#Pirate!bucky

[marvelstoriesepic]

Whumpcember (day 7)

Pairing: Pirate!Bucky x Lady!Reader

Prompt: Kidnapped

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: descriptions of kidnapping; mentions of death and murder

Divider by @silkholland

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

You put up a fight.

It doesn’t matter that you lost, you keep telling yourself.

You fought. With everything you had.

You made them work for it.

They hadn’t waltzed into your home unannounced and plucked you like a ripe fruit.

No. They had to chase you. Through your father's grand halls, past portraits of ancestors who surely would have been appalled by the racket.

You had turned over tables, ducked behind curtains, slipped from one room to the next, heart pounding in your throat just like your feet on the floors.

It made them rougher. It made them intimidating. It made them brutal.

But even when they finally cornered you, when their calloused hands aggressively grabbed at your arms and pulled you, you didn’t stop. You thrashed and screamed and kicked and bit and clawed - every inch of your body on high alert and protesting against their strong hold.

They were sweating by the time they bound you, snarling curses and grunts of frustration flying at your face with the spit out of their mouths. They called you names, ugly names, growled at you to stop resisting.

One of the three men even laughed - a low, cruel sound - but it was laced with fury.

You tell yourself it was worth it.

Every bruise, every ache in your body as they now drag you down the manor steps to the waiting ship, every ragged breath you manage to gulp in your struggle - it’s all worth it. Even as your father’s angered voice fades behind you, lost in the salt-stung wind and the distant crash of waves.

Because you didn’t make it easy for them.

You fought back.

And that is something you will forever be proud of.

Although that forever might end sooner than you had envisioned before this day.

Still, you tell yourself you won something - however small.

Maybe you won’t live to see the end of this. Maybe the days ahead hold horrors you couldn’t yet imagine.

But you didn’t go quietly.

The gangplank groans beneath the firm boots of your three kidnappers as they haul you aboard. The salty air stings the cuts on your wrists where the ropes bite into your skin but you refrain from wincing.

The ship rises and falls with the swell of the sea. It’s unfamiliar. So foreign in its feeling, it reminds you just how much you leave behind by stepping foot onto this ship.

The men shove you forward.

Around you, the crew is working. You have no idea why there are so many people needed on a ship but you feel the urge to shrink into yourself at the many stares you receive.

So many men. And none of them say anything. But they smirk and chuckle menacingly and you grow more uneasy with every step you take.

A prize. That’s what you are to them.

“Cap’n’s gonna love this,” one of the men holding you mutters, spitting onto the deck. He smells of sweat and dirt.

Again, you refrain from wincing.

“Aye,” grunts the one behind you, whose arm you had managed to claw so deep, the blood is already drying in ragged streaks. “Feisty little wench. Wonder how long she’ll keep her spirit when the Captain’s done with her.”

You hope there is no fear on your face. But your heart certainly picked up in pace. Your silence seems to irk the men further, and you feel the grip on your arms tighten, yanking you forward. “Come on, girl, move!”

The boards beneath your feet are damp and uneven, smelling of seawater and tar. The crew keeps eying you with varying degrees of interest - some openly leering, others grinning like your presence on the ship is the best to have happened to them all year. A shiver crawls up your spine. Your hands ball to fists.

They part as you are dragged toward the wheel, where a figure stands. His silhouette is tall and commanding against the blood-red sunset.

That must be the captain.

He isn’t barking orders or pacing like you might have expected. Instead, he stands still, one of his arms resting casually on the hilt of a blade strapped to his hip, his other hand tracing lazy circles against the ship’s wooden railing.

His left hand is basically red with scar tissue, though he doesn’t seem to mind it’s on full display.

He looks more put together than some of the others - the three men who captured you especially. The way he carries himself seems almost careless. So nonchalant. Confident, as though he owns not only the ship but the waves themselves. His dark hair is pulled back loosely, strands of it catching the wind.

James Barnes.

It’s not like you haven’t heard the name before.

Of course, you have.

The pirate who had crawled up from the depths after losing everything, carving his name into the bones of the sea. Ruthless. Calculating. Cold.

Your father never said much about the man, but that is part of what unnerves you. He isn’t afraid of anything - at least, not that he lets show. But any time someone dared to bring up Bucky Barnes or his crew, your father’s face would harden in a way that always made your stomach twist.

Now you are standing on the deck of Barnes’s ship, caught in the middle of a vendetta you hadn’t even known existed.

All you know, all you had heard from half-overheard conversations or rumors whispered among the servants in your manor is that Bucky Barnes lost his mother and sister in a raid many years back.

It was brutal you had heard. Indiscriminate. Pirates or mercenaries stormed his village under the cover of darkness and burned torches to the ground.

He was young then, barely a man, but he fought. With everything he had. But it wasn’t enough.

The details are hazy but you heard enough to imagine how awful that must have been.

His father had survived the raid. He was a sailor then. But he joined forces and took his son along, cutting a swath of vengeance across the water. They hunted the men responsible all over the globe. That’s when he became a pirate.

His father’s obsession with vengeance consumed him until it finally cost him his life. Again, you are lost on any details. It might have been a skirmish gone wrong or the grief dragging him under the water. You can’t tell.

All you can tell is that it left Bucky alone. And it made him the cold-blooded pirate he is nowadays.

But nothing could have prepared you for the reality of him.

His eyes are a storm. Wilder than any tornado you had heard stories of. His jawline is sharp, cheekbones high, a handsome face marred only by the thin scar running from his temple to his ear.

The men haul you forward and he watches you with a calmness that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He doesn’t speak right away, just lets his gaze sweep over you slowly, deliberately, intensely, like he is studying something he’s been waiting for a long, long time.

“Cap’n Barnes,” one man says. His lip is split, a crimson smear trailing down to his chin. You did that. “We got her.”

Rough hands shove you forward unceremoniously. You stumble but don’t fall, catching yourself just in time. You keep your expression as blank as it would go.

Bucky’s lips twitch at the corners, but it’s not quite a smile. He steps down from his spot near the wheel, boots hitting the deck with a weight that silences even the wind. He looks at the men then and there is something darkly amused in the way his brow arches.

“This is her?” His voice is smooth but carries an edge, the kind that could cut without raising.

Bucky’s harsh gaze flicks to the scratches on one man’s arms, then to the bruises blooming on another’s jaw, and to the trail of blood on the last man’s neck, still trailing lower, from the chapped lips you had punched open.

You allow yourself a short breath before his attention can switch back to you.

The men shift nervously under his scrutiny and the raised eyebrow. “She fights like a damn wildcat,” defends the one with the open bruises. The captain hadn’t even said anything yet. “Nearly gouged my eye out.”

Bucky barks out a laugh, the sound sharp and unexpected. “Shame it didn’t stick.”

The men grumble in discomfort, looking at each other.

The captain chuckles, though it’s low and humorless and rather terrifying. Your skin prickles.

“You mean to tell me the daughter of a landlubber put you lot on your asses?” he spits out.

You can’t help your reaction.

You are well aware that you are finding yourself in a rather dangerous position. But nobody talks your father down. Nobody gets to walk over his title in such a manner. Nobody gets to derogate your father. Not even a damn pirate captain. Running over your father’s name means running over yours as well.

So, yes, you jerk against the arms that hold you and you let your fury redden your face.

Though you should have known better.

Because Bucky’s attention is now solely focused on you, eyes like steel blazing against your skin.

He steps closer to you, his boots scuffing the wood, and you straighten instinctively, refusing to shrink under the pressure his gaze puts upon you. He stops just short of you, close enough that you can see the faint stubble on his jaw and the cold intrigue in his eyes.

His lips twitch again. This time it’s the shadow of a smirk. It unsettles you.

You shiver.

Bucky’s smirk deepens. He reaches out his scarred hand, tilting your chin upwards with two fingers. His touch isn’t rough, but it isn’t gentle either. More like he’s inspecting a piece of cargo. You try your very best to meet his gaze with eyes burning in defiance.

He looks eager - wickedly so - for something you’re not sure of but the fear you tried to shove to the deepest corners of your body comes creeping up your neck, overshadowing the pride you held for yourself just moments before.

You hate yourself for it. But your heart can’t help but thud violently.

“You’ve got your father’s looks about you,” he murmurs so quietly, you’re not sure anyone but you even heard it. It’s probably not even meant for your ears but he doesn’t seem like a person to care what people think. So why would he care if you heard him.

He sounds dangerous though. Too calm and still lethal. Your fear takes on another shape.

But as his hand moves to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, your head jerks away on its own and your lips form a slight snarl.

Bucky chuckles again. And to your surprise, it actually sounds amused. His hand falls from your face and he takes a step back from you with his wide smirk still plastered on his handsome face. He tilts his head at you slightly, studying you some more.

Pieces click into place. Actually, they’d been there all along, waiting in the corners of your mind, half-formed and heavy with a meaning that makes you shudder. But one you have to acknowledge now since you find yourself in its cause.

This isn’t a random kidnapping. This isn’t about piracy. You’re not just here because your father is able to pay a high ransom for your release.

This is something far older, far darker.

This is vengeance.

The vengeance Bucky Barnes had fought for his whole pirate life.

You don’t know any specifics. Perhaps Bucky doesn’t either. But a pirate doesn’t care for specifics after all.

Your father’s trading empire had always been shadowed by backroom deals, underhanded tactics, and alliances forged in blood. He’d always tried to hide the dark parts from you of course. He was good at hiding things - his anger, his dealings, his sins.

But you always felt like something was wrong with his world. And you were curious, foolishly so. You were a child, and children always want to touch the flame.

You never did well with the path he went down.

The first time you confronted him - clutching letters you weren’t meant to read in your trembling grip and demanding answers - he barely even looked at you as he ordered the guards to lock you in your room.

“This is not your business. And if you want to keep that little head of yours, you will learn to stay where you belong.”

You didn’t learn. You were young and stubborn and naive, so you kept pushing, kept digging into the corners he wanted you to leave untouched.

You spent weeks locked inside your room every time. He taught you lesson after lesson, each one harder than the last. Servants were forbidden to speak to you, the scraping of plates grating on you as they slid your meals through the door. No books. No letters. No glimpse outside. Just silence so suffocating, walls pressing against you from all sides, like they were on your father’s side, conspiring to keep you in.

Your father isn’t a cruel man - not in the way you’d imagine cruelty, all whips and chains and unrestrained fury. His cruelty is colder, quieter, built into the way he looks at you like you are a disappointment for daring to see too much. For daring to want too much.

He wants to protect you is what he told you. He told you it’s dangerous out there.

It is.

But it’s dangerous because of him. He hadn’t locked you away out of protection, he just tried to keep you from looking too closely at the cracks in the foundation of his empire.

And now, because of those cracks, because of his choices, you are here.

It isn’t hard to imagine that your father might have had some hand in whatever led to that fateful raid those years ago that cut down Bucky’s family.

And the pirate had lived his life thereafter chasing the ghost of his family’s ruin.

And that makes you his prize. His weapon. His proof that revenge could be tangible.

He basically lived the last years in pursuit of this moment.

The thought burns in your chest. Low and fierce. But you won’t break under the mistakes of your father’s legacy. Not for him. Not for Bucky. Not for anyone.

You press your lips together and meet Bucky’s gaze again and this time you see it. Sitting just behind his irises.

Hatred.

“Take her below,” he orders gravely. “And keep her in one piece. For now.”

[lunaroserites]

It's a Pirate's Life For Me (Bucky x Reader)

Pairing: Pirate!Bucky x Mermaid!Reader (Fem)

Characters: Bucky, Steve, various other characters

Summery: Bucky is infatuated with a mermaid he seen years prior.

Not sure how long this will be it's for Mermay.

No use of YN

Warnings: Not beta'd! All mistakes are my own. Implied/referenced SA, Pirates, vulgarity, swearing, fighting, death, violence, blood.

Word Court: 6134

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! ❤️

Please do not repost, translate or otherwise copy my work elsewhere, without my express permission, thank you! Lunaroserites on tumblr and ao3

The sea was calm, the full moon casting an ethereal light across the water. The North Star high in the sky, a guiding point for the young boy waiting for his father to come home, because no matter how far apart they might be, they could always see the North Star. 

Mother had always said that a calm sea meant trouble was afoot, but he couldn’t bring himself to  believe her, how could something so calm and vast be troublesome. The depths unknown as he peered down at it from the safety of the dock. Then he saw it, a fin, colourful but gone as soon as he saw it. He blinked rapidly and quickly ran to look for whatever fish he saw swimming around the dock but he couldn’t find it again. 

The sound of a horn caught his attention as his fathers ship sailed into the alcove from the vast open sea. He jumped excitedly as his fathers ship steered in and docked a short while later. The sea was no longer calm as waves and ripples spread across the once still surface. 

His father descended the plank that was placed down quickly, the boy jumped and danced around his father who looked like he was thousands leagues away. 

“Hush boy, go to your mother. I’ll be in later,” his father dismissed him quickly, taking a sharp right to the beach and to the other side of the ship. The boy, curious, quietly followed and hid in the shadows. He saw a body hit the water with a splash, and then it was dragged ashore, wrapped in a trap and was dragged to the forest that surrounded the cove they called home. He quickly followed behind the group of men, staying  hidden and out of the way. 

“What do we do with her Captain?” He peered out from a bush and saw what was wrapped in the trap. A large colourful fin laid in a small pool of water, with the torso of a woman draped over a rock as moon light filtered through an opening and cast an eerie glow around her. She was breathing heavily, and silvery blood glowed in the moon light from a fatal looking wound on her side, the flesh hanging from her. 

“Kill her, but take the scales. They’re worth more than gold,” the boy heard his father say and he gasped loudly at the harshness of his fathers words. Heads whipped toward him but he darted back toward the beach and home. He wasn’t caught, but his heart was pounding as he climbed into bed. 

~Two Days Later~

Curiosity got the better of him, as he found himself back in the clearing he had witnessed his father condemn the creature to death. He wanted to see if the corpse was there, maybe find one of the scales. But what he found instead was the creature barely clinging onto life with more than half her scales missing and she gasped and croaked under the moonlight. 

He approached cautiously and crept around her body, and observed her. She had a green blue tail, with smaller fins coming off it, she almost looked like a jellyfish with all her little tendrils. He was enraptured by her very existence, her hair was blonde, bone dry and caked with mud, she was facing away from him but he couldn’t help but picture what her face would look like. The sound of a snapping twig that he accidentally stepped on gave him away and her head instantly snapped in his direction. 

He yelped in surprise as her large eyes glared at him, he took a tentative step toward to get a closer look at her, that’s when she snarled and her once human looking hand morphed to claws and she swiped at him harshly, dragging the claws down his arm and ripping the flesh easily. He screamed in agony and she dropped back onto the rock and cried, silvery tears leaked from her eyes onto the rock, the sound of a gun shot rang through the night and she was gone. 

He unconsciously traced along the scars from her claws and shivered at the thought of the creature. That night he found out his father was a pirate, not a privateer with the navy like he had been told. He learned from him over the next decade, learned how to be a pirate, run a ship, get gold and riches. But he could never get the look on that creature's face out of his mind. She was terrified, alone and scared, his father killed her for what she did to his arm. 

He was home now, a short stop in the alcove he loved more than anything, visiting his mother after spending months at sea with his father learning the ropes. 

The sea was calm tonight, calm sea means trouble's afoot he never forgot his mothers words after all these years later. After spending nights at sea, it was rarely calm and it put him on a slight edge. The water surface broke suddenly but whatever did it was nowhere to be seen, he squinted as he tried to track how the water moved and where the ripples were freshly coming from. 

He took off running toward a small lagoon that was attached to the open ocean that he would explore when he was young. Once he broke through the clearing he was greeted with a sight he couldn’t ever forget. Long hair cascading down her back and beautifully long tail and fins that glistened under the moonlight. 

The scars on his arm tingled as he watched her. He took a few steps toward the water's edge and it lapped at his leather boots softly. Her head turned suddenly and she gasped, jumping back into the water out of view. 

“Wait,” his voice died in his throat as he searched for her. Then he saw her eyes, peering at him over the rock she had been previously sitting in. She looked terrified of him. “Please. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching his arms out in a show of affection, he wanted to be unthreatening and make her come out from hiding. 

He watched her squint, scrutinising him from behind the rock. Her eyes shining under the moon, almost glowing. He should hate these creatures, he had seen what happened when they got their claws into the minds of men, dragging his fellows to their watery graves to devour their hearts. But here he was trying to coax one out of hiding. 

He wasn’t surprised by her wariness, man and merfolk have never gotten along. So she probably just assumed he wanted to coax her into the shallows and then drag her on land and kill her once he had stripped her of her scales. 

He watched her hand move as she skirted around the rock she hid behind, he could see her own curiosity swirling in her eyes. She skimmed around and barely lifted her body from the water, just her eyes and forehead showing as she came around the rock. 

“Men,” their words felt odd on your tongue, “men lie,” you stuttered out. You watched his eyes widen at your broken English, humans knew little of your people. They were excellent linguists, and navigators, with beauty beyond comparison. You moved slowly, closer to him, not going as far as the sandy shallow, but close enough you would be able to fully scrutinise his form. He was tall, broad and strong, his hair chin length and his eyes were a piercing blue that cut through the night like a dagger. 

You flicked your tail, the water splashed and rained down in the moonlight, you watched him curiously. He watched you back, bewildered or bewitched. Which you couldn’t really tell. Your mind screamed to either start the siren song and drag this man to the depths and devour his heart or get the hell out of there. But you wanted to stay and learn about this man. 

“We do,” he said softly, his white shirt shifting in the soft breeze, the ties loose showing up tanned skin and defined muscle. He was definitely a pirate, no privateer looked like that. “I assure you though, I mean no harm,” he finished. 

You squinted again, unsure. Not daring to come closer, you  lifted out of the water further, your neck becoming exposed, the small frilly gills there shifted and closed so you could breathe air through your mouth. He watched in complete awe as your gills disappeared. “Why?” You asked, your throat felt dry, like you had sand trapped in it. 

“Because, you’re beautiful,” he said simply. He reached again and you shy back, pressing to the rock again. He would be easy to get to do as you pleased, with how careless he was being. There was a reason men despised your species, all you had to do was sing and his blood would sing the siren's song for the rest of his life if you choose not to kill him. He would never be able to be satisfied, his life would be ruined for any other pleasures. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. There was something innocent about the young pirate, he was not yet hardened by the burdens of life at sea. 

You slowly approached closer, ready to swim back to the safety of the deeper waters. Once further in the sandy banks, about five feet in front of the man you locked eyes again. 

You lifted your torso up from the water and watched as his eyes studied your form, he seemed eager to see more of you. In a bold move you lifted your shiny tail from the water and moved it. The fins glistened in the moonlight, the colours dancing across his eyes. He was completely enraptured by it. He noted your tail looked different from one a decade ago, you also wore coverings on your heavy chest, you had jewelled bangles on your arms and a few shelled necklaces around your neck, your fingers had some rings. Your ears had a slight point to them and your face was stunning. 

“What is your name?” He asked softly, as he took a few more steps into the shallows, closing the distance more, instinctively you backed up from him. You didn’t know how to say your name in his native tongue, so you shrugged and watched him. 

“I’m James, people call me Bucky,” he said, stopping so you would stop moving away. 

“Bucky,” you rolled the word around your mouth for a moment. Then you heard the distant sound of another approaching. You immediately pushed back, but not before pulling a small scale from your tail and wedging it between the rocks, it would gleam under the moonlight. And just like that you were gone. 

“Wait,” his voice died as he heard the tell-tale sign of someone approaching. 

“There you are, your father is losing his mind looking for you,” Steve’s voice echoed around the now empty lagoon. As Bucky turned to leave the thigh high water and retreat back to shore he noticed the faint glint in the water. Reaching down he snagged the scale and admired it a moment before tucking it in his pocket and joining his friend and heading back to the beach where his father waited. 

The scale felt heavy in his pocket, he felt its weight all the time. He has worn a small divot in the scale from rubbing it all the time when he was worried, or there was a lull in work on the ship. He kept it hidden though, how could he explain he found such a pretty thing without giving it away, he broke one of the cardinal rules of piracy, when he found her he should have trapped her, stripped her scales and killed her. But instead he kept her secret and held onto the scale. On nights of full moons he would admire it in the moonlight, it would shimmer differently in the moon than it did in the sun.

The sea was calm tonight while he watched the deck, watching over the crew as they finished nightly duties, the moon high in the sky and full. A shiver ran down his spine as he looked over the still water as the moon reflected off it. Something felt wrong and he couldn’t quite place it. Then he heard it, it was faint at first, soft like a cotton quilt as it whispered through the night like a soft breeze and it slowly grew louder. The men on deck heard it and rushed to the sides of the ship trying to catch a glimpse of those responsible for the song. 

“Cover your ears you fools!” He shouted loudly, trying to project his voice louder than the siren song. He quickly shoved the cotton he kept on hand into his ear canals to block the song out. It was too late for some of them, the sirens had crawled up the side of the ship, they had dug their claws into the minds of these men and dragged them over the side of the boat without any protest. 

