#buckme fights back

[buckmepapi]

I actually like when some more general things are tagged because I might discover something new I like. As you said, you add a summary so if I see its not my thing I just scroll past it. Tagging things that are related isn't a crime. Also its just tumblr. I know we're all here for various reasons but its supposed to be fun and relaxed, read what you like, scroll away from things you dont enjoy. Its like I love bucky ALWAYS but sometimes pietro I sneak a peek at pietro or tony

Thank you to you as well sweet nonnie !

I think people on this site tend to be way too toxic , especially fanfic writers and creatives, everyone gets way too big headed and entitled when it really isn’t that deep, I mean we’re all writing and reading smut about people that don’t exist Lmao

You’re exactly right as I’ve discovered many new things myself that I didn’t know about that I now love reading. I just don’t understand why people are losing their minds over tags that are actually related plus as you say, everything has warnings and the option to click “keep reading” so you’re not forced into seeing it , you can quite literally scroll past lol

Ugh side note I love Pietro but there are not enough fics for him and it’s a damn crime 😡😡

[buckmepapi]

This !!

It took me years to get accepted onto PIP (disability payments in the UK) then in the middle of the pandemic they took it away from me because my review must have shown that I had improved or didn’t need help anymore, when it was clearly not the case lmao

I was still unemployed due to illness, my mental health had got worse, my chronic pain had got worse, I started to lose my hearing and had to get aids, I got diagnosed with 2 life long conditions, got new medications etc etc so they clearly disregarded everything I told them in my review because stripping me of my benefits didn’t help my situation at all.

These benefits places do not care for us. Yes there are people that abuse the system, whatever. I have actually spoken to people that have worked for PIP in the past and left due to how it affected their mental health, the call centres are actually paid a bonus / commission for every person they successfully get off of disability benefits, so all they care about is stopping your money.

It’s then the case managers that work for the government that you usually get sent to, so when I spent 3 months (yes it took me that long to write and gather all my evidence myself bc disabled lol) writing these documents and eventually sent them, I got my money back that fortnight, with back payments from the missed 3 months and other back payments because they had reportedly put me in the incorrect group for 2 years and told me I should have been paid for my mobility too lol

Anyway my point is, they speak to you like shit, they humiliate you and demean you, they outright lie on reports. You would not believe some of the shit the assessment team said about me in my report — I had to demand a transcript of the telephone conversation under the freedom of information act and when I saw it I actually wanted to kms because of the stress and the way somebody could say I was lying about conditions. I could write a whole essay on some of the shit they said — like deadass fucking said I don’t have epilepsy I’m like excuse me on what fucking basis ???? I had to get them 20+ year old documentation that showed when I was diagnosed and amongst other shit that showed I was in a coma, and a doctors report listing all my conditions and lay £30 for that shit and all sorts because why???? Jesus fucking Christ

All this being said , it left me suicidal, for years I didn’t get pip but continued to be disabled and continued to not be able to function and watch my health deteriorate , but pip denying me of my rights made me feel like I was an imposter like my conditions weren’t that bad because a team of “professionals” told me so — pip are paid to strip people of benefits, they do not care. Appeal always appeal, reach out to your local disability schemes and ask someone to help you, go to citizens advice bureau, go to the job centre and ask for a disability ambassador.

I know there are people that can’t do this at all and I was one of them for a long time. I don’t think I could ever bring myself to do it again if it was taken away from me again bc it took everything out of me for MONTHS and the thought of it happening again makes me want to cry and hurt myself fr

Honestly if anyone wants to fucking see the shit we have to put up with , ask me and I’ll show you the damn report Lmao

They even said bc I lived up a set of stairs I wasn’t disabled - I mean ??? I was living in assisted housing because I escaped domestic violence so it was either you accept this flat now as your only option or you continue to be beaten within an inch of your life at home till we find something else. I mean which would you fucking take? I still struggled getting up and down those steps and had fallen up them many times when my legs gave way but ok then pip

And a part of the report said the accidents that I had were not that bad because I didn’t go to the hospital. — like hello have you not read or paid attention to my whole assessment ? I’m agoraphobic I can’t leave my damn fucking house for days to weeks at a time , I had to show their stupid asses some pretty gnarly photos of my weekly accidents to prove my point , like , I have cut off the end of my toe, I’ve snapped my finger back, I’ve imbedded a knife in my finger, I’ve burned my arm chest and legs, I’ve fallen and gotten a concussion and had black bruises all over my body and still didn’t go hospital so when I sent them pictures of that stuff they shut up real quick lmao

You have to speak to them like they’re thick as shit, because they are so I took great joy in mansplaining to them lmao

Many I could literally talk about this shit for hours bc at the end of it I was so proud of myself for the full report I wrote and how I ripped them to shreds and humiliated them back lol

I have to laugh (or I’ll cry) when abled people are like “Wait, disability benefits are that low???? How does the government expect people to survive?��� They don’t. They don’t expect us to survive. They want us to die. I am incredibly lucky and privileged enough that I can live with my parents without working. But if I couldn’t, I’d die. I cannot work full time and the application process for the pitiful amount of disability that I could get is incredibly difficult and humiliating. Abled people, if you want to be allies, please don’t chase after the whole “differently abled” or “abled in other ways” bullshit. We are disabled and the government wants us to die for it. Please focus your energy and activism there.

[gogolucky13]

Dead in the Water

Summary: When the siren calls, you answer. Whether you want to or not.

Pairing: sailor!Bucky Barnes x siren!f!Reader

Word count: 5,624

Warnings: Dub-con (reader is manipulative and uses mind control-like powers). Smut (vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, rough sex, monsterfucking). Angst. Name calling (derogatory). Mentions of deaths and implied murder of a major character (not explicit). Descriptions of a mythical creature (physical attributes are given to the reader but they are fantastical and are otherwise not coded to a specific race). (18+ only please).

