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hii! i have a request please: dark steve rogers x reader where he is obsessed with her but she is bucky's gf (reader is clueless) steve kills bucky and forces reader to be in a rs with him. their friends notice how quick she got with bucky's bsf right after his death so they hate her for it but she can't say anything bc she's scared
I'VE DONE IT FOR LOVE
bucky's girlfriend.ᐟreader & dark.ᐟsteve rogers
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.9k words
MY CONTENT WARNINGS && MASTERLIST && NAVIGATION
MY INBOX OPENED FOR MORE REQUESTS
“I’m sorry for your loss, miss.”
You loathe this phrase with a burning passion. Everybody said it with void eyes that lacked any compassion or empathy. The most people gave away from their hearts was pity.
Despite all these, you nodded politely and thankfully at the mayor, and watched him head towards Natasha, Pepper and Tony.
You felt your eyes burn with tears again as your gaze turned to the cause of your agony: your fiancè’s —the love of your life—, your Bucky’s…coffin.
The concept made your insides churn with terrified anguish, the acceptance simply not settling in your mind.
The coffin was carved from plum tree wood, its surface a deep, bruised violet with streaks of dusky red—like veins beneath dying skin. The grain curled and twisted unnaturally, as if the tree had once grown in a place it shouldn't have, somewhere tainted. Bucky loved plums. Every thought about him drained a tiny bit of life out of your soul.
You remembered the day you were announced that the person you loved the most in this world was now no longer alive.
If someone had told you before this would happen, you wouldn’t have believed them. You wouldn’t have believed that you would survive these lacerating, tormenting days. But apparently you did.
However, the idea of everything just coming to an end for you, as well, did not sound bad. You wanted to die. And you gladly accepted the desire of your heart.
“Sweetheart”. The voice behind you slithered through your nerves and coiled in your belly like a serpent. His voice.
The man that you and Bucky trusted with your whole beings was the one that inflicted this absolute hell over your life. You loved Steve Rogers dearly. But apparently he “loved” you as well, and that acclaimed love burned like venom.
You did not turn around. Your body felt planted deep in the soil, with iron roots that kept you still. His forearm snaked around your abdomen and the muscle felt unyielding, a flesh-forged shackle pressing into your bruised flesh, earning a small whimper from you. You screwed your eyes shut to stop the tears of dread from spilling.
His lips attached themselves to the back of your jaw and traced all the way up your mastoid process, his hot breath and moist lips sending shivers down your spine.
“P-please…”, you whimpered at him, desperate fingers clawing at his arm, “...n-not here. Please.”
He growled against your skin and your despondent eyes darted towards Natasha and Sam.
Oh… They could not help you. They didn’t know the actual truth.
Steve started moving and dragged your body along with his, just by Bucky’s casket. A sob erupted your throat as you were forced to stay there in front of it.
His thumb caressed your cheek lazily, as your petrified eyes looked at the horrid thing that lay in front of you.
Steve sighed, and you caught his broad chest tightening with the corner of your teary eye.
“I loved him, but good Lord…I couldn’t stand him having what I wanted, what I was supposed to have”. The lack of mercy in his tone scared you and his words were enough to have tears flowing down your chill-bitten cheeks again. His hand came up and wrapped itself around your jaw, pulling your face closer to his. He did exactly what you prayed he wouldn’t do.
His lips pressed against yours, lacked any warmth or affection, and his teeth bit down on your lower lip in front of all your friends, family and people gathered at the funeral.
The hot droplets fell from your eyes and wetted his face, as his tongue went past your swollen lips. He pushed his body against yours even harsher and your hand shot up to bare yourself on something. And that ‘something’ was your Bucky’s casket. You whined in Steve’s mouth when your fingertips came in contact with the frozy wooden surface, but his lips curled upon yours in a merciless smirk. He was enjoying the disrespectful act so much. Bile raised in your throat and blood was pumping so fast through your veins that, for a moment, you believed your temples would explode.