His father rushed from the cabin, shoving cotton in his ears and tossing a pistol at his first mate. They went to war against the sirens whose hands shifted to claws and swiped toward anyone that pointed a gun at them. This was a whole pod of them, at least 15 circling the ship, ready to drag it to the briny depths. He looked over the edge, aiming a shot at the purplish tail he saw swim through silvery water as their spilled blood glistened in the moonlight. Their song was getting louder and louder, the cotton almost not enough to protect his ears. 

There was a sickening crack that echoed through the silent night. The ship shifted and he felt it sinking as it took water on quickly. “Dad!” He shouted as he grabbed his fathers arm and tried to drag him to a life raft so they could try and escape the sinking ship. 

“No boy, a captain goes down with his ship,” his father roared. He shoved a sack in his son's arms, he was pulled backwards and thrown overboard next to the life raft, his best friend following behind, cutting a rope for the raft that fell next to them.  

The shock of the cold water as he hit it made him jolt and thrash as the weight of the bag dragged him down in the icy depths. His eyes burned as he tried to see into the dark sea, the salt stinging them further. He felt the current change rapidly, something was circling him and fast, he wiped around trying to find whatever it was. His eyes were useless in the briny darkness. This thrashing and turning were quickly draining his energy and he was losing his oxygen fast. 

He felt something grip his ankle and pull him, he thrashed and kicked out, he felt something connect and the hand gripping his ankle was gone, he tried to swim up but the bag was pulling him further down. He refused to leave it behind. As he looked up through the dark sea he saw the moon shining down over him, then a set of striking eyes and a body covered the moonlight. Hands gripped his shoulders and hauled him upwards. 

He gasped loudly and coughed himself awake. He was face down in the sand, the bag his father gave him next to him and no one around him. The grainy sand made his skin itch, he tried to move but his body felt weak, he was exhausted and parched. 

“Holy shit!” He heard a voice yell, the sound of splashing water and then he felt hands grip his shoulders and haul him upright, the arms wrapped around him tightly and he felt cool tears on his cheek. 

“You’re alive, I thought we lost you, you were being dragged down to the depths, how?” Steve was rambling, he hugged him tighter. “God I’m so glad you’re alive.” 

“My dad,” Bucky croaked, “my dad, is he..?” His voice trailed off. Steve gave him a solemn look and nodded. 

“Him and most of the crew. The Morning Star is gone too. They’re in Davy Jones' locker now, god rest their souls,” Steve said softly. “The sirens took her down.” Bucky nodded and groaned. His head was pounding and his throat was dry as desert. 

Eight Years Later 

You watched from your hiding spot as they off loaded, medicine, on to the port. You had been curious about this crew since they made port yesterday, most of the things they were off loading were for the benefit of the people and they were not charging handsomely for the supplies. That part baffled you even more, most men were greedy, pirates more so. 

The Daybreak as the ship was named, looked to be a modified frigate. That allowed it to be agile and quick while still housing powerful weapons. Nothing like the Queen Anne’s Revenge or other large pirate ships that usually docked here. The people of the port seem to respect the crew of this ship a lot though, maybe they come here often. 

You had yet to spy the captain of this vessel though, the reason you were so close, too close, to the port was because you were curious if the man you saved 8 years ago would show his face on one of the many boats. He was the boy you met 12 years ago. You had saved him from an early watery grave when your sisters attacked his ship, you were supposed to drag him down, eat his heart but as you swam around him and he kicked your sister in the face you had wanted to look in his eyes before you killed him. But you couldn’t, the moment you saw those stormy blues you knew it was him from the lagoon. He let you live once and didn’t harm you, and you owed him a debt. The sea did not take kindly to owed debts. So you saved him, a life for a life. A debt repaid. 

You had tried finding him again at the lagoon but he rarely made port there and from what you could tell the alcove was abandoned shortly after his fathers ship was sunk by your sisters. So you visited the busier ports hoping to catch a glimpse of him again. 

That’s where you messed up, you were too close to the port so you could try and spy on the pirates. You were not hidden enough and the moonlight glinted off your tail just right and caught the eye of a pirate that just so happened to be walking past. You didn’t notice him, but he was quick to make note and let some of the other crew know. 

Curiosity got the better of you since this ship had been docked for 3 days there was no sign of the captain at all. What captain doesn’t leave their ship while at port. Against your better judgement and if your sisters had seen you they would have lost their minds, you swam up to the ship once the night was in full swing. Most of the crew would either be sleeping or on shore enjoying the comforts of women and booze. 

There was a full moon tonight that slowly dropped down so the sun could rise, and the sea was calm. You should have heeded the warning signs but foolishly you crept around the ship far too close to the surface trying to spy the captain of the magnificent beast. 

Bucky held the scale in his hand as the full moon light glimmered through the open window. It shimmered brilliantly under the moon. It felt heavier than usual tonight, it was almost humming. The scale was a curious trinket and very few knew he had it. His first mate and best friend Steve being one of them, and the swamp witch. He had lost it once, and his heart and chest felt like it was going to explode. The swamp witch said that his connection with the scale with other worldly and the siren that had left it with him probably bewitched it. Or he was somehow connected to the siren herself. But tonight it almost felt like the scale was singing to him. 

“Captain,” Steve said in a hushed tone as he entered the quarters, “something is amiss with the crew. I fear they’re planning something.” Bucky nodded and waved his hand to dismiss him, Bucky was too focused on the scale he held in the fading moonlight. Steve shook his head and left the cabin. 

You gave up soon and decided to cut your losses and get away from the ship and retreat to a secluded cave not far from the docks for the rest of the night. You didn’t notice the crewmen following your glistening scales. Once inside the cave, the water is much shallower than the ocean. You laid your head down and stretched your tail out and relaxed. 

Something heavy was thrown on top of you and woke you immediately. You thrashed and flailed around trying to get free as an inhuman screech left your mouth. It was a net, “dose her,” someone shouted as you thrashed. Something sharp struck your hip area and you nearly passed out all fight and drive stolen from you. You felt yourself fold as the net was gathered and hauled through the water as they pulled you to god knows where. 

“Easy does it men,” someone said, your head was pounding and you felt incredibly groggy and weak. You were thrown to the ground and slid across the deck and hit the wall of the ship, you were pulled back to the centre quickly and they pulled the net off you. You looked around frantically, you tried to move your tail but it felt like it weighed 1000 lbs. 

You quickly tried to pull yourself across the deck and fall overboard but a scream left your throat suddenly as a sword was jammed into your fin and into the floorboard keeping you in place. You looked around at the group of men that surrounded you with greedy eyes. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Someone barked as they pushed through the crowd. He was blonde and the moment your eyes connected he gawked at you for a moment before shouldering out of the way and heading toward the captains quarters. 

“Those scales will fetch a mighty fine amount of gold,” some of the crewmen said, licking his lips as his eyes roved over your body. 

“What is going on?” A new voice boomed and all the crewmen immediately stood at attention. He came into view and your breath hitched. It was him, it was the man from before. You couldn’t believe your eyes. He looked at you and immediately recognized you, there was something dark in his eyes as he stared at you, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. 

“Bloody hell,” his eyes were wide as you looked you over, you felt incredibly exposed and turned to cover yourself. He pulled the sword from your fin, and you pulled your tail close to you. You felt a burn in your tail as the sun of the morning beat down on it, the scales dropping and disappearing the longer you sat there. 

“Captain!” Someone shouted, your tail was disappearing as everyone gawked and human legs started to form. He stared at you wide eyed as legs appeared like magic before him. 

In an attempt to get away you scrambled your feet and tried to get away. Never having used feet or legs before you didn’t make it far and fell down. The crew laughed, but quickly stopped at the captain's fierce gaze. He was taking his coat off as he took a few cautious steps toward you, he threw it on top of you and stepped back quickly as you bared your teeth to him.

“Who’s idea was this?” The captain growled as he looked around at his crew. Everyone was silent. “I asked a question.” 

“It was I sir,” someone stepped forward. “I saw her snooping around the ship and followed her. We caught her and brought her here,” he finished. 

“What did I say about chasing merfolk?” The captain's voice was tense. “I told you not to. We can’t let her back in the water now. She’ll call her sisters and we’re as good as dead,” the captain pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“We drugged her, she can’t grow her tail back. We got it from the swamp witch,” a crewman said. Which you missed because as the captain addressed his crew you as quietly as possible pulled yourself across the deck to the edge and threw yourself off. The captain's head whipped to the side as he looked toward where he heard the splash. He immediately dove over the side of the ship and into the water. You were sinking and flailing, unable to use your human legs effectively for anything. The captain wrapped his arms around your middle and hauled you to the surface of the water, you trashed against his arms and screamed, water filled your throat as your gills didn’t grow back either. 

The crew pulled the captain back on board with you grasped in his arm, he threw you to the ground and you weren’t breathing. 

“Fuck,” the captain dropped to his knees and started to force to the water from your lungs, you coughed violently a moment later sending sea water flying all over him. You gasped for air and felt panic set in as you looked into his bright blue eyes, why didn’t your fin grow back, what was happening. Why couldn’t you call your sisters when you hit the water. Your siren song is gone completely. 

“Whoa. Whoa. You were drugged. The cure is a couple month journey, we’ll get it for you,” the crew erupted in protest. 

“What!? Why?” Some shouted. “I say we cut it throat and bleed the bitch,” one person yelled over the rest. Fear gripped your heart as you looked into the captain's eyes, frantically searching for something that would save you from that fate. 

“No,” it was a simple answer as the captain effortlessly hauled you up into his arms and marched toward his quarters, throwing the door open and slamming it shut. He dropped you in his bed and backed away and started to pace as you stared at him fearfully. You pushed back against the wall and pulled your legs to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. You felt tears leak out of your eyes and your throat was dry and scratchy. 

“I know you,” the captain finally said as he stopped and looked at you, you shrunk further under his intense gaze. “You were the one who saved me, the one I saw at the lagoon,” you nodded at him. “Why,” he asked sternly. 

You pointed at your throat and gasped. He raised an eyebrow at you, you sighed and rolled your eyes. You pointed at his hip flask and then at your throat again. 

“You’re thirsty?” He asked, you nodded vigorously. He moved quickly and you jumped, pushing father away from him. “Sorry,” he said as he extended his arm out with a small cup of water. You snatched it and drank it back quickly, feeling immediate relief. 

“Debt repaid,” you croaked out. His eyebrow raised quizzically again. You sighed heavily, “you saved me,” another long drink of water, “I saved you. Life for life.” Your voice was evening out and crackling less. Your English was still choppy and words sounded difficult for you to say. 

“You felt you owed me a blood debt?” He asked, you rolled your eyes, humans. You nodded again. 

“The sea does not take kindly to owed debts. She believes in balance,” the words came out rushed and choppy. 

“So if you killed me 8 years ago, you, what, would be punished for not repaying the debt?” He asked, confused. 

“Yes, the ocean, she would punish my sisters and I,” your breath hitched suddenly at the mention of your sisters. They would eventually come looking for you once they realised they couldn’t hear your song. “I need to get back to them, they’ll kill you and your crew,” you said frantically. 

“Whoa,” he held his hands up at you, “easy there girl, I can’t just let you go back to them. Who’s to say you won’t lead them right to us?” He said, your chest tightened and your heart was pounding, you stared at him fearfully. 

“You’re holding me hostage?” Your voice cracked as tears threatened to pour out of your eyes now. 

“They’ll want me to gut you before I let you leave,” he said, and rubbed his beard clad chin. “Hell they'll only agree to bring you to the swamp witch so you can get your scales back so they can take them.” He said it so casually, your eyes widened at him. 

“I’ll bring you to the cure, but you’ll own me, you’ll be in my debt again,” you gulped. “And I can think of a few ways you can repay it,” you made a disgusted expression and gawked at him, a sour note leaving your throat. He looked at you and his eyes widened suddenly, “god no, not that,” he said quickly. You breathed a sigh of relief. 

“So what will you do with me? Throw me in the cell in the brig. Let your crew have their way with me,” you spat at him venomously. His eyes darkened suddenly, something sinister hiding in those ocean blues. He glared at you and you shrunk under his gaze. 

“No one will lay a hand on you,” he all but growled at you. There was possessiveness to his words, his gaze hard and there was a storm brewing in his eyes. “You will stay here. With me.” He said with a sense of finality, you looked at him disgusted again. 

“I’m not going to be your personal whore,” you snapped. His face snapped to face yours instantly and he was standing very close to you, his face right in yours and he glared into your eyes, you could smell the remnants of rum on his breath, your breath hitched. 

“You will be what I want you to be. If you want protection from them out there,” his tone was hard, stern. It scared you beyond belief. His hand reached out and he cupped your chin in his large calloused fingers making you look into his eyes. “Do I make myself clear?” You gulped and nodded, he immediately dropped his hand from your chin and walked away like he was disgusted by being that close to you. You watched him take a few deep breaths and shake his shoulders out. 

“I will not harm you or expect anything of you that you are not comfortable with. The debt you owe me can be repaid once you get your fins back,” he said evenly before leaving the cabin, leaving you completely alone. 

You took some deep shuddering breaths before you tried to move from the bed. The moment you stood you wobbled and fell back into the bed. You groaned loudly and fisted the sheets in frustration. The ship was still docked, if you could get these god forsaken legs to work with you, you could possibly escape back onto port before the ship got too far away. But based on the fact you couldn’t even stand upright without falling that would not be happening. And not to mention you were naked from the chest down, and the only thing covering your breasts was your handmade bra. You loved it, it was adorned in gems, and shells. You used things you found from wrecks to make it, the jewellery you wore was also from the many shipwrecks on the ocean floor. 

Resigned to your fate you tucked yourself into the corner of the bunk and covered your legs with the blanket. It was scratchy and rough against the skin of your barre legs. This is a feeling you didn’t think you would get used to any time soon. You tried to get your body and brain to work in sync by practising wiggling your toes and rolling your ankles around. Then bending your knees and twisting your leg at the hip. You would have to figure these legs out sooner rather than later or it would be a boring 2 months before you made it ‘swamp witch’ as they called the mother.  

It was while before you heard movement outside the cabin door, it slammed open, “Bucky, man you’re crazy. The crew, they'll never agree to keeping her here,” the blonde from earlier shouted at his captain. You scrambled back into the corner of the bed and tucked yourself into a small ball as his gaze snapped over to you. 

“It’s her isn’t it? The one who gave you scale 12 years ago. I recognized it the second I saw her tail,” he spat at his captain. 

Bucky threw his hand over the blonde mouth and glared into his eyes, “shush you fool,” Bucky snapped. “Yes it’s her,” he whispered, releasing the blonde's face.

“We’re so fucked,” the blonde threw his hands up in the air. He immediately whipped around and stalked up toward you, you pressed back further as he pointed his finger directly at you. “I don’t know how you bewitched him, or what your plan is,” he grabs your wrist and slit it with a knife, you yelped and stared back at him in fear as he slid the blade across his palm. Before he could connect the cuts together the captain grabbed the blonde's wrist. 

“Fool,” Bucky spat at his first mate. “That’s a siren. You can’t make a blood bond with her. Their song runs in their blood. You foolish idiot.” He threw his friend away from you. You cursed yourself for a moment, earlier when you fell into the sea, you should have sliced your palm and let the blood trickle into the water. Your sisters would have heard it. The song of the blood was different, more desperate than your usual song and would have called your sisters to your side immediately. But that only worked in water. He grabbed the blade and slid the blade across his palm and grabbed your cut wrist. 

Your blood mingled and you felt it singing, it was powerful, primal almost. As the blood mingled and combined you felt pinpricks through your body, his eyes were glowing a little as your siren blood mixed with his human blood. You were shocked a mere mortal would foolishly bond himself in blood to a siren. “If you harm anyone on or off this ship or this ship itself. You will parish,” he ground out as he felt your blood seep into his veins. You glared at him and growled, you put your other hand on his and kept them connected. 

“If you or any of your crew harms me, they will parish,” you spat at him, eyes ablaze. He ripped his hand from your wrist and glared down at you. 

“You witch,” the blonde spat. 

“Enough Steve,” Bucky said, breathing heavily. “You got what you wanted. A protection pact. Bound in blood,” he finished. The wounds healing quickly, the magic of the sea seeping into the ships boards. 

“You let her damn us. Now we can’t kill her afterwards,” Steve spat, he glared at you. You glared back. 

“Blood pacts can be broken. The swamp witch can do it,” your lip twitches. 

“To break a blood pact will cost you gravely,” your voice was an eerie tone, darker than before, more far away. His head whipped toward you and you smirked at him, “are you sure you’ll want to pay the price.” The price of breaking a blood pact usually favoured neither party. The sea would always get the last laugh in these circumstances. 

“The worst it could be is death,” the captain spat toward you. “And fortune favours the bold.” 

“There are fates worse than death, captain,” you snarled back. He whipped around and placed the tip of his sword under your chin and made you look into his eyes. 

“Of which you’ll learn,” he retorted. 

“You can’t harm me. Any harm and the punishment is grave,” you challenged, not cowering from him. He growled and a shiver went down your spine. 

Feel free to send me a message if you have a request or would like more, or would like to be added to the tag list!

[lady-laree-world]

Mermaid eyes

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Bucky Barnes X mermaid! reader

a\n: ok, i know i said i would update constantly but after i wrote the first chapter i thought about the next ones and i edited it many times, so i didn't feel like publishing it. Now that I have a more or less clear idea of ​​what the story will be like, I'll start posting more. as always I apologize for some grammar mistakes or anything else but English is not my first language.

I recommend reading the prologue to better understand the story

hope you like it :) 🩷

Panic rushed through your mind. the tail was stuck and there was no way to undo the net that brought you to the surface. the cold wind blew hard on your wet skin and slowly the net rose more and more, until you were no longer in the water.

The net suddenly plummets and you fall with a loud thud onto a hard wooden surface, a soft moan escaping your lips. You were on the ship and now there was no way to escape. You hear sighs of surprise and soft cackles coming from all around you, but you refuse to look, resting your forehead on your folded arms, staring at the wooden beams below you. Someone touches your tail and you immediately move it closer to you, hissing at the stranger

<Move>

a deep, gruff voice spoke, followed by some shifting and strong, determined footsteps. you look up slightly and find a pair of black boots in front of you. I back away slowly, scared of what the human might do, but your movements are blocked by the net, which still completely covers you. The stranger crouches in front of you and takes a corner of the net, lifting it and freeing your head. At that point you decide to look at him and he looks very different from the humans your mother used to describe to you. The cold, serious look on his face worried you, but they sure weren't as terrifying as the evil ones you used to imagine.

<What do we have here? A little mermaid> His smile seemed almost reassuring, a little hope among the looks of hatred and surprise of the other sailors. His hand runs over your wet and dripping hair, your tail moves restlessly, trying to free itself. His gaze moves to it, and is mesmerized by it. The lustrous color was shimmering in the sunlight, your skin was pearly, shiny and glowing. The man's hand descended on your shoulders to touch the scales that covered you in some areas and you jerk away hissing. The man quickly withdraws his hand and speaks <excuse me, little Mermaid> he gives you a smile, almost joking and gets up again. <I'm Captain Barnes and this is my ship, can you understand me?> There's still an expression of fear on your face, but you nod slowly, almost surprised by his words.

<Well, little mermaid, what's your name?> His blue eyes scan you and seem to study your every move. Spend a few seconds pondering whether to answer or not, then your voice rings melodiously in the silence, your name like a sweet whisper in her ears. His smile grows slightly and he looks at you with soft eyes, sensing your fear. <If you let me catch you, I'll help you get back to the sea> You look at him in surprise, your eyes widen and he can finally tell the color of your eyes. Immediately after his words, his crew emits sounds of disagreement, but he hastens to stop them with a wave of his hand. <so, what do you think?>

you approach him, crawling on your tail, to better observe his blue eyes <will you really let me go or is it a trap?>

His eyes seem to soften when you get close to him and the sound of your voice amazes him. He crouches down to your height again and speaks to you in a playful and sweet tone, but with a hint of seriousness in his voice <although you are an infinitely wonderful creature, y\n, I can't keep you here, will you allow me to help you?>

Your heart leaps and a new flame of hope ignites in your heart as you nod vehemently. his hands come close to your body, one behind your back, the other under your tail. His warm breath blows into your ear as he stands up <tell me if I hurt you in any way>

You nod and he props you up against the edge of the ship, your tail pointing out to the water but your head still pointing towards him. his hands move and rest on the edge of the ship, on the sides of your body. You look at the water below you: would it really have been that easy to go home?

<come on, little mermaid, aren't you afraid to dive in?> his playful expression reassures you and you turn towards him, a sweet smile on your lips and, just before diving in, you whisper a thank you. The cool water hits your skin warm from the sun's rays and you immediately feel at home.

[buckyalpine]

I know it's a tad late for Halloween BUT I had this idea because of last year with this so:

"Nice pirate costume" Sam nodded his head in approval as Bucky approached the bar wearing a dark shirt, half unbuttoned, showing off a very nice view of his chest. His long black coat was belted at his waist along with a bandana tied on top of his head. His sword swayed with his hips, his beard trimmed down.

