...when Life Is So Rough You Gotta Re-read The Few But Fucking Marvellous Fanfiction Pieces Your Favourite

MY BEAUTIFUL,

I woke up to this and I was genuinely giggling and kicking my feet as I read this, I swear I do NOT deserve youuu and your words.

Seriously!!!

Believe me, this was one of my FAVORITE requests, I ADORED writing it (I'm so sorry it took me THAT LONG, but I have inspiration for only 72 hours, and then it vanishes from my body for months lol). When I saw your username pop in my inbox, I felt SO GOOD, I was like: "omg, she trusts me to write this masterpiece of idea". THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING.

Please, baby, if you want to request other things, I would be MORE than thrilled, I'm serious, I adore your mind.

I'm planning a Tom Hardyyy fic sooon, maybe you'll be interested in that as well. Anyways, THANK YOU and lots of love!♡

"You flinch like that again in public, and I’ll give you a real reason to." (1)

Character: General Marcus Acacius.

Trigger warnings: age gap (maybe reader is the daughter of someone from the Senate), power dynamic (he's the General a.k.a HOT), physical abuse, harassment, threats, fear kink, manhandling, manipulation maybe ?

I was honestly just thinking of Acacius putting on the facade of a caring, loving and dotting husband when he's scorting reader to the market to buy some food for dinner and at some point she does something he does not like and she flinches at his reaction. He's an abusive man close doors because he's obsessed with reader and deep down fears she's going to run away from him or something like that, I leave it to you obviously, I read your work and god, breathtaking to say the least

CORIANDER UNDER THE FIG TREE ههههه

senator's daughter.ᐟ reader && dark.ᐟgeneral acacius

.ᐟ trigger warnings: My work contains dark themes such as physical abuse, power imbalance, age gap, harassment, threats, phsyhological terror and other possible triggering elements. Proceed with caution. If these warnings trigger you, DO NOT INTERACT. 𝒜cces my DARK PROMPTS, my WHEEL OF INSPIRATION, my MASTERLIST and send in more REQUESTS.

ههههه

A shaky breath leaves your chest as you stroll next to the aged fig tree which marked the beginning of the market. And then, the scent hits you—coriander. Its citrusy and spicy aroma was the characteristic, consoling element that marked your childhood.

Whenever you touch the darkened green leaves, sadness overflows you. 

Your father, Ghauccus, often let you stand among the servants. You were much beloved due to your father’s kindness, everybody loved to see his sweet child growing up so gorgeously. The maids often let you ground spices in the bronze mortar—an activity you loved doing, especially during summer evenings, after you had tired yourself running after fireflies and the moths that gathered around flames that illuminated the garden and vines. Notwithstanding their chuckles at how heavy the pestle was for your infant hands, you were still encouraged and strength was manifested over you ever since you were a youngster. 

A custom you and your father honorated religiously was the  first quarters of the moon, spent within the folds of forgotten stories or legends about women that shaped their own fate and destiny—no matter how darkened it seemed. You still felt your father’s fingertips grazing your lower back, showing you his deep affection and cherishment whenever you shared a walk in the open.

You flinch hard as you feel the general’s —your husband's— fingers gripping your hip and pulling you nearer his grander body. Your ribs are adorned by burgundy marks and a tiny whimper escapes your throat as the bruised flesh is pressed against the gilded armor with drops of gold which poke your skin mercilessly.

People bow their heads as he passes by with you on his arm, even though a couple of elders eye him with a disgusted glare and you...with pity. As they remember who your father was and who your husband is. They all view his as a tyrant for serving the twin Emperors so respectfully but you are the one that knows he certainly wants the throne somehow. You know about the plots and about his aspirations of becoming the Emperor of Rome soon. And the thought terrifies you.

You can already tell, by the way the muscles in his jaw clench and tick, that your "stunt" has maddened him. Fear constricts your throat and you feel your chest burning, so you try your best to brush the event off your husband's mind.

"W-we should buy more herbs, and I will have the maids prepare you the dish you l-like so much—", you try to speak, but Acacius lowers his head to speak in your ear and the words die on your tongue.