A/N: This is my take on a sailor!Bucky and siren!Reader so I hope you like it. I did minimal research for this and essentially made up the mythology to fit this story, so please don’t @ me. A huge thank you to @please-buckme and @dreamlessinparis for looking this over and making sure it doesn’t suck! ily both so much. 🥰🥰 Divider by the lovely @ firefly-graphics. Feedback is greatly appreciated! Happy reading! 💜 follow @gogolucky13-library for writing updates!

Bolts of lightening streak across the blackened sky in lines of bright white. Claps of thunder shake the heavens with ruthless and deafening rumbles. Angry waves relentlessly thrash around him as Bucky tightly grips the piece of wood he floats on. One particularly savage wave smacks him in the face, drowning his senses for a moment in the tangy saltwater. He spits and gulps for air, his eyes burning and face stinging from the sharp drops of rain.

“Captain!” Bucky sputters, calling out hopelessly into the dark of night. “Captain!”

Nothing.

The sea continues its tantrum. Helplessly, Bucky watches as it ravages the last remaining bits of the grand ship he was sailing on only moments ago; the dark water swallowing it whole and dragging it down to its murky prison.

Tales as old as the sea itself passed down from generations caution what would become of those who dared to attempt passing through these wicked black waters. There is no mercy. There are no saviors. Only death.

He warned them. He warned them all of the dangers of sailing in these waters. But before Bucky had the chance to convince his captain to turn back around, the song began to play. The alluring tune quickly claimed the men on board; their bodies and minds falling victim to a voice so sweet and pure it was hard to believe anything awful could come of it. But Bucky knew better, and they didn’t believe him.

It took his friends. It took his father. And now it seems it will take him, too.

With the few ounces of strength he has left, Bucky decides to fight back until he no longer can. If he’s doomed to an afterlife spent in the form of an unforgiving watery grave, he will at least go down with his pride still in tact. But before he begins to battle his way to shore, he takes a moment to honor his lost captain; a noble man Bucky proudly served for nearly four years.

Looking out into the vast, now empty, sea, Bucky tucks his thumb against his palm and touches his aching fingers to his forehead in a shaky salute. “Rest well, Captain Wilson,” he bids. “May you have fair winds and following seas for all eternity.”

He gives one last, longing glance to where the U.S.S. Avenger once sailed. Then, Bucky focuses his attention to the jagged edges of the faraway shoreline. Taking a strong grip of the damp wood keeping him afloat—he thinks it could be part of a door—he begins to vigorously kick against the defiant current.

Cold water repeatedly splashes in his face, blinding him temporarily until he shakes it off; strands of dark hair stick to his forehead in abstract patterns as a result. The weight of his soaked uniform threatens to pull him under with every kick; the wool fabric thick and burdensome. Heavy breaths are forced through his cracked lips as he pushes on and wades through the violent undulations of the sea tossing him around with ease. But as much as it seems he’s fighting against all of Mother Nature, the wind appears to be on his side. Large gusts throw him forward, over large waves and closer to the shoreline; closer to salvation.

In the distance, Bucky can see the silhouette of a lighthouse through blurry vision. A powerful flash of lightening illuminates the sky and accentuates the stone cylindrical building. The sight brings forth the last remaining shreds of hope he thought had gone down with the ship. Adrenaline surges through him, erupting down his limbs and giving Bucky just enough energy to fight through the final few yards of vicious sea.

Once he reaches the rocky shore, Bucky is relieved, but he knows his fight isn’t over quite yet. He struggles to pull himself onto the large boulders surrounding the land; their surface too smooth and too wet to get a proper grip. The tips of his boots slip several times before he finds a divot deep enough to slide his foot into. With a deep breath, Bucky pushes off the rock and hoists himself up, reaching and clawing his way to the steady earth above as the waves continue to whip angrily behind him.

The feel of grass and gravel is welcoming on the palms of his hands when Bucky finally reaches the top. He crawls onto the flat surface, collapsing and rolling onto his back to catch his breath. The rain is relentless as he lays motionless, his heaving chest the only indication he’s still alive. A burst of white followed by a booming clash of thunder rattles Bucky; his heart nearly rupturing at the sudden outburst. Another gust of wind swirls around him, the chill of it seeping through his damp clothes and settling deep into his bones. It’s a reminder that the fight for survival carries on and he must seek shelter now.

A low groan resonants in his chest when he twists onto his side. Slowly, he pushes himself onto all fours, his limbs heavy and tired. When he finally manages to stand on unsteady feet, Bucky glances up to the old lighthouse before him; a stony godsend luring him in for a much needed respite from the merciless storm. Then, with slow, paced steps, he staggers through the darkness to the front door—a deteriorating slab of wood once painted a vibrant red but has since faded to a sinister crimson.

It barely budges when he attempts to push it open with his hands. Taking a deep breath, Bucky squares his shoulder against the door, counts to three in his head, and slams into it. Once, twice, then on the third hit the old door finally gives and Bucky nearly falls inside. He kicks it closed, the sudden silence almost as deafening as the roaring sea and thunder beyond the walls.

The lighthouse is definitely abandoned; cracks blemish the cement floor, paint peels off the walls to expose the brick underneath. As Bucky walks further into the room, torn papers crinkle under his boots; broken glass and leaves crunch wherever he steps. He spots a black wood burning stove in the corner of the room and an immediate rush of relief takes over him.

Quickly, he scrambles over to it. Falling to his knees before the cast iron appliance, Bucky frantically searches for matches and any wood to stuff inside.