“Let’s go home now.”, Steve decided when he finally released your mouth and your pleading eyes shot up into his immediately.
“N-no, please Steve, no…T-the funeral hasn’t even officially started”. Desperation clawed at your throat as you wrapped your wrists around his bicep and sobbed heartbreakingly.
“Sweetheart, I was kind enough to even allow you to come here, was I not? Now…don’t make a scene, you really wouldn’t like what happens afterwards". The threat behind his words made you flinch, but you still didn’t let go of him. Your chest pressed to his in an attempt to beg him to let you witness Bucky’s last moments on earth. He didn’t do that. He never listened to your pleas, just as probably…he didn’t listen to his best friend’s when he pleaded for his life.
Steve’s fingers caught your wrist and started to slowly walk you towards the car.
“No. Steve, s-stop. What will they say? Steve, we haven’t even said goodbye, pl-please.”, you choked out as you were walking past the people you knew so well. Sam’s eyes caught yours, and the amount of hatred you saw in them made your gaze fall down in shame.
“Behave.”, the Captain whispered in your ear and you swiftly shut your lips and followed him obediently. You knew what Steve was capable of and you surely didn’t want him to hurt others on your behalf.
‘What a bitch, coming here and puttin’ up all that acting and fake tears, pretending she misses him and now she is leaving with his best friend and not even staying for the ceremony. How disgusting can some people be?’, you heard a couple of elderly women hiss as you approached the small groups of people. You wanted to yell and howl at everybody how your heart was shattered into millions of pieces and how you longed to just mourn your Bucky. You wondered, couldn’t they see your frightened features? Your dried tears? The small cuts on your cheekbones?
No, all they could see was that another man was holding your hand, and it felt as if the word ‘WHORE’ was burnt in your skin with reddened iron. It was always the woman, never the man. It was never: "His best friend took his girlfriend”, but always: “His girlfriend moved on. With his best friend.”
With one last glance, you left your lover behind forever.
Steve and you arrived “home”, at the mansion that once produced you and Bucky only happiness. After years of savings, Bucky managed to buy it and that was like a symbol between the two of you and the beginning of a joyful life together.
Now, after Steve had taken it —he called it a “perfect gift” for the beginning of a relationship— it felt like the walls would constrict around you any day.
The pictures of you and Bucky with your overjoyed faces were now only memories of the empty, saddened walls. You had them down, packed them up and wanted to take them with you to the small cabin your sister had in the mountains and heal there from the loss of your life. But fate had other things in store for you.
Steve hauled you in the dorm that used to be yours and Bucky’s and you audibly gasped. You haven't been here since Bucky’s…death. Since your spitalization after you tried to finish off the pain in your heart.
“Wh-what are we doing here?”, you cried, now jerking away from him, breath sharp with fear.
Steve’s nostrils flared as his fingers gripped around his hip bones. His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek and your shaky hand gripped the door knob tightly.
In an instant, his eyes were on yours again and he pressed to you after a big step. You shrieked into yourself and your breath hitched.
“I was good to you, patient, wasn’t I? Huh?”, he growled and you sniffled, nodding your head as tears sprung to your eyes again. “Answer me.”, Steve growled again and a ‘yes’ caught in your throat like a piece of glass.
Steve’s right hand fisted itself in your hair and you groaned. You had the impression that, from Steve’s hands, Bucky’s blood was still dripping, and your breath was cut from your lungs.
“Le-let go, Steve! Pleaseee—”, you cried at him as he forced you towards the bed.
“No…”, you whispered, already knowing what he was willing to do. “NO! Steve, please…please, Steve, anywhere but here, not in h-his bed, please—”, you struggled to pry off his hands, hyperventilating.
His ruthless fingers came forward and squeezed at your cheeks to stop your incoherent babbling.
You, on the other hand, couldn’t stand this to happen on the bed you and Bucky were to share. You planted your feet on the polished, expensive floor, and tried to elbow at Steve's chest, ribs and stomach.