"We will return home, my love.", he growls and you already feel tears burning in your eyes. Home? You don't want to go "home". You know how rarely he lets you out and you know what will happen to you when you arrive back to the villa so you try to delay the inevitable by lingering in this moment.

"P-please, my lord, please...", your eyes bore pleadingly in his coal black ones as you try to steady your whispering voice. "Please, no, let's stay a little longer—".

"No?", he cuts you off again, and you feel his grip tightening. The deep chuckle that erupts from his broad chest sounds more like a growl and again, you feel small, powerless, you feel like a lamb to the slaughter. "When I command something, you have no say in it, haven't I taught you that, my little lamb?", he continues, as if he heard your thoughts.

You nod your head weakly, as you graze your eyes over the marketplace one more time. The coriander you willed to buy lies now forgotten on a wooden table as fear curses through your veins.

As soon as your feet hit the marble floors, and Acacius knows he is not under people's gaze anymore, you feel his hands on you. He grips the back of your neck and drags you to himself. You don't have time to scream, plead, beg—only to whimper—, as his lips press to your ear. "Tell me, you like when I put my hands on you?"

When you only move your head in a silent no, too choked by your own sobs and tears, he shakes your body harshly. "Answer me!", he says, trying to keep his voice down, inhaling and exhaling, visibly overly angered.

"N-no...", you cry out in the silence of the house.

The general grabs your waist next and he slams your body in the wall. You fell the copper of the blood in your mouth as he presses himself against your back. "Then why you make me do this?"

Both of his massive, calloused hands that killed so many, wrap around your wrists, pushing them next to your head. The general's massive figure makes your lungs burn, air simply not reaching them.

"My queen, why do you have to be so diffucult? ", he asks you again, and even under the heavy robes, you feel his hard member poking at your lower back. A sob escapes your lips and you feel a warm, thin trace of blood running down your chin, along with fresh tears. He always gets disgustingly excited whenever he feels your muscles tensing with fear. Another thing you loathe about him.

"I give you everything, don't I? I am a good husband, I am wealthy and I will make you my queen one day, and you still act so ungratefully."

He retreats from you all of a sudden and your knees give up on your weight, making your body collapse on the ground on your palms and the skin tears open on them. Teardrops fall, wetting the expensive marble carved with bronze. Acacius's hand fists itself in your hair and he slowly pushes your head up. His eyes scan your terrified features and the blood that starts to dry on your face and he licks his lips at the sight. You feel like you are nothing but a pile of broken limbs at the general's feet.

He runs his thumb over your lips that are trembling, and pushes it in your mouth, letting it rest heavily on your hot tongue.

You screw your eyes shut as he pushes it further, almost touching the back of your throat with it. "Look at me.", he commands and you obey immediately when he grips your jaw harshly with the other fingers. "You are mine by right. If you shame me one more time, I will ruin you so thoroughly that even the crows will pity what is left."

You flinch at the threat, and terror settles deep in your bones.

The general retreats the finger from your mouth and grips your cheeks with his entire hand. The look in his eyes was, for a brief moment, vulnerable. The only vulnerable thing in him.

Another tear slipped down your face and, combined with your blood, it painted his hand in a powdered pink stripe.

"You flinch like that again in public, and I'll give you a real reason to.", the man finished, standing up high.

"I expect you in the bedroom. You have wife duties to attend. And if you refuse, I will fuck the disobedience out of you under the sun’s gaze — and when everyone will spit on you as a whore, you’ll know you earned it."

You choked on a sob as he left, and your blurry vision caught one of your servants, one of the servants that let you ground the coriander in your father's home, look at you with tears in her eyes. There was nothing you could do but stand up and join your husband.

⋆↝ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: So, when I saw your request in my inbox, I was literally SO. HAPPY. because I've been seeing your reblogs and you read good stuff and it was really encouraging that you are reading MY shit 😭 ♡ Thank you, my love and I really hope this reaches your expectations. I LOVED WRITING THISSS

⋆↝ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @highonmarvel @pedrosyouknowwhat @essraxi ♡

this is me all day

ALL I SEE IS 'RED LIGHTS'

》[summary] You are shown the effects of what happens if you cross your boyfriend's line.

