#i'm tolerable in this moment so let me bury myself in work and shit until i can't move again

[hallucinosims]

i’m back to my beefy pc set up tomorrow yeehaw

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 || (very dark) 70s!Bucky x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: he tried to be sympathetic to your cause, he really did, but he couldn’t just let you get away with disrespecting him like that.  

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.4k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: smut (noncon, plus breeding kink and tons of degradation, like very heavy degradation, and multiple orgasms/overstimulation), misogyny, a bit of dumbification, housewife kink, ‘sir’ kink (brief), choking, implied anal, spitting (not on the reader, unfortunately lmao), quite a bit more than period-typical sexism, awful awful awful this fic is absolutely awful

                            Brooklyn, 1970.

Bucky’s mornings were sacred.  He had his rituals: showering, cooking breakfast, reading the paper and having his first drink and cigarette of the day, all before he left for work.

But throughout this entire week, his mornings had been ruined by the stupid fucking protest in the park just outside his window.  And to think he’d actually paid more for an apartment with a view of the park— he hadn’t realized then that the “view” was gonna be a bunch of hippies creating awful music and an unbearable smell that left his whole apartment reeking of reefer if he dared to open his window.

Attempting to ignore it for a week only made him more resentful with each passing day.  Each time he figured the crowd would surely leave soon or at least be quiet for the night, they seemed to somehow get louder just to spite him.

He probably should've waited until he was a bit less agitated to go down and try to bargain with you, but he stormed down there instead and tapped you on the shoulder when his presence alone wasn't enough to distract you from your incessant chanting.

“Would you consider being quiet?" he asked firmly.  "I have to work in the morning and—”

“We won’t be quiet until women have equal treatment under the eyes of society and the law,” you interrupted to explain condescendingly, shocking him with your icy tone.  He could hardly believe your attitude, in fact he couldn’t remember any woman speaking to him that way in his life: so far, he wasn’t enjoying it.

“I just thought you could be a little more respectful,” Bucky shot back, even more stern.  “You’re not making anyone wanna support your movement by acting entitled and inconveniencing everyone.”

“I’m sorry the revolution is inconvenient for you,” you replied, but it didn’t sound much like an apology. 

He wanted to say more but you blew him off and disappeared into the crowd, leaving him confused and irritated and livid.  Up until now he had been quietly skeptical about all this talk of liberation but now he saw it for the poison it really was.  A girl like you— who could've been a real looker with some willingness to try and a better attitude— talking to a man like him with so much hate and over what, a polite request?

This could not be tolerated; he couldn't let you get away with acting like that.  And lucky for you, he was exactly the guy you needed to teach you your lesson.

The good thing about hippies high on shrooms is they aren’t the most observant.  When he returned to the demonstration area the next night, he was able to grab you roughly and pull you back from the crowd with almost no trouble at all, dragging you into an empty alley and clamping his hand down over your mouth as your eyes went wide and your throat vibrated with silent screams.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed against your ear, “whatcha fightin’ for?”

He liked the way it felt to have you squirming against his grasp, using all your strength and not even getting close to escaping.  

“How does it feel to know I can do anything I want to you?” he growled against your ear.  “C’mon, sweetheart, can’t you put up a better fight than that?  I thought you believed in equality… you should be able to get away if you’re as strong as I am.”

He felt your warm tears trailing down around his fingers which held your face tightly, the struggle of your limbs slowing and weakening slightly.  His cock was already getting hard as he imagined the moment you would finally give in.

“You remember me, don’t you?  You didn’t need to be so rude, darlin’.  You could’ve just been nice and none of this would be happening.”

Your elbow shot back into his ribs and he exhaled sharply but didn't let go, grabbing your wrists and holding your arms to your chest as he pinned you to the wall.

"Oh, that's not gonna work, babydoll.  I'm so much stronger and bigger than you, all you're gonna do is make me angrier.  Is that what you want, sweetheart?  To make me angry?" he asked mockingly, leaning in to lick the shell of your ear as you tried to turn away.  “Pretty girl like you would make a great wife, why would you want anything else?”

Ignoring your struggle, he reached into your shirt and purred as he groped your chest, your nipples hardening when he pinched them.  “Maybe I can get behind this bra-burning thing if it means having easier access to your tits all the time,” he grinned.  “How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when I can see them through your shirt?  Shouldn’t be showing ‘em off if you don’t want any attention.”

As fun as it was to play with your tits, he had bigger plans, so he reached lower to start tugging down your jeans, your legs uselessly kicking as he exposed your ass and thighs.

