#serial killer!bucky

[moosereblogsfics]

No Motive

pairing: serial killer! steve x serial killer!bucky x reader 

warnings: DUBCON, kind of non con, serial killer au, horror, slight dacryphilia, violence, smut, p in v, manipulation/coercion, facial, creampie, mentions of virginity loss, masturbation, MINORS DNI, dead dove do not eat. read at your own risk

summary:  “Surprise, Sidney!” 

a/n: this is a Scream / Grease inspired entry for @boxofbonesfic​ Friday The 13th challenge for Serial Killer! this is my first time writing anything dark but I had a lot of fun (i love horror/horror movies so this was a fun exercise). thank you so much bones for hosting this super fun challenge and i hope everyone had an absolutely spooktacular Friday the 13th!

word count: 1287 (cutting it close whew)

“Doors locked. Windows and blinds shut. No trips to anywhere but the grocery store or work, during daylight hours. No one is permitted to be outside of their homes after dark.”

That was what the police said. So why the hell were you outside right now? You snuck a quick glance at your boyfriend, who was driving carefree with the windows down.

“You cold, babe?” He shouted over the wind, looking over at you to flash you a cocky smirk. He looked beautiful, and that’s why you were here.

“No,” you mustered, but it was a lie. The anxiety caused by your forbidden outing induced a tremor in your hands as you pressed down your skirt. Steve would be so disappointed if he knew how you were feeling. Wasn’t this romantic? In the very least, it was what all the other couples did at school. 

It was what Steve’s ex-girlfriends did with him. 

You fought the urge to flip down the little vanity mirror and check your lipstick, make sure you looked pretty enough for him. Instead, you looked over at him with a smile and reached over to squeeze his thigh suggestively. That’s how you were supposed to do it, right? 

The crunching of gravel under Steve’s tires drew your attention to the little road that you’ve pulled off onto. You’ve never been here, but you recognized it from its infamy— Lover’s Lake, where all the couples used to come to get a little… privacy. Nobody came here anymore, though.

Not since the killings started. 

Your tongue darted out to wet your dry lips nervously, and you felt your heart pounding in fear. 

“Steve, is this a good idea?” you eked out, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and nibbling at the flesh nervously. Without even looking at you, Steve grasped your chin in his forefinger and eased your lip out from your teeth before running over it with his thumb. 

He’s so good to you. He knew you so well. So why didn’t you feel safe right now? 

But your stomach roiled when he sighed, clearly disappointed in you as he spared an irritated look before pulling the car to stop facing the lake. “Babe, I told you this already, remember? We can’t let the killer win. When we let them control us, let them make us afraid, they win.” 

“But Steve, what if the killer shows up?”

“Hey,” he said, placing a warm hand on the back of your neck and letting his fingers press on your spine. “I’m here, baby. Now go get your cute ass in the backseat.” Steve laughed when you squeaked at the pat on your butt as you made your way to the backseat. 

As you sat down, you couldn’t get over how… wrong it felt. Like the ghosts of the three girls that died here were watching you, telling you to get out of here. It was disrespectful at best, dangerous for a fact. But you didn’t have it in you to say no to Steve. 

He settled next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulders as the two of you looked out to the lake. Your heart beat faster when his fingers toyed with the straps of your dress and bra, before he inched them off your shoulder. 

“Oops,” he laughed. It sounded harsher than you were used to, and you couldn’t hold back your discomfort anymore. You turned to him, ready to voice your objections when he captured your lips with his own. 

“Steve-” 

“Shh, baby,” he interrupted you, pulling down your top entirely to expose your tits to him. He kneaded the flesh between his palms, groaning and watching your nipples peak in response to his ministrations. “God, you’re so pretty. So innocent. Knew you’d be the best girlfriend a fella could ever have.” The pride that swelled within you at his words squashed the discomfort within you, and you leaned in to kiss him with a smile. 

You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in his kisses as his hands wandered up and down your body. You didn’t object when he pulled your dress and bra off, pulled your panties off and laid you down on the leather seats of his car. 

“You see how hard I am for you, baby?” Steve groans, grabbing your hand and putting it on his bulge as he rocked his clothed thigh against your bare core. Steve Rogers, the one guy that everyone wanted, the captain of the football team, the all-American golden boy wanted you. 

Steve slid his jeans off, sitting in one of the seats as he pumped his shaft twice and pulled your hips between his legs, aligning your slick cunt with his tip and driving his hips up to inch into you. You stifled your discomfort, trying to hide your winces and the tears that sprung in your eyes as he eased into your tight hole. You couldn’t let him know that you were a virgin, what would he think? 

But you knew when you met Steve’s wolfish gaze, it wasn’t something you could hide from him. 

“Are you a virgin, baby?” He cooed at you, condescension lacing his tone. You nodded and shut your eyes, when the sound of the door opening forced your eyes open.

Bucky, Steve’s best friend, slid into the seat next to yours. “Getting started without me, huh, pal?” Steve laughed harshly at that, exposing your body for Bucky to see. Mortification sent blood rushing through your body but Steve didn’t seem to care as he squeezed and flicked your tits, continuing to fuck into you. “You gonna let me join in, Stevie?” 

“Not this time,” Steve grunted, turning to Bucky as he used your body. “This one’s a virgin.” 

“Lucky,” Bucky asserted, unbuckling and sliding his already-hard cock out from his jeans. “Spit,” he instructed you, putting his hand in front of your mouth then using it as lubrication to stroke himself as he watched Steve fuck you. “You wanna cry, baby?” he asked you as he watched you, noting the stiffness of your body. “Yeah, I bet it hurts. C’mon, then, cry.” 

You let the tears flow freely from you as Steve picked up the pace, uncaring about your pain as he drove further into you. But it didn’t take long for the pain to shift to pleasure, the fullness from Steve making your head loll against his shoulder. 

Bucky pulled you down to face his cock, surprising you as he sprayed his release on your face, almost making you cry again as his cum mixed with your lipstick. Inexplicably, though, it triggered that blissful feeling that you’ve only felt on your own, clenching tighter on Steve’s cock as your vision whited out. 

“Shit, you like that?” Steve snickered, cumming into you as your body slacked. He pulled you off unceremoniously, swinging you into his arms only to dump your nude body in the passenger seat. “I gotta go piss,” he called out, slamming the door as Bucky trailed behind him. 

Bored, you opened the glovebox in search of napkins to clean your face, but when your fingers brushed against dainty metal, your heart stuttered. 

Inside Steve’s glovebox lay three bloodstained necklaces, ones that you knew belonged to the dead girls because you recognized each little pendant— Darla’s pink rhinestone, Charlotte’s teddy bear, Jeanie’s heart locket. 

“You weren’t supposed to see that, sweetheart,” Steve said from behind you. You saw the blood from your neck spray onto the windshield before you got the chance to scream.  

“That’s gonna be a pain to get out,” Bucky commented, before the darkness swallowed you whole.

[monster-cock69]

Escaped prisoner bucky and “yeah you know what I guess I will finally visit that cabin in the woods uncle Ben left me,,,,,,all alone” Peter

[navybrat817]

ive been trying to think of a request (please ignore this if you’re not taking any right now) but, if you are, I hope this fancies your interest. :) have you ever thought of a serial killer au??? with our precious bucko?? ooou the hunt, the knife play, but he keeps her cause he wants a play thing. 👀

Hi, nonnie! I haven't written serial killer!Bucky, but it would be something I'm interested in. The hunt and knife play especially. Would just need to think on how he stumbled upon our beautiful reader. 😏 Always happy to discuss.

I know I'm forgetting so many, but @dreamlessinparis @avintagekiss24 @noctumbra @rookthorne have all written serial killer!Bucky. Lovelies, feel free to rec more writers.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[greekgeek24]

It brings me so much joy to tell you that Killer Queen is finished! I worked on this fic almost all of last year. So much research, blood, sweat, and tears went into this story, and there were moments I really didn't believe I would finish it. Thank you so much @stuckyhistoricalfiction, @ravenclawwitch18, @kleenexwoman, and @thisonesatellite for everything.

[evansbby]

This song is SO Stomega-coded 🥹🥹 Like, just read/listen to the lyrics! It’s totally like from Steve’s POV of POYT 4 when omega stops speaking to him and goes into her depression! Like!!! The lyrics fit sooo well and pls don’t ignore me on this actually give it a listen and tell me if you agree or if I’m crazy 😭😭😭

[pandagirl45]

Pepper: tony...

Tony: hm?

Pepper: *deeply concerned* why is there two serial killers kissing your neck?

Bucky and winter: *mouthing at Tony neck*

Tony:...would you believe they followed me home and stayed?

Pepper: tony!! They are the twins axe men!

Tony: which is so dumb, I suggested the ice axe murd--

Pepper: tony!! They are in our territo... rhodey is going to lose his mind

Tony: sorry? *hugging them both* but they like me a lot!

[granatkoroleva]

Intimate Slaughter

Day 15 : Serial Killer

When they had first met, Winter had been killing exclusively in Europe. However, after a few years of killing with Nomad, his hunting ground broadened significantly. Winter still had his preferences. Older men in suits who thought they could rule the world by using someone else for the dirty work. While Nomad targeted those to whom he felt justice would never be served. Rich boys whose parents bought their way out of trouble or men who hurt children too afraid to step forward.

However, their thirst could always be sated by killing together.

[deathloveshischicagopizza]

Hey look at me in my midnight Bucky Barnes feels again. Here, read this conversation I desperately wish someone (me) could have with him.

"I'm not good. Not anymore. I hurt people, I've killed people--could still kill someone--and no matter what I do to atone, that blood will never go away. Don't you get that? Doesn't it hurt, being with me, knowing I could kill you in a second if I was angry and not paying attention?"

"No. That doesn't hurt me, because it won't happen."

"You--"

"No, you listen. You've killed people, yes--you were brainwashed to be an assassin, of course you've killed people. And there are other people who love with that pain, that put out these ridiculous stories about how dangerous you are, even after your pardon, after all the stuff you did to atone. But those people weren't me, Bucky. They aren't me, and I'll never be one of them. Do you know why?"

"...No."

"Because I know who you were. I know who you were before the War and during it--I know what happened to you when everyone thought you were dead. I know that you were programed for decades to kill whoever you were pointed at. I knew before we even started this. But I'm still here."

"You shouldn't be. I'm--"

"I know who you are. You're not Hydra's Asset anymore, you're not Soldat. You're Bucky Barnes, and you care about people, even people who want you to hurt because they're hurting. I know that, the people who know you--they know that."

"..."

"What I'm saying is... No, it doesn't upset me, knowing you're dangerous. It's not your fault, and it's part of what makes it possible for us to be here, together, today. It doesn't hurt me to know these things, because I know who you are. It just hurts to know that you don't. You don't know who you are anymore, because you're stuck thinking these awful things. Your personal history isn't gonna repeat itself. You've been there, and you hate the damage you caused-- you'd probably die before you let it happen again. And that's what hurts me. It hurts that I can be here with you and feel like you're a million miles away because you can't even see yourself clearly. It hurts that you think you can't do any good because you've done bad things."

(speaking as someone who constantly feels bad about themselves because they spent years wallowing and no one ever took the time to say "hey that wasn't your fault. hey you did the best toy could. hey I'm here for you." and now i have people to do that and-- yeah, the doubt will probably never fade completely, but at least I have support, something to bounce off of instead of echo inside of, and it helps keep me balanced. it gets easier to look at your doubts or actions objectively when you have unconditional support. because when you're wholly negative and they're wholly positive-- that's when you start to see the middle ground. and the truth is always somewhere in the middle.

