Even If Nobody Would Read Anything I Write, I Would Still Do It, Because It The Way Of Emanating Feelings

Even if nobody would read anything I write, I would still do it, because it the way of emanating feelings and sharing them with the world. And I am being serious, two years ago, I was riding home from school on a shitty bus, I was depressed and miserable overall, and that day I came across your blog and I read 'Ribs'. It had played in my mind the whole week and month afterwards and I started aspiring to be like you and it distracted me from my reality. Then, last year, I started writing here and got the courage to message you and here we are: you shining and brightening my life and being my greatest support. What can I say? I am so so honored you liked it, my heart is blooming rn, literally.

HOW IT GLISTENED AS IT FELL

⇀ pairing: dark! Bucky Barnes x reader

⇀ warnings: 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

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.

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.

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."

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.

"You Flinch Like That Again In Public, And I’ll Give You A Real Reason To." (1)

⋆↝ 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 ♡

all I see is 'red lights'

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

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

Ξ[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.

Ξ[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.

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