》[word count]: 1k (I'm shoked lol it's so short but long for me)

》[warnings]: Not proofread. This work contains dark themes and elements such as abusive relationships; heavy violence and implied homicide; obsessive behavior, mental issues; abuse; mentions of abduction and drugging; and more. This is dark, so if these warnings trigger you, do not interact. MNDI, for your own safety. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

》[note] : Thank you for reading and reblogging. Visit my masterlist and check out my warnings. Asks and new requests are always appreciated. ughhh, this is...concerning. also, for my soulmate in the district of dark art @highonmarvel. დ and a lil' something to @stargirllanaa, if you want to read :((

“Pl-please…Rafe? Rafe, please, d-don’t l-leave me h-here-” you sobbed, struggling against your boyfriend’s rough hands that were trying to secure your wrists together. “Shut up! I need to think-” he hissed, tossing you on the iron floor of the ship. You knew the pogues had got on the boat and they were your only rescue before Rafe would get to take you to a foreign country where you won’t be able to leave him and no one will ever find you, but the problem was that Rafe knew that too. And he didn’t want his plan spoiled by his sister and her stupid “friends”. 

You cried harder when Rafe crouched down next to your shaky form and secured the scratchy rope with zip ties. His hair was falling into his eyes that were constantly darting from your wrists to your face. “Somebody help me-” you cried, your voice barely coming out audible from your aching throat, before Rafe slapped you hard across the face, your head meeting the wall of the tight room he was trying to put you in. “Can you just shut your fucking mouth or should I do it for you? Huh?,” Rafe growled, his heavy breath hitting your burning skin. You gave him a small nod before he got up, looking for something to use as a weapon against nothing else than his own sister and the other kids. “I-I’ll di-die down h-here, Rafe, I can’t…I can’t breathe-” you whispered, the hot and small place choking the hope out of you. Your ribs were met by the kick of his foot, and you bent your body even more to try to keep the pain out. “You should’ve thought about that before you decided to play the smart bitch, tryin’ to act like you could fuckin’ leave me.” Flashbacks of his hands dragging you by your hair to the car and drugging you with chloroform, all these just to get you on this boat made you nauseous all over again.

 When he finally found what he was looking for, he shot a last glance at your trembling form then he closed the door after him, leaving you in utter and complete darkness and pain.

The only thing that you could see was the constant flickering of a red light. You did not know what to do, you felt broken. But you had to try something, unless you wanted all your friends, the only people that really cared for you, dead at the hands of the man you alone decided to let in your life. You attempted to control your breathing and just focus.  Had Rafe locked the door? No, he didn't have a key, the ship was massive and there was no chance he had fully explored it. As you struggled to break free from the restraints, they were so tight that they caused your skin to tear.

Ignoring the pain, you searched with your fingertips for anything sharp that could help you escape. Your fingers came across a pointed object, causing an excited squeal to come past your lips. Sliding your wrists against the sharp edge, you eventually heard a slight noise and felt your hands become free.  Tears of relief welled up, ready to spill just as warm blood ran down your hands.

  As you stood up, your vision blurred from the sudden movement, almost causing you to fall again. Bracing yourself with your arms on the wall was efficient, and you managed to push the door open. You sobbed shakily, grateful for this little victory.

The happiness didn’t last because now you had to figure out a way to…find your friends, get off this fucking ship and make it out alive back to Kildare. 

Small droplets of sweat rolled down your forehead and you wiped your face with both of your hands, trying to smooth down your hair and keep it out of your eyes. You took a few small steps, looking around the unknown illuminated surroundings for any signs of Rafe or other men. 

A loud bang made you flinch so hard and you thought that, for a moment, your soul had leapt out of your body. Through the tears blurring your vision you saw your older brother, John B, on the dirty floor, coughing heavily and before you knew it, your terrified sight caught your boyfriend straddling him.

Rafe looked almost like a demon, his pupils so dilated his eyes were coal black, hair stuck to his wet face that was hit by the crimson lights, low growls erupting from his veiny neck. The gun in his hand was constantly hitting your brother’s face, slowly turning him into an unrecognisable bloodied creature.