"I hope so, do I look like Will Turner?" Bucky looked down at his boots again, having already checked his outfit 10 times before leaving, comparing it to the reference photo, "I even waxed my chest"

A series of wolf whistles followed while Bucky patted himself down to make sure he had every bit of his costume in place, you insisted it had to be perfect, how else would people get it Bucky

"Oo, is y/n Elizabeth Swan? That's hot" Tony smirked with a wink while Bucky sighed, "Why do you look stressed, it's a great couples costume-

"HE'S GOT MY EYE! HE WON'T GIVE IT BACK!"

"Jesus"

Bucky could hear the cackling from somewhere in the abyss of people, the sound getting closer and closer.

"Who else could she be, you look terrified Buck, what's-

"I KNOW YOU'RE HERE POPPET"

"Is she-

"Yes. Yes she is"

"Good God"

"Is she Pintel or Ragetti?"

"...both"

"Hello, Poppet" You grinned, scurrying over with a hobble towards your boyfriend, shamelessly eyeing him up and down. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD"

"Baby-

"POPPET"

"I-I need the Rum"

[darkdemeter]

・issue #--・ 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍, 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄

⚤ Dark Pirate!Bucky Barnes x Siren!Female Reader Pirate Bucky — semi dark Bucky — submissive/soft captive reader — possessive Bucky — SMUT 18+, Minors DNI! — P in V sex — memory loss/wiping via magic (reader affected) — light use of physical and sexual acts to avoid conflict — indirect breeding kink? — pet names — brief consumption of alcohol — I think that's it? ✎ 4.1k He is your captain. There is no place you'd rather be than by his side, nothing you could ever want for that is not him. You owe everything, your entire self, to him. Yet overboard and on the tide you sail across, in search for a great and ancient treasure, a song continues to seep through the cracks of your heart and soul… a song so familiar yet unknown. Forgotten. Bucky reminds you yet again that there is no place else for you that isn't beside him, that there is nothing out there.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

  There lays a song forgotten in your heart and soul, distantly faint as the receding tide to the shore. With each spare moment of peace you were given to dwell beneath the lapping waters, you spend a portion of it in search of that song. And what time remains within the falling sand’s glass, you bask in the blue and faded black abyss. 

  Tonight is no different. You could not remember the forgotten song that lulls you tenderly, pulling through skin and scale, calling you somewhere far, much too far, away from the balancing hull above. 

  You could not abandon your captain. Betray the trust between you both. After all, it was he who found you washed atop the rocky crevices of the island, who rescued you from a fate of drying out in the sun’s merciless heat. Who took care of you when there was nothing left of the life you once knew. 

  To break that earnt trust, to betray him, you can’t think of anything far more heartbreaking than that. 

“Time’s up, my Siren,” the voice of your captain beckons you. He calls you to the surface. 

  A sigh ripples through the water and your head tilts up towards the surface, the darkened slits in your milky white eyes shrink away from the moonlight penetrating through the waves. The long limb of your tail sweeps back and forth, thrusting you upwards, skin and scales shimmering brighter as you near the barrier between water and air. The breach pulls a lungful gasp of the night's chillingly crisp air, the only warmth coming from The Avenger. 

  Hair drench-pressed and thinned forms a curtain over your features as you peer up at the looming figure pridefully arching over the ship’s wooden rail. The slivered slits of your eyes grow wider as they focus on him, with a lantern beside him, glass scorched and worn by smoke, it illuminates the upper portion of his body. His white shirt ruggedly wrinkled and loosened to showcase a muscled chest, skin tanned by the sun’s heated kiss, sleeves rolled to the elbow, black ink painted legendary stories over his body in memorabilia. Stories forged into his flesh for all to study and cower in fear.

  He summons you with a kink of his finger and you obey his silent command with an all too eager nod. Around you, the water spirals into a column and rises up, pushing you higher to reach the wooden railing. Aboard the ship, the crew is merry in their celebrations. Another successful day of conquest and battle on the high seas, another amassed sum of gold and valuables to add to hull and reputation. 

  Of course spirits would be high and cheerful tonight. And of course, what was a conquest without the captain’s prize at the end of it all?

  Gathering yourself over the rail and onto the deck, the glistening shine of your tail morphs into two shapely legs, the milky hues of your eyes and other remnants of your true body hide in their human disguise. Your eyes find the hourglass on his opposite side, the sand all gathered in the bottom glass pit. Your captain holds something out for you and you graciously accept his gift, pulling the thin veil of your robe over your naked body. 

  His ocean blue eyes scan you up and down, the left corner of his plush, chapped lips turns upwards. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He purrs his question and it brings a cold chill to run up and down your spine, your lungs freeze with what little breath they had at that moment. 

  He turns his body properly to face you, burly shoulders and thick muscles straining the fabric of his shirt. His eyes fold slightly into a sharpened stare of interrogation. 

  “I–I don’t…” You shake your head, breath hitching. “I don’t understand, Captain. I search for nothing that is not you.”

  “Aye?” 

  Your gaze drops to the limb of his remaining flesh hand, the other limb itself brings an uncomfortable yet hazy familiarity, you dare not to look at it up close when in the awoken presence of his intimidating stature. Often you would question its being there and admire its raw and unique - mystical - materials, when your captain lay beside you fast asleep. 

  Wrapped tightly over and under the callousness of his palm, the golden chain twinkles in the pale moonlight, the larger pearl at its centre holstered by binding gold and tinier pearls, beneath the gilded net a more refined shape of a pearl dances on its link. 

  However, your mesmerised pupils flicker up in an instant, brought to the attention of your captain awaiting your obedient answer. A noise is pitched in your throat with the answer but it dies swiftly before its deliverance. 

  Your vision focuses behind him then, up near the ship’s helm, her fingers lace slowly in their hypnotic movement as the fabric of her scarlet magic is weaved together. A warning. You do your best to hide the distressed visage of fear, batting your eyelashes and brushing aside the death of your verbal response, you bow your body forward submissively to his that towers over you.

  When your lips touch his, he almost instantly devours yours in a hungry kiss, the soft caress of your fingers tracing the curves of his chest brings pride and lust to possessively reel you into him, your nude front colliding against the hardened wall of his own. 

  Your hands run their course of exploration up the swollen bulk of his arms until they find purchase and entangle themselves in his dark locks. His own hands ravage your body, kneading the flesh and slim muscle of your hips.

  He groans when you submit to his overpowering will, mouth parting to his eager tongue that shoots forward like a fired cannon, aimed to dominate you in every sense of the word. Your soft whimpers beneath him bring him unimaginable pleasure, the sort that drives him to seek it evermore, with no seeming end to his insatiable hunger for what is you; your entire being. Wolves are known to be ravenous beasts. It’s why he’s known by the moniker as the White Wolf. 

  His tongue fiercely dances over yours, swirling and his bottom teeth tease you by nipping your lip, earning a high pitched squeal from you. He chuckles, the sound rich and dark in its intention. Your core comes alight, burning hotly and the once cool air dissipates as heat courses through every vein and nerve in your body, your mind swimming in the ocean pools of his eyes. Eyes that at times are the only thing you need to be connected to the sea. 

  The prominent tent of his erected endowment presses against your stomach and lower abdomen. You finally pull away, however, in his caging embrace it’s not very far you’re able to move back. 

  “Wait for me in my cabin, little Siren,” he orders gruffly. Your mouth falls agape and you sputter in your rattled confusion. 

  “But I—” Still he penetrates you with that cold stare. It prods at you with radiant intensity, it matches the ominous scarlet glow that now burns brighter now as it moves down the upper deck’s stairs. Your eyes dart between the woman who controls the rolling waves of red magic and the ferocity of your captain’s hardpressed gaze. 

  Your head bounces quickly. “Yes...” 

  A few words of compliance are cut off by a gasp. As you attempt to follow his order and return to his cabin, he halts you within his metallic grasp and pulls you back in, curled lips mere inches from your own, in the clutches of his brazen hold, he commands your attention. Your hands are forced to rest over his chest. 

  He drawls with a warning growl, “Yes?”

  “Yes, Captain Barnes.”

  Bucky nods his head once and lets you go, his eyes flicker between the cabin door and you, silently instructing you to hurry along. Your bare feet barely make a sound over the wooden deck in your traversal towards the cabin, where you would await your captain to claim his prize. Treasure that he greedily gets to have all to himself. The conquest he takes glee in ravishing himself full of. 

  Once you’re tucked inside, exactly where he wants you, Bucky scratches at his stubbled jaw, his recent shave already beginning to grow in again. Wanda approaches his side, the fabric of her magic ceasing at her fingertips like embers passing over into lowly ashes. 

  “That was a close one,” Bucky growls, his tongue that savours your taste runs over his teeth. She hisses with a hushed tone, “With each outing she is given to delve into the sea, my magic weakens, Captain.”

  His eyes roll to glare at the woman beside him. She sighs with a bow of her head, eyes downcast as to not provoke him into thinking her words a challenge. 

  “All I mean to say is that you must reinforce her rules. She’s beginning to suspect far too much, and with each piece of recollection, my power is sapped by her own. Enforce her rules once more.”

  Bucky’s shoulders shrug upwards with an all too arrogant huff, haughty in his conviction. He idly tilts his flesh hand, admiring the piece of you he has wrapped up in his iron grasp. 

  “She will do well to keep in mind her place. She’s intimidated.”

  “She’s conflicted, Captain.” Her words bring about a scowl to Bucky’s face, lips coiled into a snarl and nose wrinkling, eyes thinning. “And it will be a matter of time before she is free of you, and you will be known as the captain who lost his siren.”

  The bridge of this knowledge leaves Bucky in a state of strife. An aspect to his notorious reputation was garnered by your captivity. The White Wolf known by all as the fearsome pirate captain who tamed a siren; held you in the oyster of his clutches. If he did lose you, then his reputation would be suffering a heavy loss. As if to sense his change of demeanour, her hands raise up with her glowing, magic tipped fingers. His nostrils flare and the harsh prestige that made him a force not to be trifled with, he commands,  “Do it.”

  Bucky struts off with a roll of thunder beneath his leather worn boots, swiping up a half drunk bottle of rum and swallows an animalistic gulp, joining in on the festivities of his crew. Wanda observes her captain for a moment before diverting her attention towards the cabin. Her hands fold over one another, and with her palms outstretched, the scarlet hue dances through the air in a thin, cloudy blanket, searching and finding the miniscule gap beneath the wooden door. 

  He pummels into you until your back pushes far into the mattress, eliciting sharp whines and sultry moans from your parted lips, breath caught in a pattern of shallow pants. He chases after his second high as he drives his cock deep into you, the sound of skin slapping skin perverts the cabin’s air and already you begin to feel your core tremble in its own pursuit for its fourth orgasm. With each powerful snap of his hips, his throat chokes out a grunt in his exertions, the girth of his cock sinks deep into the channel of your hot, velvety cunt. 

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he growls lowly with a hiss, “so fuckin’ tight! You feel so good, you’re— taking me so well.” 

  With an exceptionally powerful rut of his hips and he has you on the precipice of screaming, thighs quivering in their hold around his waist, heels digging into the dip of his large, muscular back. Any coherent thoughts and words die on the vine of your vocal cords, only able to procure sounds of pleasure, to chant his name over and over again. 

  “Captain Barnes!” you mewl with fervour. Bucky’s chest vibrates with a husky chuckle. “That’s right, scream my name, let the crew hear you, Love. Let them hear how drunk you are for my cock.” 

  His one palm is laced with sweat, thick and roughened fingers squeeze yours in a passionate display of his dark possessiveness over you. Your captain could be very jealous when another’s eyes lingered on you for even a second too long, many others had suffered the brunt of his fury - weapons ablaze - and you in the end suffered the brunt of his envy with his cock pounding into you for the next several hours. 

  To remind you to whom it was you belong to. 

  His lips suckle one of the erected peaks of your breasts, moaning as his tongue leaves a wet trail around it before passing over to the second to repeat the treatment. Your head turns to the side sharply when the head of his cock splits you open even further than you could previously imagine, hitting a hidden crevice that leaves you without breath. 

  He gauges your reaction, the colour of your eyes blurring, phasing between the natural milky white canvases and the hue of your disguise, your canines and incisors now elongated, all because of the pleasure that pools at the junction where your bodies meet. But for a moment, you catch the glimmer of gold still wrapped around his hand, glimmering metal gnawing and rubbing across his skin, you’re torn between your euphoria and clouded curiosity. 

  “Say it again,” he grunts with a hard thrust that makes his muscles ripple insanely beneath his skin.

  “C’mon, say it for your captain, Love.” 

  Your lips and tongue drag across the flesh of his wrist, the pulse of his racing heart beats through, you can almost taste the rhythm. His sweat tastes strong with his musk, a strong flavour of the salty sea, sandy beaches and gunpowder. 

  You moan softly, almost in a whisper, “Captain… C-Captain Barnes.”

  The effect you have on him is indescribable to him. Never has he been able to put it into words, all he can do is feel it; carnally. The repetitive pounding into that deeper and sweeter spot has your back arching up, the smooth layer of your sweat covered body rubs against his, able to feel each defining muscle, he uses his metal hand to grip hold of one of your thighs, angling you so that you’re spread further apart for him. Your eyes begin to fall heavy and roll back into your skull in your drunken haze, the shimmer of scarlet presently blooms from time to time in them.  

  “That’s right. You belong to me, little Siren. It’s my cock that has you dripping wet.” His thrusts become faster, losing the precise edge he had before, his climax inevitably as close as your own. Your nails embed crescent moons into the skin of his one hand while the other bites into his shoulder. 

  “I’m the only man— fuck! The only man who gets to have you like this. Shit… shit. ’M going to fill you up.” 

  “Please, please… Cap—”

  “Aye, I’m going to fill you up, have you nice ‘nd full until my cum is leaking out of your little cunt, Siren. Fuck… you want that, don’t you? I know you do.” 

  You gasp with each attempt to breathe, each push and pull of his cock strikes you like a match to light the powder keg, the explosion of your climaxes comes as a white hot flash in your vision, momentarily blinding you. Your hot walls squeeze around his large endowment, forcing him to thrust back and forth even harder, grunting hot breaths against the shell of your ear. 

  His seed is flushed into the channel of your pussy in thick, seething spurts that paint your walls that milk him for every precious drop. 

  What he gives makes your lower abdomen weigh a little heavier, a little bit fuller than you were before. His hips grow slower with each dissipating explosion from his tip. His large chest expands hugely with every intake of air to his lungs before deflating as a pleased groan. 

  In his reverie of contentment, having had his fill of his prize - for now - he withdraws his softening cock from your pussy, a moistened pop echoes in the emptiness of your thoughts. Bucky rolls off of you to lay at your side, atop the furs and silken drapes of the bed. Before you can make a move he uses his metal arm to drag you in closer, tucking you into his side, the coldness of his fingers skimming the delicate texture of your arm. 

  The soothing rock of the ship is enough to lull you to sleep, the lids of your eyes inching closer and closer together. 

  “Still deny that you found nothing?” 

  His question only brings your brows to knit together. You shake your head and huddle closer into his side, basking in the comforting warmth of his body. Why on earth would he ask you such a silly question? As if there was anything of importance that outranked him, by being at his side. 

  The answer you give is instant in its resolve, “I don’t understand, Captain. I needn’t find anything out there… I have you.” 

  Your answer, though unable to see it from your position, pleases him and his lips curl into a toothy smirk, long sweeps of his dark brown hair tousled about in his post sex state. You lay your head against his chest to hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, eyes closing to seek rest and refuge in the arms of your beloved captain. The man that grants you safety, that promises you nights of passion followed by the comfort of his body next to yours. All he asks in return is your loyalty. Your devotion.

  For you to be his siren. 

  Behind the blurry curtain of sleep layered over your eyes, you awaken and by your estimation, only for around an hour or maybe a little more. The morn still hasn’t risen over the ocean’s horizon, the moonlight shimmering and shining over the waves. The candlelight that bathed the cabin with a sensual atmosphere had now burnt out. 

  Breaths of deepened sleep sound next to you, the chiselled sculpt of his chest you’d used as a pillow takes steady form, as he sleeps. It makes you wonder as to what he dreams about, sometimes a scowl is etched into his attractive visage and he becomes restless, leaving you to somehow comfort him. And other times, mostly after he’s spent drawing orgasm after orgasm from the two of you, he finds respite. 

  You take the time to thoroughly yet delicately rub your eyes, robbing the tiredness of its hold to take you once more. With a tilt of your head, hair coming over your shoulder to graze the top of your breasts, his other hand lay out over the bed, residing just over the edge. 

  The mysterious object that somehow you know is linked with you, but as to how or why, or its significance to you in any case, is still laced around his calloused palm. Despite its odd gleam of familiarity, you believe this is the first time you’ve seen it before, however, the tiny voice in the back of your mind says otherwise. Then you must have seen something like it before somewhere. 

  Something deep in the recess of your heart, you have to know. Is this somehow linked to the estranged longing to a home you can’t remember? Does this necklace bind you to the lost melody of times erased from your memory?

  You take caution in moving carefully, inching your way to lean over the sleeping form of your captain, skin brushing skin, you slowly rotate your hips and hoist a thigh over his waist. Heated crimson flushes into your cheeks as you analyse your newfound position, but also from the way his body stirs lightly, still enraptured by sleep yet his body adjusting to your core lining over his naval. 

  Thawed from your frozen idle of panic, you take a moment to calm the racing of your heart that hammers vigorously against your chest, your nimble fingers reach out towards his flesh hand that clings protectively to the mysterious necklace. 

  This almost feels… too easy. You swallow a silent gulp, fingers grazing against his palm when his body shifts, bumping up into yours, you pull your reach back so fast, your hand slaps against his ribs, doing your best to cover up your true intentions. His stills beneath you once more and your shoulders fall lax with a sigh of relief. 

  Again you dare another attempt to grab the necklace, this time you don’t risk breathing, holding it for what seems like forever until your lungs begin to swell with an ache that makes them feel like bubbles about to burst. 

  You work the chain until it's loosened and finally allow your held breath to escape you, the strain to remain silent proving far more difficult than you would have liked. The weight of your body shifts backwards, now sitting up, you allow your eyes to take in every detail of the object in your hands. The gold chain is light, ghostly as it graces your hands, your fingers lace and loop it around amidst the process of your conjuring thoughts. 

  Like a puppeteer pulling the strings you raise the necklace up by its precious thread. The pearl encaged by its makeshift net swings from side to side, as though even when you are completely still, it has a soul of its own accord. 

  Everything you knew about pearls is forfeit, the identity of this one brings the bevel between your brows to form in thoughtful wonder. Therein lies the piece of some puzzle, the missing notes to the melody to which you only recall the faint rhythm of the song. 

  It has to mean something of greater importance. But if it did, then why is your captain so adamant to dismiss your curious nature to find the answers?

  As if the pearl itself is the key, you hear within your heart and soul the song. Voices sing a tone that is calming to your senses, a sweet and endearing lullaby meant for you to hear whenever you find yourself in the loneliest of places, in the darkest reaches of the ocean, the connection will bring you somewhere you call home. 

  But your home is The Avenger. Aboard the ship with Captain Barnes. The man known as Bucky to his closest inner circle. So why do the voices mingling with the tide call you away from all that? With each passing second you become ensnared by the spell of the pearl, the voices of whom you somehow find solace in become louder, the softened chorus of their song echoes a hundred times over in your head. 

  Before you even give pause to reason, your own voice becomes paired with the orchestra of sirens. You have no words, and maybe you never did, all you did need is the pearl to help guide you in remembering the melody. The uncertainty of your humming eases, the unforeseen instructors aiding you, your voice is soft within its deep reverie when it all comes to an abrupt pause, a gasp severing the tune. 

  He has you by the wrist, fingers bruisingly tight and giving you no choice to pull away from him, as he often did whenever he saw you retreat from him without his say so. 

  Bucky’s eyes bear into yours, penetrating the barrier of the necklace, he stares you down the way a wolf does the lonely prey in its path. His eyes match the brooding darkness of a storm at sea, a breed of villainy that threatens those who dare to try him. 

  “Captain…” Your throat bobs with a nervous swallow.  “I– I wasn’t—” 

  Out of pure instinct to not tempt his fury, your hold on the necklace ceases and it gathers in the roughened pad of his palm, large thumb that has caressed your sensitive nub plenty of times now works against the spherical shape of the pearl, brows heavy in their judgement to assess your punishment. His movement is sudden upon the brink of your awareness, a sharp gasp that cuts into the tender muscle of your chest as he plants you flat on your back, hands both of flesh and metal pin your wrists on either side of you until the bruising ache becomes far too unbearable. But you do nothing to voice the level of your pain. He would not hear of it. His newly erected shaft ghosts over your entrance, the beginnings of your slick painting his already drooling tip.  “I’m beginning to think you like breaking my rules, Siren.”

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, Yes. Yes... YAAAAS! IM DOING IT! I'm frickin' writing a pirate Bucky! Mmmm! Fuckin' love pirate stuff, I'm just living for Bucky being a hot pirate commanding a vessel on the high seas.

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic

[lunaroserites]

Yall want a mermaid fic in honour of Mermay?