Unexpectedly, he threw you in front of the bed with force, and you landed with a wail.
“You don’t tell me where I fuck you, when and how, understand? You are my wife now. Mine.”. His unfeeling words made you cry harder and your head was spinning so hard you could barely form out the objects in front of you. An unbearable ring was playing in your ears, blocking everything else but Steve’s words.
“Wife? Y-you k-killed hi-him…”, you stuttered between sobs, fingernails gripping the plush carpet. “I fucking hate you! I ha-hate you, I f-fucking hate you, you psychopath—”, you screamed at him, the anguish tearing at your vocal chords.
Steve crouched next to your shaking body, and grabbed the nape of your neck, pushing your face down. You tried to hit at him, and when you did, he clobbered you and nextly you saw black dots dancing in your vision.
“I can be very good to you, as I was all this time, but everythin’ can get really bad for you. So, close that pretty mouth and watch your tone and language because truuust me…”, he threatened in a sing-song voice, “...I can shut it for you and you won’t like that. There is nothing you can do about it. You are with me now, whether you like it or not.”
You flinched hard as his knuckles brushed the tear-soaked hair away from your bruised face. The sight of your glossy, widened eyes and your sigh-heavened chest rising in sorrow seemed to Steve the prettiest thing in the world.
“I love you, and that’s why I'm asking you to be smart. I don’t want to pick a casket for my future wife too”. His words made you tremble even more, despite your struggle to stop. “I lost the man that was like a brother to me because of you. Now…don’t make me do to you somethin’ I’ll regret later, sweetheart.”
Was...was he blaming you for Bucky's death? Bucky's murder?
You simply nodded, what else were you supposed to do? You felt like your skull was on fire, as Captain's thumb played with your lower lip. His words were getting straight to your head.
He chuckled, as if shaking the previous threats off would make you forget about his dreadful being, and he started to tear off your sweatshirt. You didn’t fight him. There was no use in it. Then, he picked you up and sat you on the bed.
The mattress felt like nails pressed to your naked skin.
“Now—”, Steve groaned, pulling at your panties, making a sob choke you again, “—be a good girl for me…doll.” Steve never called you 'doll'. But he used to know someone who always called you that.
End.
✵⁎ TAGS: @highonmarvel ♡
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.
hii! i have a request please: dark steve rogers x reader where he is obsessed with her but she is bucky's gf (reader is clueless) steve kills bucky and forces reader to be in a rs with him. their friends notice how quick she got with bucky's bsf right after his death so they hate her for it but she can't say anything bc she's scared
I'VE DONE IT FOR LOVE
bucky's girlfriend.ᐟreader & dark.ᐟsteve rogers
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.9k words
MY CONTENT WARNINGS && MASTERLIST && NAVIGATION
MY INBOX OPENED FOR MORE REQUESTS
“I’m sorry for your loss, miss.”
You loathe this phrase with a burning passion. Everybody said it with void eyes that lacked any compassion or empathy. The most people gave away from their hearts was pity.
Despite all these, you nodded politely and thankfully at the mayor, and watched him head towards Natasha, Pepper and Tony.
You felt your eyes burn with tears again as your gaze turned to the cause of your agony: your fiancè’s —the love of your life—, your Bucky’s…coffin.
The concept made your insides churn with terrified anguish, the acceptance simply not settling in your mind.
The coffin was carved from plum tree wood, its surface a deep, bruised violet with streaks of dusky red—like veins beneath dying skin. The grain curled and twisted unnaturally, as if the tree had once grown in a place it shouldn't have, somewhere tainted. Bucky loved plums. Every thought about him drained a tiny bit of life out of your soul.
You remembered the day you were announced that the person you loved the most in this world was now no longer alive.
If someone had told you before this would happen, you wouldn’t have believed them. You wouldn’t have believed that you would survive these lacerating, tormenting days. But apparently you did.