You felt like your insides had been set on fire, and your feet carried you next to the two men. The tendons in your knees gave up on you, throwing you over your brother’s limp body. You did not care about Rafe anymore, you didn’t care if he’d kill you, you wanted to die right now. “Wh-what are you doing to me…?”, you whispered hoarsely, the pain becoming unbearable all of a sudden. Your ears stung, and your tears mixed with John B’s blood, dripping patiently on the iron floor. Your forehead fell on his chest, and his flimsy, yet comforting arm wrapped weakly around your lower back. Your fingers caressed his cheek, gathering the maroon liquid and tiny pieces of broken skin.

Then, Rafe’s agonizing grip fell on the back of your neck, pulling your sagging, delicate body up with his. If it weren’t for his thick bicep that had wrapped around your waist or his broad chest that was sustaining you from behind, you would have collapsed back, right next to your brother. “You are not leaving me.” Rafe snarled awfully calm in your ear, as if he didn’t just possibly murdered somebody. “Get that in your fuckin’ skull already.”

Your tears washed down the blood on your cheeks as you were being dragged further and further to the only one left in your family which was agonizingly consuming his last breaths and, as always, there was not a single thing you could do against Rafe Cameron. It always ended how he wanted.  

The beard is doing things to me that I’m not ready to admit.

FRIGHTENING NEW WORLD

WE DRANK LOYALTY IN VINES...

...BUT YOURS TURNED TO BLOOD IN MY MOUTH.

⇀ word count: 1.1 K

⇀ pairings: dark! Sam Wilson x reader | dark! Bucky Barnes x reader (implied) | Joaquin Torres x reader | ✶✶✶

⇀ warnings: dark dark dark content, 18+ MDNI | violence; power imbalance; phsychological horror; blood: restraints; threats; mentions of rape; mentions of domestic violence; mentions of forced infertility; dacryphilia; swear words, my work is dark and triggering. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

⇀ author's note: i've finished this in ONE sitting, wow. I loved CABNW and this occured in my mind as soon as I finished watching it. Reblogs, comments, and more REQUESTS are appreciated. BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST |

⇁ tags: my soul sister @highonmarvel xxx | If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know. I love you all so so much! Thank you for reading!

Oaxaca, Mexico

You had never believed that the sun might shine over you again, but here you were, strolling peacefully through the bustling market, a woven basket nestled in the crook of your arm, its handle tangled in your fingers. Your gaze lingered on the ripe, sun-kissed fruit— apricots, blushing peaches, nectarines, and ruby-red strawberries—while the air swelled with their honeyed fragrance, laced with the mellow sweetness of…plums.

Even after almost one year, the scent rose stripes of terror up your spine, and whenever you saw their blue–burgundy color, the broken ribs, the slaps, the punches, even his gaze flooded your mind altogether.

The anxiety attacks were fewer, shorter and less frightening every week, but your previous life still lingered in the back of your head. The wounds were long healed, but small scars were visible here and there—up your arms towards your shoulders, on your thighs, littlest ones on the crook of your neck and up your jaw and one people were…not able to see. After he took your freedom, broke your will, terrorized you even of your own shadow, he took your right and your ability of…ever having a family of your own. Your pained gaze often fell upon children around your house, in the village and it was like his reminder that said ‘I did this to you. You’ll never have one of your own.’, and it always made you turn your head away from them nauseously.

You never thought you'd be able to flee James Barnes, you thought it was impossible and it truly was. But some divine force must have helped you gain the bravery you never knew was inside you, and guided you all the way here, in this forgotten speck on the map.

The bells of the wide church —the only major social point in the town, situated right next to the market— rang loudly, in an oddly comforting way and you inhaled deeply as you adjusted the long skirts of your summer dress.

A loud explosion interrupted your beautiful life, and you fell on the road. Dust, mud and pulp of crushed, rotten fruit from the ground stained your new dress and you let out a broken sob when you also saw blood on your palms. Small cuts lingered on the raw skin, and you struggled to get up. The freshly bought fruit were long forgotten in the dirt as you looked disorientated around and your teary eyes caught a pair of coal black ones.