I have a Pirate!Bucky x Mermaid!Reader fic hiding in my wips.

Lemme know if you want it!

[buckbuckbarnesstuff]

A masterpiece...Could read it over and over again. And I have.

Sky Full of Song - Series Masterlist

summary: Despite the bitter resentment of the crew, you found a home on Captain Barnes’ ship; on the ocean where you belonged, at the side of a captain you swore loyalty and heart to. But when course is plotted for a legendary island, the secret that has kept you alive for years is threatened to be revealed. pairing: pirate!bucky x pirate/siren!reader series word count: ~65k series warnings: taunts of sexual harassment, canon level violence, drowning, history of torture, smut (marked by chapter with a *), established mutual pining idiots, a romantic AF Captain Barnes

Weiterlesen

[nonoel-art]

Nami's concept design x Winter Soldier crossover ✨️

My 3rd mini submission for the @namiartcollab

[radioactive-yuri]

and also another reason why we need zemo at least somewhat involved with the thunderbolts. i need him riffing on the sambucky divorce arc

[radioactivespiderblood]

I'm regretting not live blogging the first half of Captain America: The First Avenger uh so here's some of my group chat messages about it.

the way I literally squealed when Bucky showed up

I love his slutty /pos belt

I always forget Jenna Coleman was (briefly) in this movie

yep still down bad for young Sebastian Stan

I'm gonna read so much Stucky fanfiction after this

[estrellacercadelvolcan]

This so so gorgeous! You are so talented, this is perfect! ❤️

Me and this Bucky

not all treasures are silver and gold.

[instupendousskylie]

I had to watch the thunderbolts movie on a pirated website because my family and I didn't have enough money to go watch it in theaters and the guy who recorded the movie DIDNT RECORD THE END CREDIT SCENE. I've been seeing stuff about the end credit scene and I've been going insane waiting to watch it and now I can't see it till it goes on disney+ 😕😕 LOVED THE MOVIE THO the only downside was not being able to see the end credit scenes 👍👍 ps spoilers in tags 🙏🙏

[darklambbandwolff]

𝔬𝔣𝔣 𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢

SIREN, BE BOUND TO ME II, III & IV (collective) Dark Pirate!Bucky Barnes x Siren!Female Reader

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Part 2 Original Transcript ・6.1k Mature! Dark, pirate Bucky — possessive Bucky, also feat. possessive reader — profanity — angst! — mention of alcohol — pet names ("Siren") — SMUT 18+ Minors DNI — unprotected (given) p in v sex — mention of marks/hickeys — there be depiction of wenches/prostitutes — semi-exhibitionism — mention of memory wipe through magic — minor cigar consumption (not reader) — very brief depiction of harm against a crew member — Rumlow, he's a bit of a sly creep ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Dawn kisses the horizon’s rolling waters, erasing the wicked hue of intermingling black and blue with colours brighter, more promising, to bloom over sky and sea. A sight that portraits serenity in order to inspire a welling of hope. The flaming orb of heat commands to stir the once slumbering crew into action. Little does it work to awaken your captain, already awake and buried deep in the channel of your cunt, his cock surges forward aggressively, tip kissing your cervix with each powerful snap of his hips. 

  Relentless, he rolls in tandem with the rock of the ship, a string of grunted breaths and deep, stuttering groans thrum in the cavern of his large chest, heart hammering against his ribcage. 

  He pulls from you another countless orgasm to add to another countless hour of this tortuous bliss. A flushing, white and hot, seizes hold of you and beckons your body to respond accordingly, trained in his art of greed your legs drag over the terrain of defined muscle to bring him impossibly closer. Skin melding to inked skin, sweat laced bodies mingling in heated, frictional euphoria. 

  “Y’love that, Siren? Huh,” he pants on the shell of your ear, “love it when I have you full of me?”

  You mewl a small, whiney sound. 

  “Yes—” you intake sharply, “C-Captain…”

  “Aye, say it again.” He growls deeply, teeth nip the lobe of your ear, his nose buried in the crook of your neck inhales deeply the sweet dew of your flushed skin. Rough and strong, his hands have yours pinned, as he does your entire body, pressed against blood-red and snowy white velvets and silks and dark, exotic furs once belonging to pompous princes. Now, they belong to the king of the sea and his siren. Hips rolling together in time, fingers interlacing, woven together in bound strength to hold each other as guarded lifelines, the webbing between your slender digits draws and withdraws from their tucked beds of skin. Pupils conflict between dark, slitted lines and circular globes of blackness blown in pleasure. 

  “Shit… fuck– so fuckin’ tight, Siren!” he hisses, “mine… only mine.”

  Already your core burns enticingly, welcoming another orgasm that follows closely behind your one just prior. His navel arcs to brush your clit, the girth of his cock strikes true each time, he pummels harder and faster, his tip the only portion to remain before he thrusts forward with a moistened glide.

  Corded notes of pleasure are threaded into hitched knots, producing small, hiccuping whines as your abused, slickened walls constrict around his cock to milk him of every drop. The small bridge of your back arches, the smooth surface of your salty skin gliding over the defined divots and scars of his muscular front, inch by inch you feel him everywhere; both outside and inside. 

  He’ll never let you go. As a man who prides himself in the fine freedoms of piracy, he’s a blackened heart that guards you with vigorous possessiveness. Nor do you think you’re capable of ever leaving him. He is all you have. He is yours just as much as you are his. 

  The treasure he covets with unmatched greed. No woman on this earth could ever encounter what you have above you and between your quivering legs that loop tightly over his strong waist. And because of this, you equally covet this treasure of yours. 

  His cock ruts your cervix roughly, tugging forth a long, high noted yelp underlined with a breathy huff, the rhythm of his hips stutters at the sound. His pink lips find yours, tongue drawing over your own, your submission allowing him to do as he pleased. He feeds off the chorus of your breathless song, a song meant just for him. Because of him. 

  “Fuckin’ hell…” His voice rasps, teeth sinking into the bend where your shoulder and neck meet. “Love it when y’sing for m— me.” A gut-emitted groan reverberates in his chest, Skin meets skin in synchronised slapping, raw and primal with need. Wooden legs rub and claw the floorboards with heavy creaks. 

  “L–look atcha… huh, whiney and cock drunk– mmm, gonna make you scream for me, Love.”

  His thrusts grow as ruthless as the brewing storms of the sea, lashing and rocking you beyond the point of refusal. There is no denying, no pushing away. Not when it comes to your captain. 

  “C’mon, Siren—” He pants with a series of rushing thrusts that pin you down. “Sing for me.” 

  The erected peeks of your breasts are tender as they push against his chest. You whimper softly. 

  “Captain…”

  “Aye, louder,” he growls. Of his flesh hand, his knuckles whiten dangerously until the skin melts over bone. Another harsh snap of his hips sends you spiralling on the verge of your orgasm.

  “Captain—” you gasp and he bites down into the bevel between your collarbone with a rasping growl. “Captain!”

  Your velvety walls tighten around the hardened length penetrating you, filling you, his cock encumbered by the vice of your cunt. The blinding flash covers your vision and heat spreads through every corner of your body, leaving nothing but a siren blinded in lustful bliss. He groans with each drag and push, muscles glistening in the soft glow of the rising sun. The flowing wave of his precious seed finds purchase in your lower abdomen. 

  It’s not until he completely empties his hot load, does he finally slow his pace to a stop. Above you he pants heavily, each breath reminding you of the sea’s spray and sun-tainted breeze that tousles the darkened locks of his hair. 

  Your energy sapped from the unbridled temper of your beloved captain, you find reprieve in the gentleness of his tongue tracing the numerous dark marks covering your skin - his marks. 

  “Know this…” His voice rumbles lowly, his flesh hand harbouring the necklace dangles it mere inches over your parted lips. “There is nothing for you to find in a dried pearl, Siren. I am all you need.” 

  Metal squeezes your jawline, pursuing your understanding. The pink tip of his tongue wets his lips and he arches a brow.

  “Yes…”

  You needn’t be jostled twice by the threat of his grasp, you whisper, voice barely audible, “…Captain.”

  “Atta girl.” 

   Arriving at port in Nassau means safe haven for the crew of The Avenger, a chance to rekindle spirits with a few dozen barrels of liquor and a woman’s belly to keep any weathered sailor happy. In the Caribbean’s turning and heating morn, gulls scavenge for pickings of food, the white banks of sand converging with the blue tinged tide bathe the nudity of your feet with absorbed heat, it brings an irate wince to cross your features. Over the vast stretch of beach and headed further inland, the jolly tune of harboured pirates emit from the wooden, creaky shacks, if not counting the ruckus of noisy patrons enjoying their paid company. 

  Never did your captain have need for such sleaziness, such lazed women who lounge in wait for coins to fill the near-always empty drawstring bag tied to their thigh. He had you.

  To hold you close to the scorching warmth of his battle hardened body, to passionately entangle your limbs in an endless thread of desire, and to bask in the radiance that is one another; the possession of a companion no other can have.

  And your own guard for your beloved captain doesn’t go unnoticed, by either him or the hungering gazes of those women yet in wait, your arms encircling around the bulk of Bucky’s flesh arm, in your neck the muscles strain as your fangs become elongated in a threatening display, the disguise of your eyes falters into narrow strips of glaring obsidian. 

  These women are no strangers to the presence of sirens, in spite of the limited number of population, a siren’s prize is never to be taken from her. 

  “Easy, Lass,” Bucky coos, lips drawn on either side into a charming grin. “There’s none suiting my fancy but you.”

  His assurances brighten refocused pupils and the lines around your mouth pull into a smirk. The now scornful glares of ladies unworthy of his time burn into you, and you in turn purse the tip of your tongue between your lips in retaliation. Behind, you hear a few members of the crew huff in their amusement. 

  With the crew tailing loyally behind their captain, each body a weighted husk ready to drown themselves in all that Nassau offers, the striking colour of a scarlet coat saunters forward in the corner of your vision. In a briefly stolen glance to your side, the brilliance of her green irises invade you with a soulless engagement, full lips drawn into a thin line and below the crimson stripe of her bandana, her brows are furrowed. 

  It comes to mind Bucky’s attendance on deck to anchor the ship at port, and so too does the possible thought that during that increment amount of time, Bucky could have very well informed Wanda of your curious skirmish ending in upheaval, caught red handed in the act. 

  And yet the events, the memory of what you experienced - the estranged bond you shared with the necklace - all of it remains. No bouts of stomach churning nausea or blurred hazes that leave you to stumble on your two feet, abandoning you to the mindless plane of confusion where memory is your worst and forgotten enemy. 

  And you prefer to keep it that way. These invasions that leave you more curious, sensing something greatly amiss the more of its occurrence is known, perhaps it’s best if you surrender the search. Your captain is all you need. Nevermind the ghostly songs that haunt the realm beneath the surface. Maybe, just maybe, there is good reason why you don’t remember anything. And if you cease this affair, then maybe with the grace of your beloved, that there will be no need to be swallowed into the misty thicket of her dark, scarlet magic. 

  I am my captain’s siren. I must remain with him. He is all I have. All I want to have…

    ‘Mm hm, mm hm, mm~hmm~hm~mm… mhm.,.’

  The melody chimes to lure your attention, the trickery of the voices blooms thickly throughout the forefront of your mind. You press to ignore the empty promise of their secrets revealed. This search ends now. No more. In defiance to the woeful, bleeding song of murmured hums, your arms hold tighter to Bucky, his chin dips low as his blue eyes look you over, gorgeous eyes of the ocean, captured within the handsome sculpture of his visage. A forbidden make of marble, carven with perfection in mind. 

  ‘Mm hm, mm hm, mm~hm—’

  “Something the matter, Siren?” thrums the husky drawl of your captain. You turn your eyes - your entire form of attention - to him, devoting it to him alone, and not to the tune that wanes with grieving cries that drown in the mists of that plane. You shake your head with refined elegance and bring a smile to grace him with. 

  “Nothing, my Captain,” you purr sweetly. Voice soft enough to easily die in the crashing of heavy waves, but so throbbing to the heart that the lilted beat of your voice could never be lost to him. Bucky grins at your words, respite is found in the security of your vow. Not only does your answer satisfy him immensely, but it draws Wanda’s intense focus away from you. 

  The quartermaster, Steve Rogers, is met in an engulfing embrace by a striking brunette with bouncy curls, lips bright and red and grinning, brown eyes sparkling in the Nassau’s brimming sun. Truth be told, she was far too pretty to be a mere human, her beauty akin to a glistening ruby, and maybe it saddens you the littlest bit that she foresees you with eyes of weariness rather than friendliness. 

  Perhaps if she were a siren herself, you’d both have settled together rather fondly as friends - as bonded sisters. But alas, with her own treasure now ashore for now, she takes to him and welcomes him with moaning cords and absorbing kisses, Bucky chuckles slyly with a wink to his exhausted friend. 

  Weather-beaten tables score the large deck of the tavern, most of them being vacant outside, but given the beginnings of your skin drying out, Bucky takes care to situate you as close to a shaded spot. Something you are noticeably grateful for with your cheek nuzzling into the openly revealed space of his chest, the belted strips of leather strapped over his chest warm your skin as well as his skin. 

  Casting you in flittering shadows are the swaying palms, their long and prickly spine leaves howling in the sea’s constant winds driven ashore. While other members of the crew flee to their own affairs to relax, those of Bucky’s inner circle remain close, like cards held to his chest, and you being the winning ace of his games, are held the closest. 

  “Restock of the ship’s supplies will take all day, not to mention, the girl needs a few restorations herself,” says Bruce, spectacles resting low upon the bridge of his nose, eyes finalising his scrawlings as his voice confirms. His hand runs over the plump of his cheek with a drained sigh, middle finger pushing the brass loop of his glasses upwards. 

  “And that’ll spend us… half our funds.”

  “Wouldn’t need to waste so much coin on crackers ‘nd other shite, had someone not snuck ‘round like a rat.” Clint’s eyes squint in his accusation towards none other than the master of maps and navigation, Stark, who partakes in defending himself behind a weak shrug. 

  “There’s actual rats aboard. T’wasn’t me.”

Clint’s upper lip curls into a sneer, the ship’s cook primed to render Stark into salted meatloaf, a dullened knife he took to using in both battle and kitchen is held in his nimble fingers. 

  “Fuckin’ thievin’—”

  “Quit your squabbling,” rumbles your captain, “strike what isn’t needed for the voyage. Double on reinforcements and armoury.” His gruff voice sends tingles through your still connected cheek to his front, content in hearing its booming and steady beat. Bruce nods and returns his gaze downward to his leatherbound companion, quill resipping ink, he scribbles into his book once again, humming and murmuring to himself. 

  Bruce Banner, though quite brutal in the midst of battles, is a relatively quiet man who tends to keep to himself for most of his membership as a crewmate. Often he dwells below decks, counting stock, taking note of damages and overall engaging the skin of parchment rather than a woman. 

   Not to completely disregard the sometimes scarce glances between himself and the fiery, flintlock dancer herself, Natasha, eyes meeting between the wooden blanks separating their worlds from dark to light. If history is planted there, there is little to know in your knowledge - your hazy knowledge. From what you’ve gathered, Natasha has a tongue that leaves many of the males on board chest torn and heart bleeding, in dire need for her to bandage them with a moment of her time. Time that she rather spent either dancing in the heat of conflict, pulling the ship in order or occupy herself with you. 

  In comparison to the neighbouring woman often skulking silently by Bucky’s heel like a prowling animal on a leash, Natasha offered you what nobody else truly had; a connection. Someone you can maybe call friend. 

  By no means is she completely softened around you, she pushes you beyond your limits, but in her interactions with you, she layers herself with a bout of steadiness and calm to keep you level headed at best. She even takes the time to teach you letters and words of human speech. Too nervous to ask such a tedious task of your own captain, it had been Natasha called upon to teach you.

   Under her mentorship, she had governed you away from the native tongue of your sea dwelling folk, and what had at first been mistaken as the ship’s adored feline, Alpine coughing up a fish bone, had just been you taking the first step in learning to speak the language of humans. Only then and afterwards did your captain also take part in your teaching, albeit through a more erotic means of lessons behind the closed door of his cabin. 

  Steve returns with a sway to his step, Peggy held snug to his hip, the two bound by invisible, sticky sap that glues them together. “We’ve drinks comin’, Cap!” He laughs with a clap to Bucky’s broad shoulder, jostling you forward with a startled whine, eyes stinging and dry in alertness. 

  You miss catching it at first, the sharpened glare of ice in his eyes towards Steve for his abrupt disturbance of you, the blonde haired man, lass-drunken already, clicks his tongue with a grimace of offered sincerity, uttering a quiet apology under his heated breath.

  Bucky is only willing to let his scowl go after you assure the quartermaster that there is no harm done, excusing yourself that your fatigue had gotten the better of your guard. 

  Flared tempers now cooled, Steve leans back against the rickety stage of the deck’s plank railing. The ruffled skirts of his companion’s dress ride a little higher on her thigh as she rests it over his lap, drawstring bag visible… and fattened with coin. Paid very early in advance. Paid full with at least three weeks worth of salary strapped to her leg. 

  A chorus of cheers spill out into the open air when tankards of foam-headed refreshments are delivered. Tony’s chapped lips bend around a cigar stick, catching a flame to his match by the heel of his boot, he lights it and puffs a smog that brings your nose to wrinkle and lungs to jump. 

  “Right,” he says, the end of the word lost in its pronunciation, “Down ter business.” The master of maps of navigation procures from his coat rolled parchments and lays them flat to the wooden rot, he knocks a knuckle hard in indication of the pirate’s haven. 

  “We’re here, Lassy. Show us where it is.” Silence falls over those of the inner circle, each pair of eyes lace between the strewn papers and your expression, gauging the lines around your eyes that speak of your concentration. In wait for either your truthful answer or another lie. 

  The tips of your fingers run the inked lines that describe the landmarks of islands, points of interest, known ship routes and x marks, whilst your captain’s own fingers trace along the outer of your thigh teasingly beneath the cover of your robe and the table. His touch is distracting you, but could you be to blame for their failure in search of the ancient treasure? After all, your memory wasn’t of best quality these days. 

  Tony rolls his fingers in a drumming pattern, each minute it grows louder and pounds in your eardrums, the wafting curtain of thick, cigar smoke clouds your senses. 

  Your captain, scowling at this, shoots his metal arm forward and plucks the cigar from Tony’s mouth and pushes the burning ash and tobacco into the veiny hide of his bare hand. Tony bites a string of curses as his hand retracts. 

  “Next time, it’s shoved down your fuckin’ throat, got it?” 

  “Aye, Cap…,” mutters Tony. He shoots you a seething glare but nevertheless, relinquishes his attempts to intimidate you into answering. 

  “You forget, sirens speak a certain way.” Comes the low purr of his lilt, breath hot against the shell of your ear, the encouragement of his hand snakes your thigh over into his lap, leaving your core, though hidden to others, exposed to his addictive touch. Your breath becomes latched in your lungs, struggling to be free and your toes curl as his flesh hand slips between your parted legs. “You just need to know how…” 

  You barely hide the hiccup in your erupting breath. His thumb, rough and firm, toys with the delicate bud that spurs the welling of arousal to moisten your folds. Behind the sealed line of his lips, he breezes a rich chuckle that courts you with promised, devoting attention to your clit, circling it slowly as the long, thick body of his middle finger runs further down your folds. The chill of gold grinds into your skin gently, the pearl hums lowly in the deep reverie of your mind once more, grazing your skin with a harmonic resurgence against the combating of Bucky’s explorative touch. 

  If the air had been thick with the sun’s heat before, then it was downright unbreathable now, your skin aches and itches to be submerged in the tranquil waters. You all but claw a single rocky formation on the far edge of the map. All eyes zero in on the point, taking in the towering form of inked rocks. 

  “You’ve to be jokin’,” Clint hisses quietly. Sam Wilson is the next to speak with a sigh, “That’s a death wish, Captain.”

  “Siren, you’re sure?” Your head bows slowly to Bucky’s question and his thumb ceases its movement. Your finger situated over the landmark trembles, your throat is dry, saliva collects in thick rivulets and makes it difficult to swallow your despair. 

  Hushed whispers fall over the crew as Bucky’s smouldering eyes darken in thought, contemplating the high stakes. For your finger lands not just on the precise location of the temple harbouring the world’s greatest treasure horde any pirate or king alike could dream of. 

  It spans over into dangerous, uncharted territory. Territory that resides as a mass graveyard for ships and souls. The Misted Song Isles. 

  A bedded corner of the world untouched by sunlight, forever shrouded in a mist that never falters in its opacity, leaving many blinded to the ambushing predators that await them. 

  These cousins are the cause of your repulsion. They are not sirens. They do not possess the ability to sing beautifully anymore. That which haunts the mists are not curated melodies to turn a heart soft and a man stirred in longing, no, but devilish shrieks and wallowing howls that scream in revel of their kill.

  “Captain, think about this for a sec—” The quartermaster, as is everyone else, silenced within an instant. You yelp and pull your hand close to your chest as the sharpened point of a blade punctures right where your finger had been. Your heart races against your ribcage. 

  “We set sail at dawn.” 