[crowsoundsonly]

dr. barnes

pair: fbi instructor!professor!bucky barnes x fem!student!reader

word count: ~6.5k

summary: you ask for some advice from your reclusive and very attractive professor.

warnings: teacher student relationship so slight age gap but i had pictured it being less than 10 years, super soft bucky, smut at the end (~1.3k), fingering (f rec) but not super descriptive, crime scene descriptions, descriptions of blood, some christian/religious references at the crime scenes, (let me know if i missed any !!)

a/n: this one held me hostage for weeks. i literally could not stop thinking about it. do i have uni exams this week? yes. but did i spend my time writing this? also yes. i hope you guys like it !!

“Explain the killer. What does he do? What motivates him? How would you catch him? A thousand words printed by the next class. Have a good weekend,” your professor, Dr. Barnes, announces with a nod, cueing the shuffling of laptops and bags belonging to FBI trainees eager to get home on a Friday afternoon.

You load up your things, your mind still thinking about the brutal crime scene photos shown on the slides of the lecture today that made your stomach turn over. While you know you have chosen to be at the FBI, you can’t help but wonder sometimes what you are doing there. Your degree in psychology and doctorate in criminology has led you to the FBI Academy, but your mind still swirls when the most horrible acts of violence are placed in front of you. You chalk it up to you retaining your humanity and sanity, so you are not exactly upset over the fact. It just makes your job more difficult.

Dr. Barnes’ class is always the most brutal, but it is by far the most fascinating class you have. It does help that your professor is the most fascinating part, being very good looking and extremely private. He shares very little personal information, telling you only that he used to work homicide at the police department before beginning teaching. You notice that he does not talk to students often, simply giving his lectures, packing up and leaving after the sea of students flood into the hallways.

You are curious about him, about what he is like when he is not lecturing, and figuring that you have little to lose, you decide to come back after your classes to ask for some help. 

…

“Dr. Barnes?” you call out as you step into the lecture hall that is still lit, leaving you to believe that someone is there. You take a few more steps and find your professor sitting at his desk, photos piled around, staring intently at the laptop in front of him. He makes no movement to acknowledge you, his focus completely locked onto his work.

You walk all the way up to his desk, repeating his name which does little to deter him. You reach a hand out and give his shoulder a slight squeeze, causing him to jump in his seat and look up at you, eyes wide. 

“Sorry, Dr. Barnes. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

At your words, he scans your face, recognition dawning on his features. 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” he says quietly, his eyes focusing on the books you are holding in your hands. 

“It’s okay, Dr. Barnes,” you assure him.

“Is there something I can do for you?” he trails off a bit at the end of his question, asking for your name in its absence.

You fill in your name and explain, “I just have a question. I’m writing a paper for another class and was hoping that you could give me some insight on the topic. I’m really just looking for another perspective.”

“Of course,” he says as he leans back in his chair. There is not another chair, so you take to sitting on the edge of his desk.

“The paper is about female serial killers, and I was wondering what you think the most common traits and motives are. We have discussed some examples in class, but I wanted to ask what your experience has been.”

He thinks for a moment, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. “They usually work in health care professions. They’ll, um, they will be married or have been married before. They usually kill to improve their situation, so they’ll target people they know, usually men. But not all women,” he stops and looks up at you before continuing to explain a case he had while working homicide where they investigated a series of killings that followed the signs of a male killer but ended up being a woman. 

Dr. Barnes runs a hand through his hair when he finishes, leaning back in his chair. You can’t help but notice how good he looks in this position and at this angle. His dark hair tousled and glasses twirling between his thumbs, you think about how it would feel to reach out and feel his hair between your fingers. You school yourself, your face becoming hot at the idea. He is your professor, and you would do well to remember that. 

You continue the conversation, asking him questions and prodding for more insight. When you figure you have taken up enough of his time, you bow your head a bit and begin getting up from your place on the desk.

“Thank you for your help, Dr. Barnes. I really appreciate you taking the time.”

He nods in acknowledgment, a small smile adorning his lips which you watch perhaps a little too intently as he says. “It was nothing. I’m glad I could help.”

You begin walking toward the door of the lecture hall but are stopped by your name being called out.

“Would you actually mind taking a look at these pictures? I’d like to know what you see.”

You turn back around. The look on his face is one of curiosity. You wonder why he would want to ask you, and part of you wants to believe that it is because he wants you to stay, but you know better. 

“Sure,” you shrug, making your way back to his desk. “I’m not sure I’ll be of much help, though”

“Just take a look. It’s not a test, if that’s what you’re worried about,” your professor says, standing up to hand you the crime scene photos.

They are gruesome, but you don’t know what else you could have expected with Dr. Barnes. You examine them all the while trying to ignore the way he leans over your shoulder as you fail to concentrate. You are so close that if you took a single step back, you would be flush to him. 

Pushing those thoughts away, you focus your attention on the photos, flipping through them, noticing the odd blood splatter near the baseboard that doesn’t have a body laying anywhere near it. 

“What would make the killer climb on top of the counter to shoot someone, get down, and move the body?” you think out loud as you turn your head to look at Dr. Barnes. You notice how close your faces are and let out a breath at the discovery. “Dominance?” your voice is more shaky than you wanted it to sound.

“I was hoping you could tell me. My guess is they were waiting there, but it still doesn’t make sense,” he says, looking past you and to the picture you are holding. You look back down as well, grateful you did not make eye contact, the idea of the intimacy of it alarming.

“If they were standing on it, that would make sense, but the angle doesn’t really fit. It seems as if they were waiting for them to get home, and they sat, swinging their legs, completely calm and casual about shooting this person,” you pause, mulling over your words before saying, “Maybe they even knew this person. The proximity to the counter could mean that the victim was comfortable enough to approach them, and that the victim was unaware of what was going to happen.”

He hums in agreement in your ear, and a feeling of satisfaction washes over you. Turning back around, you hand the photos to your professor and take a step back. 

“I think you may be right,” he says with a nod, a small smile again creeping onto his features. You make eye contact and keep it, somewhat entranced by it.

“I’m glad I was able to help,” you smile. “Thanks again, Dr. Barnes. Have a good night.”

…

You anticipate going back to classes on Monday, knowing that you have to attend Dr. Barnes’ lecture. You don’t know if anything will be different after the night you spent talking to your professor. Part of you knows that nothing should be different. While there are only a few years between you, you are still his student.

But part of you wants things to be different. The entire weekend, you could not get out of your head the image of his face so close to yours or the sight of him as he leaned back in his chair, legs casually falling open. 

Dr. Barnes is not in the lecture hall when you arrive for which you are grateful. You settle into your seat and wait for the lecture to begin by fiddling with your laptop. When your professor does come in, you notice that he combed his hair today, letting it fall neatly over his forehead. The plaid shirt he wears still doesn’t match his suit, but you find it charming. He slips his glasses on and begins teaching.

The whole lecture you try valiantly to focus on the subject, but you fail rather miserably, unable to think of anything but how you stood right where he is, your back a foot away from his chest with him humming in your ear. It is going to be a long term if this is how every lecture is going to go.

You are brought back to reality when Dr. Barnes makes eye contact with you. He smiles which you quickly reciprocate, then he turns around, gesturing to the screen before anyone notices.

It is definitely going to be a long semester.

…

Weeks go on with you and Dr. Barnes smiling at each other from afar, both of you knowing that you would be playing with fire if you do anything more than smile. But the longer you go simply smiling, the more you want to do something about it.

And one day, he does something about it. On your way out of the lecture hall, Dr. Barnes stops you, calling out your name. You walk over, anticipation coiling in your stomach.

“I’ve another case I’d like your opinion on. Do you have time tonight to take a look?” he asks you quietly so as to not draw the attention of the students still exiting the room.

“Yes. Here at 7:30?”

He nods, making a flash of eye contact which you return with a smile. 

…

You make your way to Dr. Barnes’ lecture hall, your stomach roiling with nerves. You have thought too much about him, fantasized a little often for you to not think about it when you talk to him. The soles of your shoes click on the tile as you walk the hallway. You take a deep breath and open the door.

Dr. Barnes is reclined behind his desk, crime scene photos in his hand as he flips through them intently. At your entrance, his head flicks up to find your figure approaching his desk.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” he says as he stands up. 

“Hi, yeah. It’s – yeah it’s no problem, Dr. Barnes,” you manage to get out, tripping over your words more than you would have liked. Another deep breath to collect yourself. “What can I do to help?”

He leans against the front of his desk and reaches behind him to grab the photos he was examining before. You take a few steps closer to grab them from his outstretched hand.

“A recent set of murders. It’s odd to say the least,” he starts, watching you intently as you study the photos. 

The scene is horrifying, blood smeared across the walls, not as blood spray or splatter, but in an image. A lamb. Your mind spins as you look through more of the pictures, each of them showing blood splashed on the walls. You wonder what the killer did in order to get that much blood. There is too much for it to have come from just one body.

“How many people were found dead?”

“Only one,” he answers, leaning in to help you find the image of the body heaped over the table. You can’t help but notice everywhere his body touches yours, how his breath flutters against your neck, but you cast those thoughts away to focus on the case at hand.

“There had to have been more. There’s too much blood,” you mumble as you cart through the images again, counting as you go. A beat passes as you take in the scene, contemplating before constructing ideas.

“What do you see?”

“In ancient religious practices, a lamb would be sacrificed and the blood would be sprinkled around seven times. There are seven places where the blood was thrown on the wall,” you pause to show him each one. You glance up at your professor who is looking on intently, urging you to continue. “Then you have the body placed on the table. It could be sacrificial. The lamb was supposed to be perfect. Without blemish. Maybe – maybe the killer saw this person as their perfect – their perfect lamb, as someone who would put them in favor with God. The sacrificial lamb is sacramental. Symbolic. Messianic. It’s an act of repentance. So what was the killer repenting from?”

A hum from Dr. Barnes pulls you out of your reverie and breaks your focus from the crime scene photos. You lean around his form to place the pictures back on his desk, your shoulder brushing against his arm. His eyes follow you before he brings a hand up to rub his eyes, almost like he is physically rubbing away the images.

“Do you think the killer knew the victim?” he asks quietly, bringing his hands down to meet your eyes.

“I think they could be family. Family or close friends. They were their savior,” you answer, matching his tone.

Dr. Barnes nods in agreement and in that moment, you can see that he looks like a man who is carrying the world on his shoulders. He slouches forward slightly, his hair strewn around his ears with bags under his eyes. It takes everything in you to not reach out a hand to touch his cheek, to rub a thumb across his lips as you have in your dreams.

Appalled by your own thoughts, you take a step back to give yourself space to halt that train of thought. The movement makes him stand, subconsciously trying to keep the close proximity between you. You don’t break eye contact, making the moment intimate. Intense.

“This case has been keeping me up at night,” he confesses as he brings a hand to run through his hair with a sigh, breaking eye contact. “I wonder where the other bodies are. I can’t seem to get my mind around it.” 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” you say in nearly a whisper. “You’re good at what you do.”

“Thank you for your help. It’s some really great insight you had.”

“It’s no problem, Dr. Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he says quickly, rushing it out like he knows he shouldn’t let it pass his lips.

“Bucky,” you repeat, trying the name out on your tongue. 

You then fall into easy conversation, learning more about each other. You discover that Bucky has a PhD in criminology as well, and that he used to be a field agent but decided to leave it to become a teacher at the academy. Part of you wants to ask why, but you figure that it isn’t a conversation he wants to have while still getting to know you. He asks about your life, your family, your education. He is interested in why and how you landed at the academy. You answer him honestly, not inclined to hide away as you normally do when people ask those questions.

Bucky is surprisingly sociable. Based on his reclusiveness when it comes to students, you were not expecting to hold such easy and fun conversation. It makes you want to spend the whole night chatting, joking, exploring. But you know you should not stay. 

When the conversation lulls, you glance at your watch and ask, “Is there anything else I can do for you, Bucky? I think I might head home.”