Your heart leapt out of your ribcage when you remembered the face. Sam Wilson, a shadow from your past, was James’ best friend. His eyes glinted when he recognized you. He was like a falcon—you never doubted his superhero name—and you were most afraid to hide away from him back then when you ran.

You never got the chance to see the smirk that planted on his face because of how swift you turned your head away, somehow pleading to the divine force to help you again and make him forget your features. But a man about your age already got his orders about you.

Joaquin Torres furrowed his brows in confusion when he heard Captain America's orders.

"So let me get this straight— you want me to gather all the bad guys and jus' throw them in the cars myself, man? Are-are you sure 'bout this?", the young man asked, looking around him.

"Do you think you can handle them?", came the voice from the other side of the phone to which Joaquin nodded vigorously to himself, then replied affirmatively and maybe too excitedly.

"Good, we'll meet at the agreed location in short time. I—", finished the older man, looking at the tiny, cozy cottage before his eyes, "—have some business to take care of."

You were stuffing clothing items in a bag with one hand and with the other you were looking through the bedside cabinet for your passport and cash. Tears ran down your face ever since you arrived home from the market and you simply couldn't stop them, despite the will to do so.

You zipped up the bag and you pulled on a pair of clean shorts and a large tee with leafy hands and then you climbed down the stairs. Regret, anger, fear, all these ate at you.

"It's good to see you again, honeybee!"

You almost stumbled across the last stair when the words hit you. Your lungs were rejecting the oxygen as more tears fell when your eyes caught the ones you knew so well.

His hands were carelessly caressing the chair before him, his gaze sticked on your trembling figure.

"You know, I really hoped to catch a glimpse of the pretty sight standing in front of me now earlier, it would've spared my pal of much suffering."

"Suffering?", you whispered, finding the voice under all the bitterness in your throat. "H-he suffered? He was the one t-that suffered?"

"Oh, and how he did. He refused to eat the week you left, he barely slept for months, he spent millions on men, private detectives, all types of shit just to find you. I also highly doubt he fucked since you decided to disappear into thin air."

Your face contorted into a disgusted grimace as you took a small step back.

"Honeybee—", Sam growled as he started approaching you, "—I'd reallyyy like to give you a nice, lil' chance to get the fuck outta this house and go back with me, but I'm afraid you lost that right looong ago."

You couldn't even resist when his rough, confident grip fell over your freshly healed wrists, and when you felt your back pressed into his broad, sculpted chest, a whimper escaped your lips.

Sam bent you on the counter and your face fell into the flowers you picked from your garden in the morning and you tried to block everything, simply not wanting to believe this was happening. You really believed you would be free and at peace, protected and joyful for the rest of your life. How pathetic and far away those hopes sounded. Scratchy plastic secured your hands together as Sam grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you up against him again. He knocked the door open with his foot and started pulling you out of your comforting shelter.

"Sam, I am begging you, don't t-take me back to him, pleaseeee.", you started crying as he forced you outside your home. "You can't d-do this t-to me, Sam, you can't! Y-you were my...my friend, too."

Sam slapped his palm across your mouth to muffle the screams, or maybe to stop the words that made him feel so guilty from coming. "I am James' friend, not yours. My loyalty is his, and everything you've done hurt him. Now it's jus' fair you suffer too, ain't it?". These words hurt more than anything he did until now. Sam knew what Bucky did, he had seen the bruises, he had heard the cries, yet he had done nothing against it. And maybe that unsettled you, but now? Now he was forcing you into the wolf's fangs, and it felt completely different.

Your lost eyes caught one of your neighbors, Ms. Solís , at the window. Another whimper escaped you pleadingly, directed to her, but she did not dare to do anything. Nobody ever did.

Your knees buckled under your own weight, and you collapsed in the dust despite Sam's grip. You heard him scowl and his hand came to the back of your shirt. He gripped it and pulled you up against his body again. You sobbed and you tried to elbow him but Sam was swifter. He caught your tied limbs and grasped. "Fuckin' walk, bitch. Bucky would want to teach you to behave first, but I don't mind starting myself right now, you hear me?". The threat made you cry harder and when Sam gripped your arms even harsher you nodded weakly. What Sam was doing to you felt like a short training considering what would wait for you back in New York.