  His command goes unchallenged and hangs in the eeriness of uncertainty. His lips formulate into that smirk, daring of the course ahead, ready to face whatever thrilling adventure awaits him and his hardened crew. 

  “Prepare yourselves. We’ll soon amass a fortune like no other. Riches beyond belief,” Bucky preaches with a deepened, growling cord, thumb reviving the pleasing buzz between your thighs. Your head presses back into his shoulder, arching your core slightly into his hand. “I’ve never known those of my crew to shrink away from glory and plunder. So what of it, mates? Are you lot ready to take what’s ours?”

  “Aye!” erupts a booming throng of cheers and hollering, tankards fly skyward with trickling, foamy ales, and fists pound the tables enthusiastically. From you, Bucky draws a softened, pleasured whine only captured by his ears, a musical note he licks his teeth in savouring delight. 

  “What a rousing speech, Captain Barnes. Touches my own heart.” The inner circle becomes disrupted, parting into a narrow corridor to give their captain sight of the outsider. Bucky’s thumb comes to pause again, much to the displeasure of your quiet grumbling, your eyes seek out the intruder and gape with widened eyes. 

    “Rumlow,” growls Bucky. His hand bares upon your thigh a tightening squeeze. 

  Brock Rumlow, captain of The Lady Strike, stands present, brown coat beaten and done in by the rough life at sea, tricorn equal in match to the rest of his dishevelled attire. Dark, matted and oily hair is swept behind his ears, stubble very much unkempt and in need of a shave. His brown eyes take in the near bareness of your form, your hand pulls the robe’s fabric over your already covered breasts, and Bucky curls you further inward, protecting you from the fowl leering of Rumlow’s dark eyes. His jaw is set hard as a deep, possessive growl emits from his large chest, the storm of his jealousy on the rise. 

  With a cock of his head, Tony shoves the plans back into the confines of his coat with a huff, missing the tangy flavour of his cigar.

  By now, those of Rumlow’s crew move in behind him, a battle of glares and curled snarls, only one amongst the opposing crew brings a grin to fall over your face, eyes brightened in relief. Long, raven black hair sweeping down the curve of her back, strips of plaits are decorated with beads and small shells, A tall and lean build of a woman a few years older of your age, eyes the shape of almonds and disguised as kindly, sparkling hazels of greens and browns. 

  Her thin lips form a smile to match her tender features. You barely have another chance to second guess your next move, taking care to keep the intricately patterned robe around to protect your modesty, you push yourself away from your captain and fly into her open arms, her embrace a welcomed one after all these weeks. 

  “Mina!” 

  She greets your name with a softened breath, the calming lull of a siren’s power. The prodding of shells poke into your chest, but you pay little heed to them, too much absorbed into a fellow siren’s hold. To be held and nurtured by one so connected to the sea as you, and who is also held prisoner above its beckoning tides. 

  “My dear, your skin!” she gasps. Her lithe fingers skim the lengths of your exposed shoulders, shoving under the flowy sleeves to do the same along your arms. “How long has it been since—”

  “She does not speak that way anymore.” 

  The voice of your captain is sharp, cutting right through to the bone, it chills you. You know you did wrong by your actions, caught in the flurry of your excitement to meet Mina. He hadn’t expressed his permission for you to leave his side.

  Her eyes forecast the irritated slits, the ridge of her mouth shifting. You shake your head quickly. “Don’t…”

  She listens to your plea and directs her gaze aside, retrieving back a more composed appearance. “Apologies, Captain Barnes. I forget her tongue falters and is now consumed by human speech. Please, forgive me.”

  His eyes stare point blank akin to the barrel of his flintlock, finger locked ahold of the trigger and primed to fire a metal ball right between her eyes. He takes into account that her voice is dry in its sincere case that begs forgiveness. A case he finds unmoving. 

  And so it falls to you. Her arms fall from around you reluctantly, you press on towards Bucky, hands caressing the carved shape of his jawline. “Please, Captain… forgiveness?”

  For a moment he is silent, his stare unwavering and unblinking, it churns your innards unassuredly. “Aye.” His response brings you to breathe again with a smile. You swallow thickly, steadying yourself with the words you have become accustomed to, at first rehearing it over in your thoughts before you speak.

  “May I go to the Pools? My skin… is dry.” As if to further accentuate, the inflection of your voice matches your statement, having to clear your throat gently. 

  He nods. “Very well, Love. Hour’s half.” Ingratiating yourself in his good graces, you capture his lips in yours, his own chase after your brief kiss but the embarrassment that they give away just how parched your body is steers you away quickly. 

  You are blind to the narrowing of cold, steely eyes following Mina who walks at your side, arms encircling around you protectively, her own eyes meeting the ferocity of Bucky’s glare, her own hardened stare watered down to save you from being caught in the crossfire for her temper. She knows that you would suffer just as well as her if Bucky turned his decision around. 

  The conversing crews are drowned out noise in the back of your head, Mina guides you along the dirt path towards the haven’s centre. 

  The Pools, a central hub that extends low into the island’s heart, and a system of interconnected tunnels for sirens to rejuvenate their exerted bodies, confining them to an enclosure with no means to swim directly back into the ocean. By all means, it was a natural formation turned into a cage. 

  Peering over the rocky lips, the inviting waters below reflect minute glimpses of the sun, a portion of it concealed under the shrubbery and towering palms. The hue of bright blue blankets the surface before the long stretch of abyssal black that cascades down the rock walls.

  The waters, as expected, are vacant of any other sirens, and those scarce few could only be seen in flashes of shining scales and shadows moving beneath, dipping into the mouths of the tunnels. Hidden from sight.

  You shed the covering of your robe and set it aside, its luxurious fabric smelling of yours and Bucky’s intermingling scents, the decorative stitchwork and colours flaunt it as one of a kind, a nabbed piece from a Japanese merchant schooner Bucky and his crew pillaged, and which your captain presented to you as a gift. The first of many he would later present. Intriguing artefacts.

  Mina didn’t have need to discard herself of human-given clothing, plunging into the heavenly waters before you, her attire made with the natural ingredients of the sea, leather strips and woven cords stretch around her chest and back with rings of shells to fasten over it, keeping her breasts pushed together. The wispy lengths of her skirt flows with sheeted seaweed, circling around her slim waist as a ghostly curtain. You follow not long after with an eager dive, your nude skin is soothed by the cool waters. Your legs morph together into the singular, powerful tendril of your trail, the webbed fins attached to your lower back flutter like the wings of a dove finding freedom on the winds. 

  Your bodies take refuge below the surface, skin no longer assaulted by the lacerations of the sun’s light and blazing scorch. How sailors could idle by whilst under the cruelty of it, you will never understand. Your back arches into a spiralling twist, a high pitched chirp bouncing from your throat and coursing through your gills. 

  You bask in the excitement with Mina who twists and bends, circling you with a teasing swish of her tail, she gargles a sweet note that bubbles around her lips, her forehead presses to yours affectionately. 

  She intends to regard you with the native speech of your kind but stops, brows falling into a firm, saddened line over her eyes. In shame, your head bows. 

  Those of your crew may have stripped you of your right to recollect the siren dialect, but if she can count on anything, it is the motion of her hands and arms. The common communication of one’s body. 

  In a sequence of expertise, her arms rotate and her fingers stretch and curl. 

  What do you remember?

  Your eyes analyse her movement, careful to decipher her code. Not as fluent, given the occasional puzzled twist of her head, followed by a nod of understanding and correcting signal, she encourages through your hesitation, wanting for your answer. 

  I… remember a necklace. Bound to my Captain’s wrist.

  And what did this necklace look like?

  Again, it takes you a moment to find the rhythm of your response, her eyes narrow in their deep seated concentration, almond curved eyes that widen upon realisation.

  You tell her of the golden chain, sleek and elegantly thin yet strengthened, the many, tiny crystallised pearls that line the gilded netting over one larger pearl, with a finer shaped one looped beneath it that dangles.

  Given her momentary pause, you nervously motion. 

  What is it? 

  She raises her hand over her head, webbed fingers fused together, she rotates her wrist in circles.

  Royalty. Pearls represent royalty. 

  The sudden confusion presently blinking in your eyes gives Mina reason to continue. She moves quickly, it’s hard to exactly understand, you motion for her to pace herself, that you’re struggling. With an apologetic chirp, she starts over. 

  You must get it back. That necklace is more significant to you than you realise. Undoubtedly, a gift from your late mother—

I don’t understand! What… of my mother?

  Mina truly sees the sickening infection of your hazy memory, all too aware that it’s the doing of that scarlet witch, tainted by the dark magics that spawn from the mangroves, the teachers there no strangers to utilising sirens as part of their rituals. And all by the order of your captain. A crew lacing you with deceit. 

  Her waterline is touched by tears that form into uplifting bubbles. She organises her words slowly. Each one brings a sharp pang to your chest and your stomach to drop further and further down into the abyss below. 

  Your mother - the Queen - is dead. 

  Your heart is scored by the penetrating daggers of Poseidon's trident, the creeping of unnatural coldness sweeps the back of your neck and down over your shoulders, you huddle into yourself. You shake your head and it ensues into a maddening display of denial, your body trembles, the water grows increasingly troubled, once a calm settlement over the surface now laps at the surrounding edges of the enclosure. 

  This cannot be right, this cannot be the truth. No, you don’t wish to believe it. A weight is crushing around your chest, you want to resurface. For the first time, you crave to be out of the water. All you seek now is the scent of your captain washing over you, drowning you passionately in his possessive devotion, to be treasured by him and him alone, bathed in his dominating presence. His shadow. 

  At this point, you’d happily let him fuck the knowledge out of you. 

  In your abrupt desperation you take to moving swiftly, your head breaches through the barrier with a sputtering fit of coughs and gulps, but Mina follows you. Her webbed hand catches your wrist, her voice plucks through the ripples like the baritone string of a guitar. She calls for you to wait. Gently, she coaxes you to delve below once more, her eyes imploring you to remain, to not go running off to the very same man who wants for you and holds you captive. 

  The milky glaze of your eyes brim with tears, tiny bubbles run to the corners before they float upwards. 

  She rests her head to yours, silky thumbs caring over the form of your cheeks, running smoothly under the bend of your tearful eyes. When she believes you have calmed, she asks another question. 

  What else about this necklace can you tell me?

  I hear… voices. A-a melody. I don’t– don’t understand the words. It plays faintly.

  If the crew who harbours you stays for the festivities tonight, get the necklace and bring it to me. I may be able to appraise it.

  A lump catches in your throat, eyes bearing your terror, the harrowing thought of being caught again. You aren’t sure if the potential of another scarlet mist is worth the risk. 

  Steal it? I-I can’t! He’d know if I stole—

  You cannot steal what’s already yours, young one. Besides, you know just the way to get it from him. I saw the softened regard in his gaze for you. 

  What she suggests is laughable, and your disagreement shows, your head shaking and throat bobbing in motion akin to a scoff. But still, her insinuation brings warmth to bloom in your cheeks. Her brows furrow at this display, tail idly swaying, the length of her hair creating a dark, winding halo behind her. She dissects the gestures of your words. 

  His gaze never softens to me…

  In spite of this, she rolls her eyes, but they are hopeful in their stare towards you. You were done with the search… before. Now, you want answers. 

  “Siren!” A familiar voice booms, tone muffled by the watery barrier. Answering his summons, you return to the world above, sighing a deep breath of air, the few faces you recognise are mere blurs, unfocused in your vision. Your eyes meet the wintery cold of his eyes, not softened, and clouded in their ever present desire to have you under him - pinned skin to skin to him - and his beautiful lips shaped into a smirk. His stance high above you dominates you in his darker shadow that casts over the water. 

  “Hope you’re in a festive mood, my little Siren.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Part 3 Original Transcript ・4.3k Mature! SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI — some profanity — oral (female) receiving — submissive reader — possessive/dark Bucky — usage of pet name "Siren"/"my little Siren" — mention of breeding (kink) — very minor fluff moment — depiction of violence ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The thin line of your slitted pupils blow outward, crafted into the circular shape humans find familiar. Hair now dry and groomed, you style it in a way you know Bucky can’t resist. Your goal to ensnare him purposefully, to conduct yourself properly as a siren, finally takes its mark. The task itself foreign and yet like you’ve done it before. The dark thrill of the hunt, the pleasurable anticipation to allow the song to lure in your prey, but it’s a song you cannot recall. It’s all a hefty risk that you fear outweighs the gain. Bucky is not one to be so easily fooled, always several steps ahead at every turn. 

   Your eyes take in the small details of your face, each curve, line and mark that define your features. You’d been resigned to taking shelter in your captain’s cabin until the festivities, the crew ordered to perform double time to meet their deadline, they too were also very eager to enjoy the night’s fun. 

  From your lap, the pure white feline purrs, eyes thinned as you delicately stroke her chin. Alpine meows, stealing your gaze from the nervous reflection and you feel the corners of your lips pull into a smile. 

  “Beautiful girl…,” you coo, voice barely above a whisper, “Who is a beautiful girl?”

  “Mrrow.” Alpine’s answer is louder this time, ears twitching at the sound of heavy, leather boots striking the wooden boards beneath his feet. 

  “Both my girls are beautiful.” He emerges from the near darkness behind you, candlelight stroking across his features, sharp and dangerously handsome. Blinking, you lower your head as you swallow, hand now faltering from Alpine. 

  Bucky’s flesh hand extends over your shoulder and with ease, lifts Alpine up from your lap, she meows lowly as he rests her over the massive territory of his chest, his tongue tuts soothingly, hand running up and down her back, the feline rubs her head against his stubbled jaw. How tender your captain could be always manages to astound you, these moments that allow him to show something soft lingering below the surface. His smile is infectious, leaving you burning in your core, both in nerves and desire. With his sights now set on you, he places Alpine aside, her sleek and elegant saunter moves out of the mirror’s perimeter, no doubt finding a small space to curl up into. 

  A dark and foreboding structure from behind, his lower half is pressed against your back, your lungs jump at the contact, lips parting with a startled gasp that now tremble slightly. Your eyes become wide, held captive by his lustful glare. The song plays quietly, tickling the back of your mind, its presence more ghostly than before, slowly succumbing to silence. Its tune haunts you with longing to be found before time escapes it. 

  His flesh hand runs over the column of your throat, able to feel every gulped breath and the quickened pulse of your heartbeat under his touch. 

  “I have something for you,” he says deeply, stirring you. “Been meaning to have my name on you for some time.” 

  Your brows form into a puzzled arch. From the leather strap of his belt, your captain’s metal fingers meet a cord of silver. The matching metal coin adorning the chain sways as he lifts it into view, and obediently, you sweep aside any lingering locks of hair and angle your chin. It’s cold against your skin, and in comparison to size, the coin nestles low between the valley of your breasts and down against the bottom of your sternum, covered barely by your robe that loosely sits around your shoulders. 

  “Fuck, you look so beautiful with my name ‘round your neck,” he groans, hand returning to caress your throat. His eyes admire the way your chest rises and falls, the engraved head of a snarling wolf reflecting in the soft candlelight. 

  You stare, eyes wide in your admirable study of the piece yourself, seeing how it… fits you, coldly and harshly and yet so rightly. “I do?” 

  “Aye,” he says with a grin. “And since I got a piece of you, may as well match.”

  Your fingers toy with the medallion, thumb rolling over the engraved markings on the side that kisses your skin. 

  J. A. M. E. S. 

 B. 

B. A. R. N. E. S

  Each letter is one taught and now known to you. One by one, you pronounce them internally, spelling the name of your beloved captain, a man whose name you’ve never once said aloud. Nor has he ever said yours. Does he even know yours?

  The tone of his growl betrays the cool of his demeanour, giving away the hunger of seeing you with your hair like it is, it has an unruly affect on him only he can understand. Could you do it now? Lure him in, satiate his carnal desires and take the necklace?

  Not likely. Not with his crew up and about with nothing to distract them enough, enabling you a given window to find Mina and have her appraise the necklace. Hell, you doubt you’d actually make it to the door before Bucky would have you back in his grasp. Those rare times he wouldn’t stir the moment you left the bed were saving graces.

   “You do things to me, my little Siren,” he purrs, lips leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses in their wake along the side of your neck and down over your exposed shoulders. With each laden caress to your skin, methodical and underlying in lust, he perverts your mind with needs only satiable by him, leaving you under the spell of no other choice. 

  Bound to him, you serve him. You need him. Nearing the curve of your jaw, your head turns until your lips ghost in the proximity of one another, every single breath mingling as if for the first time again. Enchanting. Hypnotic. It’s him who provokes with the first move, flecks of his stubbled jaw tickle your skin in the meeting of his hungering kiss, at first moving slowly as he draws you in. 

  And like many times before, you fall for him. You fall into his inescapable web. You moan quietly, softly just as the necklace’s fading song.

  “Like what?” Your voice dances with the invisible, soft ribbon of a whisper, a gentle request in rise to a challenge he has no capability to fail nor deny. 

  How aware you very much are of his sexual prowess. An undeniable magnetism. The pinkish contour of his mouth creases, moulded into a darkened smirk as his brighter eyes shine. Lit aflame as they only saw you. 

  Time has ways to fool. It can feel that the single hour of a day extends over the course of a thousand years before the sun’s slumber. But it can also move faster than you can blink. Your captain turns you to face him in the span of the latter and pushes you, now quivering legs knock the vanity against the wooden panels of the wall with a clunky thud, glass vials and exotic elixirs clatter together a dangerous symphony in warning to the haste of both your actions. 

  For in the tinted and crystallised fragments of each one of those bottles, you are just as guilty for their shaking by seduction. As per what a siren does. What a siren is.

  He moves with his tongue, mouth and teeth, gnawing and biting and reclaiming you, guided by the fever of his longing, hard against you do you feel his endowment pulse ragingly and your walls clamp tight around nothingness. Painful, it makes your voice shrink with softened, pathetic whimpers. Each one more needy than the last in tandem with the bloom of your core. 

  He groans behind a flurry of stringed curses, each one tying the noose of his sensual demise, his loss of demeanour with every moment he finds himself delving lower. From the base of your neck to the arching bridge of your collarbone, down further and over the mounds of your now exposed breasts that expand with quickened breath, your robe hides from him none that he has not seen before. Bare before him and following his lacing kisses that descend, your spine curls forward, arching under his command. 

  He channels his authority to dominate you until your will is naught but a broken form of submission, ready and eager to be used by him. By the time he reaches just above where you need him, he hikes you up until you're nestled atop the small, wooden slat of the vanity. Seated there on a makeshift throne. 

  “C-Captain,” you squeak, voice knotted and pleading. 

  He’s perched, a man dropped down to his knees in his reverie of aroused worship, he inhales the scent lingering between your thighs, folds slick and dripping into the wooden oak. He tuts his tongue teasingly. “Siren, Siren, my little Siren…”

  You feel the rasping growl of his drawled timbre right before his tongue lashes your folds, an attack so abrupt and astoundingly chilling to your core that lights you in shock, your legs jolt in surprise. Your left hand slides into the tousles of his brown locks, scrunched between your fingers to his roots, your other hand struggles to capture a hold of anything else. 

  “Captain Barnes…” 

  You moan under a gasping breath. Out of sheer desperation to ground yourself as your captain more than happily grounds himself in your cunt, your struggles end when you gain hold of the dangling pendant at your chest. Thumb toying with it, tracing the letters as if you were performing the act on your own sensitive pearl. 

  Each stroke is rewarded with a tune of euphoria, poured from the graces of your parted lips, akin to the pure waters of the falls nestled deep in the Caribbean jungles. He moves your legs to spread further for him and you obey, lost in the swelling passion of his heated tongue and breath spoiling you with the sweetened promise of release. 

  You don’t forget the way he teased you back at the tavern, the encouragement that raised roars and cheers from his crew, meanwhile his fingers were at play. However much you’d grown bashfully compliant with the idea your captain would take you whenever it suited him, be it in private confinement or in the view of those around him, you believe you’d have pathetically begged him in front of his crew to take you right there and then. 

  That is what the man between your legs did to you. Like stained blood to the watered cloth, he washed away all sense of reason. There was only him. Left behind were the stains to be recognised at a later time, to reflect what it was you put aside for your captain and his affections. 

  His stubble gently prickles and tickles your skin delightfully, a soothing massage to the intensity of his tongue now delving deep into the walls of your clenching cunt, mewling quietly for more. Your fingers, grasping both silver medallion and locks of hair, tug and tighten in your fight to keep your ever rising orgasm at bay. Not until he gives his command. 

  He makes a baritone sound that inflicts upon you a dangerous reverberation. Your spine is rattled by the onslaught to your core, your skin aflame and consumed wholly as your captain sucks on the sensitive bulb of your clit, teeth gentle yet primal with need; his declaration. 

  “C-Captain!” you all but sob quietly as the flat of his tongue presses firm to your clit, “Please! Let–let me cum…”

  Like the twisting of a rope, you fear the cord will snap any moment. He groans and buries himself furthermore between your thighs that threaten to constrict around him, muscles quivering with a painful, straining ache. But Bucky cares not for that, he wants you begging as a blabbering and moaning mess like every other time he has his way with you. 

