Grem's Library

Main: @gremlin-girly Bookshelf/tbr/fave fics: @grems-bookshelf This blog is where I reblog all of my own fics so they are easy to find! Blog theme + dividers by @saradika-graphics

[grems-library]

Welcome to my Library! 🤍

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[gremlin-girly]

Message in a Bottle

A Sun, Sea & Sirens fic

Part 1 | Part 2 -> | Series masterlist | Navigation

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Header & divider made in Canva with pics from Pinterest (credit to OG creators).

Tags/warnings: canon divergent, drowning mentions, depictions of injury and death, sinking ship, ptsd descriptions, this is mainly set up, see A/N 2 for any translations at the end of the fic

Summary: When his military boat sinks over European Sea, Bucky awakens to a young woman treating his wounds.

Word count:

A/N: Entirely self-indulgent tbh 👀Not sure when the next update will be for this but im going to try to keep it to 5/6 parts, maybe with the word count being higher!

The last thing Bucky remembers before diving into the ocean is the fireball. After that, it becomes murky.

He's in the water. The burns on his body sting as the black saltwater laps at him, swallows him and spits him out to the starry sky. One moment he hears the screams of his friends and brothers in arms; the next, he's below the surface where everything is muted and eerily silent. The final wail of the ship sounds as it descends to the depths and with it the soldiers still trapped within - lost forever to the sea.

He didn't know how far they were from England before the attack - maybe a day or so. He could hear shouts from other survivors - splashing until the noise stopped or became distant. He remembers swimming blindly. Remembers the vast black in every direction. He vaguely remembers giving up until he heard a woman's voice.

He swam towards her voice; ignoring how his muscles begged to him to stop, how his injuries scorned him. If his mind had gone so be it but he needed to find the woman whose voice called to him. Why was she out here? How?

The voice became closer and closer until Bucky felt arms wrap around his waist and yank him against a cold woman's body.

She says something he can't understand and he's too focused on trying to stabilise his breathing to care. Then there's a hand on his face, pushing wet hair from his eyes.

"Thank you," he breathes, his eyes fluttering. "Thank you."

And with one final gasp, he passes out.

Bucky wakes with a start; memories of the sinking ship plaguing his dreams. He doesn't know where he is, of course, but he vaguely remembers the golden light that cascades through the window. There's birdsong too - light and sweet - and the smell of salt drifts on the wind.

It's clear he's near a coast; but where would be the deciding factor in his fate. He tries to sit up but his body anchors him to the warm sheets that are wet with sweat from his nightmares. When he tries to move the blankets away with his left arm, it doesn't listen to him and he looks down to where his arm should be, he only finds a pink-tinted-bandaged stump.

He didn't realise he'd screamed until there's a rush of footsteps on wooden stairs followed by the door slamming open. A woman stands still in the doorway, staring at him with wide, wild eyes.

He stares at her, and she stares back, in complete silence for a moment before she says something incomprehensible.

"Bore da."

Despite his military training, and knowing that capture almost always resulted in death, Bucky couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "Where am I?"

The woman blinks and stands tall, hands on her hips. She's wearing a long skirt padded by underskirts and petticoat, and a fitted blouse with the sleeves rolled up, complete with a white apron around her waist. Her hair is off her face, tied back in a matronly fashion and she studies Bucky carefully before deciding to speak again. It takes another moment for him to realise that she is, in fact, speaking English.

"Well, you're not with the Germans that's for certain." Her voice has a lilt - a rise and fall that he's never heard in his life; and he's equally confused and mesmerised by it. She nods at him. "Name and rank."

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes with the 107th." He says automatically, before reciting his numbers.

The woman listens, nods again, and huffs before offering Bucky a bright grin. "I've just made a pot of tea - I'll bring you some and a slice of toast."

"You-"

She's gone before he can finish constructing a question, and he slumps awkwardly on his remaining arm. Bucky's mouth is dry but his stomach rolls - just like it had on the boat - and he isn't surprised to him he's trying to swallow back acidic bile. He needed to find out what happened to the rest of the men, the hundreds that gave their lives, and if there were any survivors. He needed to make sure he wrote back home; to his mother and Rebecca, to Steve. Tears sting and he tries to wipe them away with the ghost of his left arm, only further worsening his despair.

When the woman returns with a small tray, he is too emotionally drained to keep up the faux pas of American charm and silently allows her to place the tray beside him. The smell of toasted bread, golden and moist with fresh salted butter, has him salivating. She had even added a small side of jam in a small bowl that Bucky considered eating by the spoonful. She waved at him dismissively, telling him to eat as she pottered about; opening the windows, pulling out drawers… Not that he cared much as he devoured the basic delicacy.

The tea was sweet - far sweeter than he would have taken it - but the sugar-rich warmth felt like the comforting embrace of his mother, a feeling he hadn't experienced since being a young boy.

"Do you want another slice?"

Bucky peeks over the edge of his mug to where the woman smiles kindly. He nods. Her smiles grows wider.

"That's good!" She declares triumphantly. "Your body wants the energy to heal. I'll be right back." She lifts the tray and disappears downstairs again and leaves Bucky sipping his tea, daring not to think of anything else but the sounds of the ocean as he waits for her return.

After a few minutes of silence, he hears something. Downstairs, he can hear a conversation - clipped and in a foreign tongue - between two women. He can only recognise the one voice of his nurse.

It was the same melodic language as before, although the rise in volume signalled it was not a pleasant discussion.

"Mam!" Comes the voice of his nurse. "Peidiwch a ddeud hynny."

She sounded wounded, offended by whatever the other woman had said. There's a huff, a stopping of feet, a slam of a door and then a sigh. A few minutes later the woman returns, looking slightly dejected with the tray piles high with toast.

"I'm sorry if I'm causing you trouble." Bucky says, going to help with the tray automatically before remembering he's one limb short.

"No trouble." The woman says quickly, forcing a smile. Once the tray is back in his lap she pulls a stood across to sit beside him, only picking up a triangle slice of toast after he does. "That's just my mam being… my mam."

"Mam?" Bucky queries.

"Erm. Moooom." The word sounds comically drawled, and Bucky sputters a laugh.

"Your mom was giving you a hard time about me?" He chuckles, some of his charm easing back. "I wish I could say that's the first time that's happened."

The woman snorts and shrugs. "I'm her only girl in a set of boys. I think she wished I was a little bit less reckless."

"Reckless how?"

She looks a little startled - like she's been caught with her hand in the cookie jar - but quickly recovers with a charming grin that rivalled his own. "By inviting an American into our home."

"I'm not that scary." Bucky insists, gesturing to the stump of his left arm. "Look - you have more limbs than me!"

She gives him a small glare, but he can tell she's trying to keep her smile contained behind the slice of toast. He's still got it.

"Twpsyn." She mutters with a shake of her head. "After you're done I'll check your bandage."

"I can do it myself." Bucky says, earning him another glare; this one more serious.

"Of course. Because I like watching one-armed men attempt to change and clean their own dressings." She quips. "It'll take some gettin' used to. Eventually I'll leave you to do it you'self but for now, I'll be the one doing it."

Bucky clamps his mouth shut knowing there's no room for argument. Instead he ponders his next question, studying his new nurse carefully as she takes another bite of toast. It's not at all likely that they've met before. Yet he can't shake the feeling that they have.

"Do I know you?"

There it is again. The flash of guilt in her wide eyes. "You ask a lot of questions for a man who just woke up." She stands suddenly, wiping the crumbs from her hands in her apron. "I should get fresh bandages and hot water ready."

Although she doesn't answer his question directly, Bucky knows there's something she's hiding. And he'd have to bind his time to find out what.

Part 1 END

AN2: Translations

Bore Da - good morning

Mam - Mum/mother

Peidiwch a ddeud hynny - don't say that

Twpsyn - idiot (affectionate)

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[gremlin-girly]

Labyrinth

Goblin King! Lloyd x f!reader ☆ Part of Forgotten Forest

<- Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 -> | Series Masterlist | Navigation

Not beta'd. All of my work is 18+. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. Banner made in Canva with pics from Pinterest (Credit to OG creators) and dividers are by @/tsunami-of-tears

Tags/warnings: fae magic, fae deals, a sort of medieval AU, kidnapping/forced marriage (via fae deal), soft/dark! Lloyd, sexual themes but no smut in this chapter, Lloyd being Lloyd, non-sexual nudity, hair washing

Summary: Lloyd shows you around your new home.

Word count: 2.1k

"And this is the-" your sniffle interupts Lloyd. "This is the-" Another sniffle. "Oh my Gods, are you still crying? Haven't you ran out of tears yet? I'm trying to do a tour for my beautiful bride and yet all you've done is cry."

Your sobs were indeed tearless by now but Lloyd had been too busy talking about his beautiful castle and flaunting you to so many small pointed-teeth people in a variety of shades of green, you hadn't had time to comprehend much past your own misery.

"I don't want to be your bride." You say quietly, hiccuping out another sob. "You tricked me."

"Oh boo fuckin' hoo Mousekin," Lloyd sneers, spinning on his heel to face you. "You belong to me now. You get to be a queen who loves in a castle - isn't that better than whatever desolate, tiny shack you called home?"

Lloyd pulls you in close by the hips - his grip so hard it makes you wince. "Tell me honestly," he murmurs. "Isn't a castle with beautiful gardens and servants so much better?"

You don't answer, and instead try to pull away from his iron grip when his lips kiss up your neck. Cold settles in your stomach and bile rises as you try to keep him from kissing your lips and angling your head away - but when he commands you look at him, a new wave of fear takes over as your body moves of its own accord and you're forced to look into his eery blue eyes.

"Answer my question, Mousey."

You don't know what he does or how he does it but you give him your honest, heart breaking, answer.

"Yes." You respond, fresh tears welling and your lip quivering.

"Just as I thought." He says with a triumphant grin, before pecking your lips. He pulls back just enough to let you breathe but doesn't move away, swiping away your fat tears with his thumbs. His fingers press into the back of your head, not hard enough to cause pain but enough for discomfort. "Stop crying."

A shaky breath dries your eyes and clears your sinuses; your eyes still feel puffy but your body has once again betrayed you. And you have a sinking feeling it may happen more often than you would like.

"You're mine - you have no reason to cry now," Lloyd coos, caressing your now clean cheek. "Unless it's over my cock."

He fixes you with a salacious smirk and his eyes drop to your lips, his thumb now trailing over your pouty bottom lip. You try to keep your whimper of fear to yourself but you know he heard it, you can tell by the way his lips curve upward in a way that makes your skin crawl.

"Atta girl," Lloyd coos teasingly, before dropping his hands from your face and grasps one of your hands in a bone-cracking grip.

You wince again but Lloyd doesn't seem to notice, or care, as he whips around and practically drags you along behind him. He then resumes parading you through the castle, stopping at every single room to introduce to whatever creature was busy working away inside of it.

"She's mine." He announced proudly, chest puffing. "Isn't she just the prettiest thing you've ever laid your grotesque little eyes upon?"

Choruses of "Yes Milord!" ring out behind you, not that Lloyd sticks around to listen. He seems to become more and more excited with each room he shows you; and it's not until you reach the second floor on the other side of the castle that you realise why.

Lloyd looks smug as he marches you down the long corridor of bedrooms. It seems never ending, and to your surprise, he doesn't take you inside them only shows you their interior from the doorway. Most of the furniture is covered in white cloth to protect from dust, however, when you reach the final room at the end of the corridor Lloyd gently pushes you over the threshold.

The furniture in this is uncovered - and all of it beautiful beyond words. It's the biggest room of them all, decorated with ornate, carefully carved wooden furniture; one has a massive canopy bed fit for a king, two giant carved armoirs and even a vanity desk complete with a velvet stool tucked underneath.

"This is our room." Lloyd tells you as he guides you towards the centre of the room.

You try to swallow your worry down as you legs march against your will but you cannot help but be mesmerised by the view of the room. Candlelight accentuates every curve of the wood-carved furniture and when you look to the cieling, you're completely gobsmacked. Painted onto the ceiling is a forest scene, completely with fairies, animals, plants and flowers. However, Lloyd must have imbued it with magic because the scene moves. You think you're dreaming at first - the first sign you can escape this nightmare - but when Lloyd comes to stand next to you and waves his hand, the scene changes from emerald summer to golden autumn. The foxes and rabbits chase eachother as birds fly from tree to tree. It's magnificent.

"I try to change it often." Lloyd says, softer than he has spoken to you all day. "Change it up a bit. If you don't like it I can change it for you. Have something else on display."

"No - this is wonderful." You reply quickly. "Did you paint this?"

Lloyd chuckles, moving away from you to one of the armoirs on either side of the bed. It creaks as it opens and when you finally tear your eyes away from the ceiling long enough to peek, you see it's filled with expensive gowns and night dresses.

"No. I commissioned it from a human. But I used magic to bring it to life." Lloyd pulls out a night dress, scooping it in his arms before turning back to you, holding the top half up so you can see it.

It's beautiful - a kind of pure white you had never seen. You had only been blessed with hand-me-downs from your mother, or second-hand items from markets. This was new and top of the line - off-shoulder with a small silk bow in the centre of the chest, long bell sleeves that ended with ruched cuffs. It was all so overwhelming - especially when you looked down to the patchwork dress caked in mud and dirt you were wearing. It seemed down right offensive to be in the presence of such a breath-taking dress - a night dress at that.

"I think I picked well." Lloyd says studying your expression, and you don't know if he means you or the dress. You try not to think about it.

You move to touch it but Lloyd snatches it away before your fingers can graze it. You draw your hand back to your chest quickly, scared you may have offended your captor by almost-sullying his gift. However, when Lloyd grins at you - you know he's just teasing again.

"Ah, ah, ah," He says, nodding at your form. "Not before you have a bath."

He snaps his fingers, and a metal thunk sounds behind you. You turn to follow the noise and see a large copper tub sat in front of the fireplace. Your stomach flips - how did he do that?

It slowly fills with steaming water and Lloyd wrestles a small trunk from under the bed. Inside are bottles of what look like potions, and he inspects every label until he finds one that he deems satisfactory. He takes it to the tub before pouring the smallest amount into the water; the water ripples and sloshes quietly before changing colour from translucent to red to pink and back to translucent. You're about to ask what he's put in there when the smell hits you - strawberries. Fresh, ripe strawberries on a summer's day.

"Take off your dress, Mousey." Lloyd says taking a short step forward. "Show yourself to me."

Lloyd playfully tugs at the strings of your corset, pulling them apart. You suck in a breath, your body still not obeying you; despite how hard you will it to turn and run back down the long hallway. He steps back, taking a seat on the bed and watches you - clearly waiting for you to continue undressing. You make a sound between a choked sob and a whimper as you begin to finish untying your corset with shaking hands - almost as if your body had taken Lloyd’s early command to stop crying to heart.

When your corset drops to the floor, you undo the top of your dress and your eyes catch Lloyd biting his lip with an excited anticipation you could not begin to match. You wanted to be sick. You step out of your dress after slipping the sleeves from your arms, left only in your undergarments. Your face is as red hot as the flames in the fireplace and Lloyd makes a gesture with his hand, urging you to finish the removal of all of your clothes.

Once you're finished, your attempt to cover yourself is halted by an icy glare from Lloyd, who twirls his index finger in a circle. "Spin."

You obediently spin on the spot when he snaps at you. "Slower."

You comply, turning more slowly this time and Lloyd hums appreciatively. Averting your gaze as he palms his cock over his trousers.

"C-can I take my bath now, please?" You don't like how weak your voice sounds nor how the bridge of your nose continues to tickle like you might cry but are unable.

"Spoilsport." Lloyd snorts, getting to his feet and holding out his ringed hand. You cover yourself with one hand and shrink inward, taking his hand with your free one delicately. Lloyd looks over at you frowning, clearly unhappy you chose to attempt to cover yourself, but says nothing as he helps you into the water.

"You've been wandering through the forest all day - when was the last time you had a bath like this?" Lloyd asks softly as you slowly lower into the water.

You can smell strawberries again as the water ripples.The water is warm, perfectly warm, and you can't help but sigh as you settle into the tub. Lloyd kneels beside you, watching you as he swirls the water idly with a ringed finger. You try to keep your gazed fixed on your reflection but Lloyd soon tips your chin up so he can look upon your face. You're caught in his gaze like a rabbit that wandered to close to a foxhole - frozen with fear, mind racing.

You shared a bath with your mother and brother - it was rare you ever had clean or warm water to wash with, let alone fancy soaps or oils Lloyd seemed to have. But you think he must already know that about you.

"Never." You answer and feel a horrid wave of guilt for your mother and brother. What would happen to them without you there?

"You are just the prettiest little thing." He hums, wet fingers following the tear trails stained onto your cheeks. "A diamond in the rough."