Before you can even register what is happening, he takes a singular step forward and leans in to meet his lips to yours. In shock, you stand limply, not sure how to respond. You can’t deny that you have thought about this moment for weeks, dreaming about it, imagining what it would be like to kiss him. Bucky. But you hadn’t expected it to happen tonight.

And before you have time to respond, he pulls away, opening his eyes to look at you with wide ones of his own.

“I’m sorry, I–”

You don’t acknowledge his apology, instead leaning in to kiss him again, only you are prepared for it this time. He responds immediately as his lips move slowly over yours, testing the waters. Your hands are still by your sides, but his come to settle in your hair and over your arm. His kisses are controlled and soft, not pressing for more than what you are willing to give. A sigh flutters from your nose which ghosts over his cheeks.

Breaking away for a second, you open your eyes and find his already looking at you. The both of you know that you are playing with fire. You are still his student, and he is your professor, but the feeling of his lips on yours overrules any rational thought at the moment.

You give a slight nod and he takes that as a green light to kiss you again. Bucky pulls you closer, and your hands find their way around his torso, snaking up into his hair. It is his turn to sigh at the action which causes satisfaction to roll down your back in waves that has you leaning further into the kiss, opening your mouth ever so slightly. He takes advantage and kisses you deeper. A soft moan escapes you at the feeling, followed by a shaky breath.

He pulls away, a triumphant smile playing at his mouth. 

“I’m not sorry,” he whispers.

“Me neither.”

He kisses you once more, chaste and short, but it carries more meaning than any of the other kisses. It tells you that he has thought about this, too. It wasn’t a spur of the moment, impulsive decision. And it tells you that he plans on doing it again.

…

You settle into a routine with Bucky. After class on Fridays, he stops you on your way out and quietly asks you to come back to look over a case or his lectures. You always nod and come back at 7:30. 

The unspoken truth of the need for secrecy looms over your blooming relationship, but you are almost spurred on by the illicitness of it all. You haven’t done anything more than kiss. You haven’t even interacted beyond the walls of the lecture hall. You both know that it is safest that way. 

The more time you spend together, the more you find yourself falling in love with Bucky. His quirks make you smile. The way he perks up when you walk through the door makes your heart flutter in your chest. You have never felt so valued by anyone before. He trusts your opinions. He respects your honesty. You admire his dedication to what he does. You find his quiet nature calming. 

The list of things you love about Bucky keeps you up at night as you replay scenes of kissing at his desk behind your eyes as you fall asleep. Bucky kisses you like you are ice cream on a sunny day, slow and hungry like he savors every second of your mouth on his. He never presses you for more, only going so far as to set you up on his desk, pulling your hips to his, allowing you to wrap your legs around him as you wind your fingers in his hair. He always sighs when you tug at it which gives you the opportunity to kiss at his neck, your chin always getting scratched by his stubble. 

You love the routine. However, it makes it hard to concentrate during the lectures since all you can think about when you look at his desk is how good his hands felt on your hips and how his lips were pressed to yours when you were propped up on the wood yourself.

The semester continues on following your routine. If anyone suspects anything, they don’t say. You can’t imagine that someone hasn’t picked up on the soft smiles he sends your direction during lectures, and stragglers leaving class late on Fridays must hear his whispers for you to come back. 

Steadily approaching the end of the term, you begin to question how long your routine will continue. You will no longer be Bucky’s student. Could you actually date? Would he want to? Is that what you want?

…

The familiar tug of nerves settles in the pit of your stomach as you walk to class with Bucky — Dr. Barnes if you were still professional, but you figure that his lips have kissed you a few too many times and in a few too many places for you to call him that. It is your last class in his lecture hall, meaning that beyond today, you are free to make a decision as to whether this is serious or not.

In your heart of hearts, you want this to keep going. You love how you feel around Bucky. While you have not said it out loud, you love him. You feel yourself aching to hear him say it, too. 

When you arrive in the room, Bucky is already there, nervously flipping through crime scene photos while running his hands through his hair, creating a rather haphazard mess on his head. He looks more anxious than usual, and it takes everything in you to not to stride to his desk and ask him what’s wrong. 

Instead, you brush past him, trailing a quick hand over his arm, hoping that it has a calming effect over him. His eyes flash to yours as you cast a look over your shoulder, smiling at him. He sends you a tight lipped smile back as his shoulders shrug down from their place beside his ears. 

From your seat, you watch Bucky pace around a bit, obviously concerned about something. You rub your palms over your thighs when you discover them clenched in worry. You wonder if his stress has anything to do with the reason you were nervous coming to class today — the talk you know is coming tonight. You figure it does when his eyes glance over at you every few minutes before beginning the lecture.

You find yourself becoming sentimental about the semester as you look around the room, taking in the feeling for the last time. If you and Bucky do decide to continue your relationship, you can never take one of his classes again. If you don’t continue to see Bucky, you doubt you will want to take one of his classes again. You will miss his funny side comments that come out of left field. You will miss his mismatched suits and disheveled hair. 

The sound of Bucky announcing the end of class breaks you out of your thoughts, and the shuffling of backpacks and feet brings you back to reality. A stream of students thank Bucky as they flow out of the classroom for the final time. You stall a minute, waiting for the throng to exit out the doors before approaching your professor.

“Hey, Bucky,” you say quietly, clutching your laptop to your chest. 

“Hey.”

You watch him lean against his desk, hands pressed to the edge of the wood. 

“How are you doing?” you ask the question that has been waiting to erupt since you entered the lecture hall an hour previous. “You seem nervous.”

A chuckle that comes out more as a sigh escapes him. “Yeah. I’m fine. I, uh, I just didn’t get much sleep last night. How are…how are you?”

“Wistfully contemplating the end of my time in your class,” you reply playfully, hoping that the happy tone will hide the melancholy you really feel about the idea.

This elicits a laugh from Bucky as he looks at you through his lashes — a look that always has your knees threatening to come out from under you. You take steps closer and set your laptop down on his desk, then place your hands on his shoulders, running them down his arms to settle in his hands.

“Do you want to get dinner with me tonight?” you ask, the words barely more than a whisper. You want to catch them in the air, afraid that your proposal to disrupt the routine will be rejected.

But Bucky smiles immediately, thinking for a moment before saying, “Why don’t I cook dinner?”

Your stomach flutters at the thought of watching him in the kitchen. You nod in response.

“7:30?”

“7:30,” you repeat before letting go of his hands to walk out the doors, throwing a smile over your shoulder as you go.

…

The drive to Bucky’s house is quiet but comfortable. About halfway through the trip, your hands link together, resting on your thigh. You talk lazily, asking questions about each others’ days since your morning lecture. There is something so calming about Bucky. You trust him. You love him.

Every once in a while, your eyes flick over to watch him drive, eyes intently focused on the road ahead. He can feel your gaze, so he sends a glance over to you with a soft smile playing on his lips. 

“What?” he asks when you don’t shy away from his eyes.

“Nothing, Buck. I just like being with you.”

“I do, too.”

The sweetness of his simple confession does more to your confidence than you ever thought possible. You feel comfortable around Bucky. You need only be yourself when you are with him, and hearing that same sentiment from him gives you hope that he wants this to continue just as much as you do.

You squeeze his hand, at which he laughs softly, squeezing yours back, brushing his thumb over the knuckles on the back of your hand.

Gravel crunching under tires and the faint sound of dogs barking indicates that you have arrived at your destination. You open the car door and follow Bucky to the front steps of a small house on the edge of town. A large open field is situated behind his house, neighbors nonexistent. Given Bucky’s personality, you are not surprised to discover that he lives alone, away from people, away from the city. 

A flash of nervousness pricks at your mind, as no one would be around if Bucky shows you that isn’t the guy you think he is. But you trust him, and you trust him enough to accept your fate if it does prove to be your downfall.

The door creaks open, and Bucky flicks on the light. Two big dogs come bounding to greet you both, circling his feet until he crouches down to give them the attention they are begging for. To see Bucky with his dogs makes your mind go fuzzy and warm, the tenderness of the scene eradicating your doubts from before.

“Charlie and Duke,” Bucky says, showing you which dog belongs to which name, rubbing each of them affectionately before standing and grabbing your hand.

“They’re adorable.”

“They’re good dogs.”

He leans in for a quick kiss, the domesticity of it causing your breath to catch in your throat. He pulls away smiling, then tugs you into the kitchen where he drags a chair out from the table for you to sit on.

“Sit,” Bucky says with mirth in his voice.

You laugh but do as you are told. 

“I was thinking of making steaks. Is that okay with you?”

“Sounds great.”

You watch Bucky make his way around the kitchen, obviously having done this a lot. He looks comfortable. He catches you staring, meeting your gaze head on, an easy smile adorning his mouth before asking, “What are you smiling at?”

“You. I like seeing you here,” you say quietly. 

“Not as much as I like seeing you sit at my table. I’ve thought about this a lot,” he admits with his back to you as he throws the steaks in the pan. “I like being around you. I’m more comfortable with you than anyone else. You make me feel — you make me feel normal. Most people don’t do that. They don’t — they don’t want to understand me. My old friends can only think about who I was before I quit the force. They don’t — they don’t want to like who I am now.”

The words spill out of Bucky before he can stop them, opening up to you in a way that he has not before. He has let you in here and there over the months you have been spending together in the lecture hall, but he has stayed rather private even then. Not sure what to say in response, you simply move from your place at the table to stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso, resting your cheek on his back. You can feel him relax into your touch, and it is a comfort to you both.

“Bucky, I think I am in love with you,” you whisper into his shirt. His body tenses, the sizzling of the meat in the pan filling the silence. Your heart pounds in your chest as you wait for him to say something. Burying your face further into him, disappointment and embarrassment creeping in your stomach, settling heavily when he doesn’t say anything. When a minute that feels like an eternity passes in silence, you mutter a quiet, “I’m sorry.” 

You let go of Bucky and take a step back. He quickly takes the pan off the heat and whips around to face you, pulling you back to him, whispering your name. 

“I love you,” the words are sure and confident coming from his lips. “I know I do.”

He looks at you intently, not shying away from your eyes before leaning in and kissing you softly. You get lost in his kisses, the pounding of your heart racing at a steady quick beat. Bucky backs you into the counter where he cages you with his hands as you weave one of your hands into his hair, the other running up his spine.

“Stay the night,” he mumbles between kisses.

You pull away and nod, meeting his eyes again, kissing him once without breaking the contact.

…

Settling on his couch after laughing yourselves silly over the dinner table, Bucky is close behind you with bowls of ice cream in hand. He hands you a spoon before sitting down right beside you, pulling your legs to stretch over his lap. He runs a hand absentmindedly over your shins as the two of you eat your ice cream. 

“Why did you come talk to me that night?,” he asks between spoonfuls. “You didn’t really need my help. You knew everything I was telling you.”

You smile like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “I did need your help,” you assert before admitting, “but I also just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

The sound of his laugh makes your heart flutter the same way it does when he looks up at you from behind his desk. 

“Hey, not all my professors are attractive recluses who deserve a starring role in my nightly fantasies.”

“Oh, so you fantasize about me,” he presses, the smirk on his face unlike any expression you have ever seen on him. He looks smug, proud, teasing. It makes heat flash to your core.

You hum but it comes out more as a squeak, your focus turning intently on the ice cream melting in your bowl.

“Do you want to know what I’ve fantasized about you?” Bucky asks lowly, grabbing the bowl from your hands, causing your eyes to lift to his. You watch him set it on the floor. Your heart begins pounding again as he moves to climb over you, settling between your open legs.

“What have you fantasized about, Bucky?” you ask quietly, voice shaky.