  His tongue withdraws much to your verbal dismay. “My little Siren wants to cum?”

  “Y-yes! Yes!” The soft, slick-ridden form of his lips curl into a grin against your inner thigh. He lays a kiss to your pulsing clit, you gasp out of fear that he’d made you cum right there. 

  “Then answer me…” He growls and rises, his shoulders feel to cage you. His hands travel the natural bend of your legs until he grapples you towards him. Your hands fly forward to lay flat to his expanding chest, spanning over the dark printing of ink, your slickened cunt pitched right on the contour of his clothed, hardened cock. 

  “Who’s bastard will you carry in your belly?”

  The golden coin drops loudly, your walls clench hard around nothing and your chest holds the weight of burdened air. Captain James Barnes, the most infamously renowned pirate to ever sail these waters, desired to breed you. 

  The syllable of your response stutters on the tip of your tied tongue. 

  Over his eyes is the shroud of his growing and darkening impatience. He remains to hold you against him, grip sure in its resolution to keep you captive. 

  “Siren,” he growls, voice low and venomous with a rumble. 

  “I—” Words are stolen from you at the rapturing knock on the cabin’s door, stirring the attention of yourself and your captain. Through the wooden barrier, Roger’s voice is the grace that rescues you from answering Bucky.

  “All is done for the voyage, Captain.” Bucky’s wintery gaze slides away, glaring. “Shall we head off?”

  “Aye,” comes the swift succession of your captain. He looks to you again, fingers of flesh, bone and dominating power clutch you in his grasp by your hair.

  “When we return after, you’d better have the right answer on that tongue of yours.”

  You nod stiffly. Obediently. Only then does he release his hold. 

  Your hair unravels from its styled form, falling back into its natural state. But that pales in comparison now that you’re aware of your captain’s new obsession.   

  A crack of powder and a flaming spark ignites an eruption of cheers, silhouettes dance and gather around the bonfires lining the beach, acting as enlarged beacons in the night, from the old and famed forefathers of the code to the spry and fresh-faced lad who leapt off his officer’s ship in search of adventure. 

  Oh yes, you’d seen it happen. And only one young lad had lived to tell his tale. Innocently charming and boyish Peter recounts the details of his recently taken resume around the fire to the few elders of stranger crews who’d asked if he was too green to drink them under the table. 

  A young man who chose to make his fortune on the sea, a member of the royal navy if he was lucky, and only three months he’d been aboard before your captain descended upon the brig with a howling explosion and cloud of sabotage. 

  Callous and black hearted, the White Wolf had intended to leave no survivors; until you intervened on the boy’s behalf. Suffice to say, your captain was very well convinced that night. A few of the man huffed in laughter, one jabbing at Peter roughly and tossing the bottle into his hands, urging him to drink with a yellow and copper stained shout.

  Cliques of your crew were formed, either in familiar groups or with other estranged faces you can barely remember. Other than Mina, those unfamiliar faces remained as such, you didn’t take the time to interact with those not of your captain’s crew. The gathering is quite large - an unlawful ball - you often call these sorts of events. 

  Glancing around, you don’t find Mina anywhere close to the bonfire, and you turn your eyes to the terrain beyond the fire’s glow, at the sandy bank’s seam between light and darkness. Still, you don’t see her. 

  “Siren,” his voice beckons your wayward attention. Turning your head, he sees the unsure nature of your thoughts, able to read you like an open book. His flesh hand is held out, silent in his request, you step towards him and allow your smaller hand to meet his. His fingers are strong and sure as they curl around you and usher you inwards to him. 

  To his chest, he embraces you, hand in hand. Skin to skin and skin to metal. His forehead leans to press against yours and you’re absorbed by the magnetism of his charm, a siren beaten at her own game and by no less, your beloved captain. 

  He tilts the axis of his form and drives action to his left, taking you with him as he leads you, bodies swaying together to the instrumental play of strings and wind and song. 

  You come to forget yourself and your initial purpose to be so close to him. He moves back to twirl you before you’re returned to his closeness, a musical chord of a giggle erupts in the chamber of your chest, a feeling of giddiness fills you and makes your eyes seemingly brighten like stars. His grin infectiously rouses you in a sense that smothers all reason beyond that is not him; your love and adoration for him. 

  As you move with him, following his rhythm with a grin that forms from ear to ear, your bare foot bumps into the leather of his boot and you giggle again. “Drunk, Love?”

  “No!” you laugh from the heart and Bucky cannot contain his own amused enjoyment. Overtaken, he’s smitten by your eagerness to dance. 

  To be in his arms like this reminds you of your first dance with Bucky, on board The Avenger, after a particular raid. Spirits were high, roaringly so, and the crew were in a celebrating mood after such a feat. You’d not been on the ship for no more than two months and were still very much on the shy end in terms of engaging with the crew, Natasha being the only one you confided in.

  However, sitting on the sidelines with your back pressed to the wooden panelling of the ship served no pleasing sight for Captain Barnes from across the way, situated on a barrel with a bottle lazed in his lap. With a haughty and smug swig, he swaggered on over and stood before you proudly, a chest of inked muscle puffed out and extended his hand down to you. 

  “Come on,” he had cooed, much to your astounded horror. He’d spied you admiring the way the others danced about on the deck. Mesmerised by your morbid curiosity. 

  Man’s tongue still new to you, you of course fumbled over your excuses with muted mumbles and dialled expression that told of your reluctance. But he was adamant you accompanied him in the next dance. His hand took yours and hoisted you, up on your bare feet, he carried you on over the deck close to him.

  “It’s easy, Lass,” he chuckled as he looped your fingers with his own. “Like this. One, two, three… one, two, three…”

  Your eyes veered down to his feet to see whatever pattern he conducted and you followed suit. Or at least tried. Many times you hobbled and stumbled over his own feet. The water was all you’d known. 

  You would giggle and laugh, filled with an embarrassment that Bucky found charming, he accepted your apologies without so much as a desire to reprimand you. 

  It was rather exciting. Humans could be funny with how they danced and moved about, some able to glide so seamlessly; much like your captain. The grace of his strong physique unmatched prowess with the governing of his skill and technique. A sight one truly worthy to admire. Overall, your wonderment shone in your eyes brightly that night. And Bucky was struck by it. 

  Continuing, he guided you and you came to learn how he moved - how to move with him. Spinning you in a circle, tilting you back until a surge erupted in your stomach, and being in close proximity to him. Forehead heated from his exertions, he pressed it to yours as he swayed with you, chest to chest. His soft lips took a chance to ghost over yours. 

  A hand of metal ran down to hold your hip and fingers of warm flesh coasted your jawline, tilting your gaze just that bit higher to meet his eyes you’d regarded with a fearsome glare. But they smiled, the blue in them inviting, a connection that felt so right. 

  That was the night Captain Barnes made you his siren. 

  Alas, a cherished memory that is tainted within a moment. Eyes flickering over, you see a form loom in the shadows behind the rocky formation further down the beach. Mina. 

  It comes back to you. What it is you must do. The betrayal you have to enact to find the truth which Bucky guards from you. Tears brim in the line of your eyes and they glisten in the fire light at the thought that this may very well be your last dance with your beloved captain. Your captor, but no less, the one man you’ve come to believe possesses the power to mend and break your heart. 

  Capturing the expressive nature of your sorrow, Bucky looks to peer behind him. But before he has any possible chance to discover anything of your scheme, knowing that Mina’s tendencies oftentimes mean nothing but give cause of strife, your fingers catch the dark stubble of his chin. 

  “Kiss me.” It’s not common that you’re bravely forward in your demands. Yet from his throaty hum, you can safely assume he holds no qualms about it. 

  So long as he believes the portrayal of devotion you display, he is none the wiser. That is your hope as you submit yourself to him, allowing his tongue to run its dominating course and melting into the sweetened poison that beckons you to crave more. He pulls you impossibly closer to him. 

  It is your sole and waning hope as with one hand, you brace it to his muscular chest, whilst the other ghosts over the flesh of his hand and the gilded circlet of gold around it. 

  Almost. The chain slides quickly down the back of his hand and you flinch. A gasp jostles from the back of your throat in quiet alarm, which you act quickly, feigning a whimper he recalls as a plea for merciful breath. His mouth pulls away with a sigh, drinking in your essence like a drug he vies for without restraint. Your lips stretch into a bashful, toothy grin, one that Bucky endearingly smirks at. 

  Just in the motion Bucky intended to sweep you off your feet in lead to dance, a hand slaps the firm muscle of his broad shoulder. 

  “Fortune ahead, Cap’n!” hiccups Tony with a slight drunken slur, eyes hazed in his stupor. Bucky’s steely gaze falls from you to glare at his master of navigation’ hand, sneering like a disturbed wolf. 

  Your window. Fleeting as a sleek shadow, you cast your steps backwards until you near the further end of the gathering and away from prying eyes. Ducking into the darkness you chase after Mina who leads you along the beachside, the trickling cold of the water’s edge tickles your feet.

  “Here,” she directs swiftly and pulls you into the ankle deep water right in a small enclave of rocks. You hold up the prize in your hand in show and she nods, gaze firm in its admiration. 

  “In the water. Quickly, now.”

  You do as she instructs and with your hands cupped, you plunge the pearl into its mother waters, letting the small waves lap and roll it over your fingers. With a hasteful gesture, Mina urges you and you give it to her. She inspects it with an occasional glance over her shoulder and you do much the same. 

  “The voices… grow silent still,” you sigh, eyes cast with tears of defeat. But she lays a hand to your shoulder in comfort. 

  “The water is not enough, but there is another way, though one that shall ask for more risk.”

  Your eyes implore her to continue. You’ve come this far…

  “Blood is the only remedy to revive the song.” She watches you, eyes wide as you all but lay your palm flat to the caressing wind that sweeps up the sandy embankment, your other hand bearing your elongated claws.

  But she stops you. “A hex consumes the pearl, young one. Your blood alone won’t suffice. The blood of Captain Barnes is also required.”

“His blood?” you hiss. Your shoulders fall to a slump and your neck cranes forward, hair loosely falling over to hide your fearful dismay. Were you to resign to your fate, never to know the truth?

  The thought to draw his blood chills you just as much as the husky thrum of his voice behind you, summoning your fear and obedience to turn and look at him.

  In sync, both you and Mina turn swiftly to meet the gaze of your captain, eyes silently taunting your next move. Behind him, the barrier of scornful glares cut into you with the worth of a thousand daggers. 

  “What is your next move, Siren?”

  He stalks you into the water now. The ocean wraps around your waist, his form an apparition of terrorising beauty, waves thrusting into him as though to push him back towards shore. He scoffs at the defiance before him, arms held out in mockery that he contains no ill-mannered intent.

  “Come, Siren, you know me,” he purrs lowly.

  Mina pushes you behind her as the blinded allure in your eyes takes hold from his words, she utters under the harshness of her breath, “Go.”

  You move to turn and dive but Mina’s shriek stops you. Finding her trapped in your captain’s arms, her back pressed to him, his flesh hand brandishes a knife to her exposed throat, the shine of metal blinks carnivorously against the juncture between her neck and jawline; her face sprawled into a defeated wince. 

    His lips pull back into a menacing snarl. “The necklace or her life.”

Clenching the necklace in the basin of your palms, amidst your frantic, tearful gaze, you take a moment to study its worth.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Part 4 Original Transcript ・6.7k Mature! SMUT 18+ minors dni — oral receiving (male) — slight breeding kink — dubcon (imma just put this here just in case — possessive, dark bucky — dom/sub dynamic — minor profanity — secondary character death — angst — pet name usage ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

No. Its worth weighs not in balance with the shedding of her blood, her very life, and your captain knows he has won. Head bowed low until the tresses of your hair fall about to frame your face like a shroud, hands sheltering the necklace with uncertainty, you turn your head towards your captain and Mina. Your hueful eyes, expressive in their nature of care beyond your own preservation, you would never willingly put your dear friend in the midst of harm. So, with a shake of your head at Mina’s tearful glare that spurs you to flee, you reject your chance of freedom in exchange for hers. 

  Primed still at the exposure of her throat, he guards her while you approach forward, elegantly submissive under the wake of his darkened stare, the bright tinge of blue awaits you with lust and longing. Nearing his side, the golden chain runs over your skin, a strike of pure and cold guilt pushes a burdensome weight on your heart at the passing of sorrowful voices that vanish upon his imprisoning hold.

  “Good girl,” he purrs with a flaunt of his pleased grin. Teeth that render you with possessive marks on display, taunting you with what’s to come. It is with tenderness that the softened caress of your hands meet over the tanned muscle of his hand that harbours death at his whim, eyes pleaful and coaxing with a want for an end to this needless violence; to forget its happening and be in the smothered encompassing of your beloved captain. 

  His fingers curl tighter to the hilt of his blade.

  “Please…” Heaven pours the purest of waters into the goblet of a sinful man at the sound of such an angelic plea, fluttering from your parted lips his eyes cannot lessen his want for. As if entranced by the lull of your voice, he nods with a thinned smile of his plump, pink lips and withdraws the bite of metal from her throat. Mina lurches forward, stumbling with a sharp gasp, and you catch her a moment before she can find salvation in revenge. 

  “Young one,” she insists quickly as she latches hold of your wrist. Something resides in her face that pales, along the ridge of her eyes is a thickened beam of tears, but she gives you a smile. One she often adorned to banish your fears. In the etched lines of your confusion, she only smiles wider until the tears can no longer be held at bay, unleashing in finely thinned rivers. 

You mean all to me. I love you. 

  Her body succumbs and melts around you the moment you embrace her. Her arms are a haven around you, a blanket of safety you miss, a sensation you long to have. But she is sudden to pull away, holding her palm up and flat, she gestures for you to move back. 

Go. Now.

  In spite of their grievances and war over you, you see a mutual glance shared between Mina and your captain, her eyes firm in ensued silence but imploring something of him.

  “Come, siren,” says Bucky, his strong hands encase you and pull you from Mina, your outstretched hands graze her own that will to entangle with yours, but falter. 

  She nods at you to go with your captain and you allow yourself to sink into the muscled crevice of his side, his hand holstering you flush to him as he guides you back towards the shore. He gives you no chance to let your course of gaze to linger back towards Mina. The low hum of his voice mumbles something to Wanda and the witch grins with an all too eager nod of her head. Now with you in his grasp, he leads you back towards the ship with those of the hunting party following behind. 

  You’re pressed on to move with haste, the salty winds sweep up the sandy embankments with a fearsome bellow that hums deeply in your rings, your robe barely clinging to cover your modesty. Only just over the beach’s mounding crest and through the howl of Nassau’s haunting wind, your body flinches inward to your captain at the echo of a scream that cracks through the swaying palms and over the bounding waves until the sound can travel no further. 

  Your feet run the wooden boards of the cabin at the behest of his forceful hand that shoves you through its threshold, the warrant of his wrath, the price you’ll pay for daring to insult him through your little deception. 

  “You test the bounds of my tolerance and kindness, siren,” he warns behind a bar of gritted teeth, he hisses without remorse for your shedded tears that follow, “You are bound to ME!”

  With fear all-consuming, you fall to your knees, hands press to the scuffed boards’ lining and your chin bows low to levels of his preference. 

  You cry out, the profuse outpour of tears that line your face does little to quell the raging tide of his anger. “I-I’m sorry!”

  “Quiet!” he barks and you reply with naught but a trembling nod. “I’ve been merciful to you. I’ve given you belonging, shelter and security, and this is how you repay all that? With this insult!”

  His height that towers over you like a commanding shadow sinks to kneel before you, the musk of his scent wafts in lingering cascades upon you, encasing you in times that once were; without this consistent turmoil of your curious nature. 

  But that’s what you were: curious. Why your captain holds guardianship over this particular necklace, its mystery undeniable to lure in your want to know, its attention and the way it glimmers and shines in the sunlight’s light. And the now fading voices. This necklace is yours, at least it was at some point in time, a piece of you that now your captain harbours as his own. Through it, somehow, it binds you to him. The key to your imprisonment… but also your freedom. 

  “You’ve to be punished now.” His words spoken levelly bring a chill to wisp down your spine and needle through your skin, sewing a patchwork of unrest into the faint glamour of your receded, softened scales, and your pupils are blown dark and wide with your evident terror. Punishment is never struck on a whim when it comes to your captain. No, punishment is served at the wrong doings, and in performing poorly to his orders, that punishment can vary. But for you, it falls under the same cloth, a figment garment that never holds to you for long. For it is stripped from you as you enact yourself in service until he sees your crimes duly paid in full.

  And usually, it is after he has pumped you full, until your cunt is sorely abused and leaking with his seed. 

  Cool metal dances under your chin and before you can find a surmisable amount of courage to fight, he sharply upturns the tilted axis of your eyes to meet his. Ferocious as the battles he orchestrates at sea, and piercingly cold as the wintry peninsula of the arctic that your skin and muscle is butchered until your bones ache. Yet in the delicately lightened pools of his oceanic eyes, lies a strange tenderness. But it is one that never smiles. Never softens. Not in the way Mina implied. For your captain’s heart is a black one, guarded in the fortress of his cruelty. That which he holds you to the level of his eye is not a testament of love. 

  Captain James Barnes, the White Wolf, cannot love. Much to the naivety of your own heart, that soon after broke at this revelation of truth some time ago, you came to accept that in his darkened heart, yearns the ever hungry curse of lust. A hunger you must now feed or forever be enslaved, and mind erased at the coming of his witch’s scarlet magic. 

   “Yes… I do…”

  Your answer is met with a hum of approval, deep and throaty. Over the canvas of his features, there’s a smirk woven into his lips, sly and beautifully sinister in his internal fantasies he makes real upon the unity of your intimacy. You cannot help the blossom of need in your core upon meeting the darkened hue of his eyes that proclaim loudly through the veil of desires unspoken. 

  “Correct answer,” he applauds with another purr accentuating his deep voice, the flutter of your lashes a visible effect of his spell over you. But beneath his praise and all good words that come forth from his lips, you know what answer he seeks newly and intensely. At its mere thought, a power surges through you, a sensation that circuits through the tips of your fingers and down between your legs, gathering a layer of slickness that settles over the wooden floor. 

  “Your child,” you say, lips but a ghost’s touch apart, “your bastard…”

  “There’s a good lass,” he chuckles with a devilish grin and pushes forward, lips smashing onto yours with unparalleled force that drives your spine to curl back, at your hips he pulls you to him. His teeth gnaw and stab, his tongue roughly seeks out the delicate line of your mouth, priming it before his invasion that draws a string of quietened moans from the chasm beneath your breasts. Between them and the hardened peaks at their centres, the idle brush of silver reminds you of his name. Reminds you of whom you are bound to. 

  You whimper at the first lashing of his tongue that threatens yours in intimate combat, and with little will to fight and claim dominance, you allow him to defeat you. He is brutal in the carnage his wet muscle unleashes. Hungrier and hungrier. Closer, you pull yourself to the realm of his lap, crawling in the vice of his passionate indulgence. 

  He all but wraps you in the embrace of his arms and sweeps you up from the floor, pinning you to his hardened, muscular front with a long groan, the taste of your tongue coiling around his enough to make him delirious. Your robe falls from your shoulders and rests in the crook of your elbows, allowing your captain to ravish the nakedness of your shoulders and chest, marking your skin. He suckles, drawing dark pigments to form as a reminder of who it was that could only have you like this. 

Bucky’s quick to thrust you down on the bed. Forced at his will, you’re splayed upon your stomach and he forces your hips to arch up until the curve of your spine is perfectly at level to his liking. 

  “Are you goin’ to be a good girl for me, siren?” The question comes as a dark wave. The scent of his breath washes over you, you can smell the intoxicating flavour of lust. “Are you going to let your womb become swollen?”

  His metal hand comes to lift beneath the flesh of your smooth stomach, resting there. Ever gentle to tease, his fingers dance their way down lower, not quite gracing the needy pulse between your thighs, his cock hard and stiff against the apex of your arse, slowly he grinds up and down. 

  You give an obedient nod and a breathless sigh, “Yes, Captain…”

  He grinds further down against you, having all but ripped the robe from your body, the only barrier between your bodies is the tight confines of his dark trousers that do little to hide the body of his erected length. You shudder beneath the behemoth of his form, his heat poisonously soothing to the cooler temperature of your own. 

  His lips find the delicate, curved shell of your ear as he breezes with a husky hum, “There’s a good little siren.”

  His metal fingers prod at the sensitive mound of your aroused bud, pulling a string of pleasured hisses and whines like a musician plucking the noted hymn of his trusty instrument. His thumb rolls slowly to the rock of the ship as his other fingers toy with the moistened slit of your pussy that craves to have anything he’ll give. 

  You pant heavily, hair mused to falter in unkempt wisps that fall over your eyes. He whispers against the finery of your flesh, praising it over every inch exposed to him. His thumb now rolls harder and his metal digits push between your folds, ignoring the low whine and startled quiver of your thighs that bounce in their shaken balance, teetering over the bed’s edge only to be supported by the pillar of his waist that pummels into you roughly. 