His cock was already rock hard as he hastily opened his fly and pulled it out with one hand, leaning back to spit on it quickly.  He spread the fluid with a few strokes over his length, figuring it would be enough to get inside you even if he didn’t really care if he hurt you.  

Your eyes went wide and your head bucked wildly as he poked the head of it against your opening, your body fighting a little harder once again.  The irony of that, though, was that you were already plenty wet in spite of what he had expected; it was so much funnier to watch you struggle now that he knew you were not-so-secretly enjoying it.

“Don’t be so dramatic," he chuckled darkly, "I bet you can take a cock real easy since you believe in all this ‘free love’ bullshit.”

He groaned as he pushed into you, impressed by how tight you were— so tight that it made his cock throb right away, your walls pulsing and rippling around him as he filled you to the brim.

“Oh fuck, there you go…” he hissed, smiling as you sobbed harder and struggled a bit more before finally relaxing into his tight embrace.  "You're gonna take it all, baby, every fuckin' inch of me."

A hard sob choked out of you every time he slammed himself to the end of you; he could feel the hatred radiating from you, the way you would kill him in a moment if only you weren't so weak.  But he could feel your reluctant acceptance, too, and the way it was slowly turning into euphoria— you were finally starting to like how it felt to be helpless to him, it was obvious with the way your pussy gave him such a warm and willing welcome while your pretty tits got even harder.

You clearly wanted to hate him, but your body knew better.

"You think I'm a sexist pig, I'm sure," he chuckled, "but I'm really not— I love women!  And you know what I love most?  Huh?"

He felt you nervously shake your head behind his hand and he laughed.

"I love the way you get so dumb when you get a cock in you.  All those useless little thoughts leaving your head when you're finally getting fucked right."

Your cries got louder even though they were still muffled by his hand, your sweet little pussy giving him a squeeze of encouragement.

"It's okay to like it, babydoll, it's what you were meant for.  Made to be my brainless fucktoy… born to serve me," he growled.  “You really should learn to appreciate," he grunted between brutal thrusts, "that your only purpose is to keep my dinner hot and my cock warm.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head and he felt your walls bear down on him tightly, wetness seeping down around him.

"Oh fuck, are you coming?  Shit," he moaned.  "Looks like you really needed to be put in your place, just needed to be used... god, you made a fuckin' mess, too, you soaked my cock…"

Your little hands tightened into fists, pushing against where his arm held them back, but he stayed steady as he pumped into you, letting himself get a bit lost in the feeling of you while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

It felt so damn good to have a cunt coming around him, but it was even better knowing that you were fighting it and still couldn’t stop it, completely helpless to how good he was making you feel.

You almost screamed under his hand when he reached down to quickly rub your clit, your back arching to try to run away from his touch; poor thing, you were so sensitive it probably hurt you, but he was having too much fun watching you realize you were going to come again.

"Yeah, gimme another one, slut," he grinned, your legs quivering as waves of slick coated him and started to even drip down your legs.  "Can't stop coming like the dirty whore you are, huh?  Bet nobody's made you come like this before— cause nobody's given it to you right.  Nobody's shown ya what it's supposed to be like when a man takes you and makes you his."

From the way you moaned softly, teary eyes fluttering shut, he knew you liked the sound of that.

"Yeah, wanna be mine, baby?  Wanna be my little slut?  Or do you want me to pump this pussy full and leave you here on the ground for any other man that comes by to use you if he needs?"

You groaned softly, a weak little noise, and he felt his cock flex; as much as he wanted this to last as long as possible, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“M’close, honey,” he breathed.  “I’m gonna come.”

He laughed breathlessly when you shut your eyes, like you were trying to go somewhere else in your mind, trying to pretend this wasn’t real.  But it was real, and he wasn’t going to let you forget that.  He was elated to make your nightmares come true.

"I sure wouldn't mind pulling out and covering that pretty face you've got,” he hissed.  “It'd be funny to see you go back to your little march and show them how owned you are.  But not today, babydoll, I think there's only one way you're gonna learn your lesson."

Another muffled gurgle from you, and this time it didn’t even sound like protest.  Maybe you were just too tired for that at this point, but it gave him hope that you could finally behave.

"I'm gonna take my hand away from your mouth and you're gonna beg me to come inside you, is that clear?" he grunted, feeling you nod vigorously.  "You're not gonna scream are you?"

You shook your head, and he slowly pulled his hand from your mouth as you gasped for air.  "Please— come in me," you panted.

"Address me as 'sir'," he instructed.

"Please, sir, I— I want you to come," you whined.

He chuckled right against your ear, feeling you shiver in his grasp.  "Honey, I don't give a fuck what you want."