You blink away from him and he chuckles, watching as you shudder when his fingers trail down your neck to your collar bone before scooping water over your shoulders. He repeats the motion a few more times and then moves to sit behind you, drawing your hair back.

"Lie back. Let me wash your hair."

You do as instructed, breathing growing more panicked as your back touches the water. You try to stay calm as his fingers work the back of your skull, contemplating what to do if he decided to push you below the surface and hold you there. Yet, he doesn't. He cups water to wet your crown, careful to avoid your face, humming a song you don't know.

The experience is oddly soothing... once you manage to relax. Lloyd's fingers massage a concoction into your scalp that smells like hyacinth and makes your hair feel as soft as rabbit pelt. Upon his instruction to sit up, you're graced with his fingers easing knots of tension from your neck and shoulders with an oil that smells like the hearth and it takes all of your willpower to keep groans of satisfaction at bay as the knots release.

"No one will care for you like I will." He says, gathering hair away from your neck to place a gentle kiss there. "You'll be a queen here with me. I'll make sure you want for nothing, my diamond."

His hand splays across your throat and although there is no pressure, the message is crystal clear: You won't be leaving Lloyd's company anytime soon.

"Now, how about I get you some food?"

PART 2 END

Lloyd: @stargazingfangirl18 @shamrockqueen @ledatheswann @queen-honeybee-stories @shamrockqueen @awkwardgiraffe726 @late-to-the-party-81 @moonfairy182 @thechrysalisdiaries @lexie983 @stephstar28 @mommad @marvellover91 @pandaxnienke @bottldcries @cinnamongirlxlovesong @the_Ruler _Of_Death @ghoulsgraveyard @thezombieprostitute @soupiemeowmeow

A/N: surprise :)

For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here

Tags for everything: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @brianochka @looking1016 @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @waywardwifey @peaches1958 @michaeladmorris @alexxavicry @lexie983 @wint3rbarnes @sunday-bug @barnes-babydoll @alicedopey @cakesandtom

[gremlin-girly]

Lovehearts

Best friend!Curtis Everett x reader

Part of my Valentine's Extravaganza | Navigation

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Tags/warnings: Fluff, best friends to lovers, kissing

Summary: You decide you're going to tell your best friend how you feel about him.

Word count: ???

Being friends since diapers had it's perks. You could read the indecipherable Curtis like a children's book - and he would bring you the snack you were craving just from looking at your face; like a kind of Charles Xavier of sweet treats.

You were inseperable - well, almost - save for the fact that neither of you, despite your inhuman connection with eachother, could see that both of you were madly in love with the eachother.

That's where the Lovehearts came in.

Every Valentine's you'd both hang out together - always. You'd have a sleepover where nothing but a cuddle while watching movies would happen. But this year - this year - you both decided you would enact on your feelings.

However, when the day came, it was entirely typical that you both had opted for the safe, testing-the-waters option rather than outright knock-your-socks-off-and-scare-the-other-away romantic gestures. And, given how well you know eachother, had unknowingly (and rather sweetly) came up with the exact same plan.

Lovehearts candy was everywhere on Valentine's; sweet sugary sweets that bordered on sour at times, stamped with phrases or the less popular emoji stamps, were the go-to for both of your plans. Every year you'd share a bag, so naturally, swapping a sweetie with a phrase like Be Mine on it would surely be enough to gauge interest from either party, right? Right?

Wrong.

When Curtis slips you a Be Mine candy he carefully selected, you're too pre-occupied with your own plan (and trying to pick out a phrase that isn't entirely daunting from your own pile of candy hearts) that you thank him and eat it without a second glance; crushing Curtis' spirit in a matter of seconds.

Finally, you settle on two candy hearts to offer, and not-so-casually slide one of the two over to his side of the table.

He's about to eat it when you announce he should read it first.

"Love you?" He reads aloud. "Yeah, love you too." He says, going back to idly moving his candy pile around. You pull a sour face.

You'd said I love you's before - it wasn't uncommon for best friend's to say that to eachother! - but it seemed that your confession had gone unnoticed. So, you instead slide the second heart to him.

Curtis looks down at the heart and is about to continue his dismal arrangement when he does a double take.

Kiss me.

He looks over at you with a small, disbelieving smile. Then he slides over his candy heart.

Kiss me.

You fight back a giggle. "I asked you first."

Curtis makes a show of thinking it over. "Well, I guess. If you're really going to twist my arm..."

His beard is soft as his lips brush against yours in the tenderest of kisses; testing to see if you're as hopelessly smitten as he is - as he has been for years.

And his prayers are answered when you kiss him back.

"I love you," you breathe when you break apart unwillingly (curse your lungs for needing oxygen). "Not like in a best friend way. In a-"

"I know." Curtis cuts you off, smiling now. "Me too."

There's one thing more romantic than having your anniversary on Valentine's Day of all days - and that's marrying your best friend two years later and picking a new anniversary date that won't stop you from getting a reservation at any restaurant you choose.

END

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Curtis: @stargazingfangirl18 @irishhappiness @Cieraboobear @doodooslay @pandaxnienke @ledatheswann @steviebbboi @maydayfigment @bottldcries @theinheriteddutchess @shamrockqueen @alicedopey @awkwardgiraffe726 @late-to-the-party-81 @moonfairy182 @thechrysalisdiaries @lexie983 @stephstar28 @mommad @marvellover91 @cinnamongirlxlovesong @the_Ruler_Of_Death @ghoulsgraveyard

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[gremlin-girly]

"Such a mouthy little brat." + Ja- Cur - key - tis 🥰🥰

Hehehe 😈

2-for-1 Valentine's Special

Jake Jensen x F!reader x Curtis Everett

For your wonderful Valentine's Event 🥰

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+.

Tags/Warnings: smut, threesome (mmf), spit roasting, oral (m recieving), p-i-v, creampie (twice), overstimulation (to the point of briefly passing out), slight degradation (cumslut), teasing, nipple play, use of a clitoral suction toy, teasing from everyone really, aftercare, you know damn well there's no plot here

Summary: You tease your boyfriend before your other one gets home.

Word count: 1.1k

Navigation

It started with a lazy morning; Curtis always liked to sleep in anyway so getting up late was a given. Curtis made breakfast, then you watched an episode of your show together, and then you both showered; taking time to relax under the hot stream of water while you waited for your other boyfriend to come home from a late shift.

However, your horniness knew no bounds, and you spent your morning tormenting Curtis in a silky red camisole and back-chatting every chance you got. When you finally sauntered into the bedroom and flashed him when he was trying to read (and get away from your temptations) you were face down ass up in seconds.

Curtis made a point to not reward your behaviour, bottoming out immediately into your silky, welcoming pussy.

"Hah, knew you couldn't resist fucking me." You flash a satisfied grin over your shoulder and he starts to fuck you harder.

"You're such a mouthy little brat." Curtis growls as he pummels you into the mattres, holding your wrists above your head. His other hand is on your hip, gripping it tight, holding your ass up in order to fuck you deep and hard.

Just how you like it on Valentine's day.

"Aw come on, starting without me- on Valentine's day no less!" Jake harrumphs, dropping his work bag. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was mad, but he smiles as he strips out of his clothes and approaches the bed, rubbing his cock through his boxers.

You smile up at Jake when he frees his cock and pumps it a few times as Curtis fucks into you.

"'M sorry baby," you manage to purr. "Lemme make it up to you."

You open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue; a clear invitation that Jake can't resist. When you take him down your throat and bob your head eagerly, Jake sighs and lets his head fall back.

"Best. Valentine's gift. Ever." Jake tells the cieling. Curtis grunts in response, purposefully slowing to deep thrusts now that you had your mouth full.

"She was being a brat all day," Curtis huffs, groping your ass playfully.

"I'm surprised you held out so long." Jake chuckles, knotting a hand in your hair as he starts to thrust into your mouth. "I wouldn't have been able to resist stuffing this mouth full from the start."

You hum around Jake's cock and he pulls out suddenly, bending down to kiss your swollen lips.

"Did you get the gift?" Curtis asks, pulling your hips so you sit up a little bit more. Jake nods before stepping away to grab his work bag and pull out a box wrapped in crepe paper.

"Couldn't forget it." He grins as he rips it open to reveal a clit-suction toy, already filled with batteries. Curtis' arms snake around yours and pull you against his back; pinning you against him and bared to Jake, who has turned the toy on.

You suck in air as Jake moves closer, spreading your sticky folds with his fingers before allowing the toy to latch to your clit. The sensation his instantaneous. Air is stolen from your lungs and you struggle to catch your breath, hips bucking as the vibrations focused on your clit make you see stars.

Curtis groans from behind you, the pulse of your cunt mixed with the vibrations of the toy making him pump into you with jerky motion, holding himself back from chasing his own orgasm. Jake on the other hand, is too preoccupied with your tits and the reactions you have to his ministrations.

"This is the lowest setting and you're ready to cum?" Jake teases, pinching at one of your nipples. When you moan, his fingers hover over the + symbol on the toy. "I wonder what happens if I press this button?"

Jake doesn't press the button straight away, leaving you suspended in anticipation for a second before pressing down. The vibrations kick up a notch and you cum immediately with a half-sob of surprise, gripping Curtis' cock until he curses and pummels into you again. Your body shakes from the overstimulating. Wet sounds emmitting from between your legs as Curtis fucks you like a wild animal and Jake continues to tease you with dirty praises and your new toy.

"Honey, it's not even on the highest setting yet and you're already a mess." Jake tuts, kissing your cheek as you whine at him. "Maybe I'll have to wait a while before I ruin your cunt so I can see those pretty eyes roll back."

"Fuck," Curtis groans from beside your ear. "She's squeezing so tight you won't have to wait."

When you warn them that you're about to cum again, you're smothered with kisses, affectionate bites and urges to let go just for them. You half-shout as you cum over Curtis' cock for a second time and you can feel his cock twitch and stall as he paints your cunt with his cream.

The toy is removed with a wet pop but not switched off. Curtis pulls out of you gently and lowers your spent body backwards until your splayed on your back. He told your wrists again as Jake kneels onto the bed and runs his cock through your messy folds.

"Fuck, just look at you." He praises and you manage a weak, cheeky smile. He rolls his hips slowly into yours, sheathing his cock into you as Curtis adds,

"Our perfect cumslut."

You moan softly at Curtis' words, and gasp when Jake starts to fuck you faster. You're completely at their mercy - just how you like it - and Jake rewards your hushed whimpers by placing the toy on your clit again. The overstimulation makes your eyes roll - you have no energy to scream out - but your moth opens to an o and you arch your back.

"Oh, yes - just like that baby." Jake grunts, slamming his hips against yours."Knew you could take it."

"You just love us making you a mess." Curtis adds, kneading one of your tits with a large hand. "Right, hon?"

The sound you make is nowhere near human as you cum over Jake's cock so hard your legs lock around his hips. Jake isn't far behind, trying and failing to contain his gasping groan when he empties himself into your cunt. You must black out for a few seconds because when your eyes flutter open again, the toy is off and Jake and Curtis are cuddling into you; Jake still slightly breathless and Curtis stroking your hair.

"Happy Valentine's Day, hon." Curtis murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Yeah, what he said." Jake mumbles into with pillow, glasses askew.

You chuckle dreamily, unable to think of a more perfect way to spend the day. "Right back at ya."

END

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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[gremlin-girly]

No Good Deed

Biker!Bucky x cafe owner! F! Reader

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Not beta'd. Dividers by @/bernardsbendystraws | Banner by me, made in canva, images from canva and Pinterest (credit to the original creators). All of my work is 18+. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Tags/warnings: descriptions of violence, a mention of sexual threat, blood, injury, smidge of angst (but there's fluff)

Summary: The aftermath of the night before has to be discussed.

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day ❤️

When your good eye creaks open, encrusted with what must be sleep or maybe even blood, you're not too sure where you are. The light is blinding and after a momentary panic that you were crossing over, your optical nerve comes to life and you blink a hospital room into existence.

It's overstimulating. The white light from the window. The beep of your heart monitor. The breathing of someone next to you. Someone? You turn your head, slowly, though it doesn't help the pain.

It's a man. Your heart leaps, monitor beeping a little faster - Bucky? - but when your brain registers that he has chubby proportions and Sheriff's hat over his sleeping eyes, you know it's Bodecker.

"Hey. Close the curtains." your voice is hoarse. Barely there. But Bodecker still startles awake.

"Jesus Christ." He hisses under his breath, hands gripping the arms of the chair. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he'd seen a ghost.

He gets up quickly and draws the curtains closed, crossing the room again with measured, quieter steps. The room is dark, blissfully dark again, save for the dim glow of the nightlight next to you. Your head sinks into the lumpy pillow and you sigh.

"It wasn't Bucky." Are the next words out of your mouth.

Bucky had admitted to you in passing once that, whilst Bodecker could be a lazy son of a bitch, he often helped Bucky and his gang and could be trusted with some things. Other more serious crimes, especially to do with women and kids, Bodecker tended to lock-in like a dog with a bone and would enlist the help of Bucky if need be. But circumstances like that were rare in Briarridge - a quiet scenic town. Bodecker was more likely

"I know it wasn't Bucky." Bodecker sighs. It's exasperated - lack of sleep making him grumpier than usual. "That dumbass is many things but a wife-beater ain't one. Besides," Bodecker snorts. "He was on the scene not long after us."

If you could blink in surprise, you would. "He was?"

"Yep." Bodecker says re-taking his seat, the small chair creaking uncomfortably beneath him. "And he's in holding 'til-" he checks his watch before flashing you a soft smile. "Ten a.m."

"Do I want to ask why he's in holding?" You try to keep your voice level, unsure if you wanted to smile or be furious with Bucky.

"One of my officers wouldn't let him through, you know, active crime scene and all." Bodecker leans back, laying his fingers together over the pudge of his stomach. "Y'can imagine how well that went down."

"I said I'd stick with you 'til you woke up. That seemed to calm him down." When you focus your blurry gaze you can see the sheriff smile kindly at you. "He's real sweet on you, darlin'. I don't think I've ever seen him like this about a woman before."

"Thanks." You say weakly.

You can't tell if the acidic feeling in your chest is fury at Bucky for not being here when you woke up, heartburn, or the anxious need to be held by your boyfriend. Boyfriend.

Before you can ruminate further on the word, it's meaning and the mess of feelings stirring in your gut, your room door slams open; startling you and the sheriff.

"Goddammit, Federson!" Bodecker barks furiously at his deputy, a young guy who looks like a skittish hare locked in the eyes of an oncoming truck. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Federson's eyes lock onto you and he visibly pales, stuttering out a response. You must look like hell. "I- I- um sorry, sheriff I was jus' wondering if I could get anything?"

Bodecker's lips twitch upwards into a cold smirk as he addresses his deputy. "Go 'n get some cocoa, Ferderson. Two cups."

Ferderson nods and backs out of the room, still looking a little green around the gills. It makes you want to laugh - but you don't know why. Bodecker turns back to you, his blue eyes cold and piercing through the dim light of your room - before softening.

"I'm sorry about him, darlin'. He's..." Bodecker tries to think of a polite word before settling on, "...young."

"It's alright," you try to smile, but it hurts too much. Bodecker seems to notice and his gaze hardens.

"I can't promise ya I'll find the sonuvabitch that did this," He half growls. "But believe me, I'll damn sure try."

You don't need to look at him to know he's telling the truth. You can hear it in his voice - the promise - and whilst you're too weak to answer more than a meager thank you, you know that Bodecker can see the fat tear of appreciation roll down your cheek.

Ferderson returns, awkwardly sloshing himself with cocoa as he enters. He hands a cocoa each to you and Bodecker, hands shaking, before wiping his hands on his perfectly pressed pants.

"Thanks Ferderson. I need you to speak with the nurses and start taking some statements."

"Sir?"

"If anyone has come in with any suspicious injuries lately. I doubt they have but we need to be thorough. I'll take her statement. When you're done, watch the door."

Ferderson looks like he's about to argue with his superior but thinks better of it and nods his head before disappearing again. Bodecker sighs. You know what's coming next. Bodecker has the decency to look pained to ask you about giving a statement, to relay the last few traumatic hours of your life onto a tiny voice recorder.

"'M sorry to have to ask you darlin' but are you feelin' up to givin' me your statement?"

The whole town would know about this by now. The new girl in town, who meddled with bikers, beaten and left for...

Well, you were unsure if they meant to leave you for dead or not.

The townsfolk would probably blame Bucky even though it wasn't him. So, that being said, you should probably make the statement and clear his name. Swallowing down bile, you nod, and begin to recount the evening.

You're not sure how you manage to hold it together. Bodecker is surprisingly sweet, handing you a hankie when he notices your lip quiver and a stray tear rolls down your cheek and he insists that it "ain't a problem, sugar" when you thank him for it.

When you finally reach the end of your beating, told with eerie calmness, Bodecker puts a warm hand over your cold one. He offers you a kind smile.