You take a breath when he leans in, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. You open your mouth to deepen it, and he takes advantage, his tongue pressing to your upper lip. The feeling has your hips rolling and sighs falling from your throat.

He pulls away to murmur into your neck, “Every time I would sit on my couch, I thought about laying you down and kissing you until you can’t remember your own name.”

Your eyes are screwed shut as you tug at his hair, his words forming pools of heat between your hips where his own apply pressure. Your words fail you, only a whimper escaping you. His lips move along your neck, working their way back to your mouth, giving due attention to the places on the way that have you squirming beneath him. You hands tug at his shirt to slip your fingers beneath the fabric, skimming up his back, scratching lightly.

His kisses become feverish at the feeling of your nails down his back. One hand hooks your knee to pull your form even closer to his, hips slipping into place. You can feel yourself becoming wetter by the second, the slow circling of his hips against yours creating friction that has you moaning.

In one swift motion, his hands are gliding up your sides, taking your shirt with you. You lean up to help him before settling back down against the pillows. He sits on his heels to take his own shirt off which allows you to see him in the faint light casted by the lamp in the corner.

You notice a shining scar that extends from one hip to the other below his navel. Fingertips reach out to touch it, barely making contact before his own hand stills your movements. 

“Is this why you quit the force?” you ask barely above a whisper.

He only nods, his feelings of vulnerability silencing him. You aren’t disgusted by it. It doesn’t change how you see him. You don’t pity him. You are simply curious. And amazed at his strength. He survived whatever left him this scar.

“Can I see it?”

Bucky takes a fluttering breath through his nose then nods again. You climb to the floor, resting on your knees between his legs. You glance up at him and see his head lolling to the side as he looks down at you, eyes hazy and soft. His eyebrows are scrunched, letting you know that he is concentrated, but the dam of secrecy surrounding Bucky is breaking with every passing second.

Tentatively, you stretch a hand forward, your fingertips grazing the scar. His stomach flexes beneath your touch. 

No one has seen his scar since the doctor sewed him back up. He has a fear of pity. He knows that people won’t see him the same when they see the effects of what happened to him — of what was done to him. But he doesn’t see pity in your eyes. He sees awe and amazement. 

Without warning, you press your lips to his stomach, the intimacy of it rendering his mind blank. You hear him swear quietly which urges you to keep going. You kiss all along the scar, his hips, then upwards before you climb into his lap. You find his lips again and kiss slowly, surely, passionately.

“I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you, too.”

You share a few more kisses before he stands up, pulling you with him to his room. He fumbles through his dressers to find a shirt and pair of shorts for you to wear. He hands them to you, then rummages through the bathroom cabinets to find a new toothbrush for you to use.

You thank him after he says that he will meet you back at the bed. The calm and comfort of being with Bucky is undeniable. The domesticity of the night has your heart skipping beats. You quickly change and brush your teeth before making your way to his bed. Noticing books stacked on the nightstand on one side, you slip under the covers of the other, sighing contently when you settle in.

Bucky comes in a moment later with only sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He decided to not put a shirt back on, relishing in the freedom that being with you gives him. He doesn’t climb into bed immediately, but rather stands and looks at you for a moment, curled up in his sheets.

“What have you fantasized about here?” you ask teasingly, but your voice comes out thinner than you had intended. 

At your words, his tongue darts out to lick his lips. He approaches the bed slowly, kneeling down beside you. 

“I want to know yours,” he says, his voice husky and low. You bite your lip, your eyes widening. A shaky inhale.

Soft kisses line the inside of your knee, trailing a path up your thighs. You let out a hitched moan when he places a kiss to your clothed core, your hands winding themselves in his hair. You tug slightly, inviting him to come up to the bed with you.

When he climbs up, you lean back, your shirt riding up over your stomach. Wordlessly, you pull his hands to your body, his calloused palms caressing the exposed skin. He runs his thumbs under your breasts, causing you to arch into his touch. Bucky can’t believe that you respond to him so keenly. He barely touches you and you are curving beneath him, aching for more. 

His lips find your neck, behind your ear, sucking gently. Your hands pull his hips to yours, rocking steadily into him. You suck in a breath, gathering the courage to grab one of his hands to lead it to where you want to feel him the most.

Bucky follows your lead without resistance, kissing you softly in an expression of consent. He helps you pull your shorts off, then presses two fingers to the wet patch on your panties. The pressure has your hips jutting into his touch, overwhelmed by the sensation when his fingers push the fabric to the side.

Your hips move in circles with his movements, his lips kissing you through it all. Moans slip and tumble from your mouth, leaving you hiccupping in pleasure. The cords in your stomach begin snapping when he speeds up his ministrations, your body contracting through your release.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he whispers to you as he helps you come down from your high. 

Your eyes are crimped shut, but after a moment’s respite and a few encouraging kisses from Bucky, you come back to yourself. You open your eyes to find him watching you intently. You smile lazily then breathe, “Your turn.”

a/n: yayayay !! thanks for reading this !! let me know if you want to be on my taglist :):) and here is my masterlist if you want to check out my other work ! and check out MY SLEEPOVER going on right now !!

[ravenromanova]

Too close

Pairings: Ghostface Bucky x Female reader (I got this idea from a tiktok i saw of someone that made a scream poster of bucky as ghostface and i died and i also read a natasha ghostface fic and it was so good and i thought why not make one of bucky!) This is the fic that inspired this, by @abbyromanoff you can run but you cant hide

Warnings: Mentions of killing, blood, SMUT 18+!!!!! Mask kink, knife play, Blood kink, Daddy kink, Breeding kink, unprotected sex (Bucky and the reader have sex in another room from an unalived person) (My darkest fantasies are coming out to play here sue me) DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18+!!!!!!!!

Summary- Bucky doesn’t like it when people get too close to his girl. What happens when you figure out why everyone you talk to suddenly dies. Will you run?

Kinktober masterlist - Main masterlist - Send me requests!!

~

“This just in another the mysterious serial killer known as ghostface has claimed another victim. 22 year old Jordan Rodriguez was found in her new york apartment with 50 stab wounds. She was found by her roommate Janice after she came home from work. Officers haven’t given many details as to if they are any leads into who this killer could be. But they have advised everyone within the brooklyn area to be inside by 8pm to limit any risks.” The nightly news reporters vice echos through your apartment as you watch through hooded eyes.

This was the fifth person this week to die a brutal death and not to mention you seem to have had an interaction with everyone that has died. Fear floods your veins as your head runs a thousand miles and hour and what this could mean. Is someone out to hurt you? Do you have a stalker who is killing everyone you know to get you alone? Are you next? That’s all you can think about before your thoughts are cut off by the front door opening.

You shriek and jump off the couch and run to the kitchen to grab whatever knife you can. You decide to duck behind your island with the knife as you hear footsteps walk in. The footsteps are heavy yet soft as the approach you. It’s not until the figure comes closer to you that you jump in front of them and attempt to stab them but they catch your hand.

“Woah they’re tiger” The voice says and you drop the knife once you realize who it is. You flick on the kitchen light before walking over to him and throwing your arms around his shoulders and hugging him.

“I’m sorry jamie” You apologize to your boyfriend and he just chuckles in response.

“It’s okay babydoll, but what has you so freaked out?” He asks looking at your with eyes of concern.

You sigh as you look at him before you decide to tell him what’s wrong. “The news- They said another person has been killed…A-And i knew the person who was killed, Ive known all the people who’ve died this week! What-what if someone is out to hurt me? What i-if i- die?” Your voice breaks as you speak your fears. He looks at you and brings you in for another hug.

“Oh babydoll it’s going to be okay im sure it’s nothing” He said calmly as she stroked your back and kissing the top of your head.

You sighed as you looked at him while you nodded your head. Maybe you were just being paranoid you thought, maybe this is just one big coincidence and you’ll be fine. Yea… you’ll be fine.

“Yea maybe you’re right” You didn’t sound too convinced with your own words but you try to shake off the feeling that something bad is happening.

“Come on babydoll lets get you into bed so you stop overthinking in that pretty little head of yours” His voice is so soft and sweet as he takes your hand in his and walks you two to the bedroom. When the both of you enter the room he tells you to lay down and then goes to get something. Thirty seconds later he comes back with your favorite blanket and stuffed animal and slides in bed next to you.

That night the two of you cuddle and have cute little conversations that help ease your overthinking. You fell asleep with him whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

What you didn’t know was that Bucky was panicking since he stepped foot into the apartment. He thought he had been caught when you attempted to stab him but luckily for him you were as clueless as ever.

~one week later~

You sighed as you watched the news and they reported the 8th murder in two weeks. And very unfortunately for you, you had known the persons who died…just like the rest of them. That really didn’t help with the overthinking that’s for sure.

It was around 4am when you decided to turn off the tv and head to bed. Your brows furrowed when you realized Bucky wasnt home yet. You thought maybe he had gotten an overnight shift at the garage but normally he tells you that. You decided to check ‘find my friends’ since it kinda worried you that he wasnt home.

When his location showed that he was at an apartment complex your heart sank. A thousand possibilities were running through your head as you threw some sweats on, grabbed your keys and headed out the door to find your boyfriend.

The whole car ride you were full of anxiety and your brain wouldn’t shut up. Once you pulled up to the complex you quickly ran to the car not in the mood to play around if he was fucking someone else. You followed the gps and walked right up to the front door but you noticed it was open slightly. So what did you do? You walked right into the dark apartment despite not knowing who or what you’d find.

But what you did find sent bile to your throat. There was a figure dressed in all black standing over who you thought was your boyfriend with a knife in their hand.

“BUCKY!” You screamed as you ran over to the body on the floor. It wasnt until you got up close that you realized that the person wasnt Bucky…It was the barista that served you your coffee this morning. Your thoughts ran wild as you mumbled incoherent words under your breath.

But those were quickly cut off once your heard the masked figured laughing. You whipped your head around and stared at the figure in horror.

“Oh Kotenok you’re so precious” The masked figured said as he slowly removed his mask. Your eyes widened as you saw who was under the mask… It was Bucky. You quickly stood up and backed away from him as you started to hyperventilate.

“W-What the hell?” You finally said after you finally slowed your breathing down. Bucky chuckled as he came closer to you and wiped some sweat off his forehead.

“I guess it’s finally time to tell you-“ He said as she took off the costume and dropped the knife. You stared at him as his hand come up to caress your cheek. “You see kotenok i never meant for any of this to happen- But these people-t-they flirt with you and get too close to you. And i cant have that, i cant have people wanting to take what’s mine. And see i wouldn’t mind so much that people mindlessly flirt with you… if you didn’t flirt back” He seethed as he grabbed your face.

You were speechless at his confession never in a million years did you think he’d do this. But the idea that you’re his motive, that he just wants to keep you to his self is intoxicating. You look up at him with doe eyes before you finally find the words to say.

“You do all of this to make sure that i stay yours” Your voice heightens in excitement as you wait for his response.

His grip tightens on your face as he speaks. “Yes kotenok i do- i cant stand the thought of someone else having you the way i do” He confess as his eyes darken at the way you smirk.

“That’s- the hottest thing i think you’ve ever said to me” Bucky smiles devilishly at your words and suddenly picks you up and pushes you against the wall. His lips are on yours within a seconds time and the kiss is the dirtiest thing you’ve ever done.

“Put the mask back on” The words come out breathless as your chest rises due to the lack of air. He smirks as he walks you over to the couch and lays you down before grabbing the mask and knife again. He put the mask back on and then slowly stalks towards you and he twirls the knife in his hand.

“Oh fuck” You whisper under your breath when he climbs on top of you. Even though you cant see his face you know for a fact he’s smirking. He wastes no time in ripping off your shirt along with your sweats leaving you in just your panties.