“Please, please,” he mutters mostly to himself, but also pleading and begging with the higher power who brought him here to see him through just a little bit more.

It doesn’t take him long to find a half-empty box of matches under the stove, reaching for it with a blind hand. When he pulls it out, Bucky sighs at the sight of it. A soft chuckle falls from his lips, tears begin to well in his eyes as he finds humor in being grateful for something so small, so trivial in any other circumstance.

“Thank you,” he whispers, placing a thankful peck on the sodden cardboard box before sliding it open.

He’s pleased to find five matches still inside—crisp and ready to use—and he lets out another sigh of content. Without wasting anymore time, Bucky slips out of his thick, damp uniform coat, throwing it over the top of the stove, and begins shoving dry logs into the oven. After the inside is stuffed full, Bucky snatches the box of matches and attempts to light one.

His hands are cold and shaking, his fingers numb, and it takes him several tries before finally, a spark ignites. The red tip of the match is quickly engulfed in a bright yellow flame; warm and magnificent. An almost hysterical laugh echos around the stony room when he sees it, causing him to nearly fall over in excitement. Bucky watches the small flame dance for a few moments before laying it amongst the wood.

Gradually, the fire eats away at the bark until eventually, a steady blaze grows, and Bucky is satisfied enough to shut the door of the stove. Standing, he rubs his hands together before holding them over the warming fire, listening as the storm rages on outside. Then, he decides to better inspect his new home for the night.

On the old wooden table by the doorway, Bucky spots a lamp with just enough oil to give him light for a few hours. Reluctantly, he strikes another match to start it up, using the lantern to guide him through his exploration. Taking slow steps, he walks around the circular room, occasionally glancing up towards the distant roof of the lighthouse when a drop of rain falls on him. A spiral metal staircase snakes up the walls to the top of the building, but Bucky is far too wary to chance climbing them. The rust covered screws and the chunks of broken railing lead him to believe it’s safer to stay on solid ground.

As Bucky searches through the cabinets, a white glint outside catches his eye. It causes him to stop and stare; his movements stalling as he waits for it to happen again. It wasn’t lightning, he’s sure of it. The flash was too small, too precise, over the water; almost like a spark reflecting off a mirror.

“Come on,” Bucky whispers, eyes squinting and straining to see the sudden flash again.

Just as he begins to doubt himself—his mind telling him it was nothing—it happens again. Quick, sharp, and almost blinding against the inky midnight sky.

In a flurry, Bucky rushes to the front door. His heart pounds wildly against his ribcage, bewildered and full of adrenaline. Is it a fellow sailor? His captain? The thought of another survivor—of not being alone—brings him a small bout of relief and he’s desperate to figure out what it is.

But then Bucky remembers where he is, why he’s stranded in this lighthouse. Could it be something much worse luring him to his death?

Whipping open the front door, pellets of icy rain instantly bite into his skin. Bucky raises a protective arm to block it before shouting into the dark of night. “Hello?! Who’s there?!”

The only response he receives is the howls of the wind and the crashes of the wild sea below.

Frustrated, because he knows he saw something, Bucky tries again, “Come out and show yourself!”

“I’m not hiding, sailor,” a sultry voice speaks evenly from behind him.

At the unexpected sound of another, Bucky’s heart drops to his stomach as he falls into the door. He quickly turns around to face the mysterious voice, but is only met with the sight of a dim, empty room.

“Who…who said that?” He stammers, holding the lantern out in front of him.

“Come inside, sailor,” the alluring voice speaks again. “It’s cold out there.”

Not because he wants to, but because he feels the bitter chill of night scraping into his flesh, Bucky reluctantly abides the unknown being. Slowly, he takes timid steps back inside the lighthouse. The lantern hangs over his head, illuminating his way and guiding him to his dubious fate.

Suddenly, a fierce blow of wind slams the door shut behind Bucky. The force of the unexpected action causes him to stumble over his feet, the lantern falling briefly to his side. But then, he regains his composure. Lifting the lamp back up, the yellow flame brightens the room and highlights the lower half of the iron staircase.

And there, standing on the landing before him, is something so surreal, it makes him question if he’s still alive. A creature he’s had the fortune of only being acquainted with through tales and stories of sailors before him.

Until now.

Instantly, he knows what you are: death in the form of immaculate, destructive beauty.

Every nerve ending in Bucky’s body goes numb. The soles of his boots fuse with the cement floor as shock holds him in place. His senses struggle to make sense of what he’s seeing, momentarily becoming deaf and blind. The lantern still in his hand begins to shake, his arm weakening from fatigue and fear. And as you begin to descend the stairs towards him, Bucky can only stand and helplessly watch.

As you draw closer, the flame of the lamp reflects off the ornate gold jewelry you wear. The orange light highlights the iridescent glow of your skin, revealing a subtle pattern of scales along your arms and legs. Bucky remains motionless; his heaving chest and roaming eyes the only moving parts of him as he continues to take in your ethereal being.

A sheer white cloth—ripped and torn at the edges—covers your body and does little to hide what’s hidden beneath it. Bucky gulps at the unsuspecting view of your nearly exposed bust and the outline of your waist. He’s entranced by the sway of your hips, undulating like the sea you come from.

For a moment, he’s tricked into falling for your innocent aura, trusting you mean him no harm. But then, a loud clap of thunder snaps Bucky from his mild daze and he remembers what you are. Irritation prickles over his cold skin at the sight of you, a ripple of anger warming him as it sears through his veins. Cautiously, he takes a step back.

“Stay away from me,” he warns. “I know what you are.”

“You do?” You ask with a slight quirk to your brow. A pause before you add, “So then you know I’m the one who saved you.”