"It's okay, darlin'. You're doing great. You ain't got cameras or anything?" He asks gently.

Your eyes flicker from his to your handbag. "I was just about to tell you the rest..."

The masked men had taken you upstairs to where your apartment had been ransacked. You had kicked and screamed at first but after your foot had connected with the jaw of one of your assailants, you had been stunned to silence with a hard punch to the face and the threat of "giving you a real reason to cry."

The next two hours were brutal. Face bloodied from what you'd later find out was a broken nose, you endured a beating that left breaks and fractures when you couldn't and often refused to answer questions about Bucky and the White Wolves. The man who had threatened you with more than a beating was the main aggressor - taking great pleasure in your pain. He barked orders. A second was more stoic, joining in when the first got tired. And the third... he was meek. Scared. He was the one who finally convinced them to leave after two hours and no information could be pried from you.

"Tell Bucky that if doesn't leave this town, he'll have more than just one dead biker to grieve." The first one sneered, so close to your face that you could almost taste his rancid breath. Your blood turned to ice and you curled in on yourself and whimpered in terror and two of your assailants chuckled as they left.

You waited until they had descended the stairs and you heard the jingle of the bell above your door, before sobbing uncontrollably. It hurt. Everything hurt. Where was Bucky? You wanted him and needed him to be with you. You force yourself to sit up against the counter, the brief moment of vulnerability over. You shuffle painfully over to the stairs and, with your arms shaking, you lower yourself down onto the first step.

You either had a broken or bruised a rib because the pain that shot up through your nerves almost had you letting go of the stairs out of shock. Every step you lowered yourself down was agony. Cuts and bruises that had began to swell screamed everytime they brushed the wood but you persevered until you got to the foot of the stairs and took hollow breaths before dragging yourself to the café kitchen.

You kept your second laptop hidden in the café store cupboard in a fireproof lockbox with other important documents like the original copies of the deed to the café, insurances and your passport. It was only a cheap little thing, compact enough to fit in the lockbox and easy to access. You'd bought it not long after the fire at The Den, deciding it was better safe than sorry when you'd be housing and hooking up with the leader of a bike gang. You hadn't expected to be sorry so soon.

Another benefit of being with Bucky meant that you got to steal all of his good ideas like dummy cameras and after booting up the laptop, which took an unnecessarily long time, you logged in and brought up your security software. It wasn't a true security software - but nannycams were easily hidden, discreet cameras that could be placed in both your apartment, kitchen and café and go undetected... and were surprisingly easy to set up. You'd installed them your first week moving in, in fact the day after you first met Bucky. Thank God for self-preservation and modern technology.

The software flashes and six screens appear one by one. The kitchen, a camera in the store cupboard facing the lock box, three areas of your café (just above the counter, across the shop floor and facing the door) and the final shot of your tiny living room-cum-kitchen in your apartment.

Every camera still alive and well.

You breathe a painful sigh of relief and rummage the lockbox for your spare thumbdrives, another great idea you had implemented in case of an emergency such as this. You begin the painfully long process of downloading the last twelve hours of footage into a folder, struggling to steel yourself when flashes of your assailants or your broken body appear on the screen.

Standing with the help of the counter behind you, you hobble out to the kitchen and get yourself a glass of water, rinsing your mouth of blood. You contemplate calling Bucky for a second and decide against it. You don't know where your phone is other than upstairs, or if it's broken beyond repair. You swil out your mouth again. You also don't know if he'd answer.

Your body begs for a break, for respite. To cower in fear and to sleep on the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor but you refuse. You can't cry. It hurts too much, both emotionally and physically. You need to be strong. Resilient. You have to be what you need because no one else will help you but yourself.

You steel yourself against the counter as your legs threaten to betray you, adrenaline waning fast. You cross your arms and lean over the sink, crying out as your ribs take the weight of your body.

A hospital is what you need. Morphine. Darkness seeps to the corners of your vision. Goddammit. You're going to pass out again. You ease yourself to the floor and lie flat, letting the darkness claim you...

Thirty minutes. You're out cold for thirty minutes. It feels like an age. It takes you a moment to recognise your own café's kitchen; you're not used to seeing it from the floor. You feel more sluggish than earlier and your right eye swollen shut from one of the punches you'd had. Every move you make causes waves of pain and you swear up and down that you can hear bones grind together like crumpled paper.

The footage is almost finished transferring. Two copies. One for the cops. One for you. You can't trust anyone. You can't risk the footage vanishing like your assailants. You don't know who to trust from the police department. Bodecker seemed decent enough - but anyone with a vendetta against Bucky meant they couldn't be trusted to handle your case.

You silently promise yourself to omit the existence of a second copy in your statement to the police as you take a shaky sip of the remanants of luke-warm water in your glass. And to omit the existence of your lockbox. Those two pieces are need-to-know information for your closest allies and right now - that only seems to be you.

"A USB drive?" Bodecker looks wide eyed at the small thumb drive in your handbag. "You have cameras set up?"

"I'm a woman who lives alone." You say pointedly. "And last I checked a biker gang ran the town. Give me some credit, Sheriff."

Bodecker smiles sheepishly. "Well, props to you for being so conscientious, sugar. If we catch these guys we can make sure they go to jail. You have any family or friends you can call? Stay with?" Bodecker asks. "I know Bucky's dealin' with his own issues right now."

"'M not telling my family about this. If they knew they'd shackle me in the basement." You shake your head with a sigh. "Besides, I'm not about to be scared out of the town I built my business in. It ain't happening."

Bodecker's eyebrows raise and he smiles, impressed. "Maybe that's not such a bad thing till this blows over. But I can see why Bucky likes you. You're full of fighting spirit."

You manage a humorless smile that makes your jaw ache. "Thanks Sheriff. Just do me a favour?"

"Sure, sugar."

"Try to keep Bu-"

Before you can finish, there's a slam of doors followed by gasps and clatters of equipment.

"DOLL?!"

"Oh for God's sake." You groan, eyes fluttering shut as you lie back onto the uncomfortably lumpy hospital pillow. You don't know how Bucky managed to find your ward but he was the last person you wanted to see in this state after recounting hands-down the most traumatic event of your life.

Bodecker raises an eyebrow at you. "Want me to tell Ferderson to barricade the door?"

"You think that'll stop him?" You arch your crusty eyebrow at him and Bodecker sighs and shrugs, waving at his jittery deputy peeking through the small window to let Bucky through the door, hurriedly stuffing the USB into his breastpocket and getting to his feet.

Bucky all but shoves Ferderson out of the way to get to you but screeches to a halt once he sees your face. He visibly pales - just like Ferderson had - colour drained in an instant. God, you must really look like shit.

"I'll give you two some privacy." Bodecker glances at you one last time and nods curtly. "I'll be just outside - holler if you need anything."

You half-nod back, still unable to fully move your neck, and appreciate Bodecker's hidden meaning; that if you decide you don't want Bucky around, he'll remove him for you.

Bodecker claps Bucky on the shoulder as he passes and mumbles something to him, something that makes Bucky swallow harshly, blue eyes still wide and fixated on you. The sheriff nods again before giving Bucky a cautious once over, edging past and exiting the room. Your turn your head away to look at the wonderfully ugly hospital curtains over your window.

The room seems darker than you remember, colder too, and you find yourself unable to focus on the patterns of the curtains for very long without feeling sick. Instead you look at your bruised wrists and battered knuckles that attempted to block the blows and kicks of your assailants.

The silence is heavy, grounded in unspoken words. Minutes pass without a word between you.

"Who did this to you?"

You almost don't recognise Bucky's voice. It's quiet - too quiet - the dangerous undertone a growl away from being bone-chillingly calm. You don't bother looking up when you shrug.

"Don't know." You say, voice barely above a whisper. You don't trust yourself to speak louder for the same reason you can't look at Bucky; because you'd cry. "They wore masks."

What good was crying? Your fingers scrunch the thin material of your bedding and ache with pain but you can't bring yourself to care. Crying hurt too much.

"Did they say who they were?"

"Why the fuck would they tell me for?" You snap, whipping your head around regardless of the pain that sears down your neck, with eyes like a storm and you see Bucky visibly recoil at the sight of your swollen eye. Your lip quivers.

"I thought it was you." You say finally, voice jumping three octaves more than you would like. "I thought you had come back. I thought I was getting an apology. Or at least another argument."

Your voice wobbles as you recall stepping across the threshold of your home and hoping to see Bucky, only to find three masked men waiting for you. "And you weren't there."

Silence falls again, your words filled with venom and hatred although you know it's not Bucky's fault. Well - you supposed you could argue it wasn't if Bucky was normal - but then he wouldn't be Bucky.

You should tell him to get lost. You shouldn't let him stay. But after the night you've had, Bucky brings comfort and safety. He brings normal.

Your hands tremble with anger. Your ribs cage your heart and lungs squeezing hard, leaving no room for air. You want Bucky close, to feel those warm hands caress your swollen cheeks but you also wanted him out of your sight.

Looking across the room to your neatly folded, bloodied clothes on the sterile plastic armchair you let your body slump again. You're tired of fighting today. Tired of the games. It would do you no good to bite Bucky's head off for something out of his control. Still, it didn't change the fact that it happened because of him. The atrocity of your beating was a message intended for Bucky and the White Wolves and anyone else who stood by them.

You were a pawn in a game you weren't even playing. A game you very much didn't want to play and hadn't ever wanted to.

Your sigh fills the room. Bucky hasn't moved, hasn't spoken. You wonder what he's thinking.

Your anger isn't because you wanted him there to protect you - rather ironically, you had wanted him to be there in the aftermath as the comforting, unsung anti-hero of the hour like in a damn movie so that he would still remain safe. But this wasn't a movie. This was reality.

You blink away tears again. You weren't prepared to have this revelation today. You didn't want it and you certainly didn't need it.

"Why are you here?"

"To see you."

"You've seen me." Your voice holds no emotion only exhaustion.

"Not like this and you know it."

"How did you know I was here?"

"I came back."

You suck in a breath. "What do you mean?"

"I left Steve in charge. He was the one who convinced me to come back to you. To apologise." He explains. "Drove all the way without stopping. Thinkin' about where would be open to get you flowers, thinkin' of a real way to make it up to you... only to come back and find your café surrounded by cops and- and-"

He sniffs then and you purse your lips tight, willing yourself to hold back the dam of emotions threatening to overflow and overwhelm you. He came back. He came back.

"I'm sorry." He says finally, voice barely above a whisper. You hear the shuffle of biker boots across the sterile linoleum floor. "I should have been there. I should never have left. I should never had said it was just a café- God, I-"

Another step.

"Doll, I-" he sucks in a breath; harsh and quick. He soinds as broken as he looks. "God, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

A touch. Fingers on your arm. You flinch. The fingers retreat. You still can't look at him. It hurts too much. Your face. Your ribs. Your heart. Maybe your liver too.

"No one would tell me anything." His knuckles wrap around the metal frame of your bed, tightening with creak. "I was so fucking scared that you were-" He stops himself, like he's unable to finish the sentence. So you do it for him.

"Dead? Worse?" You look over at him again amd wish you hadn't. He looks like a mess - annoyingly, still a hot mess - but his hair is windswept and his eyes downcast, gripping the side of your bed like he's on a roller coaster he can't get off. Yet, you can't bring yourself to be angry at him.

"Yippee for you I'm one tough cookie then huh?" You joke, though your voice wavers and in that split second you see Bucky's periwinkle blue eyes glance up to yours, red and wet with tears, and your already broken heart shatters.

Part of you wants to reach out and touch him. To wipe away his tears and assure him you're fine despite how you look - despite what your chart says. And part of you wants to tell him it's his fault your here.

Your hand is heavy when you lift it to rest on his and you breathe a sigh of contentment when you feel the cool of his rings indent into your flesh.

"Don't beat yourself up over it." You tell him softly, resigning to listen to your better part. "And don't go and do something stupid either. Well, stupid-er." You give him the best sideways glance you can. "Bodecker told me you got put in holding overnight."

Tears still roll down his cheeks as he lets out a sharp laugh of surprise. "Yeah. I did." He turns serious again. "Cupcake, I-"

"James." You cut him off with a sad smile. "Don't do that either."

"You don't even know what I was going to say." Bucky murmurs, his other hand encapsulating yours, thumb gently grazing your bruised knuckles.

"You were going to apologise. Again." You say. "It's not your fault."

"It is." Bucky argues back, voice breaking. "It's because of who I am. And I dragged you right into this mess because I-... because I couldn't help myself. Fuck - I wanted you so bad and was so-"

"Reckless?" You offer with a chuckle. "Which one of us looked at the leader of a biker gang and decided to slash his tyres? And who and invited him to temporarily live with her?" You shake your head lightly and squeeze his hand weakly. "You're lucky I'm stupid enough to love you."

There's a sharp intake of breath and for a moment you can't tell if it's from you or Bucky, until quivering lips wet with tears, press against your knuckles.

"I love you too, doll." Bucky whispers. "God, so much." He sniffs as he wipes away some of your tears from your cheek with a touch as soft as velvet. "Can I… Could I stay for a while? Please?"

"Sure." You give him a cheeky smile, ignoring the ache it causes. "It's your turn to play nurse."

"I don't think I'd make a very good nurse." His bottom lip quivers again as he releases a shaky breath, rubbing his eyes with his left hand and trying to keep another sniff quiet. Bucky moves into the seat Bodecker was previously in and scooches forward closer to your bed.

"I don't know - I think if you asked to borrow some scrubs you'd look pretty sexy." You murmur, eyes fluttering. "Or maybe that's the morphine talkin'."

"Shh, Cupcake." Bucky coos. "Rest up. I'm not leaving you again." Then more firmly, adds. "I promise."

"I don't wanna go to sleep," you sigh, eyes fully closed. "You came back."

"And I'll be here when you wake up this time." Bucky assures you, kissing your hands. "Go to sleep doll. I'm right here."

You hum in acknowledgement before drifting to sleep with a small smile on your lips.

You & Bucky: Tied

Part 8 END

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A/N 2: I was tempted to have the fight go on longer but I must be in a loving mood today because this was their first I Love You too. ❤️

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[gremlin-girly]

Golden Boy

Dog shifter!Jake Jensen x female reader (nicknamed Birdie)

<- Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 -> | Series Masterlist | Navigation

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Headers and dividers made in Canva with pics from Pinterest (credit to OG creators).

🐾tags/warnings: descriptions/hints to past abuse (mentions of the pound, dog fighting but not in great detail), supernatural elements, meet ugly if you consider it that, only one bed if you also squint

🐾Summary: You meet Jake for the first time.

🐾Word Count: 1.6k

You had moved from under the bed to instead start pacing your room. Occaisonally you would stop to look at your dog, whose tail would wag as he watched you intensely, like he was waiting for you to say something more than just multiple beginnings of sentences. How do you even address this? You bite the fingernail of your thumb anxiously and begin to pace again.

You were certifiably insane.

You look over your shoulder and lo and behold, there is still a golden retriever sat there. You don't know what you expect to see everytime you look over to him but now your head hurts. It's a dog. And yet…

"Were you… " You begin for the umpteenth time, internally kicking yourself for sounding so insanely stupid. He probably just bobbed his head! He's a dog. "…in the shower?"

It takes a long moment, complete with eye contact, before something happens. You almost miss it but he most definitely nods his head again.

"You were in the shower?" You repeat - just to check you really weren't seeing things - and he nods his head again. You reel backwards, raking your hands into your hairline. Was this a trick someone had taught him? Maybe you should stop watching Supernatural before bed. "And you've been eating my food?"

This time, it's a sheepish nod - face down, eyes wide and apologetic.

"Have you been… " You take a breath, trying not to sound anxious. "…Watching me?"

You expect another nod - hoping for your theory that it's a trick he's been taught is correct. However, you recieve a vehement shake of the head. You exhale slowly, trying to gather fleeting thoughts as they hide in the wrinkles and corners of your brain. Do you want to know what he is? Or even who he is? Do you need to do some research on how to kill him? Or would he kill you first? What kind of a monster are you dealing with?

Or are you even dealing with a monster at all?

That thought stops your spiral in its tracks and you begin to recount everything he's done in the last two weeks since you found him. Someone still tied him up and left him in a storm - unless he did that himself - but then why be so distressed? You didn't know the dog's age other than the vet saying he was probably four or five - what if he was a child?

"That's the first time you've licked me." You say dumbly before looking down at him. "You lie at my feet at night. You check the perimeter twice a day. You-" Your eyes flicker to his and you take a short breath. "You protect me."

Your golden barks once - affirmative.

Swallowing nervously you continue. "Then I should show you some trust. Can you show me what- who you are? Please?"

The dog ponders a moment before nodding and gets to his feet - but jerks his head at you almost shyly when you're still watching him.