“So pretty” His voice comes out a little muffled as he speaks due to the mask but it made it so much hotter. He then takes the knife that he wiped off and drags it across your bare chest. Your breath hitches in your throat as the cool metal hits your skin. Bucky then drags the knife down your torso and slices your panties off and drags it across your bare pussy.

“Please” You beg as you grab the hand with the knife and place it on your stomach. He places the blade on your skin and digs it in just a little, “Mark me” Bucky wastes no time in carving his initials into your skin he leaves a little ‘J.B.B’ on your stomach, before wiping the blood away with his thumb. Your grab his thumb and slowly bring it to your mouth before you clean his thumb off.

“Fucking hell kotenok” He groans at your actions. Bucky grows impatient as he throws the knife across the room making note to pick it back up later. He then spreads your pussy and starts to play with your clit and your back arches in reaction.

“Please daddy” You beg and then he adds two fingers into you in a swift motion and chooses a relentless pace. This is the filthiest thing you’ve ever done but right now, in this moment you dont give a flying fuck.

The pleasure you feel is beyond intense as Bucky curls his fingers and hits your g-spot just right. You let out a screaming moan as your first orgasm bursts through you. “Oh fuck” You breathe out the best you can as you slowly takes off his pants and boxers exposing his hard cock standing at attention for you.

“I want you so bad please daddy” He doesn’t need much motivation after you give him the go ahead. Bucky slams his cock into you hard and fast and you scream in response to his movement.

“Yes yes yes” You chant as you sit up and wrap your arms around him as Bucky slams into you. The room is filled with the filthy noises of your pussy and his balls slapping your skin.

“Gonna fucking breed you kotenok” He grunts and picks up his speed chasing his high. You can feel your second orgasm build up as he talks about breeding you.

“Oh please breed me daddy- fuck- wanna be full of your babies” You plead as you grind your hips down on his cock earning a guttural moan from him.

“Yea? You want that your little slut? You wanna have my kids?” He asks even though he already knows the answer. You dont find the words to respond and just opt for nodding your head. And in turn Bucky changes the position so he’s back on top and he thrusts into you like never before. Your moans become louder and his pace gets rougher. The both of you end up finishing within a matter of minutes and once you do you take the mask off him and just stare at him.

You take a moment and rub your thumb over his bottom lip before you bring him into a passionate kiss. Bucky grunts into the kiss and wraps his arms around your waist lovingly. After you break the kiss you look into his blue eyes and smile softly.

“I love you” You whisper and put your forehead against his. In this moment you love him more than you ever thought possible. Did he murder someone? Yes. Did he kill almost a dozen people just for you? Yes. But he also did it because he loves you and that just makes your heart swell. You get an idea after a minute of just looking at him.

“Let’s clean this place up and then run away, Lets go some where else where it can be just us” You say with a pleading looking in your eyes. Bucky agrees and nods before getting you both dressed again.

The two of you clean up the mess and decide of what to do with the body before heading back home to pack your things. That night while in a way tragic was also the start of the rest of your lives together and you couldn’t be happier.

~the end~

i do not give permission for my work to me translated or copied on other websites

[marvel-lous-guy]

*Avengers Watching a true crime documentary*

Peter: Why do we give serial killers cool names?

Tony: What do you mean?

Peter: We give them cool names like "the Zodiac killer". Imagine everyone knowing you as "the zodiac killer"! That'd be awesome!

Steve: What?

Peter: Like, why don't we call them stupid names or like "killer 16" or "serial killer 23". Thats boring, they'd hate that

Bucky: but thats boring for us

[monster-cock69]

Okay but rapist serial killer Skip kidnaps Peter and FBI agent Bucky saves him

Maybe the avengers are on like a BAU style FBI team

[scoonsalicious]

Your Choice

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Teacher!Reader

Summary: You're minding your own business at home one evening when local police Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes comes knocking on your door. Someone's reported a crime being committed on your property, and the sergeant can either bring you down to the station, or get you off with a warning... it's your choice.

Warnings: Language, because I have a foul mouth, explicit smut (unprotected PIV, oral (m receiving), fingering), mentions of drug manufacturing/possession/use, little bit 'o' bondage, implied dubcon, implied infidelity, implied abuse of police authority (honestly, read the whole thing through before coming at me for warnings, okay? I promise it'll make sense), bad cop jokes/puns/innuendos. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Inspired by actual events! And by that, I just mean the part where someone called the cops and told them I was cooking crack in my kitchen. Literally everything else is a figment of my imagination, alas! Special thanks to bestie @jmeelee for suggesting I take that awkward encounter and turn it into something to benefit all of mankind, and for giving me a title. The Cheesecake Factory is going to start forbidding us entry with the way we talk in there.

______________________________________________________________

You put the tea kettle on to boil before sitting down at the kitchen table to start grading your students’ papers. You’d been hoping to get through as many as possible before your husband came home from work, but with the number of corrections you were having to make on these assignments, you’d be lucky if you got a quarter of them done before then. It was disheartening. Distance learning during Covid really hadn’t done the public education system any favors and you felt like you’d been playing catch-up for years now.

When the kettle eventually boiled, you pulled yourself away from your grading to make yourself a cup of tea. You had just settled back down with your steaming mug when you heard an incessant pounding at the front door, startling you. You briefly considered not answering— you weren’t expecting anyone, and besides, who showed up unannounced at someone’s door anymore?

Serial killers, that’s who.

But the knocking continued, relentless and heavy. After a few seconds, you heard a gruff voice call “Police. Open up!”

“What the hell?” you asked yourself, putting down the tea mug and making your way through the living room to the front door.

Peering behind the curtain on the front door window, you could make out the figure of a uniformed officer standing on your front porch. He was illuminated from behind by the streetlight, leaving only his outline visible to you. 

Narrowing your eyes in confusion and concern, you turned on the porch light, unlocked the door and opened it a crack. “Can I help you, officer?” you asked cautiously. 

The man tipped the brim of his hat up, and you were met with a bright pair of blue eyes that glimmered with more than a hint of mischief. 

“It’s actually Sergeant, ma’am,” the man said to you as he tipped his hat and offered you a wicked grin. You breathed a sigh of relief-- you knew him. Of course you did. Your small town didn’t have much in the way of local law enforcement, and James Barnes, or ‘Bucky,’ as most folks called him, was a specimen to be revered. Ridiculously handsome, tall and broad, he was built entirely of muscle as he towered over you from the doorway. He was a favorite among the local female population, often being specifically requested to provide police presence at PTO functions and Ladies’ Auxiliary events. Despite the gold ring he wore on his left hand, the women of the town were drawn to him like flies to a corpse, much to the frustration of his poor wife.

“What can I do for you, Sergeant?” you amended, with a touch of sarcasm in your voice as you offered him a smirk back, though you were still confused by his presence. 

“Well, ma’am, seems like we got a call reporting suspicious activity at this address,” he drawled, leaning now on your door jam, fingers hooking in his belt loops.

“Here?” you asked, surprise coloring your tone. “Are you being serious with me right now, Bucky?”

“That’s Sergeant Barnes to you, ma’am,” he responded nonchalantly. Oh, so he was playing it like that, then? Good to know. “Got a tip that someone’s been cooking meth in your kitchen. ‘m here to check it out.”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Meth?! That’s a new one!” You’d had some of your students call in pranks on you in the past, but this was an extreme.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid meth is no laughing matter,” the sergeant said in all seriousness. The look in his eyes immediately shut down any trace of humor you felt as you stared back at him. “The manufacture of illegal drugs is a very serious crime. I’d like to come inside and take a look, if you don’t mind.”

You pursed your lips. You remembered something your husband had discussed with you, and decided you weren’t going to make this easy for him. “Do you have a warrant?” you asked defiantly.

Sergeant Barnes sighed heavily and rubbed his dark stubble with the palm of his hand. “Ma’am, I’ve had a long shift. Let’s not make this any harder than it needs to be. Now, either you can let me inside, or you can come down and answer questions at the station. It’s up to you.”

It wasn’t an option, not really. “Come on in, then,” you told him, moving aside so he could enter. He walked through the door, his meaty arm grazing against the side of your breast as he did so, and you involuntarily shuddered at the sensation. You knew he noticed when you caught him smirking at you again.

“Kitchen’s this way,” you murmured, somewhat breathlessly, as you led him back through the house to the room in question. He followed silently behind you, his footfalls heavy and sure.

Once in the kitchen, Sergeant Barnes began looking around. It was obvious you weren’t in the middle of a meth lab. You were a high school English teacher, for god’s sake! You weren’t quite sure what game the sergeant was playing at, but you had no doubt he’d make his intentions known in good time.

After glancing around, he eventually said “Well, I can see there’s no meth setup here. Guess it was a false alarm.” You shot him a glare as if to say no shit, but he walked to the cabinet holding your glassware and opened it. “Well, well, well… what do we have here?” He reached in and pulled out a bong and a container of marijuana. “Now, I know next state over might have given the go ahead for this stuff, but in this state, recreational use of the Devil’s Lettuce is still illegal, darlin’. Mighty bad look for a school teacher to have it on hand, don’t ya think?”

You cocked your hip and crossed your arms in front of your chest defiantly. “That’s my husband’s,” you told him with a roll of your eyes. “And I’m pretty sure you just conducted an illegal search and seizure there, sarge.”

He put the bong down on the counter with a heavy clink and turned to face you, his face impassive and voice stern. “Now, seems to me someone’s got a problem with authority, darlin’. I don’t appreciate you talkin’ back to an officer of the law like that. Might need to teach you some manners.”

You swallowed thickly, finally having an idea of where the sergeant was going with his little drop-in and felt a frisson run through your body that left you trembling. Honestly, you were surprised you hadn’t seen it coming. There’d been talk, after all.

“Now,” he continued as he slowly made his way across the kitchen toward you, “as I see it, we got ourselves two options here. One: you can come down with me to the station and we can book your pretty little ass on possession charges, which is gonna take hours and require a hell of a lotta paperwork.” He was standing directly in front of you now, leaving just inches between your bodies. You sucked in a breath, the nearness of him making you dizzy. “Or two, I can get you off with a warning. Still might take hours, but at least we can both have ourselves a good time. Your choice, darlin.”

You took a step back, pressing yourself against the edge of the counter in an attempt to put some space between you. “I think you mean ‘let’ me off with a warning, Sergeant Barnes,” you said, your words coming out in an exhale.

You gasped as his hand came down to cup you between your legs and gently squeeze your mound through the fabric off your jeans. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “I meant what I said, darlin’. But you gotta prove you’re gonna be a good, respectful girl, first, so why don’t you get down on your knees and show me how you obey the law?”

Your eyes widened at his command, unsure how to proceed. Unfortunately, Sergeant Barnes was impatient– he took both his hands and put them on your shoulders, gently but firmly guiding you down until you were kneeling in front of him, the large bulge in his trousers staring you straight in the face. 

“Best get to work, darlin,” he growled, brushing your hair away from your face. “It’s not gonna suck itself.”

You couldn’t believe this was actually happening as you slowly brought your shaking hands up to his waist. With trembling fingers, you unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his pants. His massive erection was straining the fabric of his gray boxer-briefs, leaving a dark wet stain where the tip rested against the cloth, evidence of his arousal already making itself known.

Moving as though afraid of spooking a scared animal, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his briefs, tugging them down to just above his knees and setting his cock free to bounce up against his lower stomach. 

God, but he was big. If the women in town had any idea that he was packing so much more than just his gun, they’d never give him a moment of peace. You traced a finger along the vein at the base of his member, trailing it up his length to the weeping red tip. Coating yourself in his pre-cum, you used his essence as lubrication as you began working him with your hand. 

“Not that this doesn’t feel good, but what did I say about sucking it, darlin’?” Sergeant Barnes asked through a grunt as you pumped him. 