At the ignorant declaration, Bucky barks out a sardonic laugh. “Saved me? Saved me?” He asks rhetorically, his body alight with a fury he’s never known before. It makes him feel bold, daring, and it spurs him on. “You didn’t save me! You’re the reason why my ship is now at the bottom of the ocean!”

“Is that what you think, sailor?”

“It’s what I know,” Bucky seethes, clenching his jaw to fight the urge to continue yelling.

He watches you closely when you start to circle around him. The lantern he still holds never strays too far from where you step.

“It is true,” you slowly begin in a meticulous tone, “I am the reason why you’re here. I saw your ship go down, and I helped guide you to safety.”

The confession stuns Bucky. A realization colder than the ruthless sea dawns on him, constricting his chest and twisting his stomach. Suddenly, he wishes he would’ve succumbed to the riptide; falling to the ocean floor to rest for all of eternity.

This lighthouse is not his salvation. It’s his damnation.

“You brought me here,” Bucky finally says in recognition, his voice so low he barely hears it himself. “You made sure I survived and, and you brought me here…” The words trail as he suddenly recalls the fight against the current made easier with the wind; the gusts practically blowing him in the direction of the lighthouse.

“You evil, vile creature,” he spits. “Stay away from me!”

Even in the dim glow of the room, Bucky is able to see the flicker of black that takes over your eyes at his insults, but just as quickly as he notices it, it’s gone. The white returns and your pupils are back to the serene color they just were.

“Sailor, I saved you. You must believe me,” you calmly plead, taking slow steps towards him.

When you reach a hand out to him, Bucky steps back, bringing the lantern before him to thwart your advances.

“I said, stay away from me.”

He only registers the beginnings of a low growl before you let out a shriek of vexation, rushing towards him at an inhuman speed. The abrupt action causes Bucky to trip, the backs of his knees bumping into the edge of a chair. Before he can catch himself, he’s falling backwards, slumping into the wooden seat as the lantern slips from his grasp and clatters to the floor.

“You should be grateful for me,” you snarl as you tower over him.

The dominance you exert has Bucky’s heart racing in fear. The lowlight of the lantern casts an ominous glow upon your once angelic features, and his eyes widen in panic as he looks up to you, uncertain of what your next move will be. A lump begins to form in his throat and he attempts to swallow it down when he sees you crawling onto his lap. With his hands suspended in midair, Bucky is unsure of what to do. Too afraid to anger you again, he remains still and allows you to straddle his hips.

At Bucky’s relinquishment, your aura is relaxed, composed once again, and that fact brings him only a small bit of comfort. He remains rigid as your hands run up and down his torso, the muscles taut under your frightening touch. With wide eyes, Bucky frantically scans your features, noticing the faint tint of violet on your lips when they twist into a sinister smirk.

Brushing the loose strands of hair from his face, your head tilts in apparent wonder. “Do you know how beautiful you are, sailor?”

You pose it as a question, but Bucky is sure you aren’t looking for an answer. Still under your inspective gaze, he only dares to breathe as you continue on.

“Eyes like the ocean,” you muse, trailing a slightly webbed hand along his stubbled jaw. Then, you bring a gentle thumb to his bottom lip, swiping over it as you lean closer to him and whisper, “Flesh like pearls.”

A fog begins to cloud Bucky’s consciousness the longer he remains wrapped up in your presence; his body and mind no longer working as one. Like a drug, your touch takes over, his eyes fluttering closed at the almost euphoric feeling.

“I’m not…” he sighs, licking numb lips with a heavy tongue, “I don’t want to touch you.”

“Are you sure about that, sailor?” You tease, raising a brow and glancing to the pair of large hands that have found their way onto your shimmery thighs.

Your words pull Bucky from his stupor, eyes snapping open to see that his hands have somehow ended up grasping your legs. Baffled and disgusted, he quickly pulls them away before he begins pushing you off of him.

“I told you to stay away from me,” he weakly argues.

As he attempts to stand, the ground beneath him shifts, a bout of dizziness causing him to stumble into the decaying table beside him. With shaking hands, he clutches his head, scrunching his eyes closed as he waits for the lightheadedness to pass.

“See, you aren’t well,” you try, stepping towards him and sliding your hands up his biceps. “I can help, let me help you.”

“No!” Bucky bellows, ripping his body away from yours.

Spinning around to glare at you, his chest rises and falls erratically, nostrils flaring as he tries to even his breathing. But the moment he catches sight of your trembling bottom lip, he feels his boiling temper immediately begin to simmer.

You remain quiet as you stare back at him with eyes full of dejection. Then, you turn and methodically walk to the other side of the room. Bucky’s gaze is firmly set on you, watching closely as you stop in front of one of the small windows to peer out at the stormy night.

His stare never wavers, and after a few tense minutes, you finally break the silence.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” you softly say with a muted sniffle. “I’m by myself all the time, and it just gets so lonely out here,” you confess in a saddened tone.

A deep, frustrated sigh forces itself from Bucky’s lungs, his gaze dropping in defeat to the dirty floor. Shame consumes him like a heavy weight settling over his shoulders at the thought of upsetting you, and it’s riddled with regret at raising his voice. With your back still facing him, he looks up to where you stand, and like a moth to a flame, he begins to take slow strides in your direction.

He knows he should fight it. He knows he should care that you’re tempting him. And he knows he should try and stop the wicked manipulation in the form of your sweet voice and heartbreaking words, but in this moment, he doesn’t.

The pull Bucky feels is too strong. The growing want—need—to have you coaxing him closer, luring him into the haunting abyss of your being and to what he is certain will be his death. Beguiling ideations continue to devour him with every step he takes until he breaks; a complete fracture of the body and mind.