A black SUV was parked there, behind some wide Madrone bushes. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might just burst right there. You hoped that, if you were to be honest.

"S-sam, just know th-that if you're taking me back....he'll k-kill me—", you tried calling Sam's mercy out one last time. He just turned his head away, letting your words fall into the abyss of desperation and nothingness.

A younger man peeked from behind the vehicle. His smile dropped when he saw your trembling form. His eyes darted from the blood on your chin to your restrained and bruised arms. Hair was cascading over your face and your lower lip trembled as you fought with yourself to stop the sobs and whimpers. Joaquin thought you were so beautiful. So, why were you here in this state?

"Whoa, man, what's happening? What did she do?" Joaquin started, coming closer to you with raised hands, showing you you don't have to be afraid of him. You still flinched when his caring hands came in contact with your pained limbs.

"Leave her as she is, Joaquin...", said Sam and you looked desperately at the man your age. He furrowed his brows and looked at his superior. "B-but—"

"You wanna be the next Falcon, don't you?" Sam asked, patting the younger man on the shoulder.

"Yes, of course I do!"

"Then—", Sam started again, looking into the boys' eyes, "—you gotta learn to close your eyes at certain things. These are the stories media don't care about, you hear me? The majority of people get saved, everybody's happy, but you should know there are...collateral victims. And she's one of 'em. Now, buddy, if you really wanna be an Avenger...put her in the car."

Joaquin took a big step back, accidentally bumping into you. He quickly caught you, preventing your body from falling again, and then looked back at Sam, which raised his brows and his hands, as if he was giving Joaquin an offer he couldn't refuse. And Joaquin didn't refuse it.

He opened the car door and he tried to carefully place you in the backseat. " 'm sorry, so sorry...", he mumbled as he gave you the pill Sam told him to. "This'll help ya sleep, okay?"

"P-please, please help me—', you cried, looking into his regretful eyes as he forced the drug past your lips.

"Shh, shhh...you'll be jus' fine, 'kay? Be good now, please—".

You knew you will be anything but fine. Sam and Joaquin both entered the car and as Joaquin was starting it, Sam dialed a number and put the phone on speaker.

"Buck, I think I've found somethin' that's yours, buddy. And you'll be really thrilled to see it...", Sam laughed, smirking at you in the reviewing mirror.

The quietness that followed the sentence was short, but dense.

"Hello, doll...", came the voice from the other side of the phone, and its maliciousness and calmness made your whole body shiver. He knew you were there. He was sure of it somehow. You felt his presence right there, in Sam's deeds, in the dark sky, in your rapid, choked sobs, in your heavy lids.

That fucking nickname wrote right then, right there the end of your world and marked the beginning of the Frightening New World.

Would you mind to do Brock Rumlow, all scarred up having nonconsensual sex with a woman he has an age gap with...he is doing a pent up frustration kind of thing with choking, spanking. He had been hiding out for too long from the goodie two shoes avengers and Hydra.

「 𝐂𝐀𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 」

younger.ᐟreader && dark.ᐟcrossbones (brock rumlow)

「 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 」 I really hope I didn't disappoint you, babe...I can't say I love the way this turned out but I wrote it so so quick, I honestly felt inspired.

「 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 」 My content explores dark themes such as nonconsensual sex, abduction, fear dynamics, dacryphilia, choking and MORE. Minors, do not interact! If you are uncomfortable with these, do not interact please! DEAD DOVE CONTENT.

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐘 「𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓」 𝐌𝐘 「𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒」 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 「𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐋」 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 「𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒」

The uneven surface in the warehouse was rubbing against the skin of your pelvis as you weakly tried to crawl away from the man standing above you. Scars adorned his face, especially the right side, all down to his neck, yet he looked impossibly strong. His broad chest rose and fell as he stared down at you, and you noticed the muscles in his shoulders and forearms flexing. Another tear slipped down your cheek and you screwed your eyes shut as he crouched down next to your shaking form.  