“I’ll get to it,” you told him, a hint of irritation in your voice. He had a lot of nerve making demands of you at a time like this. 

You felt his hand come and roughly grab you by the chin, jerking your head up to make you look him in the eye. “You got the right to remain silent, Sweetheart. I’m gonna be a gentleman and suggest you use it. Find another purpose for that pretty mouth of yours.” He took his hand away with a wink.

You licked your lips as your eyes took him in. Leaning your head down into him, you flattened your tongue and ran it up the underside of his cock.

“Good girl,” he moaned as your tongue circled his tip. “Keep it up. Makin’ me feel so fuckin’ good with that sassy mouth of yours.” You took him into your mouth a little bit at a time, teasing him as one hand worked his base and the other cupped his balls.

You weren't a woman who liked to be told what to do, but the dominance in his voice made you shudder, an involuntary thrill skittering down your spine. He felt intoxicating, dangerous and you had the feeling you were in way over your head.

“Mmm,” he grunted as you swirled your tongue around the swell of his head before deciding to take him in deeper. You relaxed your throat and backed off only when you felt his length bump against it.

"Jesus, darlin', where'd you learn that?" he asked breathlessly. His hands moved to cup your face as you moved rhythmically along his length, setting your own pace. He was blissfully lost in the sensation.

But then, Sergeant Barnes wasn’t one to give up control so easily, either. “Stop teasing,” he huffed out before threading his fingers through your hair and tugging lightly, a clear sign that he wanted more.

You didn’t hesitate to oblige, taking him deep in your mouth until you heard him groan in pleasure above you. His grip on your hair tightened as he took over guiding your movement, his hips bucking up to meet your mouth until he was fucking your face with abandon. The taste of him was overpowering, salty and bitter, making your cheeks flush with heat as you struggled to accommodate his size, tears running down your cheeks and drool pooling from the corners of your mouth.

"I knew you had it in you," he grunted, his voice barely a whisper now as he lost himself in the waves of pleasure you were giving him. You looked up to see his eyes closed tight, his lips parted when ragged breaths escaped his chest that was heaving like a wild beast caught in a trap.

He was close, you could tell from the way his body squirmed and the throbbing of his hardness against your tongue. There was an urgency in his ragged breathing and the racing pulse beneath his skin that echoed through your core. But he wasn’t going to finish yet. Not if Sergeant Barnes had anything to say about it.

A sudden force yanked you back by the hair, tearing your mouth away from him. You let out a surprised yelp, wiping away the excess saliva that clung to your lips.

“Upstairs,” he ordered gruffly, his eyes half-lidded and glazed with desire. He tucked himself free of your grasp and rearranged his uniform as he stepped back, giving you space to rise from your knees.

You smiled and nodded, your head hazy with desire as you passed him and led the way to the narrow back staircase tucked into the corner of the kitchen. He followed closely behind, his heavy boots echoing off the wooden floors in a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in your chest. You felt his gaze on your swaying hips with each step you climbed, a soft growl echoing from behind you that sent shivers down your spine.

You led him to your bedroom, a quaint space painted in soft hues with sheer white curtains rustling gently from the light breeze of the warm spring night. The unmade bed serving as a reminder of love you and your husband had made just that morning staring you right in the face.

“‘m afraid I’m gonna have to search you now, Sweetheart. Strip,” he ordered, his voice gruff with desire as he closed the door behind him. He didn’t bother with niceties or romance – this wasn’t about that. This was about raw, primal need.

Your trembling hands reached for the hem of your shirt and slowly pulled it over your head, revealing the delicate lace bralette underneath. His sharp intake of breath was music to your ears, encouraging you as you unbuttoned your jeans and slid them down your legs, stepping out of them daintily.

“Turn around,” he said next, and you complied without question. You heard him suck in a breath behind you as you shimmied out of your underwear, revealing the round shape of your backside to him under the dim light.

“Jesus,” he whispered, the raw desire in his voice making your heart flutter. “This is better than I ever imagined.” He walked up to you, the rough fabric of his uniform trousers brushing against your exposed skin making you whimper. His fingers traced your spine, gliding all the way down to the small of your back, causing goosebumps to break out all over your body. “Now, you remember your traffic laws, don’t ya, darlin’? You remember how stoplights work?” 

You nodded, knowing instinctively he was referring to safe words– Green for go, Yellow for slow down, and Red for stop. 

“Good girl,” he praised. “Put your hands behind your back.”

You complied and felt the cold metal of his cuffs clink around your wrists, locking them into place. You were now fully at his mercy.

He cupped your buttocks in both hands, kneading them gently while his lips found the nape of your neck. His warm breath sent shivers down your spine as he left a trail of kisses there. “Color?” he asked inbetween presses of his lips.

“Green, Sergeant,” you hummed. You could feel him growing harder against you, the enormous length of him pressing against your ass making you squeal and squirm in anticipation. His groan echoed in your ears as he held onto you tighter.

“Gonna need ya to spread for me, Sweetheart,” he murmured into your ear, his voice low and husky. Your heart pounded in your chest as you did what he asked, positioning yourself on the edge of the bed. His hands found their way to your thighs, pushing them apart gently until you were open and exposed to him.

He let out a low whistle behind you, his fingers tracing lightly over your intimate folds. "You're soaking wet," he murmured, sounding almost awestruck. You flushed at his words, feeling a fresh wave of desire pulse through your body at his touch.

His fingers suddenly abandoned you, only to return dripping with warm slickness. He wasted no time in teasing your entrance, slipping his finger inside you and drawing out a moan that echoed through the room.

“You like that don’t ya?” he asked, his voice alluringly low as he curled his finger inside of you. You whimpered at the sensation, trying to push back against him for more.

“Patience, Sweetheart," he whispered against your earlobe before nibbling on it lightly. He slid another finger inside you, curling and stretching in a way that had you gasping for breath. "You're so tight," he groaned out, appreciating the way your walls clenched around his digits.

“Please…” you whimpered out, the anticipation making your body shake as you pleaded for more. “Please, Sergeant. I need more.” Your legs were wobbly, and with your arms trapped behind your back, you were finding it hard to keep your balance, but you wanted more of him.

He chuckled darkly at your plea, rubbing slow circles on your clit with his thumb while his fingers continued to pump in and out of you. Each touch was expertly measured, bringing you closer and closer to the edge before pulling back, keeping you precariously balanced between pleasure and desperation.

“I’m doing this my way,” he grunted, adding a third finger and increasing his pace. You cried out, your vision blurred as the coil inside you tightened threateningly. You were so close but he wouldn’t let you fall, each moment bringing a new wave of frustration and desire.

Finally unable to take the teasing any longer, he withdrew his fingers leaving you gasping at the sudden loss.

"Get on the bed," Sergeant Barnes ordered, standing tall in front of you; his arousal painfully obvious. “Face down.” You moved to accommodate him, getting on your knees and laying your face down on the mattress, hands still pinned behind your back.

The sound of his utility belt hitting the floor filled the room, followed by the rustle of fabric as he stripped himself free of his uniform.

You squirmed on the bed, desperate for his touch but unable to see anything with your back to him. The anticipation was unbearable, each passing second feeling like an eternity as you waited for him to resume his ministrations.

He moved behind you again, his bare, warm skin against yours making you whimper in anticipation. "Breathe," he commanded simply, and you did, inhaling a shaky breath before exhaling slowly.

And then without warning he was inside you, filling you up in one quick thrust that had you screaming out, the stinging stretch quickly morphing from painful to something far sweeter. He grunted at the intrusion, pulling back slightly only to thrust back in again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, stopping you from moving too much as he pounded into you relentlessly from behind.

Each thrust had you crying out in wanton pleasure, your body trembling beneath him. "Sergeant Barnes," you whimpered his name like a sacred prayer, the cool metal of the handcuffs biting into your wrists as you tried to brace yourself against his forceful movements. 

He didn't slow down, didn't pause, just kept moving inside you with a single-minded focus that had you spiraling. His pace was unrelenting, his stamina seemingly endless. His fingers clutched at your hips in a bruising grip, holding you steady as he continued his merciless assault on your senses.

You felt him shift slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts and hitting a spot inside of you that made stars burst behind your closed eyelids. “Please…” your plea was cut off by a gasp as he hit that same spot again, driving you closer to the edge.

But he didn’t stop there; instead he leaned over you, his broad chest pressing against your back as one hand slid underneath your bodies, finding your clit with unerring precision. He started rubbing it in tight circles, adding a whole new layer to your pleasure.

Every new thrust of his hips sent him deeper within you, each stroke of his fingers on your clit became more intense. You were a writhing mess beneath him, completely lost in the ecstasy he was giving you.

"Bucky," you cried out, forgetting to use his title this time, your voice hoarse from screaming, your body trembling on the brink of release. This wasn’t a game anymore.

"I know," he growled in your ear, his voice low and guttural. "I can feel how close you are, doll. Just let go."

And you did. The moment his lips closed around the sensitive skin of your neck, marking you as his own, the coil inside you snapped. Pleasure washed over you in waves, each one stronger than the last, pulling cries from deep within you as your orgasm tore through you.

He didn't stop his movements, continuing to thrust into you as you came around him, your cries only fueling his own desire. His fingers tightened on your hips while the other hand continued to work you through your climax, prolonging the exquisite sensation.

His pace became erratic, the rhythm breaking down as he chased his own release. With a final grunt and a whispered curse, he drove deep inside of you, his body tense as he came, filling you with his spend. His guttural moan carried through the room as he rode out his orgasm, each thrust sending little aftershocks through your sensitive body.

His grip on your hips relaxed slowly, his breathing heavy and ragged against the skin of your back. He stayed still for a moment, buried deep inside you, allowing you both to come down from your highs.

Finally, he carefully withdrew from you, leaving you feeling empty. He rolled off of you with a sigh, getting up to retrieve the handcuff key from his trouser pocket and releasing you from your bondage.

“Are you okay?” His voice was soft in the silence, as he worked to rub the feeling back into your tender wrists.

You looked up at him through your lashes and nodded, amazed and impressed at his sudden shift from commanding sergeant to tender, caring lover.

“So,” Sergeant Barnes began once he had determined there was no real damage to your wrists, “what time is your husband getting home?” You both burst into laughter as he pulled you closer to him, burying his face in your hair.

“Mmm, probably sooner than we expect,” you teased, leaning up to give him the deep kiss you’d been denied throughout the length of your little game. “That was a lot of fun.”

He chuckled and stood up, walking over to the dresser. “Yeah, it was; we should have done it sooner.” He opened the drawers, pulling out a fresh change of clothes for himself before moving to the closet to grab your robe. “Thank you for that; I really did have a long shift, and that certainly took the edge off. You were amazing, doll.” “My pleasure, obviously.” You’d been excited and intrigued when Bucky first brought up acting out his fantasy with you, but no amount of discussion could have prepared you for how much you had loved actually doing it. You raised your hands over your head, arching your back in a stretch, laughing as you watched his eyes follow the heave of your breasts as they moved upward, licking his lips. “But meth, Bucky? Really? That rumor gets out, you’re gonna get me fired.”

Bucky hummed as he grabbed some clean towels from the linen closet and brought them into the ensuite bathroom. You heard him start the shower. “You answered the door looking all sexy and I panicked,” he confessed, popping his head back into the bedroom, a sheepish grin across his face that made him look ever so boyish. You adored it. “Next time, I’ll say we got a call about you being a prostitute.”

You cackled at that, making him grin even wider. “Better not,” you warned as you got off the bed and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “otherwise I might make you pay for it, and I don’t think you can afford me on a sergeant’s salary.”

Bucky grabbed at his heart in mock pain. “Ouch. Well, how about we clean ourselves up and use the money I saved by not paying you to go have a nice fancy dinner, instead? How does that sound? We can talk about doing your fantasy next.”