Is this how you took all the others before him? With empty promises and false hope? It’s a chilling thought, but the warmth he feels from your enchanting presence ceases any further contemplation on the matter, and all he knows now is you.

The silhouette of your delicate frame—poorly hidden under the thin garment you wear—is all he sees. The cool, slick texture of your unearthly skin under his fingertips is all he feels. Sinking his nose into your damp hair, the scent of ocean and air is all he smells. And when he finally brings his lips to your neck, the zesty saltiness of the sea is all he tastes.

Is he dreaming? He doesn’t remember where he is or how he got here; no end or beginning as the lines between reality and fantasy blur together.

As he stands behind you, Bucky can’t get enough. His hands roam from your waist, up along your arms to reach around to your front. Eagerly, they sink under the milky fabric covering your chest, desperate for a feel of your bare skin. He closes his eyes and breathes out a contented, relieved sigh into your hair at the contact.

No longer in control of his actions, he grazes his lips over the shell of your slightly pointed ear to whisper, “I’m sorry.”

In an instant, you’re spinning around in his arms. Your lips meet his in a desperate kiss; strong, forceful, almost as if you need him as much as he needs you. Bucky pulls you into his body, your thigh brushing against his growing erection, and it elicits a needy whine that gets trapped in his throat. A pained tingling sensation shoots through his body, and a growing hunger claws at his insides as Bucky deepens the kiss, pushing his tongue past your lips to entwine with yours.

He can feel his mind going hazy again; feels the dizziness returning with each kiss and touch of your hands on his skin, sucking the life from him and draining his soul. But Bucky doesn’t care.

He’s ravenous, and his aching appetite can only be satiated by you.

Blindly, Bucky reaches for your backside, firmly gripping it in the palm of his hands before they seek the suppleness of your chest. A groan rumbles in the back of his throat when his palms brush over the peaks of your hardened nipples. As he gently rubs his thumbs over the sensitive buds, soft whimpers fall from your amaranthine lips; the sound a beautiful melody to Bucky’s ears.

Then, he feels your fragile hands trailing down his arms, tugging his shirt open and roaming over his exposed chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. And it isn’t long before they reach below his belt, palming at his erection that’s straining painfully against his trousers. The sensation drives him wild, and he’s panting desperately against your mouth.

He needs more. He needs to appease the yearning desire to be yours or he thinks it’ll kill him.

With gentle hands, Bucky guides you to the tattered mattress that sits beside the iron stove. Tenderly, he lays you down, kicking off his boots and removing the remainder of his clothes before crawling on top of you. The warmth of the fire soothes his bare figure almost as much as your touch.

Loose strands of his dark hair fall forward as Bucky hovers over you, body and lips trembling in anticipation. The tip of his member nudges at your slick entrance before he feels your soft hand wrap around the shaft, guiding it inside you. A chorus of pleasured moans and satisfied sighs pass between your open mouths at the indescribable sensation. Slowly, Bucky pushes himself fully inside you, pausing once he reaches the hilt.

Everything around him seems to still in that moment. The storm outside ceases its outburst; the wind stalls to a gentle breeze, and all Bucky can do is stare down at you, mesmerized and enraptured by the feel and look of you.

“Sailor,” you whisper with the hint of a smile, reaching up and tucking an errant lock of hair behind his ear.

With his hands firmly planted on either side of your head, he looks down to where your bodies connect and watches himself slowly appear from inside you. Then, without warning, he snaps his hips forward before picking up a steady rhythm.

Your silky walls grip him tightly with each stroke; the ridges along them creating a pleasant friction against his stiff member. Bucky feels himself getting deeper, deeper inside you, and a pressure begins to build in his lower abdomen.

“Yes,” you sigh, snaking your hands up his arms and around his neck, pulling him down and guiding his lips to yours.

He kisses you, hungrily and passionately, as he chases his release. A moan falls from his dry, chapped lips as he continues to thrust into you. And just as he feels himself reaching his peak, a clap of thunder rattles the windows and shakes the floor. The vibrations of it resonate deep into his bones, halting his movements as the deafening sound startles him—the heavens warning him of the trap he’s been lured into.

Blinking and shaking his head several times, Bucky frees himself from your trance. The harsh realization of where he is, what he’s doing, is a heavy blow to his chest, dousing him in icy horror. Disgust warps his features as he looks down at his naked form on top of yours.

“What is this?” He snarls, pulling himself out and scrambling off of you. “What have you done to me?!”

“Sailor?” you solemnly call, leaning up to look at him. A sadness darkens your features, but it does nothing to mar your devastating beauty.

“Don’t,” Bucky snaps, brow creased deeply in indignation. “Be quiet.”

The fire crackles beside him, red and dying. He can feel the sharp stings of his body and mind becoming one again; a poignant reminder of what you’ve done to him, what you will do to him.

You remain on the mattress below him, poised and taunting with a coquettish smile—not at all intimidated by his obvious outrage towards you. This infuriates Bucky even more.

He knows this is a game to you. A sick and twisted game of trifling with his thoughts and emotions, with his destiny. And as he stares down at you, still glowing in the fading light of the fire, he mourns the life he didn’t have.

A home in the country. A lover to call his. A family of his own.

How can something so beautiful be so unequivocally evil?

The remnants of a coy smirk lingers on the corner of your amethyst stained lips as you hold a hand out to him. “Come back to bed, sailor.”

“Ahhh!”

A feral growl rips through Bucky’s lungs at the sound of your gentle yet wicked voice as he leaps toward you. A blinding fury tears him apart, burning his eyes with unshed tears.

“I said quiet, you foul creature!” He shouts, falling back to the bed and on top of you.