Your eyes flutter to a close, engrossed in the motion of his fingers, the chilling kiss that smoulders the writhing waves of heat of your walls, your core now a blazing furnace that pleads for more. A filthy moan escapes you at the tugging of his expert technique, leaving him to chuckle darkly from behind. 

  “Dirty little whore, aren’t ya?” All you can do is nod in reply, wriggling in his grasp, your hips thrust down on his hand with feverish need. 

  His flesh hand punishes you with a slap, the echoing sound causes you to shriek. Frozen, he then stabilises you with his other hand that bites into the shape of your hip until he’s capable of leaving defined bruising. “You’re at my whim, Siren,” he growls hoarsely, “and you’re still serving your punishment.”

  He knows you near your orgasm. Your impatience to reach it noticeable and just when at the ridge of your climatic bliss, he withdraws his fingers from your cunt. It takes everything you have to not mewl and cry in protest. He turns you to lay on the flat of your spine, up into the glower of his piercing stare, and without so much as blinking, his flesh hand weaves to unfasten the buckle of his belt and tosses the leather strap to the floor with a metallic thunk. With a heavy knee that tips the scales, it pushes down on the mattress along your side with a muffled groan, his body hovers over you. Meanwhile, he invades your mouth with the numerous digits coated in your juices. You moan lowly at the taste that sizzles on your tongue, washing your buds with your sweet nectar. 

  With a simple rustle and tug, his pants fall loosely to gather below his strongly built waist, fabric bunching together to hold fast from falling to the floor too quickly. Free from the tight constraints now, his cock brushes over the navel of his abdomen, the long under-vein pulsing with heated pools of blood and his thick, pink tip oozing with need in the form of pebbling drops of pre-cum. Pushing his hips forward and tearing his metal fingers from your mouth, ignoring the connecting thread of saliva, he pulls your head until your lips bump plushly to his weeping head. His flesh hand traces the contour of your jawline with ghosting touch, your hair becomes ravelled tightly in the locked grip of his other.

  “Let’s see how well you sing when my cock is fucking your throat,” he says beneath a wheezing chuckle. He growls then, still humoured by his remark, “Open.”

  Your defiance to obey his command is futile. Somehow, you know this, though you believe you’ve never tried. Contact locked between your eyes, your pliant lips part and sink around his enormous girth, barely able to tolerate far before you’re already caught gagging. He laughs at your attempt to take him whole, always amused at the sighted struggle written into every inch and crevice of your face. Now that he thinks about it, it has been some time since he’s taken you down the throat, his flesh hand rolls from your jaw and down the side columns of your neck with the continuation to submerge his cock further in. Beneath his calloused fingers, your neck swells and the skin protrudes as his cock intrudes until finally, your nose brushes the dark curls of his base. 

  Your lashes are darkened and wet by the stream of tears lining the brim of your eyes, nose flaring aggressively for even a morsel of air. 

With a tilt of his chin he indicates for you to begin, his eyes warning of greater punishment if you decide otherwise. You slowly pull your head back, the stiffness of his hardened length running against the walls of your throat and mouth, covering every inch possible. As much as you can, you barely allow your teeth to tease him, fearful of what he’d do if you got any ideas with your sharp incisors. Rumbling with a pleasured groan, your captain snaps his hips sharply to sheathe himself again, much to a shattered, muffled whine coming from you. Your pace is too slow. And so, with a twist of your locks, he rolls his hips back and forth in a pace set to his liking, adoring the flow of tears streaming down your face. You continue to cough and gag, throat tightening in pulsing waves that quicken yet fade the longer you go without sufficient air. 

  “F-fuck, siren,” he groans as his head dips back, hair licking down the nape of his neck in long, dark tresses. His hips roll faster and his fingers hold tight to feel the quickened strike of his cock that surges back and forth inside you, your moans growing louder and lost in a whirlwind and blissful agony. 

  “Every drop, little Siren— sh-shit!” he thrusts harder at the filthy image of his spent spilling from the enclosure of your jaw and trickling down your neck in artistic rivers. The frantic course of his thrusts causes an obscene amount of sound to echo through the room, the slickened gargle of your hot, tiny mouth trying to accommodate his size through what little intake of air you can harvest, your cheeks flushed a bright hue of red that rivals that of the blood of his enemies. His lips part with a series of gasps and deep moans pumped from his chest, his release soon upon him. 

  “Drink— it all up– love,” he utters with a string of curses soon following his order. His grip seizes hold to the roots and your scalp burns, your discomforted whine drowned out by the flood of his seed that shoots past your tongue and straight into the bowel of your belly without restraint. His spent comes in tidal waves of hotness, unable to register his taste entirely, thick ropes of his cum paint and coat the walls of your mouth, leaving naught but a messy web of his release to coagulate once he withdraws. 

  In sight of you with your mouth full of him, he smirks, a dark and wicked thing to behold to and beneath the smouldering, glassy gaze that’s coal-like; fearsomely burning in his reverie of desire. He sighs a sound so deep it rumbles off his tongue like the fine course of a flowing river. 

  “How beautiful you are… on your knees and full of my love.”

  Love? 

  Is that what his seed is a representation of? You blink, wet and dark lashes beating damp markings against the undercurve of your eyes, he sees the surprise in your enlarged pupils.

  He cannot mean ‘love’. He is not capable of it…

  But how you wish he was. Oh, what you would give for this man to be able to love. To actually know the fine line between material treasures and true, unbridled and passionate love. Funny, how a siren wishes internally for the concept of love and to be loved, the very essence of that emotion only comes to that of the affectionate sisterhood of other sirens. A bond that envelops through both scales and soul. 

  A bond that, if severed, can have lasting impacts on the heart and mind. So much so, that a siren’s song can turn into one of longing sorrow and despair, and when that essence of love and lust is gone, there is no longer a song.

  Only the sounds of cries and shrill screams that echo in the mists, void of any emotion other than vengeance and rage. 

  He summons your attention with a sharp whistle that pierces the veil of your thoughts, ringing loud and clear in your ears. 

  “Eyes up, siren. I wanna see those eyes on me when I fuck you.” 

  Upon capturing the colour of your eyes, the casted amber glow from the candles reflecting in glittering highlights, his smirk only grows into a toothy grin that pulls the seams around his eyes to crinkle slightly. He watches with keen interest as you gulp down each swallowing of his cum, until the gaping blackness of your throat is all that remains, leaving a thin coating behind. 

  “How do I taste, little siren?”

  “G-good… Captain,” you answer, voice shaken. Broken in and slightly roughened. Something that stirs his pride greatly. His lips brush the velvety texture of your moan, memorising each stroke to memory with a drunken groan. 

  Intoxicated by the venom of his attention, you’re powerless as he leans over you, knees bent into the bed on either side of you, caging you beneath him. His hands, a mix of metal and flesh - a combination of cold and warm - follow the curvature of your jaw and sweep down your neck, following the natural dips and bends of your body. Over the linen of his loosely ruffled blouse, your hands are gentle in their tug, pulling at it. 

  Amused by your antics, Bucky leans back a moment and peels the shirt over his large shoulders, your eyes drink in the scarred field of his muscular body, the dark line of hair trailing down to the base of his cock that revives and flourishes with a heated, deep pink tint. 

  In your moment of jaw-slackened admiration, Bucky’s lips delve to the crook of your neck, nose nestling in deep to inhale your alluring scent that mingles and rubs with his own, husky growls emit from some deep chamber within him in his frenzy to claim every inch of you he can. With a pivot of his hips that move forward, he excites your weeping and desperately aching core with the enthralling length of his cock, a stone striking against stone to bring a sparking ember. 

  Your nails carve red streaks over his inked skin, muscle ripples beneath the pads of your fingers and he hisses deliciously, a sound you swallow with greed. 

  “Look at you,” he mumbles against your jaw, peppering your chin and the corner of your lips with kisses. “Taking what’s yours. You’re learning to be as black hearted as I.”

  Never has he applauded you in such a way. Not once has he rewarded this behaviour with praise and amusement. It’s always him that’s been dominant, to triumph over you. But not a moment too soon can you be lost to this idea that he wanes in his power, for his teeth sink deep between your neck and shoulder, enough to draw the bitter iron taste of your blood, you wince under the heavy pressure of his mark. “But I’ll always be the one on top.”

  “Yes, Captain,” you gasp quickly to the beat of his growl. His tongue soothes his bite before he takes one of your swollen peaks between his plush lips, tongue darting over it. Your moans are music to his ears. Granting the same treatment to the other before he turns you over, his actions rough with a grunt, he stares a moment upon the bareness of your spine, the ever-faint shimmer of softened scales reflect differing hues of greens, blues and pinks against the colour of your skin. 

  Your face brushes firmly over the furs and silks to peer past and over your shoulder, up at the darkened frame of your captain, eyes darkened and lost to the storm of his lust. 

  His large head spears teasingly at your entrance, lips quivering in anticipation and attempting to latch hold, to knock his tip within grasp. He scoffs at the pitiful display below him, your whines and broken mewls a song of your dependence on him. You’d never survive without him, he grins darkly at the thought. You rely too much on him now, stripped of everything you knew before, he holds you in the palm of his hand and at his tether. An obedient plaything.

  At the swift motion of your hips, Bucky dips back, your attempt failing miserably with an exasperated sigh. “Now, siren,” he coos, cocking a brow you barely see, you hear the infatuation that laces his tone. “I want you to beg for it. You sound so beautiful when you do.” 

  “Please,” you whimper that stifles at the reward of his tip brushing your aroused lips. You whine again, louder, “Please!” 

  The snap of his hips is quick and he thrusts hard, pushing the breath from your lungs in the form of  a breathless scream that winds you. Buried almost to his haired base within one go, he pushes what remains until his cock nestles snugly in your pulsing walls that constrict around his girth; choking in with dire need. 

  “Fuckin— hell–” he bites down into his lip with a deep hiss as he draws his hips back, only to then repeat the first slaughtering wave that penetrated you, another gust of breath pushed from your lungs. You cough, spluttering and moaning in muffled choruses when he picks up the pace, driving his cock in and out, the sound drowning your eardrums with only the backdrop of his voice threads through, you’re practically deaf to your own noises. 

  “So t-tight–” he chokes out, the impact of his thrusts increases until your body shuffles back and forth, his hands squeeze to your hips to keep you from moving across the bed from his ruthless pace. Arching himself that bit higher and angling you with him, your ears pop and ring with a scream that tears through your vocal cords, loud enough to be heard from outside the cabin, no doubt. 

  “Like that, siren? Right there, is that where— shit, where you— need me?” 

  You cry out in reply, voice barely able to form the words,   “U-uh– yes!”

  The tightness that ripples through your body and heats your skin begins to form, the weaving of your orgasm soon nearing, your only hope that he grants you it this time, you continue to appeal to him, begging him for more and more until your cunt aches from the constant pummeling of his drive. Each time your walls squeeze around him, it’s tighter than the last, a telltale that your body is ready to let go. 

  “Cap–Captain!” you gasp into the sheets with a deep, longing moan. “Please… oh, please…”

  His lips tug at the corners into a devilish grin, fingers embedding themselves to bruise your hips. “You want to cum?”

  You cannot bring yourself to answer lest you scream again and break your voice for good, he sees the intense bop of your head. 

  “Cum for me, little siren, cum on my cock,” he barks and you follow his command. Like the pulling current of the forbidden and dark maelstrom, you release yourself with a heavy and breathless moan as you cum. His own pouring of his seed follows within seconds of your own, your walls drinking every drop of him until he’s all but spent inside you. He grunts from behind, a series of laborious noises, he begins to slow his hips but doesn’t cease to a complete stop. 

  His hips roll slowly until he grinds circles, his cock still embedded deeply into your abused pussy that’s stuffed full of him and his cum, all but weeping around him in hopes of leaking out. Your skin is duly from the thin layer of sweat coating you like a second skin, your chest heaves for air after having been robbed of every single breath, but the trace of his lips brings you pause.

  He’s not done with you just yet. 

  Glasses of sand pass through hours of unrelenting torture, brought out through orgasmic bliss and pleasures and pain, all until both he and you were beyond another round. Your entire body felt broken in, shaking with nerves frazzled and your muscles tense after trying to claw your way out of his grasp - for even just a moment of reprieve - but he’d dragged you back to him from your ankles and pinned you down. 

  Left in darkness, the candles having lost their will and wick to burn,  you blink through the overhanging shroud of sleep that clings to you. Your body remains to recover and you struggle to crane yourself to even rest on your elbow and peer down at your captain. Asleep on the plane of his back, his chest rises slowly with deep inhales and breezing exhales. His metal hand lazily holds against the hind of your arse, every so often giving it a firm grip. His other hand rests on the rise of his toned stomach, the gold barely noticeable in the dark, the pearl emits a dim glow. The voices, however, sing a dying symphony that are barely heard above your breath. 

  You draw closer until you half straddle over his waist, your fingers comb over the veins of his hand and wrist, down and over his thick, strong fingers, ringing the chain loose until the necklace is held in your palms once again. You’d done all to tire him out to near completion so that he’d not be as alert as any other time. Now all you cling onto is hope that your plan is not one of failure. 

  Your nails grow from the beds and sharpen, eyes flickering between his sleeping features and the necklace, your hand hovers above him. 

  The air is thick in your lungs, tense as you scan for a place to safely gather enough blood that he won’t notice in his sleep. Your eyes and hand move down the length of his body until they reach the apex of his lower abdomen, grazing just near the trail of dark hair, your claws slash an opening. Pouring in thin, bleeding streams, you coat the pearl quickly. The pearl glows brighter now, the taste of crimson allows the white to fight through the hue of red, adorning a pinkish colour. You move to sit, balancing half way atop your captain, you next move to your palm, your sharpened fang punctures into the tender flesh of your other palm, you swallow a pained hiss. 

  With a final glance towards your sleeping captain, you’re aware there will be no going back from this. Mina’s sacrifice will not be in vain. You lay the pearl into the thin pool of blood, the pearl beats with glowing life that compares to that of the full moon, the song returning to levels now louder, revived from their near death. 

  Through the ripples of time, a white flush blinds you with a vision.

  Brightly, the sun lays high and over the ocean that moves in ever-rolling waves, the ripples form on its surface with unrest, a vast world of different shades of blue, all a-mingling together in harmony. The ocean envelops you - welcomes you - and your tail thrashes in excited beats that leave behind a fading cloud of bubbles. 

  Around you, faces greet you with fanged smiles, wistful and playful eyes that are soft in their tender gaze that hold to you. 

  Faces you find yourself remembering now, but their names evade you. 

  Breaking the ocean’s surface, the sun drowns your vision with bleeding heat, your brows scrunch but your grin is present and full. A sense of great excitement buzzes throughout your entire body, stomach alight with wonderment, you wonder… What is this feeling about?

  Then you see her and you now know. Her stature is grand and towering, she too breaks through the barrier between worlds with a hum of contentment, her features warmed in the blazing sun’s light. Her hair falls down over her shoulders in long, cascading tendrils, braided with dazzling ornaments and a variety of shells, each one a treasured gift presented, a crown forged in mystic metal shines. 

  Her eyes are giant pools of amber, a stark contrast when she resides in her kingdom below the waters and in the abyssal midnight. Eyes that are forever watchful and guarding, ever-seeing and always brimming with unfaltering love. 

  “Children,” she sings low and slowly, a note of adoration in her voice. All those of siren-kind are known as her children, but for you, you are one whose blood is annointed. From her womb, years ago, she shed tears of happiness. A child to whom she’d come to name Y/N. Daughter, and princess, of sirens. 

  Around her waist is the cycle of sirens that envelop her, circling her in their gladness to see her emerge from the depths below, every so often does she make her way to the surface, only for special occasions. Those who do not rush to swim circles around her, they gather onto the lagoon rocks. 

  “My beloved children,” again she coos soothingly with a rolling lullaby. But her eyes are sudden to sink, her smile is then to vanish as an abrupt wave of panic consumes her. Her amber eyes turn towards the horizon behind you and her form blacks out the sun, covering you in her looming shadow. 

“Submerge—!”

Screams of a thousand voices echo into the sky and ripple through the water as spiralling currents that pierce you like blades. Her body bends forward at the bombardment of fire upon her, her neck cranes forward with a reverberating cry, her pain is felt by all.

  Yet she pleads for her children to delve below, to hide beneath the blackened blue that no humans would dare to venture lest they succumb to their demise. 

  Ships break into view, bouncing on the waves as tyrants. Breakers of peace. “Mother!” you shout, a webbed hand outstretched only to turn swiftly at the ship headed straight for you. The sight of a carven lady poised at the hull’s front, adorned in a skinned pelt of a wolf upon her head, you’d recognise it anywhere. The Avenger. The ship continues at you, leaving you no choice but to dive out of the way just before her front could bruise and slay you bluntly. 

  Your vision succumbs to a flurry of bubbles and darkness, only to re-awaken above the waves, the sky now traded for night. The moon is full, clouds unable to restrain its light for long in passing and the inky black canvas is riddled with sparkling, silver gems. 

  The Avenger’s anchor is reeled in with haste, panic ensues within the form of night and battle commences between that of your kind and the species that dwells on land, that which you prey upon: Man. 

  Those of your small clustered hunting party are hunted, spears puncture through the water until they sink into flesh or fall to the trench’s deep. You swerve, turn swiftly to be missed, but some aren’t so fortunate as you. 

  You came here to hunt and your quarry is what you’ll drag to the depths. Barreling upwards, a tunnel of water sprays about you as you launch yourself airborne, high and overarching towards the helm where you’d last seen him. 

Fangs bared into a hissing scream, slitted eyes of a predator bear into the frame of a tall man with dark, long hair and your clawed hands stretch out in your attack. A voice of one of his crew yells for his attention a moment too late. His blue eyes come to find yours just as you land atop him, pinning him to the wooden railing before pushing him overboard. You have him pinned, your grasp tight on your prey that escaped you just a few moments ago in the disturbed peace of his cabin, he struggles against you. 

  You immediately begin to burrow your claws into his shoulder to fight him, teeth gnawing on his flesh and through bone, but still he fights back with waning strength and breath, eyes a pure kind of blue that outmatch the palette around his soon-to-be grave. A whirling of crimson follows him down, his weight shifts in the balance to your favour at the loss of his arm that sinks into the depths below. 

  His lips part and pockets of air come from them in large bubbles, his lids begin to close and you grant him a sweetened smile, eyes half lidded in your victory that is sudden to end at the grasp of his hand around your throat and the cutting robe of a net that encompasses you both.

  In your battle to wriggle free, his arm wraps around you as the net is dragged upwards and towards the hull. Air from the world fills your chest and the once dark sky of a starlit night is returned to day. Around you, ships blast cannon fire and the air is polluted by smoke and the overpowering, scented winds of gunpowder. 

  Those familiar faces now are lifeless, eyes dull and lifeless and staring as blood poisons the sea around them, turning into murky clouds of crimson around you. It forces you to the surface and the moment you do, a voice shouts through the fabric of slaughter, the screams of your pod an orchestra of death and torment. 

  Your head turns to the direction of your mother, who battles the fleet of ships, a brutal display of annihilation only to then be fired upon and lurch forward, the being of her wounds worsens under the attack. Her eyes find yours amidst the chaos and you begin your way to her. 

  “You must flee!” she yells, a hand stretches out for you in warning to then shield you from a dozen harpoons with a harrowing call of whistles. Tears mist your vision before a spray of more fire separates you, driving you under the water and occasionally leaping through the air momentarily to avoid getting lost in the tainted, bloody waters. 

  You dare not look back, not as smoke rides over and veils your mother, not as her cries of battle turn further into the pain she’s subjected to nor the crashing wave of her body that falters and ripples through the ocean until it shudders the earth’s core. 

  But that same ship hunts you, the carven lady with a wolf’s pelt chases you over the unending sheets of raging waves, driving you further and further away from your family, your friends; all that you held dear. The many newborns that were attending the grand ball of daylight would never come to know their second. The choir would never sing your harmonic tunes as the sun faded over the ocean’s horizon. Never would you see your mother’s loving gaze attend you or her other precious children. 

  Never again would siren society be the same, without its queen, and without its people. Launching yourself out and into harm’s way to avoid another blooded cloud, you hear his voice shout, “Alive! I want her alive!”

  Your head turns and your eyes widen at the flash of scarlet that comes towards you, rendering you unconscious. 

  Him. It’d been him all along. Him, as he now stares at you with eyes a fearsome burn of darkened blue, awake and alert to your doings. You hardly come to realise the soaking streams of tears that run down your cheeks and drip onto his stomach, each one shed in the regaining of your memory. Remembering that which was all lost to you. Taken from you. By him.

  “Y/N, my love,” he affirms with a raise of his hands, each one cupping the wet curve of your jaw between them, the ominous and often looming storm in his eyes lays distantly. He coddles you now with his affections. “Pearl… I did it all for you. Because I love you.”

  Your head bends forth to rest in the crook of his neck, chests bare and pressed together, your breaths are shallow tremors that turn into muffled chords of weeping sorrow. Come morning, scarlet will rot your knowledge and turn you blind once again. But for now, you relish in his confession whilst you ponder: does his love justify his means?

For now, you will bide your time. Live another day… and sate your everloving vengeance.