You took his hand and led him back into the bathroom and the inviting warmth of the shower. “That sounds perfect,” you told him as you moved to stand under the showerhead. You planted a kiss on his lips. “I love you, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky placed his hands on your waist and gave you a gentle squeeze before kissing your forehead. “I love you, too, Mrs. Barnes.”

You began to lather each other up, trying your best, yet failing miserably, to not get too frisky with one another. “Hey, Buck?” you asked after a moment, a question coming to mind that you’d been meaning to ask him.

“Yeah, doll?” He was gently scrubbing shampoo into your scalp, and it felt like heaven.

“How come you gave yourself a Southern accent?”

Bucky laughed and pulled you close, your back to his front, as he planted a kiss just behind your ear, right over the mark he had sucked into your skin. “I told you, doll. You looked so fucking sexy when you opened that door, I just panicked!”

[wandanatsgf]

Scream

Pairing: Serial Killer!Natasha x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: After the gruesome murder of your fellow classmates, Jean and Charles, everyone is on high alert. The police tell everyone to stay inside, but your friends decide a party is just what you all need. It's not like the killer will be there, right?

Warnings: This is very lightly based off of scream, but I obviously changed things and made it my own. This contains killing, kidnapping, knife kink, blood licking, mommy kink, restraints, slapping, degradation, praise, knife fucking (the handle), thigh riding, noncon, finger sucking, cum eating, dacryphilia, and fingering. I think that's everything, but I might have missed something. I wrote this in an hour so please ignore any mistakes. This is also my first time writing something dark, so I hope you enjoy :)

"Come on baby, are you sure you don't want to go to the party?" your girlfriend asks you as you sit on some benches outside. "It'll only be us, Wanda, Tony, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Carol, and Vision."

"Yes, Natasha I am. I don't want to get killed," you explain for the umpteenth time.

"Please baby. I'll be there to protect you." Your girlfriend flexes her muscles as she says this. You let out a little laugh, although your girlfriend's gun show has got you a little hot and bothered.

"Fine Natty. I'll go but you better protect me." Your finger digs into her chest slightly as you point a finger at her, trying to get your point across.

"Don't worry baby. I'll always protect you," she says. She leans in and kisses you on the lips and you reciprocate.

"I'll see you tonight then," Nat says.

"I guess you will," you say. You both walk off to class, walking together until you have to go opposite ways.

Once you get home you quickly get ready for the party. You throw on a short dress and some heels before walking out the door. The drive to Tony Stark's mansion, where the party is being held, is quick. You're there before you know it. You park your car next to your friend's cars and walk inside.

"Hey Y/n you made it!" your friend Bucky says.

"Yeah I did. Natasha actually convinced me to go. Speaking of her have you seen her?"

"I did earlier. She's around here somewhere, but I'm not sure where."

"Thanks Buck," you say. You make your way around the house in search of you red-headed lover.

You search everywhere for her when you finally see her coming out of the garage with a bottle of wine in her hands.

"There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you," you say.

"Sorry baby. I just needed another drink," she says.

"What happened there?" you ask, pointing at the red stain on your girlfriend's shirt.

"Tony got a little too drunk and spilled some wine on me."

"Of course, he would do that," you say, laughing at his drunken antics.

"Come here princess." Natasha pulls you against her with one hand while the other holds her bottle. She presses a kiss to your lips and she tastes like the wine she has been drinking.

"Come here baby. I wanna dance with you," Natasha says. She pulls you against her body with one hand while the other holds on to her bottle. Your hips move together to the beat. You feel yourself get lost in the music until a scream breaks you out of your trance. You look around to see the source of the scream when a white-faced Carol emerges from the bathroom. Everyone gathers around to look, and the sight makes you sick. Wanda and Vision are laying in the tub, dead. They both have stab wounds right to the heart, they stood no chance.

"Oh my god," you let out. You can hear someone throwing up in the background and you're unsure if it's from the alcohol or the sight before you.

"We need to get out of here," you here Sam say. He tries the front door, but it won't budge. You all run to the back door and that too is stuck.

"Guys we're trapped," Tony says. You could've heard a pin drop.

You can hear Bucky start to freak out, and you don't blame him. You're starting to freak out too.

"What are we going to do Nat?" you ask your girlfriend.

"We just need to find a way out," she says. "We should split up and try all the exits. All the windows, doors, everything."

"Are you sure that's safe Natasha?" Carol asks.

"What choice do we have? It's that or wait for the killer to attack."

"She has a good point," you hear Steve say.

"We'll split up. Carol and Sam try the garage. Bucky, Tony, and I will try upstairs, and Natasha and Y/n can try down here," Steve says. Everyone agrees, although some reluctantly, to the plan.

As you and Natasha explore the ground floor, you hear a loud thud come from upstairs.

"What was that?" you ask.

"I'm sure it was nothing baby," Natasha says, trying to soothe you.

"I'm scared Nat. I don't wanna die."

"Hey you're not gonna die baby. Remember what I said? I'll be here to protect you, okay?"

"Okay Nat," you agree.

The two of you continue to hear more thuds coming from upstairs, making you jump more and more.

"I'm going to go see if everything's alright with them," Natasha says.

"But what about me?" you ask.

"Stay in here," Natasha says, leading you to the pantry.

"I'll be right back," she says. She closes the pantry door and leaves you in total silence. You hear someone let out a scream and then you hear someone fall down the stairs, you're praying it's not Natasha.

You can feel your breathing getting shallower as you start to freak out.

"Please let Natasha be alright," you think to yourself.

After what feels like forever Natasha reappears, covered in blood.

"Oh my god what happened?" you ask.

"He killed them all Y/n/n. He's crazy," she says.

"Who?"

"Steve. He killed Bucky and Tony. I don't know how Carol and Sam are." You can hear her breathing harshly.

"We need to get out of here now," you say. You walk up to the nearest window, praying it will open. You have no such luck.

"Damn it," you let out.

"Come on baby. We need to keep moving," your girlfriend says. "Let's go find the others," she says. The two of you cautiously move through the house, careful of every step you take.

The two of you eventually reach the garage door that leads from the house into the garage. Natasha puts herself in front of you as she opens the door. She lets out a gasp at the sight. Carol and Sam are laying there dead.

"Oh my god. This can't be happening," you cry out.

You can feel yourself start to hyperventilate. You run over to the garage door and pull at it, begging it to open. Natasha runs over and does the same, but nothing works.

"Come on baby we need to try something else," she says. The two of you leave the garage and you walk past the staircase. At the top of the staircase stands Steve, covered in blood with tears streaming down his face. The two of you make eye contact and you bolt off towards the living room.

"We need to find some weapons or something," Natasha says as she joins you. The two of you start to search as you hear Steve's thunderous steps make their way down.

"I've got one," you say, pulling a gun out of a couch cushion. You knew that Tony kept weapons hidden throughout the house in case of intruders because of how rich he is. You have no idea how to handle the gun, but right now you can't be more grateful to have found it.

You aim the gun at the doorway just as Steve walks through it.

"What are you doing Y/n?" Steve asks.

"Stopping you, you monster!"

"I'm not the monster here Y/n, she is," Steve says, gesturing at Natasha. You don't know what to do, so you back away from both of them.

"Baby, you can't believe I'm the killer. He's the killer," she says, pointing at Steve. He has blood smeared down the front of his shirt and pants. He's holding a knife that drips blood onto the once clean hardwood floors. The evidence is stacked against him.

"I'm sorry," you say as you point the gun. It goes off with a loud bang and Steve is thrown across the room. His white shirt is quickly painted crimson as he bleeds out. Now it's only you and Natasha left to find a way out of this building.

You collapse on the ground. You can feel tears falling down your face. Natasha walks behind you and wraps her arms around your waist. You think the gesture is loving, but you're so wrong.

"Guess what baby? You chose wrong," Natasha says. That's when you feel the knife against your throat.

"I was going to cut this pretty little neck open, but I just can't do that to my pretty little baby," Nat whispers in your ear. You can feel yourself shaking and trembling.

"Now I just want to see you crying and screaming as I fuck you," she says. She lifts you up and takes you to a bedroom with you fighting the whole way there. She quickly ties you to the bed with your legs and arms spread.

"You look so beautiful like this baby. All spread out and vulnerable for me." You feel her gaze sweep across your body, and it makes you want to cringe.

"Now we need to get these clothes out of the way," she says. She drags the knife from the top of your dress to the bottom, quickly removing it from your body.

She stares at you while you're completely naked except for your white cotton underwear. "I bet you'd look so pretty covered in blood baby." You had just stopped crying, but this thought made you want to cry all over again.

"I think you'd like that though. You want me to hurt you, don't you princess?" You shake your head no begging her to just let you go, bot to hurt you, something Natasha doesn't like.

"That's not the correct answer baby." You feel the coldness of the blade as she drags it down your cheek. A little bubble of blood pools there, but Natasha is quick to lick it up.

"Let's try that again," she says. Natasha asks you the question again and this time you nod your head yes. This time Natasha seems pleased.

"That's my good girl. I knew you would," she says. Natasha moves to straddle your left thigh and you can feel the heat coming off of her fully clothed pussy. She starts to grind down on your thigh, letting out a low moan.

"You look so pretty below me baby," Natasha says. "But you'd look so much better with a red face and tears rolling down your cheeks." Before you have time to react Natasha slaps your cheek again and again. You can feel tears cascading down your face.

"That's it baby. Let them fall," Natasha says. She starts to grind against your thigh faster, her words coming out in breathy moans.

"You just look so pretty when you cry," Natasha says. She slaps you again and you start sobbing, unable to control yourself.

"There you go baby. Just like that," she says. She lets out a high-pitched moan as she cums against your leg.

"That's my good girl. Making her mommy so happy," Natasha coos. She gently cups your face and licks your tears away. "Such a good girl for me."

Natasha gets off of your leg and grabs her knife again. You feel yourself tense up at the sight. She walks over to the bed and settles herself so that she's on top of you.

"It's okay baby. You can scream, I don't mind," Natasha says as she drags the knife down your body. You want to scream and moan at the same time. This is so wrong, but god does it feel so good.

"Natasha," you let out.

"Yes princess?"

"Please," you beg. You're not sure if you're begging her to let you go or to fuck you.

"What is it baby? You want me to fuck this sloppy little pussy of yours? You want mommy to fuck you stupid?" She drags the knife further and further towards your core, leaving slight scratches wherever she went.

You feel your anxiety rise as the blade scratches your inner thigh.

"What's wrong baby? You don't like mommy showing you attention?"

"I-I love it mommy," you say, saying whatever you know Natasha would like.

"That's my good girl. I knew you would," she says. She cuts away your underwear, completely exposing you to her.

"Look at this wet little pussy," Natasha says. She scoops up your wetness with her fingers and shoves them into your mouth. You suck on them, hating that she had made you so wet.

"You're taking my fingers so good baby. Just like the good little whore you are." She pushes her fingers farther into your mouth and you start to gag. She roughly fucks your mouth until she is satisfied. She removes them from your mouth and wipes the excess spit on your pussy.

"I've got to get you warmed up for my knife baby," she explains. You go rigid, but Natasha pays this no mind. She shoves one of her spit slicked fingers into your core. You let out an involuntary moan at the intrusion.

"Fuck baby you're taking me so well," she says as she adds another finger. You feel a slight burn, but the burn is quickly overtaken by pleasure.

"Fuck mommy," you moan out.

"That's it baby. Take my fingers." She roughly fucks them in and out of your tight hole, paying your comfort no mind. She adds a third finger, and you cry out at the stretch.

"Fuck," you scream.

"That's such a good girl," Natasha says. "Doing so good for me."

You can feel an impending orgasm as she thrusts into you again and again.