Roughly, Bucky clamps a strong hand tightly over your mouth, determined to silence you. A crazed look takes over his features, distorting and clouding the blue of his eyes as pure, unadulterated rage fills him up. It quickens his pulse, igniting his veins and scorching through him right down to the marrow. Looking down at you, he stares intently into the cold depths of your eyes.

He sees the face of his father. He sees the face of Captain Wilson and the rest of the men he’s sailed with. He sees his world crumbling.

“Is this what you want?” He snarls, tone vile and nearly unrecognizable. “Is this what you want, stupid bitch?!”

Gripping the base of his member, Bucky guides it back to your entrance. The edges of his vision burn red, nausea churning in his gut as he slams into you. A muffled cry bleeds from your violet lips and the pitiful sound only spurs him on more. Harsh and unrelenting, Bucky forcefully drives into you over and over again.

The fringes of his sanity begin to unravel again; coming undone to the point he doesn’t know who he is or what he’s doing anymore. Except this time, there are no mind games or heady persuasions.

He can feel your walls beginning to flutter around him; can hear your breathy, wanton moans spilling from your glittery lips, and he hates it. He hates that you’re enjoying this.

But he hates it even more that he is, too.

“Shut up,” Bucky barks at you, each syllable punctuated with a sharp snap of his hips.

He withdraws his hand from over your mouth and replaces it with his lips. Strained and forceful, the kiss is nothing of that between two lovers.

As his release draws closer, the muscles of Bucky’s abdomen begin to tighten, his stomach clenching. Faint tingles shoot through his body with each thrust deeper inside you and he breaks the kiss to catch his breath. He slumps over you, resting on his elbows by your head.

The cool sensation of your hands on his arms, on his neck, sends a prickle of goosebumps over his skin. But the sound of your voice—soft yet so powerful—against the shell of his ear sends a shiver down his spine.

“Be mine, sailor.”

He chokes on a cry, burying his face into the curve of your neck as he regrettably accepts his wretched fate.

“I’m yours.”

With one final thrust, Bucky spills inside you.

Exhaustion immediately consumes him as his mind works to bring him back to reality. Still on top, he can feel the pounding of his heart; the streaks of tears on his cheeks; and when he pulls back to remove himself, his world tilts. It flips upside down, black bleeding from the corners of his vision until his entire world is consumed in darkness; a blank picture of nothingness.

Bucky wakes the next morning to the bitter pang of a headache. Sharp and unforgiving, it nearly splits his skull in two. A tired groan resonates deep in his chest as he attempts to sit up, but then he ultimately decides against it and resolves to laying on his back, eyes still closed.

In the distance, he can hear the rhythmic lull of the sea; the songs of passing seagulls. And for a moment, he pretends he’s back on the ship, waiting for Captain Wilson to call down for him to get his sorry ass out of bed and up on deck with the rest of the men.

But it doesn’t come.

Reluctantly, Bucky pries his eyes open. The fire in the stove is out and the space beside him is empty. The vacancy brings a crease to his brow, and it deepens when he peers down at his clothed form.

Was his mind just a victim to the hysteria of being lost at sea? His dreams seized and held hostage by the perilous night?

It’s a pleasant thought, a wishful thought, that he settles into for only a moment until his attention is snatched by the creaks of the opening door. Sunlight pours into the room, bright yet not at all welcoming, because there, standing over the threshold, is you.

Bucky blinks a few times, raising an arm above his head to shield his eyes from the blinding light. It halos around you, casting a celestial glow, and if he didn’t know any better, he would think you were an angel taking him to the gates of heaven.

But you are no angel, and there will be no pearly white gates where you’re taking him.

Slowly, you raise a confident hand, reaching it out to him.

“Come sailor,” you say, voice soft, gentle, and full of the dulcet tunes that have brought so many men to their knees. “Let’s go home.”

Bucky is silent; there is no argument and there is no fight.

Steadily, he rises to his feet. The sound of his boots scuffing on the floor echoes off the cement walls, but he doesn’t hear it. His body and mind have had enough—completely surrendering to you. And when he slips his hand into yours, it’s a callous touch; no rush of butterflies in his stomach, no stutter in his heartbeat. No anguish or regret.

There is simply nothing.

You lead him out to the rocks, guiding him down to the sea. On the horizon, dawn begins to kiss the sky, burning an ominous glow of red.

At the shoreline, Bucky pauses. He looks to the sky once before turning his gaze to you.

Calm and satisfied, an insidious smile spreads across your lips as you give his hand a gentle tug, pulling him along. The water swallows him up, welcoming him into a cold embrace; bound to it—and you—forever.

[missgirlnoname]

ALL IT TAKES

Warnings: slight choking kink, kissing, rough necking, vulgarity, toxic relationship, possessiveness, not really smuttish?

-I’ll just leave this here 😳👉🏻🍿

3rd POV

______

"Tell me you want me."

"I don't need you"

"Please, you can't live without me"

I'd be fine if you died"

"Your breath has quickened. Do I make you nervous, pet?" He mocks her ever so wickedly.

"You suffocate me." She whispers, a harsh rasp in her voice.

"And you love it."

Slam!

(Y/n’s) back was forced up against the cabin door, pinned and held up by Scott's strong and slight built. His lips meshed with her's forcefully, surely scraping painfully along each other's teeth on impact. Tongues collided with such rage, both fighting for dominance. Hair being gripped and tugged on back and forth, here and there. Bodies grinding onto one another at a ferocious speed, as beads of sweat began to trickle down there skin.

Scott's lips assaulted (y/n’s) swollen and bruised ones for a few more seconds before moving downward to her exposed column. He sucked, nibbled, and kitty-licked her sweet and salty flesh. Animalistic Growls burrow through him at the delectable taste. She was all his. (Y/n) belonged to him. No one could have her, nor will ever have her in the ways that he has.

