#jake jensen reader

[f1rewr1t3r]

which characters would this be

"im telling you that girl/boy is trouble.. uh- where are you going"

"gonna go get into trouble"

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hi molly! For the conversation hearts (thank you so much for doing this 🥺🥰):

Jake Jensen + Kiss Me

off-limits

pairing: bodyguard!jake jensen x female reader

summary: you're spending your valentine's day at home alone with your bodyguard, who you have a major crush on. when you start to wonder if he might like you as well, you use some conversation hearts to find out his true feelings.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, dry humping/dry sex, breast play, nipple sucking, biting, cumming while fully clothed, orgasm control/permission, light bdsm, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (princess, dream girl), aftercare, non-graphic allusions to more sex

word count: 4.4k

a/n: thank you for sending in a prompt, Essie!! i always enjoy writing for Jake—he's just such a fun character to play around with, and he's a perfect fit for the "idiots in love" trope, which is one of my favorites. plus, he's always so sweet, which lends itself perfectly to some sweet and smutty valentine's shenanigans 🤭 thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

Jake Jensen was off-limits. He was so far off-limits. He was your bodyguard, for fuck’s sake. But that didn’t seem to matter to your pitiful heart. You were hopelessly crushing on the big, broad-shouldered mercenary with the goatee and glasses, and the charmingly crooked smile that made butterflies take flight in your belly every time he flashed it in your direction.

And no matter how much time you spent with Jake Jensen, no matter how much you whined and wheedled to get to know him, until he was keeping you updated about his sister’s terrible boss and his niece’s soccer team’s excellent record, your crush just wouldn’t go away. 

You were infatuated with the exact shade of sapphire of Jake’s eyes, and the nervous laugh that fell from his lips when he was flustered. You were downright smitten with the way he’d talk to your stuffed animals when he thought you weren’t looking—and the way he’d give them all funny little voices when he knew you were watching him do a sweep of your room. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from imagining Jake in your bed, his strong arms wrapped around you and his face buried in your neck while you woke up. You’d have bet anything that Jake was the best at cuddling, and you could so easily picture the way you’d wiggle your ass in his lap, enticing him into some slow morning sex…

You shook your head, clearing that wildly inappropriate thought from your mind and tried to focus back on your TV. A romantic comedy was playing on the screen, the lights in your living room dimmed low, and there was a whole spread of festive snacks and candies on the coffee table. None of which had been touched.

Admittedly, you may have gone a little overboard for a Valentine’s Day spent home alone with your bodyguard, watching movies while candles flickered romantically around the room. But, in your defense, Jake hadn’t been meant to work Valentine’s Day. It had been Roque’s turn in the rotation, but the gruff man had come down with something at the last minute. 

You knew Clay had called all the others before he’d called Jake, but Pooch and Cougar were busy, and since he didn’t want to play babysitter himself on Valentine’s Day—no matter how many favors he owed your father—he’d finally called Jake. Jake, of course, had no other plans and had happily agreed to take the shift watching you.

He’d turned up so quickly at your doorstep, relieving Clay to go get ready for his date, that you couldn’t help but wonder if Jake had broken some speeding laws getting to your apartment. He’d been wearing his usual puppy-dog grin and gave you a box of conversation hearts before wishing you a happy Valentine’s Day while Clay rolled his eyes. 

The head of your security team had fixed Jake with a pointed look before leaving the two of you alone. Even though no words had been exchanged, even you could tell Clay had given Jake some type of warning, though you couldn’t imagine what it could’ve been about. Jake was always polite and respectful when he was with you. 

It was you who had all the inappropriate thoughts about your bodyguard.

On the TV, the romcom leads were bickering about something. It was still early on in their love story and they were still convinced they hated each other. However, it was painfully obvious to anyone watching that they both had feelings for the other. 

You’d seen the movie plenty of times, so you risked a glance at Jake, who was lounging comfortably on the other end of your couch. You caught his blue eyes darting away from your face and had the distinct impression he’d been looking at you, though you decided that couldn’t be true. 

Surely you would’ve noticed if your bodyguard had been staring at you. Wouldn’t you?

The question gave you pause. You’d grown so used to being watched, whether it was by the mercenaries your father had hired as your bodyguards or by any of the strangers who stared at you and your entourage with curiosity when you went outside. You supposed you’d long since stifled whatever sense people got when they were being watched.

As you ruminated on the idea, you were staring at Jake, which you didn’t notice until he leaned forward suddenly and grabbed a handful of popcorn from a bowl on the table. He shoved the whole lot into his mouth and cut a glance in your direction, coughing when he realized you were still watching him. He gave a laugh, the one he always let out when he was flustered, and it hit you like a lightning strike.

Jake Jensen liked you. 