"Yeah, I know—it’s not exactly pretty. But trust me, what I’m about to do to you is a hell of a lot uglier.", he sneered, fingers gripping your hair and pulling up your head. You whimpered again, trying to pull away from the painful grip. He didn’t move an inch as he inspected your features with a cold gaze—your busted lower lip, your split cheek, the shadows of purple on your neck and jaw, and the fingerprints on your cheeks, all the way up to your wet lashes that surrounded your pleading, glossy eyes. 

He released your scalp with a push and a loud exhale and your chin hit the ground. 

His free, calloused hands found your hips and he pulled them up, right under his crotch. A sob escaped you as you felt the hardness rubbing against your thighs. That’s when you tried to push weakly at his abdomen with your tied wrists. 

With a growl, he snaked his arm on your chest and he curled his bicep around your throat, effectively cutting off your oxygen supply. 

Tears sprung to your eyes again as he was pulling himself out. When you felt his tip poke at your entrance, fear gripped all your senses but your vocal chords. It was all you were left with, after all.

“St-stop, no, please—”, you tried, but he squeezed your neck even harsher in frustration. He wanted you to shut the fuck up. It was crystal clear—this man felt no remorse, guilt, nor pain. He felt nothing.

 When you caught a glimpse of his face again in a piece of broken glass which lay in front of you, you flinched hard under his body weight, your pulse rising. 

 "That face scare you that much, sweetheart? Wait 'til all that is between your thighs.", he ruggedly grunted, pushing in.

re-watching Defending Jacob I NEED Andy Barber so BAD it hurts

HOW IT GLISTENED AS IT FELL

⇀ pairing: dark! Bucky Barnes x reader

⇀ warning(s): My content is dark and contains triggering elements such as mentions of torture and/or torture; abusive relationship; dacryphilia; sexual themes; weapons and possible others. Read at your own discretion. MDNI, this work is 18+, as always.

⇀ author's note: This is for the ones doubting my dark content lmao. enjoy (if you can), these are the fruits of my mind (i am fucked up tbh). Finally, I got to write Bucky, especially for you, my love, @highonmarvel. Forever in love with you, my soul sister. xxx

©thehydraethereal 2025. My work and writing is not to be copied, translated, reposted or stolen. My content is dark. Your media consumption is your problem, not mines. Reblogs, asks, requests and comments are always required and appreciated

You really think you can leave Bucky. "That's almost cute", he thinks to himself, as he finishes to put the other leather glove on his vibranium arm.

Small droplets of frozen rain and lost, shimmery snowflakes hit the windows as Bucky makes his way up the staircase towards his bedroom. The bedroom you two shared.

His jaw is clenched, the low lights portraying him almost ghostly, demonlike, in the refections of the windows. That's how he had seen himself his whole life, since the forties, but having you---the nucleus of his life---see him such a monster that you try to leave him is something Bucky could never allow.

With a little help from Steve, the man that always had his back, Bucky was able to prevent the...loss of you.

And as his fingertips touch the doorknob, and his eyes fall on your restrained, frozen figure once the door is unlocked, the icy wind blowing softly the hair away from your petrified, purplish face, Bucky oddly feels no remorse. He actually feels his actions are entitled and extremely 'disappointed' at your previous stupid actions.

Blood runs to his already hardening cock when he hears your whimpers muffled by the blood-stained rag and your tears. Oh, those tears. The sweet acid rain falling from your bewitching eyes because of him is something that Bucky not only likes, but in fact adores.

"Hey, doll...", he sighs, rubbing his thick thumb over the much thicker bulge in his jeans, while his ocean eyes bore into your terrified ones.

When you try to crawl away, your feet get tangled in the white sheets and a mocking smirk screws on Bucky's features.

"Oh, doll...I thought we already went through this.", he says, his calm stressing you even more. His eyes rest on the drawer you know he keeps his knive and gun in.

Your pleading face is shoved down into a pillow. "You know, if I say I don't enjoy this---", Bucky starts as he takes his time with ripping down your underwear and moving his gloved, iron arm to grip your thigh, "---I would be telling a big fucking lie." You flinch when you feel a metalic pinch on your skin, followed by warmth pooling between your thighs, as Bucky's knife dances on your skin.

"And you know how much I hate lies."