To think you ever resisted your natural desire for submission was absurd now, considering the way that statement made you openly moan, your walls fluttering around him.

“Gonna fill you so fuckin’ deep you’ll never get it outta you, sweetheart.”

One more orgasm washed over you, making him laugh darkly while he watched you bite your lip to attempt to stay quiet; but that was impossible once he fucked you harder just to spite you, having to hold you tight to make sure he got as deep in you as possible.  Your whole body shook as he slammed into you, and he laughed at how dumb and helpless you looked.

"Bet you're on those new birth control pills," he grimaced.  They really weren’t that new, but he still hadn’t gotten used to them.  "Makes me sick to think you're letting a perfectly good womb go to waste.  Betcha want me to breed you nice and deep, yeah?  Wanna get knocked up?  You don't even care that I'm a stranger, you wanna get your pussy filled by any random man's come so you can have any random man's baby, ain't that right?"

At first he had worried that you would scream or cry for help, but now his concern was more that your moans would be too loud and somebody would catch the two of you in this alley.  Even if it was obvious now that you wanted it, public indecency was still a crime.

Good thing he had a new way to shut you up: his hand tight around your throat, silencing your sobs to blessed silence.  It was so hot to have you entirely at his mercy like that, to feel your pulse beneath his fingers, that he couldn’t stop himself from speeding up his thrusts suddenly.

"Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasped, “fuck, y-you… little whore…”

He had a habit of running his mouth when he was right on the edge, and the way your pussy was milking him for all he was worth made him spit out whatever filth he could think of.  

“Stupid fuckin' bitch," he mumbled under his breath as he fucked you as fast and rough as he could, chasing his high with no regard for your pleasure or your pain.  "Dumb whore, fuck, you stupid— ah, shit— stupid fucking cunt!"

He cried out as he filled you, groaning loudly with every pump of his seed into your waiting body.  Only when he was sure every drop was inside you did he release his grip on your neck, a loud gasp coming first before a few coughs and chokes that only made his cock harder despite having just filled you.

You started to struggle again, and he couldn’t believe it— after everything, did you still not know your place?

There wasn’t much time to relax and enjoy the afterglow when you were already trying to get away, and so he had to hold you tight again while he smiled exhaustedly.

“N-no,” you stammered, and he covered your mouth again as he pulled your head back to rest on his shoulder.  Clearly he hadn’t done enough yet to fuck that word out of you.

“Where ya goin’, sweetheart?” he panted against your ear, still catching his breath, his chest covered in a thin layer of sweat where it was exposed by his shirt.  “You’ve still got another hole to fill.”

[thehollowprince]

The Mikaelson family 😒. Spoiled Anglo Saxons who have committed countless atrocities but nobody dare hold a grudge or face their self righteous wrath. They literally owned a plantation and treat Marcel (black characters in general) horribly but I'm supposed to? They slaughter and pillage, exploit and manipulate but only their enemies are wrong for the same thing. The Originals aren't even compelling enough to warrant a spinoff, they were unkillable so where's the suspense?

Mikaelson family really was some borderline incestuous, extremely toxic shit. The way Klaus meddled in Rebekah's love life and was especially controlling of her. Throw the whole family away, tbh. They never learn or grow. They act like spoiled brats. Were the Mikaelsons black or brown, they'd have perished much much earlier. Davina was right calling Elijah no better than his siblings. Freya? She was the same. Being shitty runs in the family, I suppose.

____________________________________________________

When I first heard back in the day that they were going to do a spinoff show just about the Originals, I remember asking myself, "How?"

By that point in time, the family was whittled down to three remaining memebers. Mikael and Esther were both dead, as was Henrik, Finn and then most recently, Kol. Of course, by that time as well, the eighth sibling that "died of the plague" was assumed dead as well, long before we knew about Freya. A family of nine was now just three and we're supposed to base an entire show around that, especially when those three can't even stand one another?

Of course, then I watched the backdoor pilot and was even more confused. We were really going with the "Twilight" plot of Klaus' one-night-stand getting pregnant with a magical, miracle baby? And to have that baby mama be Hayley after what she had done to Tyler? But I stuck around because I was intrigued by this character Marcel and the politics of the witches in New Orleans. By that point in time we hadn't seen any semblance of a witch community so it was an interesting concept.

But then as the show kept going on and on, retconning everything we learned about them on TVD, I was getting more and more aggravated.

Stefan and Damon hadn't even heard of the Originals but somehow they very publically "founded" and ran New Orleans for over two hundred years?

And Michael never heard of them until the 20th century?