Gripping (Y/n's) throat, not to roughly as to leave a mark, but enough to elicit whiny whimpers and moans from her.

"Let's make something perfectly clear, shall we?"Scott says, as he drags his lips sloppily along

(y/n's) defined collarbone. Her nails digging into his toned biceps, pushing against him. In an attempt to break free? To intensify their pleasure? This is uncertain.

"I won't be getting out of this place anytime soon. There's no television, not much civilization in sight; no way out." Scott sneered, as he pulled back from (y/n) for a mere minute. Heavy, angry, and ragged breathing was all that could be heard within the four wooden cramped walls.

" So fucking like wild animals is your go to coping mechanism, hmm?" (Y/n) replied tauntingly, glaring daggers at the unstably attractive and disheveled boy in front of her. His golden hair tousled over his forehead, an unbuttoned blue flannel that exposed his tanned, glowing, and lightly chiseled figure. She hated, loathed at the idea of wanting, yearning for him so badly.

He gave her an oh so mischievous smirk. Eyes clouding over darkly with a haze of pure, dirty, passionate lust.

"Precisely."

One word. That one word was all it took to send her barreling towards the edge. (Y/n's) eyes darkened incredibly, just as Scott's did. Reaching outward, she gripped the tank top that lay underneath his flannel, and pulled him rather violently back to her.

Once again, their lips collided with a force so fierce. They had the wind knocked out of them. They went at it, like sex-crazed beasts, those that have been deprived of that sinful and needy hunger. Tearing off each other’s clothes; groping, scratching, sucking, biting.

Would they get caught? Yes. Would there parents be called for the inappropriate disturbance? Probably. Did they care? Not in the slightest.

-

\\ hi! I'm back 😈 so I'm sorry it's not too long. I've been busy with school and personal affairs that I haven't the time to come up with any new ✨steamy✨ scenarios for this book. I will be trying to update more though. I don't mean " I'll update soon" as in the next 3 months. I mean " I'll try to update" sometime this weekend or early next week. Until then, indulge yourself with this quick imagine and the other two I currently have. Although it's technically not Anakin, it's Hayden nonetheless. Stay tuned! 😉

P.s this was posted on my wattpad @missgirlnoname

Also credits to @amazinghaydenchristensen for this beautifully made edit ✨

Tags 🏷 💖

@haydens-moles @please-buckme @padawanlost @horizonsmerrick @highergroundconfessions @psychettaxo @anakinswhore @anakinshooker @princessxkenobi @dracos-ani @lily-paddd @sithmyass @silvereddaye

[sterekreversebang-blog]

Sterek Reversebang Daily round-up JUNE 12th

Author: vyxynheartssterek

Artist: nosetothewind94

Art post || Story post

Art warnings/content notes: n/a

Title: Where You Feel Safe

Rating: General

Summary: When Derek is chased by hunters, he stumbles across a coven of witches, begging for their help. “This rune will protect you. It will sense what you need, and it will help you. Your protection will end when you are completely safe. I cannot tell you for how long that will be as I do not know. Only the rune knows. Please Hale heir, do not fight the protection. It may not be in a way you want or expect, but it knows what is best for you.”

Length: 6216

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags: n/a

Notes: n/a

Author: ParadiseDesdemona

Artist: Veste4-BuckMe

Art post || Story post

Art warnings/content notes: n/a

Title: Behind Those Walls That Won't Come Down

Rating: General

Summary: Stiles knew it would be hard, coming back to Beacon Hills, seeing the man that broke his heart. Maybe he should have stayed in New York. Maybe he should have never left in the first place...

Length: 7058

Warnings: Author Chose Not to Use Warnings

Tags: Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, AU College Student!Stiles, AU Artist!Derek

Notes: n/a

Author: go-n-ef

Artist: the-baddest-of-dogs

Art post || Story post

Art warnings/content notes: n/a

Title: Dragon Rider

Rating: Not Rated

Summary: Stiles’ birthday is coming up and Derek has a perfect gift for him he just never thought he would be jealous of it.

Length: 4701

Warnings: Author Chose Not to Use Warnings

Tags: Derek Hale's Pack, Dragons, Jealousy, Jealous Derek, Love Confessions

Notes: n/a

[buckmepapi]

Idk why you’re getting hate over tags. It’s just a tag, and it’s a way to reach a wider audience who might be interested in reading your work because it falls under the bigger mutual category. It’s really all about perspective. If you prefer to keep your tags strictly to a smaller category that’s fine but it’s also okay to open your tags and reach a wider audience when it’s related in a certain way. I really love your work, can’t tell you how happy I’ve been ever since I discovered it ❤️

Somebody did try to have a conversation with me about it via private message a few minutes ago and I was with them until they called me pissy, lmao.

They’ve explained how it works and informed me of the topic, but again, it’s a hashtag, the fact of being bothered and upset over it is weird to me.

I understand it’s annoying having to filter out hashtags and block accounts that fill up your feed but again, there’s a genius thing called scrolling past it, it’s quite revolutionary.

I have been relatively new to tumblr, joining in December last year, so I’m not aware of the “etiquette” of a website. There are many things on this website that I don’t understand and have no idea how to implement. I’ve asked bigger blogs on certain subjects but they tend to ignore you because you’re a smaller account, not a mutual, and they don’t want to tell you their “secrets” in case you get popular too. People get so entitled.

The person in my private messages was trying to explain the hate was unneeded but they’re right to be upset blah blah blah, I’m sorry but no. Being upset over a hashtag might possibly be the most first world problem I’ve ever heard lmao

I also put warnings and summaries and pairings on my fics above the cut off , so people can scroll past it and also not see the content, so it’s not as if I’m posting something that doesn’t have adequate notifications as to what is and what it’s about.