"Oh! Sorry!" You squeak, spinning to face the wall. Heat crawls up your cheeks from embarassment and you wonder if you're protective pooch will be as cute as a human as he was as a dog. There's a scratching sound of claws on wood, quiet grumbles against the sound of popping - which make you shift on your feet with unnease. There's a soft sound on fabric on fabric and when a human voice clears it's throat you take that as your cue to turn around.

Draped in one of the musty blankets folded across the end of your bed is a man. A tall one. So tall, in fact, that the blanket barely grazes his knees and you fight to keep your eyes upward and fixated and a flushed, handsome face with blond tips of hair damp and flat against his head. Blue eyes sheepishly try to maintain contact with yours but he looks ready to bolt if necessary - not that you can blame him.

"You're…" You start and realise your brain hasn't decided on what to say next and awkwardly try to play it cool as you finish with, "-Hotter than I expected."

His cheeks darken and you pull a face somewhere between mortified and disappointed at your own words.

"Oh my God. I'm sorry. That was- weird. I shouldn't have said that." You blab hurriedly, flapping your hands. "Ignore me, um, er-"

"Jake." He blurts back, blue eyes back on your face. "And it's not that weird all things considered."

"Jake." You repeat and chuckle sheepishly. "Obviously you have a name."

"Obviously." Jake teases and offers a playful grin that immediately infects you with a bashful smile - and you could have sworn if he was still a dog his tail would be wagging. "So, um…" You clear your throat. "How long have you been able to…" you gesture vaguely. "Do that?"

"Turn into a dog?" Jake asks, his head tilting slightly. "Erm, since a kid, I guess. Happened more as a teen with hormones…and stuff."

"Ah. Makes sense." You say, then open your mouth to ask a question, seemingly think better of it, and close it again.

Jake shifts uncomfortably but says, "Ask."

"Is it always a dog?" You blurt. "Or can you impersonate other animals or-" you clamp your mouth shut but Jake knows you meant to say people.

"Just a dog - the same dog." He nods and then clears his own throat. "For the record I'm not some creep. I met you by complete chance."

"Uhhh…" You don't really know what to say. You don't want to admit you inexplicably believe and trust him. God knows you're too trusting. Instead you opt to ask him how he became tied to the tree in the first place.

"I was laying low for a while. It's a long story but the short version is that my friends and I are hiding from some bad people. Being a dog meant I could hide in plain sight." Jake shifts again, looking at his feet. "But I got taken to the pound… and then a gang that runs a dog-fighting ring got a hold of me. Because I would cause so much trouble, making escape attempts, howling all day and refusing to kill other dogs they decided I wasn't worth the effort to keep around."

"Oh my God. That's horrible!" You exclaim and then you give him a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Continue."

Jake returns your smile and continues with new-found confidence. "Shooting me would have raised too much attention and the guy that tied me up didn't have the heart to harm me in any other way… And then a few hours later, just before I decide to shift and try to avoid an arrest for public indecency, you found me." Jake chuckles and clicks his tongue. "And I thought I could get away with being a domestic pet - lay low, keep my head down and leave in a few weeks. And then," Jake winces, as if bracing for you to yell at him but his voice drops to a growl. "I saw the email you got sent. And I realised I couldn't just leave you. Not with that monster still around."

His blue eyes peek up at you and despite being physically taller, he had mastered the apologetic puppy-dog eyes that made it impossible to even think of being mad at him. And you had to admit, the sweet yet protective human before you was incredibly endearing - even if the situation at hand made your brain a little bit mushy. However, when you say nothing, he continues to nervously babble.

"I was trying to contact my team to tell them I was okay! I wasn't being nosy, I promise. But if you want me to find him I can - I have a special set of skills - haha like Liam Neeson in Taken… Okay, okay. Erm-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. And sorry for lying and scaring you and I totally get it if you want me gone-"

"I don't want you gone!" You exclaim and then shyly turn in on yourself. "I feel safer with you around. It's so silly. I don't feel any less safe knowing you're not just a dog."

You hum and haw. "The whole shifters being real thing is hard to believe." You say slowly. "But I'll take what I can get right now."

Jake perks up immediately. "Really?"

You snort, imagining his tail wagging a mile a minute. "We'll have to figure out sleeping arrangements and everything but-"

"But I'm still happy to sleep on the floor." Jake blurts, shuffling slightly closer, huddled under the blanket.

"I was thinking more we could top and tail." You say trying to force a blush away from your cheeks. "Uh, with you like… this."

You gesture to his form and then look at the floor to save yourself from further embarassment. "Not because of what I said earlier or anything. Not that that's - oh God - erm - I just don't want to force you to be a dog all the time. Just when people visit… if that's okay with you?"

"More than okay."Jake nods but then adds. "But I still want to to do morning and evening patrols. Just for my peace of mind."

You nod back and bite your lip. "I feel that we have so much to talk about. I don't know if I even want to go to sleep yet."

Jake grins at you. "Ditto. Maybe after the visit tomorrow we can sit down and talk properly? About everything."

"That'd be… nice." You smile again and point to the bed. "Well. Let's, uh, get some shut eye before tomorrow. I have a feeling it will be a long day."

End

A/N: I wanted them to finally speak! Our little Birdie is so trusting of Jake but I'm hoping I can find the momentum to finish the next part (although I think @buck-star will help me with that!)

For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here

Jake: @stargazingfangirl18 @irishhappiness @Cieraboobear @doodooslay @shamrockqueen @alicedopey @awkwardgiraffe726 @late-to-the-party-81 @moonfairy182 @thechrysalisdiaries @lexie983 @stephstar28 @mommad @marvellover91 @fangfoxy @vicmc624 @bottldcries @maydayfigment @steviebbboi @cinnamongirlxlovesong @the_Ruler _Of_Death @ghoulsgraveyard

Tags for everything: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @brianochka @looking1016 @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @waywardwifey @peaches1958 @michaeladmorris @alexxavicry @lexie983 @wint3rbarnes @sunday-bug @barnes-babydoll @alicedopey @cakesandtom

[gremlin-girly]

Oh my sweet baby angel! After reading you Secret Admirer fic all I could think about was little post-its when you sent this ask 🙂‍↕️🥰 please enjoy!!

Office Sweetheart

For my Valentine's Extravaganza

Jake Jensen x shy!technologically inept! F!Reader

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+ Dividers are by

Tags/warnings: fluff!, Jake being dense, teeny tiny smidgen of self deprecation from Jakey

Summary: Jake gets an anonymous post-it note on his desk and sets about confirming whom he thinks left it for him.

Word count: 1,786

Navigation

Jake was used to seeing an array of post-its on his screen at work; reminders for different pieces of work, visitors, system checks, sometimes an obscene note left by one of his friends. However, among the fray this bright morning was one littered with hearts.

In typical Jake fashion he hadn't noticed it until Cougar pointed at it when they came back from the cafeteria with coffee.

"'Hope your day is as good as you look'?" Jake reads aloud, cheeks warming a little. "Man, remind me to ask Pooch to be his Valentine."

He doesn't think much else of it, brushing it off as a silly joke from his friend and puts it next to his mousepad; at the very least to remind him to give it back to Pooch when he saw him at lunch. However just before lunch, amidst remote laptop fixes and recording the repairs and issues into an online portal, a familiar face appears around the corner of the IT bar. Sheepish and bashful, you shuffle into the room holding your laptop.

"Hi Jake." Your voice is so quiet and soft he doesn't even jump, turning to look at you with a knowing smile.

"Please don't tell me you broke it again." He teases as you dutifully hand over your laptop.

Your cheeks burn. "I think I'm cursed."

"I think so too." Jake chuckles, opening the laptop and hitting the power button. No luck.

"Yes, I have put it on to charge. No, it shut down as usual yesterday evening and no I didn't spill anything on it." You rattle out the answers to the usual questions quickly, picking at the cuff of your sweater.

Somehow you were at the IT Bar every other day with some sort if technological issue. Your work phone would not register on the system. Then it got cut off. Then you got a new one that wouldn't even turn on. Then your laptop decided to deregister itself from the company cloud and you lost your files you'd been working on. This was your second laptop, one you watched Jake set up for you.

All of the above didn't even begin to account for the printers, coffee machines and sockets you had somehow managed to break; like the cutest hurricane dressed in oversized sweaters.

"Right okay, well, I'll give you a spare laptop for now and I'll hook it up and run diagnostics." Jake says and tries for a reassuring smile.

"Thanks." You give him a wry smile before your downcast eyes see his note. "Oh," you say pointing to the post-it. "Do you have an office sweetheart, Jensen?"

Jake feels the embarassment creep up his spine. Pooch will pay for this. "I, uh, no," he swallows. "I think it's Pooch playing a prank on me."

"Oh." You say, quietly. Jake couldn't tell if you sounded dejected or not.

"Yeah, he usually leaves me little notes- I-"

"Why do you think someone is playing a prank on you?" You ask, looking at him with a curious tilt to your head.

"Well, I mean, come on… look at me." You continue to watch him as he stumbles over his words and he wants the ground to swallow him whole.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," he gestures from his head down. "I look like this. No woman has ever shown interest in me so it's just weird to have it start now."

"I think you're cute!" You blurt and both you and Jake have to look away from eachother, trying to hide how hot your cheeks have become. "Sorry. But I don't find it surprising at all. Thanks for the laptop - I'll drop it off before I leave."

You hurry out before he can form a cohesive thought and he's light on his feet when he meets up with Pooch and his other friends in the cafeteria.

"You practically floated in." Clay chuckles taking a bite of his sandwich.

"And with that big dopey grin something good's got to have happened." Pooch adds, pulling out a neatly wrapped sandwich his wife had made him from his lunch bag.

Jake fills them in on the morning's events and all four - Clay, Pooch, Roque and Cougar - agree that the most likely suspect would be you.

"No- she - I-" Jake blusters, sagging in his chair. You only said he was cute right to spare his feelings, right? "No way."

"Uh, yes way." Roque snorts. "Didn't you say she asks for you by name now? Sends you direct emails when something goes wrong?"

Jake shrugs and murmurs, "It's just easier that way."

"A tech savant and a tech destroyer - a match made in heaven." Pooch adds with a laugh. "Isn't she the one you always say is cute too?"

Jake shrinks in his chair. "Yes."

Clay raises an eyebrow at him. "Then don't you think you should leave her a note back?"

"And say what? What if it's not her?" Jake asks, looking to each of his friends. "That would be humiliating."

"Not as humiliating as never asking her out in the first place." Roque says pointing a finger at Jake. Cougar nods in agreement.

Jake sighs. "Hrm. Maybe."

After lunch, Jake goes to enlist the help of the one person he knows could help him confirm without a shadow of a doubt it was you who left the note and help advise him on a potential office romance.

"Peeps, please. Can you ask Curtis and Mace to check the cameras?"

"For the last time, there are no cameras in the IT bar Jensen." Peeps says biting into her sandwich as she types one-handed. Eating through her lunch again - typical. "And you would have to ask security - not egineering - apart from the fact it would be a breach in security to let you look at staff through the cameras."

"It would only be for this morning." Jake pleads. "Pretty please?"

Peeps turns to him with a narrowed glare. "Why?"

Jake blushes. "It's not important. Just curious."

"I need to know if it's for security purposes." Peeps says after a cautious bite of her sandwich. "Is it?"

"No… Just a personal matter." Jake shifts on his feet and grabs the chair next to Peeps, shuffling closer. Peeps raises an eyebrow but waits for him to continue. "Look, I got a note on my desk this morning and I want to confirm it's who I think it's from."

"Was it bad?" You look aghast. "Because if that's the case I-"

"No! No, they're um…" Jake shrugs. "Complimentary."

Peeps snorts. "Sounds like a real pain."

"Can you help me?" Jake asks again, slightly desperate. "I just don't want to embarass myself."

Peeps sighs, setting her sandwich down. "No, I can't. It's against company policy unless it was a threat or an accusation of bullying - of which it is neither." Peeps gives Jake a knowing smile. "But I think I know who it may be. You said you wanted to ask me something else?"

Now it's Jake's turn to sigh. "Well, if speaking to her goes well - I'll ask you then."

Peeps gives him a reassuring smile and a pat on the arm. "Chin up, Jensen. If she's leaving you notes, I'd say you're in with a chance."

Peeps' smile widens as Curtis and Mace appear - although she seemingly doesn't notice how the burly engineers assess Jake with scowls. Jake quickly excuses himself to let Peeps and her (what did she call them again? Oh yeah-) dust mites to finish their lunches in peace.

As he walks back to his desk he subconsciously wanders past the bank of desks where you usually sit and when he looks over, you're sat alone eating your lunch with your headphones in, doomscrolling on your phone.

You're in your own little bubble - one he desperately wants to pop in order to ask you if you were the one to leave him that note. But you look too peaceful and he can't bring himself to do it; he instead continues walking back to his own little desk at the IT Bar, missing the way your eyes flicker up as he walks by.

After being swamped with work, Jake forgets to speak with you and you must have come in early to confirm the checkout of a loan-laptop because your name and signature is at the bottom of the sign-out sheet.

Jake nods in approval, taking a sip of coffee that ignites the seemingly useless two braincells he posseses, and checks the sign-out sheet again. It looks similar to the handwriting on the post-it but to be sure - he retrieves the post-it (because of course he didn't throw it away) and places it at the side of the sign-out sheet.

The writing is identical. Like you hadn't bothered to hide it.

Jake then realised that it was a rare occasion that you weren't at the office early… leaving you plenty of time to write the note, leave it at his desk and go back to yours long before he even arrived. He sits back in his chair holding his note, dumbfounded… before getting to work.

You're only gone from your desk for ten minutes max when you return to find your borrowed laptop with a note stuck to it from Jake reading: Mystery Solved :)

You smile to yourself and take your seat, setting your coffee off to the side as you open the lid. After logging in, your baffled to find that your screensaver isn't the company logo, as usual, but rather cute cartoon mice holding hands and big bright red letters across the screen:

Will you be my Valentine?

It takes a squiggle of your mouse to find two hidden check boxes of Yes and no, but you're so flustered it takes you a moment to click 'yes' after trying to cool your cheeks. Much to your horror, a loud triumphant sound screams from your laptop and you slam it shut but not before catching the attention of your coworkers; to whom you sheepishly apologise and rush off to the IT Bar where your Valentine awaits.

Although, you have to wonder what prompted such a sudden display of interest. You're glad, if not slightly peeved, Jake managed to ask you out before you asked him but you're not one to complain: especially when his face lights up when you arrive, grinning ear to ear when you answer his question in person with a resounding "Yes!"

END

❤️

Extra:

"Do you think the post-it was a bit much?"

"Nah," Peeps waves a hand at Clay. "She always tries to avoid Jensen 'cause she gets too shy. I think it was perfect."

"Told you it would work." Pooch huffs and then nudges Peeps' arm. "Tell Mace I said thanks for coming in so early to leave that note."

Peeps nods with a smile. "You betcha. Hopefully, now that we won't have the lovesick office sweethearts making goo-goo eyes at eachother every ten minutes, we can actually do some work."

That earns Peeps a few chuckles and a snort from Roque. "Yeah, keep dreaming."

For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here

Tags for everything: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @brianochka @looking1016 @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @waywardwifey @peaches1958 @michaeladmorris @alexxavicry @lexie983 @wint3rbarnes @sunday-bug @barnes-babydoll @alicedopey @cakesandtom

Jake: @stargazingfangirl18 @irishhappiness @Cieraboobear @doodooslay @shamrockqueen @alicedopey @awkwardgiraffe726 @late-to-the-party-81 @moonfairy182 @thechrysalisdiaries @lexie983 @stephstar28 @mommad @marvellover91 @fangfoxy @vicmc624 @bottldcries @maydayfigment @steviebbboi @cinnamongirlxlovesong @the_Ruler _Of_Death @ghoulsgraveyard

[gremlin-girly]

Hey Grem ❤️ For your Valentine’s extravaganza, I would love a follow up of Valentine’s menu with Lloyd. Maybe the reader could be the one to prepare something for him, maybe because she got something to tell him 👀🤭

(Or whatever triggers your muse for them ☺️) 😘

ALICE hello! Ahhh I loved this thank you! Please humbly accept a very fluffy Lloyd for your ask 🥰

Attempted Menu

Lloyd Hansen x f!wife reader (follow up from last year's Valentine's Menu)

Part of my Valentine's Extravaganza

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Dividers by: @/enchanthings-a

Tags/warnings: Fluff, vomiting/retching mention, crying from reader (but it's not sad), petnames (honey, sweetcheeks etc), 18+ for mentions of sex and Lloyd being... Lloyd, pregnancy reveal

Summary: You try and surprise your husband when he gets home from a work trip.

Word count: 908

You had planned a steak dinner with all the trimmings. Fondant potatoes perfectly crisp baked with garlic and rosemary butter, green beans parboiled and tossed in the same butter but then tossed in grated parmesan and baked until there was the hint of a crunch and finally, the pist de resistance, a medium rare steak fillet.

