rest of your friends but the scenes were different somehow. Soon you realized that you were watching from someone else’s point of view. You could feel their internal struggle, their own frustrations and tensions building every time you came into view. Any doubts were laid to rest when the visions started showing a conversation with Steve. These were Bucky’s memories. You listened as he talked about his sensitivity towards you being somehow amplified all day. You could actually feel it and it was so much more intense than you could ever have imagined. Finally, you listened as Steve explained his foolish ‘plan’.
“I’m gonna kick his ass when I find him,” you muttered through gritted teeth at the thought of your innocent Steve lying to you.
Now you were awake and struggling to find any relief against the heat. Images from that night out on the balcony starting running through your mind, amping up the intensity. Your hands started to roam up and down the length of your body, pawing at the silk material that barely covered your figure. Cupping your breasts, you could feel your nipples hardening beneath your palms. The pleasure kept building as your hands traveled lower, reaching under the lace fabric that was now soaked through. A moan tore through you as your fingers started rubbing the aching bundle of nerves. Your breath was coming out in heavy shallow pants as you were getting closer and closer. Taking your last bit of composure before completely letting go, you called out for him desperately. “Bucky, haven’t you teased me enough! Where are you?”
An eerie glow appeared at the end of your bed, floating closer to you until you shivered with a familiar chill. Bucky was smiling wickedly as he continued to wave his left hand at his side. Your own fingers started rubbing more feverishly, in sync with his. His voice was so low that you almost couldn’t hear it over the sound of your heaving breaths but you felt it all around you. “I’m right here, doll. Let go.” You looked into his coal-black eyes as you felt your climax finally hit you.
Shaking and steadily floating back down to Earth again, you managed to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at the vampire at the end of edge of your bed. “Oh, you’re a bad man.” You smirked, still trying to catch your breath.
His mouth hung open, fangs exposed as he inhaled the scent of your sweat and arousal. “You could have just talked to me, Bucky. You didn’t have to be all cryptic and dramatic all day.” You lifted yourself off of the mattress and crawled to the foot of the bed, closer to him.
A few seconds passed in silence before Bucky was able to reply, allowing the darkness time to dissipate and his eyes to turn back into that pale shade of blue. “I know. I’m sorry, doll. I’ve never really felt like this so I didn’t know what to do,” he admitted. “I took Steve’s advice and played it safe.” He looked sincere as he sat down in the spot beside you.
You scoffed at his answer but smiled anyways. “Bucky, when was the last time Steve got laid?”
He thought for a moment. Steve wasn’t exactly a lady’s man despite his charm and good looks. Half the time he was painfully shy, the other half he was awkward and fidgety and would shapeshift midway through the conversation because of his nerves.
“Now that you mention it, he probably wasn’t the best person to go to.” You both laughed and Bucky took your hands in his. He placed soft kisses on your knuckles. “Will you let me make it up to you?”
You rose to your knees and slowly started taking his ridiculous suit jacket off, flinging it off to the side. Your fingers played with the buttons of his shirt. “You’re off to a pretty good start but you’re still a little too dressed so can you do something about that?” You pulled away from him and started moving back up the bed, beckoning him to follow only after he finished what you started.
Before you could lie back against the pillows, Bucky was already crawling up after you; bare chested with only a dark pair of briefs keeping him covered. He intertwined his fingers with yours as his lean body hovered above you and started pressing faint kisses along your chest and neck. “You stopped calling me James,” he stated in between kisses.
“I like calling you Bucky,” you whispered. You could feel his lips smiling against your skin. He liked it too.
Nimble fingers made quick work of removing the last remaining articles of clothing until you were bare against each other. The difference in temperature between your bodies made shivers crawl up your spine. You twirled your fingers through his short chestnut hair and guided his lips to your neck, silently urging him on since he was taking his time.
Carefully, he dragged the sharp edges of his fangs along your neck and you whimpered in response. When his lips reached your ear, he whispered something familiar. “Do I have your consent?”
Trying to keep your voice even as you answered, “Bite me, Bucky.”
“As you wish,” he replied with a grin.