However, the idea of everything just coming to an end for you, as well, did not sound bad. You wanted to die. And you gladly accepted the desire of your heart.
“Sweetheart”. The voice behind you slithered through your nerves and coiled in your belly like a serpent. His voice.
The man that you and Bucky trusted with your whole beings was the one that inflicted this absolute hell over your life. You loved Steve Rogers dearly. But apparently he “loved” you as well, and that acclaimed love burned like venom.
You did not turn around. Your body felt planted deep in the soil, with iron roots that kept you still. His forearm snaked around your abdomen and the muscle felt unyielding, a flesh-forged shackle pressing into your bruised flesh, earning a small whimper from you. You screwed your eyes shut to stop the tears of dread from spilling.
His lips attached themselves to the back of your jaw and traced all the way up your mastoid process, his hot breath and moist lips sending shivers down your spine.
“P-please…”, you whimpered at him, desperate fingers clawing at his arm, “...n-not here. Please.”
He growled against your skin and your despondent eyes darted towards Natasha and Sam.
Oh… They could not help you. They didn’t know the actual truth.
Steve started moving and dragged your body along with his, just by Bucky’s casket. A sob erupted your throat as you were forced to stay there in front of it.
His thumb caressed your cheek lazily, as your petrified eyes looked at the horrid thing that lay in front of you.
Steve sighed, and you caught his broad chest tightening with the corner of your teary eye.
“I loved him, but good Lord…I couldn’t stand him having what I wanted, what I was supposed to have”. The lack of mercy in his tone scared you and his words were enough to have tears flowing down your chill-bitten cheeks again. His hand came up and wrapped itself around your jaw, pulling your face closer to his. He did exactly what you prayed he wouldn’t do.
His lips pressed against yours, lacked any warmth or affection, and his teeth bit down on your lower lip in front of all your friends, family and people gathered at the funeral.
The hot droplets fell from your eyes and wetted his face, as his tongue went past your swollen lips. He pushed his body against yours even harsher and your hand shot up to bare yourself on something. And that ‘something’ was your Bucky’s casket. You whined in Steve’s mouth when your fingertips came in contact with the frozy wooden surface, but his lips curled upon yours in a merciless smirk. He was enjoying the disrespectful act so much. Bile raised in your throat and blood was pumping so fast through your veins that, for a moment, you believed your temples would explode.
“Let’s go home now.”, Steve decided when he finally released your mouth and your pleading eyes shot up into his immediately.
“N-no, please Steve, no…T-the funeral hasn’t even officially started”. Desperation clawed at your throat as you wrapped your wrists around his bicep and sobbed heartbreakingly.
“Sweetheart, I was kind enough to even allow you to come here, was I not? Now…don’t make a scene, you really wouldn’t like what happens afterwards". The threat behind his words made you flinch, but you still didn’t let go of him. Your chest pressed to his in an attempt to beg him to let you witness Bucky’s last moments on earth. He didn’t do that. He never listened to your pleas, just as probably…he didn’t listen to his best friend’s when he pleaded for his life.
Steve’s fingers caught your wrist and started to slowly walk you towards the car.
“No. Steve, s-stop. What will they say? Steve, we haven’t even said goodbye, pl-please.”, you choked out as you were walking past the people you knew so well. Sam’s eyes caught yours, and the amount of hatred you saw in them made your gaze fall down in shame.
“Behave.”, the Captain whispered in your ear and you swiftly shut your lips and followed him obediently. You knew what Steve was capable of and you surely didn’t want him to hurt others on your behalf.
‘What a bitch, coming here and puttin’ up all that acting and fake tears, pretending she misses him and now she is leaving with his best friend and not even staying for the ceremony. How disgusting can some people be?’, you heard a couple of elderly women hiss as you approached the small groups of people. You wanted to yell and howl at everybody how your heart was shattered into millions of pieces and how you longed to just mourn your Bucky. You wondered, couldn’t they see your frightened features? Your dried tears? The small cuts on your cheekbones?