Again, this is what you had planned for your husband's return after a month-long work trip. The current state of your planned meal was as follows; burnt green beans, fondant potatoes drowned in so much butter they were spongy, calorific messes and raw steak fillets abandoned on the counter. You had been in tears trying to fix your mess and had been sobbing on the kitchen floor for half an hour - wishing your husband was home.

But when your wish is granted, you cry harder. Lloyd double takes at the scene before him and isn't sure what to think. He'd missed you so much and whilst he was sure you felt the same, seeing you cry harder at his appearance made him wonder if maybe his choice in new shirt was as bad as Nick had said.

He tiptoes over to you, crouching to look you in the eyes. "Hi, honeybear." He coos. "I expected you to be a bit weepy but this is a bit much."

You sniffle and hiccup a few times before you manage to babble out that you're so happy to see him and you were trying to surprise him.

"It certainly is a surprise." Lloyd chuckles, brushing some hair from your face. "What even happened?"

"I was making your favourite," you say, voice quivering. "Everything was going well and then I touched the meat and- and-" your voice raises in pitch as you become hysterical again, and Lloyd shushes you softly.

"And what happened when you touched the meat honey?"

"It made me so sick. I couldn't stop throwing up." You cry into his shirt, feeling worse for ruining the surprise you had attempted to plan.

"Was the meat bad or something?" Lloyd queries, knowing he hadn't smelt anything but burnt beans and butter.

"No…" you sniff. "It just felt gross."

Lloyd blinks at you. "Raw meat tends to feel that way."

"But then I thought about eating it and -" you heave and Lloyd springs up, grabbing the nearest bowl-shaped item and rushing to get you a glass of water. He rubs your back as you heave and cry into the bowl and feels like he's missed something important - but can't place what.

"What's with all of these tears? You don't usually cry over meat unless it's mine." Lloyd says lightly earning him a glare. "That's my girl." He adds proudly and then more softly, "You're okay, I'm home now."

After you have calmed yourself and are not heaving anymore you slump against him and let your husband rub reassuring circles on your back.

"Thanks, baby." You murmur. "'M sorry I couldn't make your food."

"Don't be. I'm just glad you're not crying anymore." He says before chuckling to himself. "God, it's like you're pregnant or something."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, you tense in his arms - and suddenly, it all clicks into place. The sobbing over the food, the retching over raw meat, even wearing his old baggy college tee to hide the beginnings of a bump - not to mention the way you'd not shown him anything lower than your chest on videocalls for the last few weeks…

"Are you?"

You look up at him with wide eyes brimming with fresh tears and nod your head. Lloyd breaks into a smile as a burst of surprise laughter escapes him and a second later, he's smothering you in kisses until your laughing on the kitchen floor.

"We're gonna be parents!" He beams as you squeal under his tickling fingers. Then, in a lower voice he adds, "Ugh, you're gonna be such a fuckin' milf."

"Lloyd!" You swat at him as his touches turn more grabby and excitingly possessive.

"Nuh-Uh, sweetcheeks. My surprise is waiting in my pants and I have been dying to give it to you since I arrived home." He pecks kisses all over your face as you giggle at him, his moustache making your lips twitch. When his hands cup your face the World ceases to exist for a few seconds, his blue eyes boring into yours and with the sweetest smile on his face he murmurs, "You're going to be the best mom ever honey. I mean it. You're so beautiful and I can't wait for you to be extra crabby with me so I can tease you…. Maybe less crying over meat though. You won't ever have to touch it again - I'll hire someone."

You chuckle, putting a hand over his heart to heart the quick thud of its beat against your palm. "I love you so much. I couldn't imagine a better person to start a family with."

"Damn straight." Lloyd snorts before smirking down at you. "But, more importantly, my gift is waiting to be opened and I think there's some punishment in order for keeping such a big secret from me."

You go to protest but Lloyd silences you with a finger on your lips. "Ah-Ah. I'm not finished. And then after, you let me clean up the kitchen and buy you whatever you want. How's that sound?"

"Perfect." You nod your head, laughing as Lloyd helps you to your feet and chases you up the stairs, leaving your attempted menu long forgotten.

For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here

Tags for everything: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @brianochka @looking1016 @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @waywardwifey @peaches1958 @michaeladmorris @alexxavicry @lexie983 @wint3rbarnes @sunday-bug @barnes-babydoll @alicedopey @cakesandtom

Lloyd: @stargazingfangirl18 @shamrockqueen @ledatheswann @queen-honeybee-stories @shamrockqueen @awkwardgiraffe726 @late-to-the-party-81 @moonfairy182 @thechrysalisdiaries @lexie983 @stephstar28 @mommad @marvellover91 @pandaxnienke @bottldcries @cinnamongirlxlovesong @the_Ruler _Of_Death @ghoulsgraveyard @thezombieprostitute @soupiemeowmeow

[gremlin-girly]

Love your writing!!😍

If you’re feeling up to it I would love to make a request:

Could you write about a reader who is chronically ill (like frequent headaches, asthma, can’t walk for long periods, has to sit down, etc) and she feels inadequate to her supersoldier bf(s). But he/they remind her that she is kind, funny, and brings so much to their lives. They work together cause they’re the muscle and she’s the brains;) with lots of fluff and snuggles🥰

Hi Nonnie!!!

Thank you so much 🥺 I'm terrible with catching up with my asks and I know that this wasn't a part of my Valentine's Extravaganza but I couldn't stop thinking about this idea with your ask in mind. As someone who gets chronic migraines - I loved this ask. I hope you don't mind I added it to Valentine's day and I hope it does your ask justice!

For you, Anything.

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Dividers by: @/enchanthings-a

Tags/warnings: a little angsty to begin with but mostly fluff!, throuple (steve x you x bucky), mentions of migraines and reader being achy!

Summary: Valentine's Day doesn't go the way you hoped.

Word count: 741

Today was supposed to be a good day.

Yesterday you were achy; bone-tired from the bare minimum your body could handle, breathless in the worst way. And today, you had woken with the soft press of an on-coming migraine behind your eye socket which meant today - Valentine's day of all days - was a write off.

Crying hurts too much to do but the crushing weight of disappointment keeps you in bed for another hour. You try hyping yourself up to explain to your boyfriends that you wouldn't be able to go to the park for the day they had planned - but struggle to find the words that don't make you feel that you're giving an excuse. When you finally send a message, you only mention that you're sorry and that it's a migraine day, and perhaps you can all go out later.

You don't look at your phone for hours. Even after taking pain killers you feel sluggish and you don't want to move from your perfect spot on the couch, despite knowing you should be at least making an effort to report back to your supersoldier boyfriends.

You envy them. Only a little, but you do. Bucky and Steve both shared what it was like pre-serum; for Bucky the improvement wasn't as gargantuan as Steve's, who was ill all the time with a compromised immune system, asthma and who knows what else. You sometimes wished there was something for you to make your daily life easier - but your boyfriends insisted that was them. Which was relatively easy for two people who never got sick anymore.

You take a deep breath and exhale slowly trying to breathe through yet another throb - but from your legs this time. It wasn't their fault. You loved them immensely and they were such a great support for you. You just sometimes wished you could go on a Valentine's Day walk without your body deciding that it needed respite.

You don't get up when you hear the door - you've learned to know how each of your boyfriends open the door and it's not as if they're super quiet about it either.

Steve appears first, peeking over the sofa arm to kiss your forehead. "Hey sweetheart, how you feeling?"

"About as good as I can be." You reply with a small smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to see you of course." Bucky says wiggling two shopping bags. "We've brought Valentine's to you."

You move to sit up, shocked and awed, your heart thudding but before you can speak, Steve reveals a beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers that he had hidden behind his back.

"You deserve to be spoiled, on today more than ever." Steve says so softly your eyes begin to well. "Plus, we're soldiers. Did you think we didn't plan for this?"

"You planned for this?" You ask with a sniff.

Bucky moves around Steve to sit next to you, lifting your legs and placing them on top of his. "Yeah, doll. Spending time with the kindest, funniest most beautiful girl is at the top of our to do list - whether it's taking care of you, being couch potatoes or walking in a park."

Your lip quivers and Steve speaks again. "Besides, the forecast said it was gonna rain so we needed a back up."

His comment shocks you into a sudden spurt of laughter and your mood is lifted tenfold.

"I love you both so much." You say, wiping at your eyes before scooting over to make space for Steve.

"We love you too." They say in unison, wrapping their arms around you in one big cuddle pile.

"So what did you bring me?" You ask between super soldier snuggles.

"Well, we planned a picnic so we brought it to you but-" Steve begins but you interject.

"A picnic? In February?" You laugh.

Bucky snorts before placing a quick kiss to your neck that makes you squeal. "That's why your the brains and we're the brawn, darling."

"But we brought the picnic with us." Steve insists smiling. "And we're here to do your bidding all day."

"That sounds amazing." You say, squeezing them both as tight as you can. "Thank you so much."

"Don't thank us doll." Bucky chuckles. "We'd do anything for you." He kisses your cheek and Steve does the same. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day." You say with the brightest, smuggest grin you've worn all week.

END

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Tags for everything: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @brianochka @looking1016 @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @waywardwifey @peaches1958 @michaeladmorris @alexxavicry @lexie983 @wint3rbarnes @sunday-bug @barnes-babydoll @alicedopey @cakesandtom

Tags for Bucky: @irishhappiness @steviebbboi @awkwardgiraffe726 @railmesebstan @pandaxnienke @kei943 @norseloki26 @wintercrows @awkwardgiraffe726 @sebastians-love @valenzie @xamapolax @lonelyghosts-stuff @winchestert101 @read-just-cant-stop @queen-honeybee-stories @matchat3a @purplefluffycows @dontbescaredtosingalong @leeemabean @ryubyy @maydayfigment @bottldcries @ledatheswann @thechrysalisdiaries @fucky-barnes82 @sunday-bug @buckytakethewheel @screachingpeanutdinosaur @winterslove1917 @camie18 @aerago583 @theinheriteddutchess @everylthingf1 @iannepeyt @massivescissorsthingperson @vicmc624 @hazydespair @stephstar28 @spiderwebbedhearts

Steve: @stargazingfangirl18 @irishhappiness @Cieraboobear @doodooslay @steviebbboi @ledatheswann @ryubyy @maydayfigment @bottldcries @theinheriteddutchess @screachingpeanutdinosaur @vicmc624 @awkwardgiraffe726 @pandaxnienke @norseloki26 @fangfoxy xamapolax queen-honeybee-stories @leeemabean @iannepeyt @hazydespair everythingf1 @aerago583 @norseloki26 @shamrockqueen @awkwardgiraffe726 @late-to-the-party-81 @moonfairy182 @thechrysalisdiaries @lexie983 @stephstar28 @mommad @marvellover91

Stucky tags: @ledatheswann @ryubyy @maydayfigment @bottldcries @theinheriteddutchess @steviebbboi @pandaxnienke @norseloki26 @fangfoxy xamapolax queen-honeybee-stories @leeemabean @iannepeyt @hazydespair @everythingf1 @aerago583 @norseloki26 @late-to-the-party-81 @alicedopey @vicmc624

[gremlin-girly]

I’m not sorry at all, but this Andy, or Ari- and me… I just do photos of my pretty daddy while he’s all naked and waiting for me to get down on him.

I know you sent this twice 👀 and you are not wrong 🥵

But I do hope you enjoy this first of FOUR 👀🤣 for you my love 💓💓

Forfeit

A follow up to Triumph and part of my Valentine's Extravaganza

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+.

Tags/warnings: smut, improper use of Andy's work ties, bdsm elements, dom-ish reader, thigh humping, handjob, subby! Andy and a domme reader :), a teensy wincey bit of cum play

Summary: Andy lost a bet.

Word count: TBA

"This isn't fair." Andy sighs against his silk pillows, the ones you made him buy. "I want to touch you."

His hands are confined to the sides of his bed with his own ties. How did you even learn to tie a knot like that? His cock strained against his bare stomach as he made an attempt to twist his wrists - which was futile. He was trying to keep his breathing steady but with you rubbing your lace-clad pussy over his thigh with a teasing grin it was hopeless.

The damp patch created as your hips rolled made him huff and bite his lip. He enjoyed it far too much when you took control - took away the stress of the day and took care of him.

"You lost the bet." You lilt, pulling aside your panties so your hot flesh could connect to his thigh muscle. Andy whined beneath you and you ground your hips down harder, teasing your nipples through a matching lace bra. "I warned you your wrists would be forfeit."

As you tilt your head back in ecstasy, your clit rubbing perfectly against taut, wet muscle, you spit onto one of your hands and reach for Andy's cock. He gasps at the contact as you start to pump at the same pace you're humping his thigh, softly moaning his name as your cum spreads across his leg.

He curses and throws his head back, lifting his leg up as you grind down. When your legs seize around his and you cum, he follows closely behind; spurting sticky white cum over his stomach.

You're both panting as you come down from the sudden, but overwhelming, orgasms you'd shared. You release Andy's cock only to draw a tiny heart above his pubic bone that makes him shiver before you crawl up slightly and curl into his side, breathing softly.

"Happy Valentine's day, honey." You murmur, kissing his cheek.

"Happy Valentine's Day." Andy replies with a smile.

"I'm not letting you out of those ties just yet, though." You purr, kissing him again. "We're just getting started. And I need to make sure I get some good pics to remember the night."

End

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here

Tags for everything: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @brianochka @looking1016 @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @waywardwifey @peaches1958 @michaeladmorris @alexxavicry @lexie983 @wint3rbarnes @sunday-bug @barnes-babydoll @alicedopey @cakesandtom

Andy: @stargazingfangirl18 @late-to-the-party-81 @irishhappiness @Cieraboobear @doodooslay @shamrockqueen @alicedopey @awkwardgiraffe726 @late-to-the-party-81 @moonfairy182 @thechrysalisdiaries @lexie983 @stephstar28 @mommad @marvellover91 @screachingpeanutdinosaur @ledatheswann @steviebbboi @galaxygoddess30 @identity2212 @cinnamongirlxlovesong @the_Ruler _Of_Death @ghoulsgraveyard @thezombieprostitute @soupiemeowmeow

[gremlin-girly]

Okay okay - for your Valentine's thing can I please ask how Vrajiatore Zemo and his reader spend Valentine's day? 🥺❤️

Thank you for the ask nonnie 🥺

I couldn't forget about these darlings 🙂‍↕️

This is for my Valentine's Extravaganza and part of the Vrăjiatore series 💜

Enjoy nonnie!

Roses

Baron Zemo x f!reader (established relationship)

Summary: Your baron knows how to spoil you and on Valentine's day, he ups the ante.

Word count: TBA

Roses.

So. Many. Roses.

They had been coming in all week. Delivery upon delivery. You had so many roses you could fill a garden and there was no space to move in your tiny apartment.

On one rare occasion you were gifted a small bear too, but he could sit on your bedside table and watch you fret over the impending doom you felt knowing that your roses would rot away around the same time. How would you explain to your neighbours? You had a hard enough time explaining to your friends.

Bucky and Sam seemed impressed, if not admitting it was a little excessive, and Natasha only laughed at you.

When Zemo had a chance to call you at the end of the week, you really let him have it.

"Darling, there are too many flowers." You say softly into your phone. "I love them but please don't send any more."

"But you need to know how much you mean to me, Vrăjiatore." Zemo replies, voice soft yet firm. "Words aren't enough."

You ignore how your heart flips. He was such a smooth talker.

"I mean it, Helmut." You try to sound annoyed, but you're struggling to keep the frown on your face. "Some of them are starting to go bad already!"

"Okay. Fine." He huffs down the phone. "I will find something better."

You roll your eyes, even though he can't see, and smile at your cieling. Typical - blessed with the most attentive boyfriend on earth and you can barely see him; with him being a criminal and all.

"How about you come visit me for Valentine's?" You suggest non-committally, knowing it was unlikely. "I can think of a few gifts that won't cost you anything but time and a return flight."

You think that the signal dropped when he says nothing for a few seconds. "Helmut?"

"I'm looking at flights."

"Helmut!"

"How soon do you want me? I could make it tonight?"

A bubble of laughter escapes you as you reply, "The sooner the better, hon."

"If I leave tonight, you would wake up to me on Valentine's day." He says, voice low. "I'll even put a bow on my head for you."

Your thighs squeeze together. This had potential to be the best Valentine's you'd ever had. Not there was much competition.

"That sounds perfect. Just get here in one piece."

"Anything for you my love." He purrs down the phone, making heat rise from your toes to your cheeks. "Happy Valentine's day. I'll see you in the morning."