And like you say, it is a way to reach a wider audience because I.e people who like Bucky x reader fics will also probably like Steve rogers x reader fics so there’s nothing wrong with adding that to the end of all your Bucky tags to advertise to other people who may be looking at Steve tags that day.

I use to have 400-500 followers less than a month ago, and since my spiderman post that got 6k and my other posts that got 2k and 4K I have gained 1.3k followers in a short amount of time, so it works and I won’t apologise for it.

Exactly ! It falls under a bigger mutual category, they are quite literally crying about me using marvel related tags in a marvel post, like you can not sequester someone and speak to them like shit and expect them to be like “oh sure my bad!”

I’m also not going to apologise for standing up for myself lmao , just because these people can hide behind anon or are use to talking like shit to people their whole lives, doesn’t mean I’m going to stand for it. You don’t like how I spoke to you? Well, maybe learn how to speak to someone nicely first instead of having an attitude and wishing something bad would happen to them like you don’t speak to people in real life like that ???? Speaking to someone like that is only acceptable when they’ve done it first lmao like you get what you give so what do you expect lmao

These people that can afford to keep their tags to a small 5-10 topic specific tags are people with thousands and thousands of followers who don’t really need to tag things to get high amounts of notes, the rest of us need to advertise ourselves to similar demographics lmao, like why do you think online advertisements work the same way and will advertise tickets to the latest marvel movie in your area because you’ve previously looked up marvel comics on Amazon , like that’s how it works lol

I just can’t get over someone telling me that being spoken to that way was justified and that it was essentially my fault for tagging Chris evans x reader for example in a fucking Bucky x reader fic like, grow up. I’d have understood it being my fault if I spoke like shit to someone first, but I didn’t and up until the first hate message I got I was not aware of a tagging issue within tumblr at all lmao

I’m gonna try to be more mindful of it but like I’m not gonna care if I get it wrong lol

Sorry for ranting at you sweet nonnie ! I thank you for backing me up bc I was beginning to question myself and I’m so glad my tags worked and allowed you to find my stuff !!! I love you and hope you have a great day ❤️

[buckmepapi]

Imagine being this pathetic and actually caring about a line of code on a free website like imagine complaining about something intangible

Please refer here for my opinion on this

Also kinda mental to be that mad as to wish that on a person like I couldn’t imagine being this much of a little piss baby, the more people complain the more I’ll do it.

Also I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but you’re on a social media website, we all want attention dumbass - I use tags related to marvel because I am a marvel fanfic writer , so the meme my not be about a certain person but my blog is and the tags advertise my blogs. Why is that difficult to understand ?

I’m struggling to comprehend why someone would care this much about something that isn’t remotely real like why are you staying up at night frothing at the mouth crying your eyes out and pissing yourself because someone tagged something in a way you didn’t like , like please go look in the mirror and get a grip on reality

Also news flash? If you don’t like it block my account, I’m not gonna lose sleep over it because, this just in, I don’t care about your existence.

Eat my entire fat fucking ass , I will shit on your face

[buckmepapi]

Surprised you didn’t tag your Fresh review #chris evans x reader

I can do that for you if you’d like, hun? :)

I don’t know why you care so much about tags, plus I wouldn’t tag it as such I’d tag it with a list of some of Sebastian stans characters but go off I guess ?

Sorry your life sucks so much that you have to waste your time sending anon messages to someone who quite literally is unbothered and thinks this is the funniest shit ever, love you baby

[buckmepapi]

“Eat my entire fat fucking ass , I will shit on your face”

Ooh I’m so scared of someone who doesn’t trust that their posts will get any attention so they add millions of random tags

It wasn’t intended to scare you, little one. It’s intended to be a comment about how I quite literally don’t care, you know how people say “suck my dick” or “eat shit”.

My posts do get attention, I have fics close to 3k, viral posts at 6k etc. on my private account I have stuff at 18k and 20k but I also want to reach more people for my reccent posts and advertising my products to people within the same demographic and have similar tastes is completely normal. I quite literally find Chris evans tags in Bucky fics and it’s perfectly fine. If you don’t like it you scroll past it and move on, or block me so you don’t see anything I post. I’m not gonna lose sleep over it.

I’m sorry that you clearly aren’t use to someone not taking your shit and standing up for themselves. ❤️

[buckmepapi]

It’s basic tumblr etiquette for you to properly tag posts, and not add a million random tags just to get more notes. You cry victim and call blogs babies for calling your shitty behavior out

You’re pathetic. Have fun playing victim all your life

Imagine sending me a bunch of anon hate over a tagging system.

Sweetheart, the more you complain, the more I’m gonna do it. If any of y’all had just stopped to inform me nicely and politely I would have stopped doing it, but because you people on here are so damn toxic and self entitled and think the world revolves around you you’ve lost the ability to be a human being.

I’m quite literally the opposite of a victim considering I’m not letting random people on the internet talk over me or tell me what to do, I don’t stand for anyone speaking to me like shit so why don’t you continue being a little piss baby and cry about hashtags elsewhere

Ma’am how is putting tags on posts “shitty behaviour” you have a warped sense of reality and I pity you.

The shit I post has relevant tags and semi related tags, if I’m posting a bucky fic I’ll tag other characters that are marvel related because it advertises my products to similar related audiences who may also like it and thus gets more people to my blog and more people to my fics. I’ll say it again, it’s not as if I’ve tagged a Bucky fic in a Batman fic tag or a fucking makeup artist tag. But the fact that you people care so much about something that isn’t real that you can’t physically touch is astonishing to me.

I hope you manage to sort out all that weird anger you have lmao