No, all they could see was that another man was holding your hand, and it felt as if the word ‘WHORE’ was burnt in your skin with reddened iron. It was always the woman, never the man. It was never: "His best friend took his girlfriend”, but always: “His girlfriend moved on. With his best friend.”
With one last glance, you left your lover behind forever.
Steve and you arrived “home”, at the mansion that once produced you and Bucky only happiness. After years of savings, Bucky managed to buy it and that was like a symbol between the two of you and the beginning of a joyful life together.
Now, after Steve had taken it —he called it a “perfect gift” for the beginning of a relationship— it felt like the walls would constrict around you any day.
The pictures of you and Bucky with your overjoyed faces were now only memories of the empty, saddened walls. You had them down, packed them up and wanted to take them with you to the small cabin your sister had in the mountains and heal there from the loss of your life. But fate had other things in store for you.
Steve hauled you in the dorm that used to be yours and Bucky’s and you audibly gasped. You haven't been here since Bucky’s…death. Since your spitalization after you tried to finish off the pain in your heart.
“Wh-what are we doing here?”, you cried, now jerking away from him, breath sharp with fear.
Steve’s nostrils flared as his fingers gripped around his hip bones. His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek and your shaky hand gripped the door knob tightly.
In an instant, his eyes were on yours again and he pressed to you after a big step. You shrieked into yourself and your breath hitched.
“I was good to you, patient, wasn’t I? Huh?”, he growled and you sniffled, nodding your head as tears sprung to your eyes again. “Answer me.”, Steve growled again and a ‘yes’ caught in your throat like a piece of glass.
Steve’s right hand fisted itself in your hair and you groaned. You had the impression that, from Steve’s hands, Bucky’s blood was still dripping, and your breath was cut from your lungs.
“Le-let go, Steve! Pleaseee—”, you cried at him as he forced you towards the bed.
“No…”, you whispered, already knowing what he was willing to do. “NO! Steve, please…please, Steve, anywhere but here, not in h-his bed, please—”, you struggled to pry off his hands, hyperventilating.
His ruthless fingers came forward and squeezed at your cheeks to stop your incoherent babbling.
You, on the other hand, couldn’t stand this to happen on the bed you and Bucky were to share. You planted your feet on the polished, expensive floor, and tried to elbow at Steve's chest, ribs and stomach.
Unexpectedly, he threw you in front of the bed with force, and you landed with a wail.
“You don’t tell me where I fuck you, when and how, understand? You are my wife now. Mine.”. His unfeeling words made you cry harder and your head was spinning so hard you could barely form out the objects in front of you. An unbearable ring was playing in your ears, blocking everything else but Steve’s words.
“Wife? Y-you k-killed hi-him…”, you stuttered between sobs, fingernails gripping the plush carpet. “I fucking hate you! I ha-hate you, I f-fucking hate you, you psychopath—”, you screamed at him, the anguish tearing at your vocal chords.
Steve crouched next to your shaking body, and grabbed the nape of your neck, pushing your face down. You tried to hit at him, and when you did, he clobbered you and nextly you saw black dots dancing in your vision.
“I can be very good to you, as I was all this time, but everythin’ can get really bad for you. So, close that pretty mouth and watch your tone and language because truuust me…”, he threatened in a sing-song voice, “...I can shut it for you and you won’t like that. There is nothing you can do about it. You are with me now, whether you like it or not.”
You flinched hard as his knuckles brushed the tear-soaked hair away from your bruised face. The sight of your glossy, widened eyes and your sigh-heavened chest rising in sorrow seemed to Steve the prettiest thing in the world.
“I love you, and that’s why I'm asking you to be smart. I don’t want to pick a casket for my future wife too”. His words made you tremble even more, despite your struggle to stop. “I lost the man that was like a brother to me because of you. Now…don’t make me do to you somethin’ I’ll regret later, sweetheart.”
Was...was he blaming you for Bucky's death? Bucky's murder?