End

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here

Tags for everything: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @brianochka @looking1016 @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @waywardwifey @peaches1958 @michaeladmorris @alexxavicry @lexie983 @wint3rbarnes @sunday-bug @barnes-babydoll @alicedopey

Tags for Zemo: @late-to-the-party-81 @irishhappiness @ryubyy @tropelovingpainter @thelonelyinfp-blog

[gremlin-girly]

Femme Fatale: Black Valentine

Steve Rogers x Villain!f!reader

Steve Roger's Masterlist | Grem's Valentine's Extravaganza | Navigation

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Header made in Canva with pics from Pinterest (credit to OG creators). Dividers by: @/enchanthings-a

This fic can be read as a stand alone or alongside the Femme Fatale collection. It's also part of my Valentine's Extravaganza and a song fic collection I've been working on for a while.

Tags/warnings: angst, mention of reader being shot at, naughty thoughts from Steve, break ups (kinda), hurt with no comfort yayyyy

Summary: After Steve gets in his head and thinks of only himself; he's left picking up the pieces of what could have been something good.

Word count: 1.3k

Steve's apartment is dark when he enters. He dumps his bag at the door, locking it immediately behind him as usual with a sigh. Today had been hard.

From the moment he woke up he knew it would be a bad day. And then everyone, including Fury, had badgered him about you. You had been as helpful as much as you were a pain in the neck.

The more he thought about it - the more he thought about you - the more confusing everything became. It would never work between you both. You were on the wrong side of the fight. But by God, you drove him crazy.

A criminal empire beneath your heels, red lips, lingerie, teasing quips and stolen glances that were punctuated by cheeky smiles and flirty winks. You were Bad News wrapped up in the finest silk bows - and Steve couldn't help but indulge in you. Until tonight.

He never understood why you always insisted on trying to spook him by calling out into the darkness, when his hearing can pick up your breathing across the room, yet it's almost a habit for you.

"You shot at me."

"You snuck into my apartment again?" Steve clucks, setting down his keys. He doesn't look over at you when he turns on the light like he usually does. "I've told you not to come here."

You had seen an opportunity to escape and with the incessant teasing, Steve needed to prove that the mission meant more than you. You couldn't evade justice again. Keep you locked up away from him so he could get you out of his head, move on, find a girl on the right side of the fight. One he didn't have to hide.

"You shot at me." You repeat with a slight quiver to your voice. "Stevie, the entire time we've known eachother - you have never tried to shoot me."

"Yeah, well." Steve huffs, getting himself a glass. "Times have changed."

"How?"

"Because we don't work." Steve sighs. "We both know we don't. It was just... exciting. The thrill of the chase. Adrenaline after a fight."

You shift but Steve doesn't look - but he knows you're watching his every move. "And there's no room for discussion?"

"No." Steve says firmly.

It hurts. It hurts so much to be so indifferent and cruel. But it shouldn't. That's how he knows he's in too deep. You stay silent as Steve fills a glass and hugs three big gulps before setting it down. He tries not to look at you but relents.

He's shocked to see that you're presence has shrunk in size, like you've caved in on yourself - imploded. His heart aches to see you look so sadly contemplative - so vulnerable - something he has only seen glimpses of when you think he's not looking. When your guard drops ever so slightly.

He wasn't aiming for you. But you don't need to know that. Steve will let you think he was shooting to kill if it meant the game of cat and mouse between you ended with his heart and yours still mostly in tact.

You're not even scantily clad for once. You've showered. You're wearing his shirt and a pair of baggy pajama pants that you left at his - staking claim to him without asking. Not that he cares.

Cared. He corrects himself.

When you register he's looking at you the faux-bravado creeps back, starting with a smirk that doesn't reach your eyes. You look down at your mismatched pyjamas, tugging the edge of Steve's shirt. You look good in it. Too good. It should be on his floor. You should be in his bed. Shit. This was already too complicated.

"Well then." You say shakily. "I'll get this dry cleaned and sent back to you." You say quietly, dropping your hand. You meet his eyes when you look at him, eyes glimmering as you hold back tears but you manage to give him a shaky smile. "I wouldnt want you to go without one of your slutty tight shirts."

"Hey, I'm-"

You cut him off by holding up your hand and glance away from him again, quickly wiping your eyes.

"If you're sorry, be a gent and call me an uber." You say and then bitterly add, "unless you're still gonna deny me the dignity of leaving through the front door?"

Steve nods. His throat feels swollen and dry every time he swallows, and there's a tickle at the back like he's sick as he orders an uber for you, giving you space to grab the few things you had brought and-or left on previous occasions. He insists on walking you - in silence - to the Uber. He tells himself it's because it's what a good man would do.

In truth, it's because he wants to be able to look at you one last time. It's like you're a different person now. You'd not said much else. You hadn't even fought him or argued and Steve somehow wished you'd had. Maybe it would have made it easier.

As you climb into the taxi, fat tears roll over the apples of your cheeks and you stare blankly at the back of the driver's seat.

"Your Valentine's gift is om your bed. You can keep it." You say dryly before slamming the door shut before Steve can bid you goodbye and telling the driver to take you home.

Steve watches the car pull away, chest tight. He feels like he made a mistake. You were a beautiful force of nature - hell, you were fun. But that's what you always were always meant to be.

Just fun.

Dragging his feet, Steve clambers back up to his apartment. He doesn't feel like eating, or sleeping... or doing anything remotely enjoyable other than sit in his leather armchair (thrifted of course) and think about where it all went wrong. He'd never been so impulsive. But were you really all that bad?

You'd helped out him and the Avengers more than once. However, your links to the criminal underworld - a world you refused to let go - cemented your role in Steve's life. That reason right there is why Steve did what he did. He couldn't have feelings for you. Just like you couldn't have any for him. You couldn't change, just like he couldn't.

Finally, after an hour of spiralling and checking his phone every five minutes in attempt to rewrite an apology to you over and over, he goes to his bedroom. His bed is covered in rose petals. There's expensive chocolates - ones you always feed (fed) him - on his pillow and a red envelope with his name.

His lip twitches and his nose tingles at the bridge. He tries not to disrupt the roses as he sits on the edge of the bed to open the letter, snorting as he sees the cursive squiggles of your handwriting.

To my Overgrown Boyscout,

Congratulations. You win. See my resignation overleaf.

Puzzled, Steve turns the letter and his eyes grow wide. It's a list of names with notes where to look for evidence. Other villains. Bigger villains. You'd been doing recon work with your own crime organisation and had been slowly gathering intel for Steve to chase. Breadcrumbs. So you couldn't be linked legally and maintain your status in the criminal world.

Steve leans onto his knees and rubs his face with one hand; unsure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

He hadn't wondered for a second why had you come over just to sit in your pyjamas and not seduce him like usual - not tease him until he broke and fucked you in your pretty heels. Today, during the scuffle, he'd only been thinking about himself and his reputation, not you.

Not your feelings. Or his, for that matter.

And yet - despite being rightfully angry at him - you still came over and prepared this for him.

And he'd thrown it all right back in your face without knowing it.

First, Steve tries calling you and gets hit by an automated voice saying that the number he called isn't recognised. Then, he tries texting, knowing it's futile. Then, he's pulling on his coat to go find you, apologise profusely for being an idiot, and to tell you the truth;

That he loves you and that your relationship was never really all that complex after all.

END

For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here

Tags for everything: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @brianochka @looking1016 @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @waywardwifey @peaches1958 @michaeladmorris @alexxavicry @lexie983 @wint3rbarnes @sunday-bug @barnes-babydoll @alicedopey

Steve: @stargazingfangirl18 @irishhappiness @Cieraboobear @doodooslay @steviebbboi @ledatheswann @ryubyy @maydayfigment @bottldcries @theinheriteddutchess @screachingpeanutdinosaur @vicmc624 @awkwardgiraffe726 @pandaxnienke @norseloki26 @fangfoxy xamapolax queen-honeybee-stories @leeemabean @iannepeyt @hazydespair everythingf1 @aerago583 @norseloki26 @shamrockqueen @awkwardgiraffe726 @late-to-the-party-81 @moonfairy182 @thechrysalisdiaries @lexie983 @stephstar28 @mommad @marvellover91

[gremlin-girly]

Reefer

Part of the Green Collection

Jack O'Malley x f!reader

🍃Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Header made in Canva with pics from Pinterest/Canva (credit to OG creators). Banners by @/saradika-graphics dividers by @/kodaswrld

🍃Tags/warnings: mentions of drugs, drug dealers, dub-con (at first), dom!reader, subby!Jack, oral (f recieving), vaginal fingering, squirting, pet names (baby, honey), use of good boy, mentions of ownership, mentions of cockwarming/riding, threats, naked/clothed, strip show, cumplay

🍃Summary: Jack O'Malley owes you money and then some. This story is about the "then some."

🍃Word count: 1.9k

"O'Malley my alleycat," you purr, lighting your cigarette and taking a well-timed puff. "You owe me quite a bit of dough."

"I owe a lot of people money - none as beautiful as you, might I add." From his place tied to the chair in the centre of the room, he has the most boyish smile, as if it he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and not ripping you off when selling on your dope. "But darlin' you're not special."

One of your men shifts and cracks his knuckles ready to move in on Jack but you hold up a hand, keeping him at bay. You tilt your head as you regard him, another slow drag of your cigarette. The man before you had a reputation - a douchebag that had an excellent skill of getting into places he shouldn't. He was pretty cute all things considered, too. He was usable... although not essential.

"And I thought we had something real between us." You tease seductively before waving your hand.

As the man who cracked his knuckles moves forwards, Jack begins to panic.

"Wait. WAIT!" He begs, angling his head away from the goon. He fixes you with a genuine pleading look. "I'll repay you."

"With what?" You sneer. "Any profit you make on my dime, might I add, you gamble away."

"You've heard I'm good at my job right? My other job, I mean." Jack takes a breath. "I can find anyone or anything."

"I've got a better idea." You say, waving your man away from Jack with a nod. "I pay off all your debts and you work solely for me."

"I - um-"

"I've heard the rumours." You eye him carefully. "I want my own little hacking lap dog to help me expand my business. But if you say no, well-" you gesture to your men on either side of him and shrug. "Then I'll make my alleycat sing like a pretty birdie."

Jack eyes the two men and swallows thickly. "Can I ask what my joining perks would be?"

Your eyebrows raise at the audacity, but you can't help but smile. "Well, I don't have your legs broken, for one." You say, then begin counting off your manicured fingers. "no more debt, for two. For three, you have my protection."

You walk forward, bending down to look him in the eyes.

"And for four," you say, gripping the edges of his chair leaning close so your men dont hear. "If your cock is big enough, I'll sit my pretty little self on it and use you 'til I'm done." You pull back and search his blue eyes with a sly smirk. They're blown wide, his jaw slack, blush kissing the top of his where his beard begins. "Does that sound agreeable to you, Mister O'Malley?"

"When do I start?"

You'd set Jack up in one of your more lucrative penthouses, secured with cameras and guards on shift to ensure his safety. After seeing the state of his apartment, you thought it wouldn't hurt to keep him sweet with a taste of what you could offer - and what you could potentially take away.

For a week you kept him on edge. Stopping by at random hours to tease him or bother him with tasks no one else but him could do. He knew better than to ask in front of your men when you'd fulfil your fourth bargain, but you could see the desperate looks he shot you when you'd praise his work; silently begging for you to reward him.

Finally, at the weekend, after dismissing the majority of your men for the weekend, you shot Jack a text to be showered and ready for you when you arrived and summoned your driver to take you to the penthouse after packing an overnight bag.

Nodding to the guards on patrol as you enter the building, you wonder if Jack has actually read your text - since you didn't get a response. You grin to yourself when you realise that he will either be beside himself with excitement getting ready for you or he will be punished suitably for not answering nor seeing your message.

The elevator dings at the penthouse and you step out, trying not to saunter as you reach for the door. It's unlocked. You push it open and walk inside, Louis Vuitton heels clicking against the laminate flooring.

"O'Malley?" You call out with a lilt. "My little alley cat, where are you?" You dump your bag next to the sofa and sit down in the middle, legs up on the coffee table. You pull a pre-rolled joint and a lighter from your purse and spark up as a thud and a scrambling sound across the apartment.

Your head is resting against the back of the sofa when the movement stops and you peek an eye open over to him before pointing to the space between the coffee table and the sofa to your right.

"Stand." You command him, taking a drag of your joint. Once he gets into place you breathe out your smoke and say, "Strip."

Jack opens his mouth as if to say something but you cut him off. "I said I'd sit on your cock if it was pretty." You tell him taking another drag. You release the smoke slowly and fix him the a half-lidded look. "So - show me if I bought myself a pretty cock."

Jack shrugs off his flannel and then his baggy t-shirt quickly and you're surprised to find that he's not rocking the dad-bod you assumed. Dark hair covers his stomach, chest and arms and while there is a little bit of pudge hither and tither, there's still ghosts of ab definition on his stomach. He was in much better shape than you were expecting.

"Slow down baby," you hum, continuing to admire his fugure. "I want to look at you properly."

Jack's face glows red in the dim lighting, breathing ragged as he slowly pulls off his shoes, socks and undoes the belt around his waist. Your eyes drop to where he works the buttons and then his fly. He drops his jeans and steps out of them before kicking them away, watching you intensely in his boxers with a visible large tent at the centre.

You're mouth waters and you grin. Your eyes don't leave him as you use your fingers to motion for him to turn for you - admiring the way his ass sits so snugly in those black boxers. Finally, your eyes meet his when he finishes his spin.

"Go on." You urge sweetly. "Show me."

Jack curses as he pulls down his boxers. His hands clench and unclench at his sides as his cock twitches under your gaze. A bead of pre-cum sits upon his soft tip, his snail trail a glistening mess. The skin of his pretty cock looked silky soft and his balls hung heavy too - you had been right; he was so usable. His cock was big, if you were honest the perfect size, and you were amazed at how he could hide such a thing in his jeans. Or how he couldn't get laid.

"Oh wow," you coo softly with a smirk. "That's one fucking beautiful cock, honey. You've been holding out on me."

"Jesus - fuck." Jack whines, looking to the cieling. "I've never had that before."

"What? Praise?" You chuckle, stubbing out your joint.

You snap your fingers and point to the floor and Jack dutifully gets onto his knees; ducking as you fling a leg over his shoulders and angle your hips wider to give him easier access to your cunt.

"Aw honey, if you do a good job I'll always give you praise. Now, be a good boy and make me cum."

Jack puts his arms underneath your legs and pushes up the bodycon skirt over your hips and pulls your lace thong to the side to reveal a deliciously bare pussy with folds already glistening.

Jack doesn't waste a moment. He buries his face between your legs and gives your pussy three, quick long licks before latching into your clit and suckling gently. Stars explode behind your eyes so quickly that your hips rise up - only for Jack to hold them in place.

"God," you breathe. "You do know how to use that mouth for good."

Jack hums around your clit and you gasp; reaching for his soft hair as an anchor. Jack pulls his right hand from under your hips and uses it to push your left thigh wider, keeping it in place with a a firm palm. Feverently lapping at your core until you're arching off of the couch and moaning loudly. You grip his hair tight and push weakly but he doesn't stop, insistent to keep going and going - alternating between sucks and licks - until you cum, arching into his mouth and soaking his soft beard. When you soak his beard with a choked moan he groans against your cunt.

"Fuck yes," he pants, licking a long stripe as your legs twitch over his shoulders. "Teased me all week. So fuckin' cruel."

When he finally removes his hand from your thigh, it's to shove it back under you and then drag you closer to the edge of the sofa.

"Deserved." You huff. "Had to see if you were worth it."

"Am I?" He peeks up at you then with a false-confident smirk, his glittering blue eyes betraying how much he needed to hear your praise.

"Every penny and then some," you purr, scratching at his fluffy hair. You don't miss the way his breath catches, or how his shoulders sag with relief - and it strangely makes your heart ache.

Jack's head rests against your left thigh, his right hand slipping from under you again. You think for a moment he's lost his nerve when two fingers slowly dip inside of you. Your pussy clenches and you moan seeing him so fixated on stretching and scissoring you open. His eyes flicker up to yours as he pushes into you, thumb swiping at your clit when his fingers are buried to their knuckles, and you're mesmerised. You thought he'd be mediocre at best but this was otherworldly.

His fingers twist, dragging upwards against your walls in search of your g-spot, which he massages gently when his fingertips draw across the soft and spongy dip in your pussy.

"Can I be greedy?" He murmurs. "Can I make you cum again? Please? I love how you taste."

"'Course baby," you manage.

"Thank you." He whines with relief, placing a quick kiss to your clit before beginning an assault of pleasure all over again.

He once again alternates between sucking and lapping at your clit, pumping his fingers faster in and out of your cunt until slick squelching sounds become clear as you brace for orgasm. Your moans get higher and higher and Jack releases your clit with a wet pop as you squirt - pulling his fingers from you to furiously rub at your clit and prolong your orgasm.