"Mommy. I need-," she cuts you off by removing her fingers from you. You whine at the lost. She slaps you across the face.

"Good girls take what they are given," she says. "And you want to be my good girl, don't you?"

"Yes mommy," you let out.

"That's a good girl," Natasha says. She grabs her knife that she had discarded on the nightstand and grabs the blade with her right hand. She moves her hand down towards your core and slowly moves the handle through your slit.

"Please fuck me mommy," you beg. Natasha roughly pushes the whole handle into you in one thrust. You moan out.

"Your little pussy is just eating my fucking knife baby," you hear Natasha moan out. She continues to roughly fuck you as your moans get louder and louder. You can feel yourself clench around the handle as you get close.

"Please can I cum mommy?" you beg.

"Cum for me princess, cum all over my knife," she says. That's all it takes for her to send you over the edge. Your body shudders as a powerful orgasm makes its way through you.

"You look so pretty baby but now you need to clean up your mess." Natasha holds the knife up. You see blood dripping down her hand from where she was gripping the blade too tight.

"Come on baby clean my knife handle. Lick it clean," she says. She holds the knife handle to your mouth and you gingerly lick it up and down.

"That's it, baby. Lick the knife that ended your friend's lives." You can feel bile making its way up your throat. "That's my good girl," she praises. She sets the knife down and goes to untie your shaking legs. Once she unties your legs, she unties your arms but quickly ties your arms and thighs together after she slips a robe that she found over your nude body.

"Now come on baby, we've got to go," she says. She ignores the way you're trembling in fear as holds the knife to your back. She walks, more like drags, you down the steps and to the front door. Your steps are slow from where Natasha had tied your thighs together. Eventually she gives up and just picks you up.

She pulls a key from her pocket and opens the door with it.

The two of you walk outside as Natasha walks you to her car. She tries to push you in, but you don't budge.

"Get in the fucking car, Y/n." Her voice is sharp and leaves no room for disobeying, yet that's what you do.

"No," you let out.

"No?" she screams out. She grabs you by the hair and opens her car's trunk. She roughly shoves you inside and locks it, preventing you from getting out.

Natasha hops into the driver's seat and quickly pulls out of Tony's driveway.

You can tell she's speeding down the road and you soon realize why. You can hear siren's going in the other direction, the direction of Tony's house. She wants to escape and take you with her.

You move around the small trunk, trying to find a way out. Unfortunately there is no way out. You can feel all of your energy leaving you with every move you make. You can feel yourself starting to black out and you give in to the darkness, admitting to yourself that you'll never escape Natasha.

[imagines--galore]

||Masterlist||

Please read rules before sending requests.

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED FOR THE MOMENT.

(Always Uploading new Fics)

Avatar The Last Airbender

Pairing: Zuko x Orora

The Thread of Fate - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, 

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

It Was Nothing

Theatrics

I’m Here Beside You

Big Hero 6

Pairing: Tadashi Hamada x Sakura Kamiya

Light 'em Up -  Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, 

Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Evelyn Richardson

Mind Over Matter - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen,

(Companion piece to Mind Over Matter)

A Slight Frustration

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Hold Me Closer

First Kiss

Don’t Go!

Crossover - Frozen x Rise of the Guardians

Pairing: Jack Frost x Elsa (Jelsa)

One Step Closer - Part One, Part Two (InProgress)

Digimon

Pairing: Taichi Yagami x Hidemi Senshi

The Next Adventure

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

Pairing: Alphonse Elric x Willow Hawkeye(OC)

The Ties That Bind - Prologue, Part One,

Pairing: Edward Elric x Reader

Homecoming

The Language of Flowers

Pairing: Roy Mustang x Reader

I Will Always Choose You

Harry Potter

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Reluctant Friendship

Justice League DC Universe

Pairing: Superman x Lucky Penny aka Clark Kent x Penelope Pennyworth

Lucky Break

Pairing: Superman aka Clark Kent x Reader

Part One - Convince Me, Part Two - I’m Convinced

Wedding Drama

Pairing: (Platonic) Superman aka Clark Kent x 12-year-old reader

A New Life

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Rachel

Kiss It Away

Stolen Kisses, Stolen Moments - Part One, Part Two

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Confessions

Last Night

Empowering

Distraction

Pairing: Dr. Stephen Strange x Clea

Love, A Kind of Magic - Part One, Part Two

Pairing: Dr. Stephen Strange x Reader

Bleeding Love

Perfection

A Surprising Twist

Sleep Deprived

What the Wife Says Goes

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Nothing But a Burden

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A Pact Renewed

Because You’re Mine

Not a Waste of Space

Just Hold Me

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Never Leave Me

Pirates of the Caribbean

Pairing: Will Turner x Reader

My Heart Calls Your Name

Tavern Brawls

Rise of the Guardians

Pairing: Jack Frost x Evening Star aka The Blue Fairy

Two Spirits Meet - Wishing on a Snowflake I,

Sherlock (BBC)

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Serendipity

The Consulting Detective and the Serial Killer

His Love for Her

Your Hand in Mine

Drunken Comfort

Its All Been Arranged

An Unconventional Love Story (Victorian Era AU)

Star Trek(2009)

Pairing: Spock x Kealoha

The Roommate Experiment - Prologue, Part One

Pairing: Spock x Reader

The Little Green Monster

Chasing Away The Darkness

Here For You (InProgress)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Pairing: Leonardo x Amal

Heaven’s Light

A Comforting Embrace

The Amazing Spiderman

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A Nonverbal Confession

Falling For Him

Heal Together

Drunk on Pheromones

Take All The Time You Need

Falling for the Enemy

The Chronicles of Narnia

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Reader

An Unexpected Turn

We Face It Together

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Reader

The King and the Commoner

The Hobbit

Creepy Crawlies (No Pairing)

Pairing: Kili x Reader

You Are Safe

The Lord of the Rings

Pairing: Legolas x Annúneth

Love Happens(Coming Soon)

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

We Meet Again A Confession Years In The Making

My Prayer, My Light, My Fëa

A Little Introduction to Rock Music

A Promise

Written In The Stars

Treasure Planet

Pairing: Jim Hawkins x Reader

A Little Competition Goes a Long Way

[flordeamatista]

ACE OF WANDS

pairing: ghostface alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader

concept: The roar of a raging flame cannot drown out the silence of death.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: sex toys + voice kink + fingering, mature themes, nickname ──(pretty girl, Darling)

a/n: Thanks for listening to my idea a few weeks ago, @syntheticavenger, and giving me tips on how to make it alive.

lovely beta: @writing-for-marvel & @/syntheticavenger

THE WITCHING HOUR ──── KINKTOBER'23

masterlist

Shadows are sought by winds blown with deliberate intent to devour the gleam hidden by might.

The inky blackness of the night sky provided protection and secrecy as you emerged from your candlelit bath. Your friends had invited you out to dinner and to the haunted house but since you were about to go into heat and there was a ghost face killer roaming around, you decided to stay home. You did not want to put yourself in danger, especially during October nights, when stalkers and serial killers roam the streets.

A drop of water fell onto the edge of the bathtub as you come out of the tub. You had a white robe that hung over a towel rack on one side of your bathroom. Wrapping the robe around your still damp body, you grab your phone from the charger and lay down to watch some videos.

Breathing deeply and closing your eyes, you inhaled the soothing lavender scent. Your racing heart was calmed by the aroma, which sinks into your skin and bring you a sense of peace. Warmth climbed into your body as longing stirred between your legs.

Even taking a bath couldn't calm your pain now. You had grown into a dark pain between your thighs. A moan escapes you, wetness dripping from your pussy between your legs.

The roar of a raging flame cannot drown out the silence of death.

The screen of your phone shows an unknown number as you stare at it with squinted eyes. You swipe to answer and hold the device to your ear out of curiosity. 

A long period of silence ended with the sound of his deep voice mimicking your moans.

“Who is this?” you whispered, trembling at the thought of hearing the answer. Fear dripping off every word you used, an impending dread on your lips.

“Someone who knows your darkest secret, Darling.” A chill ran down your spine as your ears were cut by the knife-edged words piercing through the silence like an icy blade.

A fiery image flashed before your eyes as you panicked, wondering what he knew about you.

“What do you want?” He was drawn to your voice even though it was barely louder than a whisper.

“Would you like to play a game, sweetheart? His voice was demanding, but something sinister made you hesitate before denying him.

Despite all your rage, he ordered you to play a game.

A ghastly chuckle echoed in response and your stomach dropped at the thought that he was using you for his own amusement. There was no escaping him now, not when you were an omega in heat, so vulnerable. 

He coldly instructed, "Show me what belongs to me," and it became apparent to you that this was simply another round of his game—one in which only he would win. All the fight left your body as the reality of his power set in, as he commanded again, "Open the robe and touch yourself for me, baby girl." 

This night was his.

Silence can be heard between two hushed screams, one breathing heavily and the other silently.

“Oh, Alpha….” The fear of a night filled with murders seemed like a distant dream. 

The vibrator hummed softly in the dark room like a devil's grasp. Every word he spoke was like a lash of wickedness as he commanded you to pleasure yourself. As you caressed yourself for him, his deep voice hummed in the background. You placed the vibrator along your clit as you writhed on the mattress, feeling the vibrations move through you. In the silence, you moaned loudly.

You weren't mated, but it felt like you were. It was as if his voice squeezed your wrist, forcing you to caress yourself. During a phone call with this unknown man.

"When the murderer asks you to touch yourself," he murmured, you didn't hear the word murderer from his lips, but rather he was the man who cut into your pleasure by murdering sane ideas. "Keep touching yourself in my honor." 

Every second, your arousal escalated, returning into an erotic chant of dark desire.

You heard his voice pierce your thoughts as he commanded you closer and closer to something deep within that only he could fix. 

You imagined him pleasuring himself in the face of your moans and touching your body, your moans and panting became increasingly ragged. Against the trembling vibrations of the vibrator of your aroused body, you bit your lip harder, wanting more of the sensation around your clitoris.

There was an abyss of forbidden passion he pulled you into.

"How does it feel, pretty girl?" he asked in a low growl. Your breath came in shallow bursts as you sank into the bed with eagerness. 

You became bound by an uncontrollable passion.

Within your room, there was a sudden flash of a  silhouette emerging from the shadows of the window. The noise of moans coming from within distracted you from feeling the heat coming in stronger. The scent of him was strong and infused with a hint of blood. This was a scent that enticed you to wrap yourself around him and let him knot you up to relieve the pain.

A menacingly sharp blade that glinted in the moonlight was wielded by the notorious ghostface alpha terrorizing every corner of town. While you were filled with terror, you experienced a sweet sensation of pleasure as his voice echoed through the night air, "Hello Sweetheart, it's an honor." as he let his bloody blade move in swirls before charging into your exposed body.

He stabbed it directly into your vibrator and you gasped from the sudden, intense stimulation. Your body felt a wave of pleasure and tension, your breath came in sharp gusts. Increasing the power of his grip on the vibrator made your eyes close.

The vibrator stopped working after just a few seconds. Your pleasure was cut short when it died. The masked alpha came at you, and you knew this was it.

At this point, you have played the game but failed to defeat the Ghostface Alpha Bucky Barnes.

His cold fingers moved slow against your skin before reaching inside you, eliciting low moans from you as they touched your inner walls. In a firm voice, he asked if it felt better than your toy, your heart beating faster as you replied with a throaty yes. 

A moan was elicited from your lips as his thick fingers reached your depths. After pulling his fingers out, he gently pushed them back in, enjoying the feeling of your wetness against his touch. "So wet, I want to feel your insides and mark you as mine," he murmured, tilting his masked face slightly.

As the sombre scent of lavendar fills the air, a bloody death mask faces becomes one with it.