You simply nodded, what else were you supposed to do? You felt like your skull was on fire, as Captain's thumb played with your lower lip. His words were getting straight to your head.
He chuckled, as if shaking the previous threats off would make you forget about his dreadful being, and he started to tear off your sweatshirt. You didn’t fight him. There was no use in it. Then, he picked you up and sat you on the bed.
The mattress felt like nails pressed to your naked skin.
“Now—”, Steve groaned, pulling at your panties, making a sob choke you again, “—be a good girl for me…doll.” Steve never called you 'doll'. But he used to know someone who always called you that.
End.
✵⁎ TAGS: @highonmarvel ♡
Thinking about Steve Rogers and number 17 (we haven’t even started)
Including age gap, power dynamics, Dacryphilia, fear kink. Honestly thinking about a sickly sweet kidnapper!Steve who’s been stalking reader. “Don’t you think you’re one lucky girl, got Captain America desperate to use that pretty little cunt” and ohhhhh god. He tells reader how special she is, she was made for it, so she better start acting fuckin grateful. Prompt comes in the first time he’s gonna actually use her fully
~~ ✨🍄 for emoji signoff
BEWITCHINGLY FEARFUL
younger.ᐟcaptive reader && dark.ᐟsteve rogers with PROMPT (17)
DARK AND TRIGGERING CONTENT AHEAD, THESE ARE THE WARNINGS.
You crawled your shuddering body in the corner of the disgustingly narrow dorm he put you in a while ago. You didn’t even remember when he had brought you here, the time seemed to dilate and constrict, you didn’t know how long has gone since you were taken from your ordinary lifestyle. The room was barely kissed by a cold neon light from outside of it. The light refracted through a thin glass above the metal door and there was no other source of illumination.
In an instant, the sound of metal howling—the door was much rusted and it sounded infernal every time it was unlocked—made you flinch and bury your lips in the back of your wrist to stop the fearful sobs from escaping.
The unnatural coldness of the neon made your weakened, teary eyes scrunch in pain, but not for long.
The light was tracing Steve Roger’s broad figure, and it made his shoulders and arms look impossibly titanic and all-consuming. Fear was the death of the mind—you knew it—but for you, it was different. Fear made you see grotesque and leviathanic things, it possessed you and your every sense. Or maybe—this was just the effect the man above you had and not your rational feeling.
When he crouched down next to you, the heart almost jumped from your chest. Acidic tears of hatred, anger and frighten ran down your cheeks as his fingers caressed the burning skin of them. You didn’t pull away. You knew better.
“How’s my beautiful girl, hm?”, he started, a faint smug smirk planted on his face.
You swallowed with difficulty, the insipidness of the spit running down your deserted throat and your eyes shot up and bore into his arctic blue ones.
He was Captain America. That one Captain America everyone talked about. He was supposed to protect the souls of his countrymen, not lock young and unwilling girls in the basements of his houses and force them to breathe moldy air in his nightmarish presence.
You whined when his calloused, huge hand wrapped around your jaw and squeezed as he pulled your face closer to his. It hurted so much. “Tell me you want me too, sweetheart. Look how much I love you.”, he grunted, eyes sparkling with sickening hope as his free hand crept between the flesh of your thighs. You tried to close your legs as you pulled your face away roughly, before he even got the chance to plant his poisonous kisses all over it.
Steve clenched his jaw tightly, and you saw the muscles in his knuckles tighten. Like a snap of a bone, his patience cracked and he slapped you across the face. You gritted your teeth as his arms, surprisingly tender, contrasting what he has just done, wrapped around your body. “Can’t you see what you’re doin’ to me?”, Steve asked—as if he forgot the act of violence he threw upon you seconds ago—, forcing your palm over his brutally rigid bulge. It made you feel even more dizzy and nauseous, its thickness scaring you to your core. “I love you, sweetheart, I love you so much. You’re so special.” His heartbeat patted loudly against your back. “N-no…”, you whimpered, trying to get out of his hold. But it was completely useless, strengthening serum was running through his veins and the determination he had in playing with your mind into believing he cared for you genuinely made your skin crawl.