[merthurians-prat-and-idiot]

A brief interlude to be very much back on my sambucky bullshit !!! Just watched Cap 4 & the sambucky crumbs were at least a small cake tbh.

[gaysindistress]

Running from the Daylight - two

pairings: pirate!James “The Scourge of the Sea” Barnes x royal governor's daughter!reader 

Summary: based on this request

Warnings: reader uses She/her/hers pronouns and is AFAB, mentions of the female body/parts, cursing, suggestive sexual content, violence and mentions of death, sexual content (p in v), some dark shit (like I can’t tag it without spoiling it but people get freaky over someone who’s bleeding) I'm actually awful at tagging things but there's smut. for the love of all things holy, do not read if you are a minor.

Word count: 3.6k

part one | my master list

Tag list: @talesofreading

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif, found on google/Pinterest/tumblr. Credits to @boltlightning for the gif on the bottom left & @owenhcrper for the gif on the bottom right

Begging, pleading, and sucking him dry did nothing to convince James that I’ve been ready to take his cock since that first night.

He would be a monster and allow me to believe that he would finally take me only to stop right before it went too far. He would give me hollow reasons like “the sea is too rough,” “you are too tired,” “we don’t have a proper bed and I will not take your maiden hood without one.”

Useless excuse after useless excuse was all I received for months on end. A part of me wondered if he was growing bored but when I confessed this to him, he spent the following several hours between my legs. He lapped and sucked at my core until I was crying and shaking but kept pulling climaxes from me until I very nearly passed out.

I tried to tempt him by wearing thin nightdresses or simply nothing at all but it all failed. I even convinced Natasha to play along with a scheme in which James would just so happen to find us in the middle of fucking but nothing. All he did was sit in his captain’s chair and watch with sharp eyes, occasionally telling us what to do.

Months of pent up frustration finally came to head when we docked in New Providence to replenish our supplies. My father had been overjoyed to see me again but his happy mood was as soiled when he observed the way that James and I were.

“My darling please tell me that he has not ruined you,” my father harshly whispers to me as he pulls me aside.

I gasp in disbelief and rip my arm away from him.

“Excuse me! You are not allowed to ask me such a thing!”

“I am your father, Y/N Stark. It is well within my rights to know if my daughter has been abused by a pirate.”

I catch the watchful eye of James as he’s instructing his crew and he gives me a concerned look. I brush it off and look back to my father.

“Your daughter has not been abused,” I sneer as I spot the Commodore approaching us, “I’ve been kept safe and protected.”

Steve makes a face at my words as he stops beside us but my father seems satisfied. He backs away and nods goodbye to us before retreating back to his fortress.

“You may speak freely with me; has the pirate lord abused you?”

“The only abuse to be had is that what my throat endures from taking his cock every night,” I calmly state before also leaving to find my captain. I don’t wait to hear or see Steve’s reaction but I can feel his piercing stare on my back.

“You said you wouldn’t fuck me until we had a proper bed,” I say lowly as I drop myself onto the canopied bed behind me, “and I think this meets that requirement.”

James narrows his bright eyes at me but doesn’t move from his place leaning against the raging fireplace. It’s odd seeing him look…normal? He’s out of place in this world of luxury and refinement but here in the room that I once called my own, he looks like he belongs. A part of me wishes to pretend that our pasts were different and that he had been the man who proposed to me, yearning for me for years. I wish that time had been kind to him and that it hadn’t stolen his heart and soul. I wish that I could’ve been the one he fell in love with all those years ago so he wouldn’t have had to face that curse. I wish we could delight in being together alone in my room at my father’s estate, a situation I would’ve blushed to even think about a few months ago. I wish we could ignore the reality of who we are and wholly engulf ourselves in the opportunity that presents itself.

“I did say that, didn’t I love?” He muses for a moment, allowing his eyes to trail down my barely covered body. I’d found an even thinner and smaller nightdress to wear for tonight, hoping that it might finally be what breaks him.

Maybe my last wish would come true.

He pushes off the mantle and prowls towards me. As he gets closer, my body starts to burn with anticipation and I inch back to accommodate his imposing stature. James knocks my legs apart with his knee and slots between them as he leans over me. Both hands cup my face and my eyes flutter closed at his warm touch. He dips down to whisper in my ear and chuckles when my breath hitches.

“You need sleep my love.”

I let out a snort, “no I do not. What I need is…”

He interrupts me with a gentle peck and mutters against my lips, “I know what you need and that is sleep.”

James presses another kiss to my lips with a subtle roll of his hips into mine while wearing a wicked smirk. I stick my tongue out at him as he pulls away and waits for me to settle into bed. He finds his place in the huge and ugly arm chair that my mother insisted I needed in front of the fireplace. His hat is sat on the small table beside him and his feet are kicked out in front of himself. Crossing his arms over his chest, James settles himself into the chair as if he’s going to sleep there and I frown at him.

“I can feel you thinking, love,” he quips and although I can’t see his face, I know there’s a smirk.

“Is that where you intend to sleep? In my armchair that I know is most certainly the most uncomfortable piece of furniture in this house?”

His shoulder shrugs and he makes a show of making himself comfortable with a loud sigh.

“It’s perfectly comfortable to me, your highness,” the jab at my upbringing doesn’t go unnoticed, not with the way he elongates the word and lowers his voice.

Scoffing, I throw a pillow at him and he chuckles when it flies past, missing him.

“Remind me to work on your aim in the morning,” he teases me before adding that I need to be going to sleep.

“We’re not on your ship anymore so you’re not my captain,” I snipe and that catches his attention. He perks up and goes to say something smart back but the doors fly open, slamming against the poor walls.

James stays seated albeit ready to jump up if needed. Seeing as he’s playing it cool, I do the same and remain tucked into my bed.

The person who dared interrupt our night is none other than the Commodore. He stands at his full height with a scroll in his hand as he glares at James.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of being granted your presence so late at night, commodore?” James mocks as he watches Steve.

The wigged man says nothing but sends a death glare towards the pirate before looking at me. He takes a step towards me and James makes a clicking noise, telling him to stay put.

“Y/N,” Steve starts as he ignores the subtle warning, “your father has found a way to free you from your deal with this vile creature.”

I glance around him at James who’s smirking to himself and raises one dark brow at me. He’s no longer stretched out like a cat but instead is leaning back against the chair with his head resting on his fist as he watches us.

Turning my attention back to Steve, I ask him to elaborate and elaborate he does.

“You were under duress. You cannot be expected to uphold a deal that you made when you were in fear for your life. Your father and I handled everything, Y/N, all you need to do is say that you were afraid for your life and otherwise would not have made the deal.”

In another life the gut wrenching way that Steve is pleading with me would’ve worked. I would’ve jumped up and ran for him, falling into his arms as I sobbed that I was afraid. I would’ve taken his hand and begged him to save me for the sake of being free from a pirate even if it meant being in debt to him for life.

That is if I hadn’t met James; the man who’s shown my unconditional and undying affection. The man that has sworn to protect me and honor me as if I were his ruling goddess. The man that has seen parts of me that no other man has and the man that I want to know every inch of me, mental and physical.

“Steve, ever the gentleman,” I coo as I push the blankets from my lap and slide off my bed.

“There is but one fault in your proposal,” I state as I softly pad toward the two men, “I was not under duress. I was not afraid for my life by any stretch of the imagination. I was not afraid at all, in fact, I felt the safest I had in years in that moment.”

I can feel the heat of James’ stare on me as I come to stand beside him and continue to tear Steve apart.

“If anything, I was concerned for your life but not afraid. I knew that James would not harm or otherwise act in a way that would scare me. I knew that he would agree to my terms but you,” I point at him and allow my voice to become more harsh, “you were the one I was afraid of. You’ve always been a liability, never quite knowing when you’re going to lash out on those around you. You’ve always freighted me and that night at the bar only solidified my fears that you would cause me harm. Even if my life depended on it, I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you or went back with you that day on the Serpent’s Cry. Quite frankly, Steve, I’m perfectly content being bound to this vile creature.”

James snorts from behind me and wraps an arm around me, tugging me to sit on his lap. Steve is fuming, his face turning red with anger at my lecture and I know he’s plotting both of our demises.

The man beneath me grips my chin and tilts my head down so that he can capture my lips in a heated kiss. My hands fly to tangle into his hair as his tongue swipes at my bottom lip. A moan tumbles from me when the hand gripping my chin slides to cup the back of neck.

“Enough!” Steve’s voice rings out and he storms towards us to rip me away.

The familiar cock of a gun halts him and he frantically looks down to see a readied pistol pointing at him. It had been lying under James’ hat, hidden from plain sight so Steve had no chance to draw his open weapon.

James has the audacity to look bored as he holds the weapon and rubs small circles into my hip with his other hand.

“Out,” he orders in a low rumbling voice.

Steve, however, the oaf of a man takes another step forward and James rolls his eyes.

“Is pain the only way you learn, Commodore? Out before I shoot your cock off.”

Steve scoffs at the crude words and I stifle a giggle while tucking my face into James’ neck. He shudders slightly at the feeling and squeezes my hip.

“Y/N,” Steve tries to appeal to me but I’m not having any of it. I begin to plant wet kisses on James’ neck and nip at the soft skin occasionally. Steve calls to me again and I suck a deep red, nearly purple mark into the pirate’s neck which earns me a throaty groan.

A series of sounds ring out and I jolt away from my haven. First is the sound of Steve stepping forward, a gun shot, a cry of pain, and a thud as Steve falls to the ground. With wide eyes I try to look at him but James catches my face in a tight hold, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Don't look at him, love. Eyes on me, understood?” He whispers, letting his lips dance over mine and holding my eye contact with a fierce look swirling in his blue eyes.

I manage a small nod and he smiles at me before addressing Steve who’s clutching his leg.

“I warned you and you did not listen. As far as I’m concerned, you are to blame for the state of your leg. Now I suggest you drag your cowardly self out of this room before I do depart your cock from your body as I promised."

Lost in the way his eyes captive me and his words cause a fire to ignite in my body, I don’t hear Steve’s protests that break through the cries of pain. It’s not until James breaks our trance and rolls his eyes that I realize our situation. I still obey James and don’t look by hiding my face in his neck once again. He coos to me to go to my bed and turn away from them as he helps me stand.

“Keep your eyes on the ground for me,” he tells me when my hand slips from his and I cautiously make my way to my bed.

From behind me, I hear James let out an exaggerated sigh and the crackling of leather from him bending down.

“You’ve shot my leg, how am I to be expected to leave?” Steve hisses through the agonizing pain.

“Drag yourself like the worm you are. It's none of my concern how you choose to obey my command."

“I will not leave her alone with such a demonic savage like yourself.”

There’s a pause, a tension filled pause as I assume James debates what to do. However his next words are not exactly what I was expecting.

“Pain doesn't seem to be a strong enough deterrent for you, Commodore. Remember; you are to blame for your current situation,” he huffs as he yanks Steve up and drops him into the chair we’d been sitting in.

“Love hand me the sheet,” he says to me without looking.

I quickly bundle up the item he’s asking for and toss it to him. I want to ask what he’s planning but it becomes clear when he starts to wrap it around Steve.

“Since you refuse to leave her alone with such a demonic savage, as you put it so beautifully, you’ll have to watch her damnation.”

Steve lets out a roar of protest and it met with a pistol pressed under his jaw.

“You were told to leave and you did not. Seeing her defiled and ravished as she deserves is a fitting punishment. I think this is preferable to death but I am not the true judge. Love?”

The nickname catches me off guard and my eyes dart between them but it’s the stormy eyes of James that are given my full attention.

“What do you think? Should I grant him mercy and kill him before you take my cock? Or should he watch as I take what he's desired for years?"

As I fail to answer, James adds, "I will only do this if this is what you want. If not, I’m more than happy to show him just how acquainted with the devil I am.”

Words escape me and I just nod.

Apparently that’s not good enough.

“Use your words love. Tell us what you want.”

“I…fuck,” I mumble under my breath and James’ smirk spreads across his face. He knows that I want this, that I want nothing more than for him to finally take me even if it means Steve is forced to watch.

“I don’t think the Commodore heard you. Louder.”

“Yes. I want this. I want you. I want you to take me.”

James cocks a brow at Steve with a sinister smirk, “it appears that your pure angel wants me to defile her while you watch.”

The tied up man jerks forward with a threat on his lips and james lets out a terrifying laugh. He ignores the protests and calls me over with the hook of his finger. My body is trembling as I let my feet touch the ground and nearly stumble as I try to walk. Steve must think it’s out of fear but my captain knows it’s due to anticipation.

I stop at his side and James draws away from the injured man to wrap an arm around me. Pulling me in front of him, my back is to his chest and I’m facing Steve. James keeps his gun pointed at him while bending his head to my ear and whispering to me.

“You tell me when you want to stop, understood?“ he tells me in a voice so low I almost don’t hear him. When I don’t acknowledge his statement, he squeezes my hip with his free hand and repeats it.

Breathlessly I agree, “Yes, please James. I need you.”

He nudges my legs apart and drifts his hand from my hip to my core, pulling up my night dress in the process. My head lolls back, falling onto his shoulder and he captures my lips in a searing kiss. Moans and sighs fall without hesitation as he begins to run firm but slow circles into the bundle of nerves that only he can seem to find. His name becomes a chorus that is caught between our lips as the pressure builds within my core. He releases my lips and lets me sing my song for Steve to hear clearly. I feel him smile against my temple as I grow louder and louder. Just as I’m about reach my climax, he pulls his hand away and I nearly cry. A few tears leak from my eyes and he coos sweetly to me.

“Shhhhh love, I promised to defile you and I intend to do that. Lean forward and put your hands on his shoulders.”

“James,” I whimper when I feel him back away.

“Do as you’re told.”

The sounds of his belt and pants dropping silences me. I lean forward and with hazy eyes, look Steve straight on as my hands grip his shoulders. There’s a fire burning in his light eyes and I’ve come to know what it truly is. He can try to deny it but we all know watching me is causing him to grow hard and angry.

“Y/N,” his voice breaks as he whispers my name and I blink hard trying to look at him.

The heavy heat of James behind me distracts me and I drop my head at the feeling of him rutting against me.

He taunts Steve with cruel words as he drags the head of his cock through my folds and pulls wanton moans from my swollen lips.

“James,” I plead, “please.”

He coos mockingly as he lines himself up.

“Louder, my love. I don’t think your fiancé heard you.”

“He’s not my fiancé,” I grit out angrily but it falls flat when he pushes his entire length inside of me. It turns into a wince and pained moan but he doesn’t pull out. He keeps it there, watching me struggle with the pain that morphs into blinding pleasure. Only when I push back against him does he withdraws a few inches but keeps most of his length inside me as he starts to rock his hips into me. He’s slow and deliberate at first, focusing on pulling the loudest and most embarrassing moans he can from me but as his own body betrays him, his hips increase their pace.

Below me Steve is a mess. His breathing is ragged and the color is draining from his face as the blood loss becomes too much. I can’t bare to look at him and James must see that in the way I keep my head bent down. A sharp tug on my hair forces my head up and I see the devastation written lines on his face. The cold barrel on a gun rubs against my scalp and it dawns on me that the hand that’s in my hair is holding the gun. He grunts as he pumps his dick into me and I cry out as pleasure washes over me. He keeps one hand coiled into my hair as the other slips to my core, rubbing me and drawing my climax from me.

James tugs me up against his chest and I tilt my head back to rest against his shoulder as we continue to move against each other. His cock drags against my walls in a nearly painful way but I don't care. I’m pulsing around him and pleading with him to let go with me. As my eyes flutter shut from the white hot pleasure, he tugs my hair again and demands I look at Steve.

“Look at the Commodore, love. Look at what just watching you does to him,” he mumbles against the skin of my neck. My eyes are heavy and it’s a struggle to do as I’m told but I do and it earns me my climax.

James thrusts up hard one final time and we’re both moaning as I finish. He’s not far behind and groans out my name as he releases his hot seed into me. We’re a panting mess as he slows and eventually stops. He loosens his grip on my hair with a sweet kiss to my temple and whispers praise into my ear.

Intertwined in those sweet phrases is a promise and at first I think it’s for me. Only when the second shot of the night rings out do I realize that it was intended for Steve.

“I hope for your sake that your false god takes pity on you and allows you to die before morning.”

With that he tucks himself back into his pants and lifts me into his arms. My final memory of commodore will be blurred in pleasure and blood but I don’t care. He can bleed out for all I care after he dared to lay a hand on me and insult the man I love.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

A Pirate's Life for Me Chapter 1

Summary:  Captain Bucky Barnes and his crew on the Armored Star are the most fearsome pirates in the known world.  They’ve given the British fleet a run for their money as they try to free the enslaved and take from the rich, but they could have never guessed how the British empire would retaliate against them.  When a new pirate ship appears and lays waste to all in its path, will Bucky and his crew be ready for the wrath of a woman scorned?

Warnings:  piracy, pillaging, sexual assault, death/murder, blood/gore, violence, smut

*manbo:  voodoo priestess

Next chapter

Bucky hopped off the boat into the shallow waters of the shore of Barataria Bay.  He struggled to get his bearings on solid land as he trudged up the sand.  His men all followed him, docking the boats securely before unloading all their spoils.  There was raucous cheering from further up the beach and Bucky and his men all turned their attention to the voices.  Multiple women and children were watching them dock, their hands raised in greeting.  His face split into a wide smile as he saw his wife, Y/N, running down the beach to meet him.  He opened his arms and caught her as she launched herself at him.

“Buck!  Oh Bucky!” she cried, hugging him tight and wrapping her legs around his waist, kissing every inch of his face and neck.  

“Hello my treasure,” he said, kissing her back, squeezing her.  “I missed you, too.”

She cried as he set her back down, cupping her face in his hands and wiping away her tears.  “You were gone too long,” Y/N sobbed.  

“I know, I’m sorry, lovey,” Bucky said as he kept kissing her everywhere he could reach.  “Next time won’t be as long.”  Y/N looked at him adoringly as she sniffled.  He kissed her deeply again, then took off his hat and plopped it on her head.  “Let’s go home.”

***

Bucky kissed along Y/N’s bare back as she lay on her front, the ocean breeze whipping through the open windows.  He was thoroughly washed and indulging in his time at home for the next few weeks, making love to his most precious treasure.  She had just finished rattling off things that had happened while he was gone, then turned to face him.

“I don’t think you should go again so soon,” Y/N said quietly, her hand tickling down his chest.

“I know, treasure,” Bucky sighed.  “But there’s another fleet of trade ships passing through the channel within two months.  We have to try to save those people,” he said, his fingers sliding up over her arm to her collarbone, then down to her breasts.  “And teach the King a lesson he’ll never forget.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Y/N said, sitting up on her elbow to be face to face with him.  “I told you, I’ve seen a ship on the horizon at all hours of the morning.  Someone is watching us,” she said.  “What if it’s the British?  Tracking you and trying to figure out where you settle?  What if–”

“Lovey,” Bucky leaned in and kissed her, huffing a laugh and shutting her up.  “Do not be afraid.  We have the best scouts in the Caribbean islands.  If it was the British, we would know by now,” he reassured her, brushing her hair back.  

Y/N didn’t look convinced.  “Something just doesn’t feel right, Buck.  I can’t explain it, I can’t prove it, but I need you to believe me.”

Bucky sighed heavily.  “I think you’ve been listening to the *manbo too much,” he said, laying back on the bed.  

“She hasn’t been wrong yet,” Y/N shot back, frowning at him.  

Bucky heaved himself back up and pushed her back onto the bed, hovering over her as he spread her legs apart with his thighs.  He licked his fingers and then used them to rub at her clit, making her moan and shiver beneath him.  “No more ghost stories,” he whispered, dipping down to lick and suck at her neck.  “Just this, right here and now, my treasure.  Let me enjoy you.”

Y/N huffed indignantly, but her body was melting at his touch.  “Yes, Captain.”

***

A few weeks later the Armored Star was repaired and the crew was loading the boats with supplies, hugging and kissing their loved ones goodbye again.  Y/N and Bucky held each other tightly at the shore, the water licking around their feet.  “Please don’t go,” Y/N whispered into his ear.  “It’s not safe.  We need you here.  Don’t leave us, don’t leave me–”

“Y/N,” Bucky murmured, taking her face in his hands.  “You are my one true treasure in this world.  I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.  You are safe here.  The scouts have found nothing, I had them check,” he said, wiping away the tears escaping her eyes.  She gripped his wrists.  “You, all of you, will be fine.  We will come back as soon as possible.  Please lovey,” he said quietly, kissing her over and over again.  “Give me a smile to send me off.”

Y/N sniffled and sighed.  She gave him the best smile she could, though her eyes were still sad.  “I love you till worlds end.”

“I love you till worlds end,” he repeated, smiling at her.  He kissed her deeply one last time, holding her body tight to him, then released her and headed to the awaiting boat.  As the others rowed he turned back to look at her.  Y/N kneeled in the sand watching him leave, heavy sobs making her shoulders shake.  He blew her a kiss, which she caught and laid upon her heart.  She would be fine, she was just another worried wife.  They would all be fine.