Your eyes watched him closely, taking in the slight pink tinge of his cheeks and the way his bright blue eyes kept cutting over you to like he was uncertain. His fingers pushed up his glasses and he coughed into his fist. 

He was nervous. Of that, you were sure. But given who your father was, it wasn’t out of the norm for people to be nervous around you. You had to know if Jake was nervous because of your father, or because he liked you.

Turning back to the spread of food on the coffee table, you spotted the box of conversation hearts and a plan began to form in your mind.

As casually as you could manage, you grabbed the box and ripped it open, your eyes fixed unseeingly on the TV as you tried to pretend to be watching the movie. For a few minutes, you sat in silence, making it seem like you were engrossed in the movie, though you were much more interested in watching Jake out of the corner of your eye. 

He kept looking over at you. Long, lingering looks that didn’t seem to have anything to do with making sure you were safe. You couldn’t believe you’d never noticed it before—you must’ve been too wrapped up in your own thoughts about your bodyguard to see it.

Your heart raced in your chest with the possibility that you were right, that Jake Jensen might like you just as much as you liked him. But you knew you had to be careful. You didn’t want to spook your bodyguard—not if you wanted him to be so much more than that.

“Do you want one?” you asked, forcing your voice to remain casual as you turned to Jake and held up the box of conversation hearts. You shook it for good measure. 

Jake’s eyes darted between your face and the box, like he could sense a trap. But when you refused to give anything away with your expression, he sighed and reached a hand out. 

“Sure, princess, I’ll take one.”

A small smile played around the corners of your lips and you peered into the box, rooting around until you found one that had a message you wanted to convey to Jake. Finally, you found a pink one that said Kiss me, and your heart lurched excitedly in your chest.

You grabbed the candy and dropped it into Jake’s palm, a shiver racing down your spine when your fingertips brushed against his warm, calloused skin. Little tingles of awareness darted through your body and you had to bite back a gasp as you drew your hand back, watching intently as Jake brought his hand to his mouth. 

But he wasn’t even looking at what the heart said! How was your plan supposed to work if he didn’t even read what it said? 

A little distressed sound fell from your lips and you cried, “Jake!” 

The big bodyguard froze instantly, his head whipping around and blue eyes darting sharply toward the door like he was expecting a team of mercenaries to barge into your apartment and threaten your life. When he couldn’t find any danger, Jake turned his gaze on you, his blue eyes bright with panic behind the frames of his glasses.

“You can’t eat a conversation heart without reading it first,” you said, infusing your voice with an innocent playfulness while you rolled your eyes at him, as if it was a hard and fast rule of eating the Valentine’s candy and he was breaking it. 

The side of Jake’s mouth pulled up in a crooked smile—sending butterflies fluttering and swooping in your belly—and he glanced down, taking care to turn over the little heart in his palm to read what it said. You could tell when he had because he went still again, a light pink blush tinging his cheeks.

“Princess,” he grumbled, keeping his head ducked while his finger traced the candy in his hand. 

“Y’know, I heard it’s bad luck to ignore the words on a candy heart given to you by someone you care about,” you said in what you hoped was an innocent tone. You turned your head back toward the TV, but kept your eyes on your bodyguard, wondering what he was going to say or do to that.

“Princess.”

That time, your pet name was a groan from Jake’s lips as he tipped his head back and closed his fist around the candy. Despite the torture in his tone, your body lit up, responding to the gruff way he said the pet name. Your mind instantly wandered to other ways you could make him groan it like that. Maybe with your mouth pressed to his bulge…

Jake was staring at you, his blue eyes blazing with heat and hunger and so much restraint, it cracked something open inside you. It wasn’t like you to allow yourself to be vulnerable around anyone, but there was something about the way Jake was looking at you that made you think you could take a chance with him.

“Please, Jake,” you murmured, your voice quiet and pitiful as you begged him openly. “It’s just a kiss—and I haven’t been kissed in so long.”

Jake groaned again, and your body was lighting up all over again, tingles dancing along your nerves and butterflies soaring in your belly. But your bodyguard distracted you from your body’s reaction by grabbing your hips and dragging you across the couch until you were right next to him. 

Your bare thigh was flush against his, your skin pressed to the rough jeans he was wearing. You almost couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your leg pressed against Jake’s, but he made a sound and you looked up at him.

Jake loomed over you, his blue gaze darkening as they flicked between your eyes and your mouth, like he was considering giving you exactly what you’d asked for. That realization made your breath catch in your throat and you leaned into his side, basking in his warmth and letting the spicy scent of his cologne fill your senses. 

“Just this once,” Jake said sternly, his gaze roving over your face like he was trying to memorize every bit of it and commit it to his mind. “Clay’s going to fucking kill me,” he muttered, but you didn’t have a chance to wonder over what he meant by that.