“Sweetheart, show a little gratitude. I saved you from the misery you lived in, and I’ll give you a future by my side, you’ll be the most gorgeous thing on my arm, you’ll have everything you would ever possibly want. Jus’ be good for me, ‘cause you won’t leave this place, so why not make it pleasurable for yourself?”. His hand reached for his jeans and the sound of the zip made you tense again and clench your thighs together in fear even harder.
“I j-just wanna go home…”, you cracked, a sob tearing through you.
Steve shook his head and then, he reached for your face again, his thumb rubbing the tears off.
“F-fuck you…”, you spat, as realization just hit you again and brightened your mind into acknowledging who was holding you, as he pulled you over his thigh, making you staddle it in attempt of stopping your cries... “Don’t you think you’re one lucky girl, got Captain America so desperate to use your pretty little cunt…”, Steve grunted in your ear as he reached out to toy with the lace of your underwear, purposefully ignoring the way you cursed at him.
His words pulled the last string of obedience from you, and, as if you forgot the burn of his slap, you hit him right across the face. You were slowly but surely slipping into madness down there, because no fully sane person, chiefly in your position, wouldn't do that to the golden boy of America.
It did nothing to injure him. However, his gaze turned obsidian, void of any sympathy or human emotion. He inhaled, chest puffing and almost throwing you off his thigh. Your limbs went still as his stare pinned you in place. This was possibly your greatest mistake ever made.
You expected to receive a slap — not a punch. It sent you right on the chill-soaked floorboards. Your trembling knuckles reached for the blood-covered cheekbone, agonizingly gently to wipe it off. The crimson substance was hot on your digits, warming their frozen state.
Steve’s knee fell on your spine, as his merciless grasp tore your underwear off your hip bones. You whined, but the punch drained the life out of you, so you were very feeble and you could do nothing against it but whimper and plead.
If he cared for you, just as he has claimed...why wasn't he stopping when he saw you so vividly and indisputably horrified?
“I fuckin' love it when you're so scared f'me...”, he growled in your ear. Tears made your body convulse, his words giving you the answer to your unspoken question, as he was preparing his thick member to take what he wanted from you, silent screams wrecking your being. Your mind was shouting: 'Please, do not do this. Not now. Not ever.'
“C’mon, baby, don’t cry…we haven’t even started.”
⁎✵࿔๛ TAGS: @highonmarvel
⋆⁎✽๛ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 --- for requests
෴ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: This content is dark and very triggering. Minors and easily triggered people, do not interact. Your mental health matters. You are responsible for your own media consumption.
෴ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: MY CONTENT IS DARK AND DARK ONLY. My requests are now OPENED. You can request as many fictions as you want, but you have to check out my CHARACTERS LIST and my WARNINGS first. IF YOU ARE ANON, USE AN EMOJI, SO WE CAN TALK MORE <3. Request via my INBOX. Please, also write a short summary of your ideas, do not just send in the number of the promp and the character. Thank you.
𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 I will use for these: Choking; chasing kink; Dacryphilia (tear kink); fear kink; dv + heavy violence; restraints; manhanding and others. Please choose a few in your request.
𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 2.0
"You flinch like that again in public, and I’ll give you a real reason to." (1)
"I don’t remember asking what you wanted, sweetheart." (2)
"You can cry if you want. Won’t change a damn thing." (3)
"That’s the problem with you. You never fucking listen." (4)
"Go ahead. Tell me no again." (5)
"You move, and I promise it’ll be worse." (6)
"I told you to sit down. Don’t make me say it twice." (7)
"You think I give a fuck if you’re scared?" (8)
"I liked you better when you knew your place." (9)
"You’re only still breathing because I let you." (10)
"See how quiet you can be after I slap you around?" (11)
"You can beg if you want. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop." (12)
"Do I look like a man who’s gonna change his mind?" (13)
"At least make yourself useful, baby." (14)
"You act like I haven’t done this before." (15)
"If you were strong enough to stop me, angel, you would have by now." (16)
"C'mon, baby, don't cry...we haven't even started." (17)
"I'll destroy your pretty face of yours if you do that again." (18)
"Come here. Now." (19)
"I'd suggest you returned because if I catch you...you won't like what I'll do to you." (20)
thank you SO much for reading and reblogging baby, I LOVE feeding dark fics to my people ♡
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.