For the second time, Bucky sank his fangs into your neck, letting out a guttural growl as soon as he tasted your blood on his tongue again. You moaned and gripped onto his shoulders as he drank from you once more, listening to him hum as your blood coated his lips and rushed down his throat. Delirious from the sensation, you hiked your thighs over his hips and pulled him to you, grinding against him until he tore himself away from your neck with a feral look in his eyes. Your lips met in a hungry collision of need and desire, tasting your blood in his kiss. With one precise thrust, your bodies were connected and you screamed as the pleasure began to overwhelm you. You were on fire but his cold skin licked the flames calm. You were night and day. Silver and gold.
Your heart was racing and his hips matched the rhythm. Pumping into you like the blood pumping through your veins until you couldn’t see straight. Your mouth lay open in a silent scream as Bucky surged into you harder and faster, chasing down your orgasms like a hunter would its prey.
When the whimpers and moans fell silent, Bucky licked the puncture marks away and you laid in each other’s arms, bodies still pulsing from the ecstasy.
“That was incredible.” Bucky shifted beside you, letting his eyes rest as he held you close to him. His cold chest felt incredibly soothing against your flushed cheeks.
“Worth the wait?”
“Definitely.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as you traced lazy circles over his pecs.
You smiled and buried your face into the crook of his neck, content and satiated. Only after your heartbeat had calmed did you realize how much time had passed. “I can’t believe the sun’s coming up already,” you mumbled.
“Sunrise is still another hour away, doll. You may be taking that post-sex glow a little too far,” he joked, pinching your side playfully until you giggled.
“Well, what’s that bright light then? I can barely keep my eyes open,” you complained as you sat upright.
“What are you talking about?” Bucky opened his eyes and looked over to the windows across the room but there was no light coming from them. However, through his peripheral vision, he could see that something really was starting to shine. When he turned to see, his eyes widened in shock. “Y/N…it’s you.”
The look of alarm on Bucky’s face sent a wave of fear through you but before you could say anything, the entire room started to shake violently. Your skin was glowing brighter, heating up to near-boiling temperatures and you started to scream. A high pitched whistling started echoing throughout not just the bedroom but the entire grounds of the manor. There was banging at the door followed by Steve’s worried cries as he tried to bust through from outside. Bucky tried to reach out to you as a blinding light engulfed your body and pulled you away. All he could do was cover his eyes and scream your name.
And now they’re outside ready to bust It looks like you might be one of us
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**Lyrics at the end from the song Heathens by twenty one pilots**
I can’t be bothered to write it all down on paper so I am sitting here, sharing it with you instead, while listening to the Russian Orthodox Requiem haha!
Feel free to like & share it to serve as your own reminder. It’s useful as hell.
It is all from the book “The 48 Laws of Power” by Robert Greene.
Read on, my friends. For this is going to teach you many valuable lessons!
LAW 1 - NEVER OUTSHINE THE MASTER
Always make those above you feel comfortably superior. In your desire to please and impress them, do not go too far in displaying your talents or you might accomplish the opposite—inspire fear and insecurity. Make your masters appear more brilliant than they are and you will attain the heights of power.
Note:Yes. This is so important. Especially when it comes to dealing with MEN. Never outshine the “MASTER”.. oh boy, but how we do ;)
The brown hyena (Hyaena brunnea), also called strandwolf, is a species of hyena found in Namibia, Botswana, western and southern Zimbabwe, southern Mozambique and South Africa. It is currently the rarest species of hyena. The brown hyena inhabits desert areas, semi-desert, and open woodland savannahs.
Summary: You are held captive in the prison of Asgard. The man in the cell opposite to yours is having a hard time understanding that caring is not a weakness, but indeed a strenght.
Warnings: If you count being a prisoner a warning, than that’s a warning. I’M SO NERVOUS ABOUT THIS HELP. I let my love for a *cough* author and *cough* book slip throught the cracks on this… heheh.
Word Count: 2,023
A/N: Dude, this is my entry for @sanjaritiCaro’s game of prompts writing challenge. My prompt was Menace. And you got no idea how long i had to pick my brain for this. I decided to combine this with a request i got, i hope that’s okay! Please leave some feedback for a nervous writer. I hope you like this. I’m going to bite my nails for so long… *GIF is not mine*