Even when you're spent, legs slack and panting, he's spreading your sweet, wet cum covered pussy open with his fingers; giving your folds and clit gentle caresses.

"Oh fuck," you chuckle airily. "I am definitely keeping you."

"Thank God," Jack mumurs kissing up your stomach as he stands up. "You haven't felt my beautiful cock inside you yet."

End

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[gremlin-girly]

Wacky Tobacky

Part of the Green Collection

Bucky x f!reader x Steve, Stucky x reader | Navigation

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Header made in Canva with pics from Pinterest/Canva (credit to OG creators). Banners by @/saradika-graphics dividers by @/kodaswrld

🍃Tags/warnings: smut, cannabis use, use of Captain and Sarge (teasingly), threesome (mmf), playful spanking, reader being a bit of a brat, light pussy spanking, nipple/breast play, oral (m and f recieving), p-i-v (cowgirl), use of doll, sweetheart and good girl, slight degradation (whore), cum swallowing, creampie, I tried really hard to include plot...but there's very little 🥴

🍃Summary: You're usually a quiet person but after doing a blunt rotation with two super soldiers playing truth or dare, you become a lot more daring than they anticipate.

🍃Word count: 2.4k

A/N: .... I have no words other than enjoy!

Your giggles could be heard throughout the tower. What had started as a fun game had quickly devolved into you spilling your guts to your favourite two super soldiers in a quiet corner of a tower balcony, passing a blunt back and forth between the three of you.

Although, you had to ask yourself; when was a game of truth or dare really innocent fun?

At first, it was a lot of truths. Which song had been Bucky's favourite to dance to in the forties, what was Steve's favourite things to draw (still life and some portraits). However, when you picked truth, Steve asked you if you were single.

You snort and chuckle knowingly. You were usually pretty shy and so, you didn't divulge much about your love-life. But with giddy light-headedness, you announce to them both that you're unashamedly single. And that's when things took a turn.

"Truth or dare, Buck?" You ask, taking a drag of the blunt as its passed onto you, before handing it over to Bucky as you puff out acrid smoke.

"Dare, doll." Bucky replies, drinking in the smoke before handing the blunt to Steve. This was the second blunt between them, since super soldier metabolism didn't keep them high for very long.

You flounder for a moment, watching Bucky breathe the smoke out easily, looking so incredibly hot it made your insides curl. And then Steve mimicked Bucky and you were equally enraptured.

"Uhm. I dare you to...." you look around the balcony, hoping to come up with something other than selfishly daring him to kiss you - or Steve - or both of you. "Um." Curses. It's all you're thinking about now. You shift your legs together before fixating on Tony. "Ask Tony for an arm wrestle."

Bucky barks a laugh but gets to his feet. "Which arm?"

You give him a sly look. "Dealer's choice."

It was a catch twenty-two. Without his suit Tony couldn't best Bucky's metal arm easily - without it he was hopeless against super soldier strength.

Then, when Steve asks for a dare, Bucky dares him to ask Thor what his hair care routine is; which results in Steve being stuck talking about leave-in conditioners and Asgardian beard for twenty minutes while you and Bucky laugh your asses off.

"You could've stepped in." Steve grumbles when he returns.

"You looked like you were having a blast, pal." Bucky teases as Steve takes his seat again, cheeky perfectly rosy.

"Whatever." Steve huffs before peeking over at you. "Okay, doll, now you. Truth or dare?"

"Well," you say, leaning against the cool of Bucky's metal shoulder - the iciness cooling your warmed cheeks in a calming way. "Since you guys picked dare, I feel obligated to too."

"Okay, well..." Steve's eyes seemingly flick over to Bucky for a moment before he leans closer. "I dare you to drink some water."

You gasp, loudly, and put a hand to your heart at the sheer shock of Steve's dare. How affronting! Bucky's shoulder wiggles when he snorts at your reaction and you frown at Steve.

"How dare you!" You pout.

Steve chuckles. "You hardly drink enough on a good day - and no," he cuts you off before you can interject. "Coffees, teas and sodas don't count."

You puff at him and stagger to your feet. "Okay, whatever you say, Captain."

You intend to sound teasing, but as you stomp away to the kitchen, you realise you sound more bratty and haughty. It was probably best you sobered up a little in that case. However, when you return and down the water in front of them with rivulets of water running down your chin and between your cleavage, neither Bucky nor Steve can peel their eyes away from you.

"So." You say, glass clanging against the table as you retake your seat between them. "Whose next?"

The dares got bolder and bolder. Steve and Bucky insisted on putting you to bed and you insisted they stop being pussies and keep playing. As soon as you had said that, they shared a look, before Bucky said they'd only continue the game in your room with you tucked up in bed.

"Tryna get me into bed that bad Sarge?" You tease as he angles you towards your room as Steve makes some goodbyes.

"Maybe I am." He says coolly, before whispering, "Or maybe you're just high as a fucking kite right now and we want you to be safe."

A shiver runs down your spine, zipping your clit for good measure, at his words and a new, devilish desire to torment takes ahold of you.

"I'm fine." You lie. "You're both such worry-warts. I'm a big girl I can take care of myself."

"Keep behaving like a brat and I'll bend you over my knee." Bucky warns, giving you a sideways glance. Assessing your reaction.

"I dare you." You say on impulse, heartbeat leaping to your throat when his eyebrows raise slightly but he nods.

"Not here, sweetheart." He murmurs, warm hand on your waist guiding you after Steve. "Be patient."

The threat made your fingers, and other parts of your body, tingle.

"I wanna keep playing." You tell them stubbornly, as you step into a giddy walk to catch up with Steve. "I was having fun!"

"Uh huh," Steve says, turning back to smile down at you. "I'm glad you were."

"You're just mad that Bucky couldn't sack up and kiss you." You expect a bigger reaction than a chuckle.

Steve's cheeks dimple and blush pink, eyes glittering down at you when you squeal when Bucky swats at your ass; free from prying eyes of other party goers. "Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say."

You open your mouth to protest, spinning to glare at Bucky, who's holding another joint between his lips. He smirks and tuts when you try to snatch it from him.

"You've had enough." He says, holding out his hand for Steve's lighter. "This is for super soldier's only."

"No fair!" You pout at him. "Just a little hit?"

"If you make it to your apartment in one piece," Bucky murmurs, flicking the lighter and taking a drag of the joint before handing over to Steve. Puffing smoke into your face with a smirk he says, "We'll give you something to suck on."

When you step out of your bathroom after clumsily freshening up, Bucky and Steve are already comfortable on your bed. They're laughably too big for your mattress, to the point where you wonder where you'll fit between them. They're a sight to behold.

They're in the midst of a make out session that you feel like you're intruding on; Bucky's metal arm caresses up and down Steve's body, whilst Steve palms Bucky's cock through his jeans. They break apart when they hear you walk through the door in your underwear - having discarded your outfit of the night for something you hoped was more seductive. You had expected a super soldier threesome - you just hadn't expected that the other two participants would be making out so feverently.

And oh boy did it turn you on.

Their faces are flushed with heat, lips plump and parted, two sets of blue eyes eyeing you like dessert. Steve's eyes betray a hint of worry - Bucky's only betray his lust.

"Sarge, Captain-" You say airily, taking your time to walk towards them. "Starting without me?"

"You were gone for so long, doll." Bucky murmurs as you reach him. "Steve got too impatient."

"Hey," Steve protests weakly, giving Bucky's hard-on a gentle squeeze. Bucky huffs a grin. "You know that's not true."

Both sets of eyes flicker back to you; drinking you in with red rimmed eyes. Steve's nostrils flare, Bucky licks his lips and you shift to stand with your hands on your hips, one of them cocked.

"So where exactly am I supposed to go?" you ask faux-seriously.

Bucky pats his lap. "Right here, doll. Unless you're chicken?"

"I'm not chicken." You poke your tongue out at him and he laughs.

"Then I dare you to come here and bounce on my cock." Bucky challenges, grinning triumphantly when you stalk over after stepping out of your panties and hitch your legs over his.

You start to work on Bucky's belt and jeans as Steve moves behind you, unclasping your bra with hot kisses to your neck before cupping and groping at your freed tits once your bra falls away and you toss it to the side of the bed. You're already moaning and grinding your hips down onto Bucky thanks to Steve - but Bucky doesn't seem to mind, lying against the pillows with his arms behind his head, watching Steve pinch and tug at your nipples.

Bucky's cock is rock-hard and leaking once it's freed, and you waste no time adjusting your hips and dragging your wet cunt along his cock. Bucky groans, as do you when his tip rubs along your clit, and Steve watches with a smile; his hand dropping to join yours and helping to shove Bucky's cock into you. You sink down with a small gasp at the feeling of sudden fullness but your lips are quickly caught by Steve, whose fingers now toy with your clit.

Then Bucky starts to thrust upwards. His hands are now on your hips, holding you steady, cock pummelling you. You release sweet whimpers as they work you over, evolving to shrill shrieks of pleasure when Steve lightly smacks at your clit that make you cum over Bucky's cock.

"Awh fuck doll," Bucky groans, thrusts slowing enough so you can savour the feel of his cock splitting you open. "You feel so fucking good."

"So responsive too." Steve adds in your ear, one hand squeezing one of your tits and the other drawing tight circles on your swollen clit. "I can't wait for you to try and moan with your mouth full."

"Oh shit, oh God-" Your stomach muscles tighten, preparing to cum again when Bucky picks up pace again.

"No Gods here, sweetheart." Steve murmurs. "Just two super soldiers fucking their sweetheart stupid."

Your second orgasm hits like freight train and the sound you emit sounds closer to a scream than a moan. You're pulled off of Bucky so quickly you don't register it until Steve's cock taps your cheek.

"Take my cock in your mouth and suck it like the good girl we know you are." Steve coos softly and you open your mouth dutifully. As he slides his cock into your hot mouth, jaw aching as you try to accommodate him. "Atta girl."

Steve sighs when his cock hits the back of your throat, gripping the head board with one hand and the other holding the back of your neck steady as he slowly drags his cock in and out of your mouth. Using his thumb he swipes your cheek reassuringly, removing any stray tears that fall from gagging around his cock. He gazes down at you with a proud smile that makes your ribs ache.

There's a shift beside you as Bucky moves down to lie between your legs. The hot-cold touch of his hands on your inner thighs as he pulls you open, licking from your dripping centre to your clit. You moan around Steve's cock, making his head fall back with a delighted sigh, and your thighs push against Bucky's hands as he sucks at your swollen clit.

Steve ruts into your mouth harder - the hand on your neck firm.

"Relax, sweetheart." Steve murmurs with another gentle stroke of his thumb. "Let me use that mouth of yours."

You take a deep, shaking breath and meet his eyes, nodding slightly as you relax in their hold. The taste of Steve's pre-cum is salty sweet on your tongue as his cock pumps into your mouth and Bucky mumurs sweet praises to your cunt before making you cum again. Cold metal fingers pry open your sticky folds to bare your clit to cool air and you can hear the grin in Bucky's voice as he speaks to Steve.

"I don't think I can keep this greedy pussy empty for much longer, Stevie." Bucky purrs. "Think she oughta be filled."

"Oh fuck-" Steve grunts, pushing his cock so far down your throat you gag. "I think she- oh-"

Steve tries to move his hips back but your left arm has snaked around the back of his thigh, anchoring him to your mouth. Steve's cock twitches in your mouth when he looks down at you; tears brimmed, face flushed and a mouth so full of his cock that your spit has started coating his balls.

"Holy shit." Steve breathes. "Buck- fuck- pound that pretty pussy right now before she makes me cum."

Bucky doesn't need telling twice and moments before he fills you in one thrust, you manage to shoot Steve a wink before your eyes roll.

"So good for us," Steve pants, watching you happily hold onto his hips to swallow his cock while Bucky pummels you into the mattress. "Fuck, who knew you were such a filthy whore?"

Muffled moans come from your sore throat, that only become louder when Bucky rubs your clit again.

"Only for us though, right?" Bucky teases. "You can handle us, right doll?"

Steve pulls his cock from you to allow your raspy answer of "yes!" Before fucking your mouth again.

"We're gonna fill you up, sweetheart." Steve murmurs, voice breathless. "'M gonna cum down your throat and you're swallow it all, 'kay?"

You hum in agreement, eyes fluttering when you feel Bucky's cock twitch and flood your cunt with his cream. He groans loudly, still fucking you but at a more languid pace, until every last drop is buried inside you. The moment you gasp and whimper in response, cunt clenching over Bucky's cock, Steve spurts cum down your throat.

It takes minutes for all three of you to catch your breaths - Bucky's still inside you and Steve's cock rests on your chin, sticky with residual cum and spit.

"Holy shit." Is all you manage to muster, which earns you a chuckle from the super soldiers on top of you.

"Damn straight 'holy shit'." Bucky says, gently removing himself from you.

"You did great." Steve praises, softly massaging the back of your head. "Stay right here. We'll get you some water and clean you up."

He bends down and quickly kisses your forehead and as he moves away Bucky's face appears to your right and kisses your cheek. It's so sweet and intimate that, had you not been so bone-tired after such a thorough fucking, you would have opened your legs for them again.

They both flash you charming smiles as they exit your room and you just know that your life has changed for the better.

END

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Tags for everything: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @brianochka @looking1016 @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @waywardwifey @peaches1958 @michaeladmorris @alexxavicry @lexie983 @wint3rbarnes @sunday-bug @barnes-babydoll @alicedopey

Steve: @stargazingfangirl18 @irishhappiness @Cieraboobear @doodooslay @steviebbboi @ledatheswann @ryubyy @maydayfigment @bottldcries @theinheriteddutchess @screachingpeanutdinosaur @vicmc624 @awkwardgiraffe726 @pandaxnienke @norseloki26 @fangfoxy xamapolax queen-honeybee-stories @leeemabean @iannepeyt @hazydespair everythingf1 @aerago583 @norseloki26 @shamrockqueen @awkwardgiraffe726 @late-to-the-party-81 @moonfairy182 @thechrysalisdiaries @lexie983 @stephstar28 @mommad @marvellover91

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Stucky tags: @ledatheswann @ryubyy @maydayfigment @bottldcries @theinheriteddutchess @steviebbboi @pandaxnienke @norseloki26 @fangfoxy xamapolax queen-honeybee-stories @leeemabean @iannepeyt @hazydespair @everythingf1 @aerago583 @norseloki26 @late-to-the-party-81 @alicedopey @vicmc624

[gremlin-girly]

Golden Boy

<- Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 -> | Series Masterlist | Navigation

Dog shifter!Jake Jensen x female reader (nicknamed Birdie)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Header and dividers made in Canva with pics from Pinterest (credit to OG creators).

🐾tags/warnings: spoilers for Supernatural Season 6 episode 8 (just in case you care lol), descriptions/hints to past abuse, descriptions of a panic attack

🐾Summary: After two weeks together you and your dog are inseparable. Until after you wake up from a nightmare to step into a new one.

🐾Word count: 2.1k

Your new dog was strange.

For the two weeks that he'd been with you, since day two, he was stuck on you like glue. The only respite you had was when you needed to use the bathroom and even then he'd wait at the bottom of the stairs.

Every morning and evening when you'd let him out he'd disappear for thirty minutes into the tree line, like he was doing a lap of the perimeter. On days when deliveries were due, he'd look outside the window intently and go mad when the car pulled up; he'd dive past the officer and give the car a once over. Once it was deemed safe, he would allow himself treats and pats.

At night, if you were still awake, he'd curl up next to you on the sofa but face the door. In bed, he slept at your feet facing the door but would check under your bed and out the window before settling. Most of his day was spent guarding or sleeping; and you were half convinced he would stay awake guarding you. Which was ridiculous.

You watched him push his kibble around as you made scrambled eggs Sunday morning.

It never looked like he was eating it and your food, human food, was depleting little by little. You couldn't find evidence of wrappers or packets though. You checked the trash just in case because it was worth your while to be paranoid, but there was nothing there. So if there wasn't someone living in your walls, your golden boy must be eating your food wrapper and all.

How did he not have an upset stomach?

But you'd never met a dog who wasn't greed personified - so why would he not eat an entire loaf of bread?

Maybe it was just the kibble. Probably.

When you sit down to eat your eggs, you mull over your first two weeks at the safe house. You still felt uneasy, thanks to your first night being a bit of a disaster and after forwarding an "anonymous" email to Detective O'Connell. The only constant was your perfect pooch; who made you feel safer than you had in a long while. Although, you now feel infinitely stupid for thinking that he may be some unspoken cryptic horror.