Elijah talks about Klaus burying his family at sea, only to be revealed to be the one who most often helped dagger his siblings?

Plus, how do you maintain a show with three potentially unkillable leads? Aside from the White Oak Stake, which was out of play for over half the season, there is no way to kill these characters, meaning there are no real stakes involved. I was much more invested in Marcel and Davina and the witch community, and the werewolves when they came along.

That was probably the biggest missed opportunity of the show. Plec and Narducci went on and on about how the theme of this show was Family, but what they meant to say was "blood family". If you weren't related to the Mikaelsons by blood, you were worthless. I mean, take Marcel. Here's a guy who came from nothing, was rescued and raised by Klaus (insert white savoir trope here) and became the leader of the entire vampire community of the city. Less than a century after Klaus and his family were run out of town, he managed to rebuild and lead his community, only for Klaus to stomp back in like an overgrown child and demand that Marcel give back the toys he threw away? Klaus ran, tail tucked between his legs, from New Orleans and never looked back but then has the audacity to be pissed off that Marcel did what he couldn't?

And that's not even getting into Elijah's two-faced hypocrisy, acting the nobleman while being more savage than any of his siblings. Remember when he mocked Lucien and Tristan and Aurora for the pain that he put them through? When he killed Marcel on the off chance he might become a threat, thus leading to the actual threat? When he murdered four teenage girls to restart the Harvest because it was beneficial to his family at that time? Good times, right?

And let's just, for a second, rewind to the issue of Marcel. Here was a character that was supposedly "part of the family", which we know was bullshit from the beginning because he wasn't called Marcel Mikaelson, no, he was Marcel Gerard. They treated him more like a pet than a member of their family and I shouldn't have to go into how gross that is, given the racial issues, especially in the South. And then we had the whole prophecy of the Beast. The moment that Elijah thought he might be a potential threat to this "family" that is more often at each other's throats than getting along, he murdered someone who was supposed to be "like a son" to Klaus. Who he, himself, purportedly loved as family. Like I said, if you weren't a blood relative, you were nothing. Even Hayley was only tolerated because she was the oven in which their Bun cooked.

Side Note: as much as I hated what Elijah did to Marcel, that whole scene leading up to it was my favorite in the entire history of the show. Since season three of TVD, so for five years, across two shows, I was waiting for someone to call the Mikaelsons out on their bullshif and I was so glad that it was Marcel. After everything that family put him through, he deserved to yell at them, to call out their "Always and Forever" crap for the all-purpose excuse they used it as.

But it wasn't just Marcel, Hayley was treated horribly, despite the fact that she was the mother to "their salvation". The fandom in particular treated her horribly, which in turn led the narrative to treat her horribly to appease the fandom, and on and on the cycle went. I had my issues with Hayley, no doubt, but her and Jackson worked really well together, and they both cared about the werewolves so it was a nice storyline. But then Klaus had them all cursed because how dare they try to take away his (not their, HIS) daughter from him to keep her safe from Dahlia. How dare she!

The problem with this show was that we had more than just the Mikaelson Family. We had an excellent found family in Marcel and Davina, and then Josh and Cami and even Vincent. It was right there, but never acknowledged and that is infuriating.

Speaking of Davina, let's get into their treatment of her. The Mikaelsons were notorious for how they treated Davina, as a tool to be used and then tossed aside when no longer useful. The number of times that Klaus attacked this poor girl is outrageous. And for her to die the way she did, sacrificed so that the Mikaelsons could use her to stop an enemy that they created was just disgusting. Especially come the next season when they continued to act like what they had done was totally okay but never actually apologized for it. The words "I'm sorry" never left Elijah's or Freya'a lips.

That was the most astounding thing to me, that they Mikaelsons continuously treated people like literal trash and then were the pikachu meme whenever they turned against them. They constantly played the victim card to their own victims and that is increasingly disturbing, especially given how many people ate that shit up.

And we had, as you said, Klaus' continuous interference into Rebekah's love life, which came off way more as jealousy than brotherly concern (combined with his weird abandonment issues). But that's okay, he got to live out that incestuous fantasy with Aurora, who was so thinly veiled to be another version of Rebekah that it's not even funny.

At the end of the day, I think that's why I loved the Trinity so much. Lucien, Aurora and Tristan were the versions of Klaus, Rebekah and Elijah that I never got. They were the versions of those three that got to be unapologetically villains without the sib story.

I gotta say, though, it was THE ORIGINALS, that finally got me to swear off of The CW. None of the shows I've ever watched on that network were good, especially looking back on them and realizing how fucked up they really were.