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.
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."
CHARACTERS LIST
MY BELOVED GHOST AND ME...
...SITTING IN A TREE.
MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE
꧁༺ 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍
꧁༺ 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒
꧁༺ 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒
꧁༺ 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐋𝐎𝐖
꧁༺࿔ 𝐊𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑
꧁༺ 𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓 (𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄)
꧁༺ 𝐖𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍 (𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋)
꧁༺ 𝐋𝐎𝐊𝐈 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐅𝐄𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍
꧁༺ 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅
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༻꧂ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍
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༻꧂ 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐁. 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄
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ACTORS' CHARACTERS
𖦹༻꧂𝐏𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐎 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 (𝐀𝐋𝐋)
𖦹︎ ༻꧂ 𝐀𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 (𝐀𝐋𝐋)
𖦹︎ ༻꧂𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 (𝐀𝐋𝐋)
𖦹︎ ༻꧂𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 (𝐀𝐋𝐋)
༻꧂ 𝐒𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 (𝐀𝐋𝐋)
༻꧂𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐒 (𝐏𝐀𝐔𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐈)
༻꧂ 𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐒 (𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐘) & 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒 (𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐃𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐘)
༻꧂ 𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐇 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 (𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐀; 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊)
༻꧂ 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋
✦ other important links: masterlist / warnings and information
©thehydraethereal 2025.
MY WARNINGS
✦ I will put the warnings ahead of each piece of fanfiction. Keep in mind that my work contains triggering elements such as nonconsensual sex; abusive relationships; sexual/mental/physical abuse; violence; harassment; sex trafficking; abduction; age gap; power dynamics and possible other dark themes. Proceed with caution. This blog is not for minors. You are responsible for your own media consumption.
WHAT I WRITE...
✶ I will only write female reader / I will only write dark content ✶ I will only write the elements written above in my warnings, nothing else, and for sure, nothing that includes underage relationships or gory elements, A/B/O dynamics or something that includes supranatural creatures such as vampires, werewolfs etc.
BLOG RULES
✶ If you do not like my content, you are free to just scroll away. Do not send hate.
✶ Do not message me for requests, send them via inbox.
✶ I love getting to know other writers, so if you want to know each other or to co-write sonething, you can message me.
✶ Do not translate or repost my work without my consent. Reblogs, likes, comments and asks are always appreciated and needed.
✶ I love yapping and chatting, so you can send asks about certain fics, movies, series, history or celebrities.
✶ other important links: MASTERLIST / CHARACTER LIST /
©thehydraethereal 2025. My work might contain triggering elements. You are responsible for your media consumption. Do not translate or repost my work without my consent.
⁎✵⋆࿔ VENUS'S NAVIGATION
✵ 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 / she/her | NINETEEN | DARK FICS FANATIC / "your love carved me open, and I bled burgundy." ๛༊ ASKBOX
CARNATIONS YOU HAD THOUGHT WERE ROSES...
REQUESTS: CLOSED | 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐉𝐈𝐒
IMPORTANT LINKS: BLOG AND WRITING RULES \ ⁎✵࿔࿐ CHARACTERS LIST \ MY READERS
...THAT'S US
©THEHYDRAETHEREAL 2025. My work might contain triggering elements. You are responsible for your media consumption. Do not translate or repost my work without my consent.
༊ ⁎۵࿔࿐ MASTERPOST AND BLOG INSPIRED BY @highonmarvel