⁎✵࿔෴𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐄

My name is 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒, I'm European and I am a young soul. This is what you have to know about me:

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑(𝐒): Burgundy, Maroon, Scarlett, Navy Blue, Forest Green, Baby Blue, Baby Pink.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊(𝐒): COFFEE. And Granita.

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄: Ribbons and bows. Biceps. Vogue routines filmed by celebrities. Hailey Bieber. Water. Older men. Cats. Leopards. Dark clouds and storms. Nighttime. Early mornings and crisp air. Pines. Perfume. Mascara. Spicy chicken burgers. Wired earphones. Purses. Short skirts. Large shirts. Sunglasses. The moon and stars. Lacy underwear. Showers. Curly hair. Pinterest. Messages and asks (on tumblr). Gum. Mangoes. Pop Music. Polaroids.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐒: Feminism, history, geography, philosophy, phsychology, literature, poetry, mathematics.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒: Chris Evans, Brad Pitt, Daniel Day-Lewis, Frank Grillo, Tom Hiddleston, Heath Ledger, Jodie Foster, Demi Moore, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Natalie Portman, Aaron Taylor Johnson, Henry Cavill, Tom Hardy, Colin Farrell, Sebastian Stan, Angelina Jolie.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: Rafe Cameron, Steve Rogers, William Wallace, Achilles, Brock Rumlow, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Thor Odinson, Loki Laufeyson, Sarah Cameron, Emperor Geta, Marcus Acacius, Andrew Barber, Ari Levinson, Curtis Everett, Nick Fowler, Lloyd Hansen, Steve Abnesti, August Walker, Walter Marshall, Cyrus Hanks, Benjamin Martin.

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐒: 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗩𝗘𝗟, Outer Banks, Pedro Pascal, Chris Evans, Lana del Rey, Chris Hemsworth.

𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ?: The darkened side of the human nature has always fascinated me, and I believe that by writing what I write, I will understand how it works even better so I decided to share with you what is blooming in my mind, to explore new points of view and to not just let my creativity die. Writing is also my coping mechanism.

𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐌𝐘 (𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋) 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐒 ?: No, actually, not at all. It is a response to the trauma and issues I have, I do not find what my characters do attractive. It is only for creative and fictional purposes. DO YOUR RESEARCH about this topic, it is not my bussines to explain how dark writers and readers' minds work.

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 ?: It depends. If I feel inspired by it, I will write it in one hour or one day. If the request doesn't really appeal to me, I will delay it and prioritize what inspires me. Some requests really inspire me, but I take more time with them, because I'm a perfectionist and I want them to turm out good.

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ?: If you are following me for a good amount of time now, you will know pretty well my love for @highonmarvel. I could write pharagraphs about her. Also, my Pedro side is dedicated to @pedrosyouknowwhat, her talent is brilliant. My mother, literally, is @rvfecamerons, she inspired me to write for Rafe. Her writing and talent is out-of-this-world.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 ?: OH, I LOVE asks. People really don't understand how important their support is, every single encouraging message or comment warm my heart and help me keep going.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐈/𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐈 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐘 ?: You can ask me to talk about certain celebrities, about my fics, about a character, about life experiences, but I will definitely not reply to very intimate questions. Hate is also gross, just scroll and block me if you do not like what I say or write. Literally.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐔𝐌𝐒 ?: The Tortured Poets Department, Midnights, Born to Die, Lust for Life, Eternal Sunshine, Evermore, Folklore, Hit Me Hard and Soft.

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒 ?: Lana del Rey, Taylor Swift, ABBA, Gracie Abrams, The Neighbourhood, Arctic Monkeys, Ariana Grande. THESE ARTISTS INSPIRE ME. IF YOU DO NOT HAVE RESECT FOR THEM, GO AHEAD AND BLOCK ME.

(𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓) 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒: The Albatross, I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can), The boy is mine, Video Games, Cherry, Forever Young.

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐈 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐎 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐀𝐋 ?: No.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎/𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄: Visit the world. Become an influencer. Kiss someone. Interview a celebrity. Move out of my town. Get a therapist. Record a music video. See the Grand Canyon. Buy a polaroid camera. Be Tumblr famous. Finish all my requests and series. A speech in public. Punch a man in the face.