Chewing thoughtfully, you wonder if your chance meeting with your new pet was fate or something more sinister. Your ex always knew you wanted a dog, especially a golden like this one, and you wouldn't put it past him to try and use the dog as leverage. You'd told O'Connell as much - but the dog had no chip and there was no record of missing or stolen golden retrievers in the area. The mobile vet that had come by had given him a clean bill of health with a physical, but suggested that once you were clear of witness protection that you'd take him in for bloods and vaccines. At the mention of potential neuter, your fluffy boy looked comically horrified; you and the vet struggled to keep a straight face, but you thanked them for the advice. You still hadn't given your golden a name, settling instead for affectionate terms, since no name felt right. That, and he refused to answer to anything else you called him.

It was still so strange how he seemed to understand you and while his facial expressions were limited, he seemed to show a range of emotions that you'd never seen from a dog before. Goldens were supposed to be smart but this one was a genius. He knew a variety of commands and on Thursday, after nosing your bedroom door open to check on you, you shouted after him to close the door and he pushed against it until the latch clicked. That couldn't be a coincidence.

After breakfast, you headed to the couch. You now had a spot that had moulded to your ass perfectly. Despite the ever-present musty smell that no amount of room spray or scented candles could cover, it was now a perfectly comfortable place for you to sit and binge TV shows on your laptop. You had been making your way through Supernatural again, a comfort during this miserable time, watching random episodes during the day. Your golden boy would curl up in his spot next to you, head on your thigh as you massaged his head, watching along with you and today it was no different.

You had just started season six that week, the beginning of canon divergence and arguably not the best (but definitely not the worst) season of the show. Cuddled with your pooch and a hot tea watching some seriously hot dudes fight the forces of evil wasn't what you considered a waste of your time. Besides, you were stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do apart from stay safe; you may as well keep yourself sane with mind-numbing TV. You pick an episode at random, but not really, because as soon as you spot the title and see the episode preview image, you hit play. All Dogs Go to Heaven - seemed fitting.

When there's a cheesy joke, a cheeky grin or otherwise Dean-like quip, you sigh dreamily or make remarks to your TV.

"Mm. Mm. Mmm. I do love a funny guy." You say after one particular snark that made you snort. Your golden boy lifts his head to look at you - head tilted slightly in the most adorable way but you can't tell if he's curious or judging you. "What?" You protest meekly. "He's also really cute."

He huffs a short, quiet bark.

"What?" You ask again and this time he makes a whiny grumble, eyes trained on you. Then it clicks. "Are you jealous?"

He barks at you, no malice, but playful.

"You are! Oh my god!" You start to laugh and scrungle the soft fur of his neck as he sneezes and grumbles, paws smacking you lightly as if he were embarassed. "Jealous boy! Oh, bubba no one could replace you. Not even Dean Winchester."

You smother him with kisses before scratching his ears. He relaxes immediately but his tail still beats softly against the sofa.

"You're my guy." You say firmly. "I won't let anything happen to you."

The episode continues as predicted - far from perfect and cheesy. However, the plot has you wondering if the same happened to you, how would you react?

"If you were a shifter and you killed my ex..." you begin thoughtfully out loud once the credits roll. "I would keep you around. Especially if you were cute to boot. Although, I don't think I'd be happy if you were perving on me."

You pat him and smile softly when you hear his tail wag. You were smitten with this dog already; connected somehow. You found him when you needed him most. Wrapping your arms around him, you snuggle him and fuss him until his tail wags so hard you think it'll fall off.

"You're such a good boy! Taking care of me and protecting me." You coo, and he looks like he's beaming. "I promise once we're outta here I'll take you to all of the best dog-friendly spaces. We'll move to a nice apartment and make lots of friends and-" you take a deep breath, getting over excited - something you haven't felt in a long time. "-and we'll be so happy."

He barks in, what you hope, is agreement and you laugh as you declare it's time for the next episode.

At 4a.m. you're wide awake. Maybe a binge of Supernatural shouldn't have been on the cards that night since you had a nightmare you struggled to wake from.

In the treeline, watching, waiting, was him. Sometimes a deer. Sometimes a harmless wild bunny. Sometimes a bird that would sit outside your window. Then a wolf that would howl at the moon and wake you as warning, the opening to the soundtrack of your demise. Finally, he'd be a bear - a black mass of muscle and fur that would tear through you like a hot knife through butter.

"Bubba?" You call for your golden who wasn't at your feet when you woke up. You needed him right now. "Where are you?"

Cold sweat still clung to you as you padded to the bathroom. You couldn't shake the nightmare - something about it felt too real. You wouldn't put it past your ex to find a way to transform himself if he could, just to take revenge on you. Take you back to the apartment you used to share… You shudder, rubbing at your arms.

The landing light provides a dim warmth that's less welcoming than you had originally thought and your anxiety is through roof.

Where is he? You ask yourself frantically as you approach the bathroom - just in time to see your golden boy's head peek out.

"Oh thank God." You sigh in relief, the anxious knot in your stomach unravelling slightly. "I was worried, Buddy. I had a nightmare and you weren't there."

The dog hangs his head, whining softly.

"It's okay. I forgive you." You smile down at him and scratch his head, which is oddly wet. "Now scootch. I need a shower."

As you push the door open wider, warm air whooshes past your face. Your eyes fixate on the moisture fixing the shower curtain to the tub.

Strange. You think. I showered hours ago…

It isn't until you turn your head to the mirror and see a hand print slowly dissolving away to the condensation, that your brain kicks into high gear. Cold washes over you, like in your nightmare, and when you step back onto a damp bathmat, your breath catches in your throat. You spare a glance downwards, your dog crying and whining at you as you lift your foot and see two human footprints - ones that aren't yours - imprinted on the fabric.

The dog's cries become white noise. Terror compels you to sprint from the bathroom - the landing looking longer with each passing stride, tears rolling down your cheeks and your lungs already empty from panic. When you reach the door after what feels like minutes, you half drag your dog inside and shut the door and bolt it without caring about the noise it makes.

Your dog dance around you, trying to get your attention, but you're too busy sobbing with heaving breaths as you crawl under your bed. You put your head on the floor and wrap your arms around your head and try to calm yourself to no avail.

He's found me. He's found me. He's found me.

A cold wet nose pokes at your face. Claws gently scrape at your arms. Whines of worry echo in the room as your dog pads around each side of the bed to try and get to you, before deciding to wiggle underneath it until is face is opposite yours. His cold nose huffs at you and you're so disgusted by being snotted on that it momentarily snaps you from your fright.

You meet his eyes about to snap at him but he looks like he's grinning. Like he'd won - finally able to get your attention. Then he shoves his nose in your face and licks at your cheeks.

You try not to squeal but you can't run or push him away, and the more you move back the more he moves forwards in a never-ending attack.

"Baby, please! Not now!" You hiss, trying to stay focused. "Someone bad is in the house!"

He stops for a moment to look at you and then softly nudges you with his nose. His ears are flat, head resting on his paws and giving you the sweetest, softest look you've ever seen. One that looks…

Guilty.

You take a shaky breath and rustle the fur on his head. No way. The monsters on TV weren't real. It's only been two weeks in this safe house, you couldn't be going crazy already… but the way he looked at you like he understood you was indisputable, the way he protected you, did things like closing doors-

You stop rustling his ears. The gentle wags of tail that were kicking up old dust in the floorboards slowly draw to a halt and he watches you carefully - like you might hit him.

And that just breaks your heart, despite the lingering fear in your bones.

"You… aren't just a dog, are you?"

The dog (???) stares at you for a moment and you think you've finally lost your mind but then he shakes his head.

And you know you've really lost your mind.

Part 4 END

Is it a really a tumblr post if there's no supernatural reference?

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Jake: @stargazingfangirl18 @irishhappiness @Cieraboobear @doodooslay @shamrockqueen @alicedopey @awkwardgiraffe726 @late-to-the-party-81 @moonfairy182 @thechrysalisdiaries @lexie983 @stephstar28 @mommad @marvellover91 @fangfoxy @vicmc624 @bottldcries @maydayfigment @steviebbboi @cinnamongirlxlovesong @the_Ruler _Of_Death @ghoulsgraveyard

[gremlin-girly]

Golden Boy

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Dog shifter!Jake Jensen x f!reader (Eventual) - reader is nicknamed Birdie

🐾Not Beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Header and dividers made in Canva (credit to OG creators/publishers of the images used).

🐾Tags/warnings: supernatural elements, mentions of past abuse and trauma, living in a safe house, violent imagery, descriptions of stalking and threats, dark themes

🐾Summary: Jake's first day with you goes well until he gains access to your email.

🐾Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Once again, thanks to @buck-star for being my cheerleader on this and keeping me on task. I'm forbidden from any new fics until this one is done 😔✌️

Detective O'Connell's definition of not staying long meant three hours. Jake lay at your feet as O'Connell droned on about what you could and couldn't do in the safe house but his ears pricked up when O'Connell mentioned a laptop.

"I can't give you full wifi access, obviously," he says apologetically. "But you can watch movies, do basic searches, send emails... that sort of thing."

"Who am I going to send an email too?" You deadpan.

"Your lawyer?" O'Connell shrugs unhelpfully. "Look, more importantly, I recommend keeping a log of your days here. It'll be good to note any strange goings on and have it on a digital record that can be retrieved."

You nod and take the device from him, placing it on the coffee table. Whilst you and O'Connell continue to talk, Jake raises his head up to peek at the laptop. The lid is closed, obviously, but it's a chunky, heavy-duty looking thing not a sleek and modern device. However, if emails could be sent - Jake could contact the other Losers and you would be none the wiser.

Suddenly, there's two warm hands on the back of his head, massaging circles into the sweet spot behind his ears. His head grows heavy as he leans back into your hands. It feels great being spoiled with attention like this.

"Listen, I don't want you worrying about Alan. You're safe here - that's why it's called a safe house." O'Connell tries for a smile but you look down at Jake and make an unsure hum. "You're protected by the local PD and now this guy. We'll catch him before he ever finds you."

"Are you sure?" Your voice wavers as you look back to O'Connell finally.

"Positive." O'Connell nods firmly but Jake didn't need a heightened sense of smell to know that O'Connell himself couldn't be sure you were safe. "The evidence you provided is more than enough to keep him locked up for a long time. He won't ever hurt you again."

"Woof!" Momentarily, Jake forgets he's not in human form when he tries to agree with O'Connell (for once).

You bite back a chuckle and give O'Connell a sad smile and nod, before looking back down at Jake. "Thank you."

The ear scritches become just a little bit firmer and Jake's body relaxes into your legs. He wasn't sure if you were thanking him as well as O'Connell... but it certainly felt like you were.

When O'Connell finally disappears, promising to send a non-uniformed officer back with your shopping, you say your goodbyes to Officer Jimmy; who promises to stop by when he can. He gives Jake an affectionate (but hard) pat on the head before leaving. The once full house left with only you and him.

You seemed to be in a stupor; aimlessly wandering and pottering before finally, after forty-five minutes, you sat down on the sofa. Jake sat and waited for you to call him up next to you. After two minutes, he put his chin on your knee, hoping to prompt you into asking... which worked.

"Oh. Sorry bub. You wanna come up?" You pat the space next to you and Jake's tail wags as he hops up and opts to smush you with a golden cuddle.

You attempt to shove him away to no avail, his body an immovable object, until you begin to laugh. He rolls half onto your lap, tounge dangling, tail wagging, and you laugh harder. But then, your hand scratches at his belly and he startles, making a playful growly sound as he wriggles and kicks his legs to your relentless attack. How dare you! He was trying to help and you began a tickle assault!

"You started it!" You chuckle as he tries to make gravelled pleas for mercy. Finally you stop and Jake rolls onto his side facing you.

Immediately your left hand is scratching his ear. Jake had never felt such bliss in all his life. The stress of growing up as a shifter and having to move from place to place, the trauma of being a soldier, the Losers being the only kindness he knew... all dissipated at the touch of your hands. You were warm and kind, and even when you thought your life may be in danger - you rushed out to save him.

He wondered, as he sighed into your arms, whether it was possible to live out the rest of his days as a dog. It was a silly thought; he had a team and his mother, sister and niece to get back to. However, in the same breath, he couldn't shake that it would be easier. Okay, kibble was bland. And no more coffee. And baths... but then there'd be you.

Long walks. Play wrestling. Cuddles. Pets. Ear scritches. Maybe even a belly rub. All he'd ever wanted when he'd pretend to be only human. He huffs.

He was being insane.

Once again, he was head over heels for a woman he'd just met. This was temporary. He'd make contact with his team, tell them he was fine, and stay with you indefinitely. Until you were safe - definitely safe. And then, maybe, he would be a human. Meet you by chance. Maybe you'd like him. Maybe you wouldn't. But he wouldn't be a dog.

He grumbles and on cue, you coo at him and ask what's wrong, smushing his chenille jowls together. His tails wags anyway. He can't help it. And it only wags harder when you smother the top of his head in kisses.

"Come on you let's watch a movie."

The movies O'Connell downloaded were shockingly bad. You skip past the romances and rom-coms with a grimace, but actively guffaw when you see Sleeping With the Enemy listed amongst thrillers.

You give Jake a look. "Someone needs to re-take their sensitivity training, huh bub?"

Jake sneezes - dog equivalent to a snort. Finding humor in hurt was an admirable trait. You finally settle on a comedy that isn't all that funny and half way through your groceries get dropped off be plain-clothes officer as promised. You fill a porcelain bowl with kibble - since a dog bowl was forgotten - and expectantly watch Jake.

He looks at the food. Then you. Back to the food and gets to his feet, pretending to wolf it down. The tuna was a better option. He'd come back down later in the night to eat some toast when you were asleep. He noses the kibble around the bowl, flings some of it out for show and then sits as close as possible to, patiently waiting for a stray cookie you happen to have pulled from a pack.

"Nuh uh." You shake your head at him. "They have chocolate in them."

Jake gives you the biggest, roundest, most glistening eyes he can imagine and watches your resolve crumble in real time.

"Okay. I guess one wouldn't hurt." You toss the cookie to him and he snaps it mid-air.

Chocolate never tasted so damn good. Jake licks his lips and stares again but this time you have the sense to turn your back to him.

So he jumps up.

You yelp as his paws push your shoulders, laugh when his cold nose sniffs at your coconut-scented hair, and gasp dramatically when he drops, runs in front of you and snatches the second cookie from your hands before darting out of sight.

"You've got the zoomies!" You yell after him with a laugh. "Come back here young man! We gotta film to finish!"

The cookie has already been scoffed and Jake immediately jumps into a play stance - tail wagging. When you start one way, he darts the other. You won't beat him but he'll let himself lose just to see you laugh.

That night, once you're fast asleep again, Jake sneaks to the bathroom to shift. Using your fluffy bathrobe to conceal most of himself, he heads downstairs to make himself real food.

He makes himself a coffee and toast, taking a cookie for good measure too, and discard his unneaten kibble in the trash. Securing himself in the kitchen was the best bet, since he'd give himself more time to shift if you happened to wake up. Once settled with coffee in hand at the small dining table, he opened your gifted laptop and booted it up.

The password You'd been given had been on a scrap of paper, so it was easy to access so far. You had (stupidly) signed into your email and clicked the Always Remember Me box so even accessing your emails wasn't a task. Jake can't quite bring himself to chide you even in his head but as he squints at the screen he spots an email amongst the regular spam that makes him uneasy.

The address is an assortment of letters and numbers, a burner, but it's the subject that has him frowning: I'll Still Find You.

Curiosity wins over and he opens the email, surprised to find that the body is empty save for two jpeg attachments. Jake considers for a moment whether or not he should invade your privacy but it's quickly quashed when he reminds himself that to you he is currently just a dog; and if he wanted to protect you, he needed to know what he was dealing with.

The first image was you getting into the car with Officer Jimmy - time-stamped the day you left for the safe house. That was good, at least. There were no photographs of the safe house itself or nearby. However, the second photo steals Jake's breath.

It's evidence photographs arranged into a collage, the words "I miss this face" scrawled in red over them with the word "this" underlined several times. Jake can't bring himself to look away even though he wants nothing more to erase the images from his brain. Even after sending his email to his teammates and, despite wanting to keep you from seeing the images, marking the email as unread; he's haunted by the images of you bloody and battered, face purple and swollen until he eventually joins you in bed again, wet nose pointed towards the door.

Part 3 End

For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here

Tags for everything: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @brianochka @looking1016 @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @waywardwifey @peaches1958 @michaeladmorris @alexxavicry @lexie983 @wint3rbarnes @sunday-bug @barnes-babydoll @alicedopey

Jake: @stargazingfangirl18 @irishhappiness @Cieraboobear @doodooslay @shamrockqueen @alicedopey @awkwardgiraffe726 @late-to-the-party-81 @moonfairy182 @thechrysalisdiaries @lexie983 @stephstar28 @mommad @marvellover91 @fangfoxy @vicmc624 @bottldcries @maydayfigment @steviebbboi @cinnamongirlxlovesong @the_Ruler _Of_Death @ghoulsgraveyard