Because, in the next moment, Jake was ducking down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

Fireworks exploded behind your eyes, a sizzling, sparkling feeling of delight filling your body from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head. It was better than you ever imagined, and you couldn’t get enough, chasing after Jake’s mouth when he tried to pull away, sucking on his lower lip and feeling the tickle of his goatee when he kissed you again, harder.

Your fingers twisted in the soft cotton of Jake’s t-shirt, pulling him closer while you stretched and arched into him. Beneath your fingertips, you could feel his heart racing in his chest, matching the quick rhythm of your own, and you smiled against his lips.

All too soon, Jake was pulling away, his hands cupping your face and easing you back when you tried to kiss him again. 

A disgruntled noise fell from your lips and you followed Jake as he retreated, sitting up and swinging a leg over his thighs. Before you even knew what you were doing, you were sitting in Jake’s lap, both of you blinking at each other like neither of you knew how you’d gotten there.

Jake’s hands idly kneaded your hips through the lounge shorts you’d worn to look cute and casual on your Valentine’s Day in, and your eyelashes fluttered at the feeling of his firm grip on your body. It was enough to have heat pooling between your thighs, wetness gathering and dripping into your panties, but you forced yourself to focus. 

You grabbed the candy heart that read Kiss me from the couch cushion where it had fallen when Jake had kissed you and you pressed it against his full lower lip. Wordlessly, Jake opened for you, and you placed the candy on his tongue, watching greedily as he closed his mouth around it.

The two of you hung in a suspended moment, your eyes fixed on Jake’s perfect mouth and deciding whether you wanted to try to lick the candy from his tongue. Jake’s hands squeezed your hips hard, and you glanced up into his eyes, finding his pupils blown so wide, they nearly blotted out the bright blue of his irises. 

“Princess,” he rumbled, his voice full of warning. Inexplicably, though, his tone only made you squirm in his lap, biting back a gasp when your core grazed against something hot and hard in Jake’s jeans.

“Jakey,” you whined softly, looping your arms around his broad shoulders and pressing your soft tits against his hard chest through your oversized sweater. You pouted up at your bodyguard from under your lashes, giving him what you hoped was both an innocent and enticing look. 

Jake cupped your cheek and he grinned crookedly, ducking down to press a kiss to your lips. 

“You’re gonna get me fired,” he murmured teasingly when he pulled away, but you tugged him back, kissing him more firmly.

“I’d never let Clay fire you,” you said fiercely, drawing back enough to stare into Jake’s eyes. His glasses were a little askew and you fixed them carefully, smiling softly at him. 

Jake huffed a laugh and grabbed the box of conversation hearts from the other side of the couch. You sat back, curious about what he was doing, but also a little excited that he was clearly continuing your idea of communicating through candy. 

He cupped his hands, preventing you from seeing what candy heart he was picking out until he found the one he wanted. Then he grabbed your hand and held it palm up, dropping one of the conversation hearts into your palm, which you eagerly pulled closer so you could read it.

Dream Girl.

“Jake,” you breathed on a delighted sigh. Looking up, you caught him smiling that crooked grin at you, the butterflies in your belly rioting with happiness as you smiled back at him. “Am I really your dream girl?” you asked a little shyly, ducking your head and looking up at him.

“Yeah, you are,” he said softly, snagging the candy from your hand and pressing it to your lips. He watched you take it on your tongue and close your lips around it. 

Jake gave you a moment to suck on the candy and revel in the chalky sweetness of it before he was cupping your face and tugging you in for another kiss. He licked the sugary sweet taste from your lips, making you moan softly into his mouth as you melted into him.

That time, there was no pulling away. There was none of Jake trying to hold himself back and you chasing after him to make sure he didn’t put distance between the two of you. There was only your mouths fused together, your tongues exploring each other, your breaths mingling as you kissed and kissed and kissed while the romantic comedy played in the background.

After a while, the heat that had built up in your body became nearly unbearable, and your hips squirmed on Jake’s lap restlessly, needing something. Your core brushed against the hard ridge of Jake’s bulge in his jeans and you moaned obscenely into his mouth, pressing down hard enough that you could feel him twitch against your heat.

“That’s a good girl, grind on my cock, princess, take what you need,” Jake muttered, pressing hot kisses to your neck while you rocked on him. His glasses got knocked askew and he took them off, putting them aside with one hand while the other guided your hips to grind harder on his lap.

“Jakey, you feel so good,” you moaned, rolling your hips and grinding your wet slit down on his bulge through your clothes. A part of you wanted to tear through all the fabric that was separating your bodies, but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself, the pleasure too good and quickly driving higher and higher. “God, it’s been so long, I’m gonna cum so fast.”

Jake made a rumbling sound, like hearing that pleased him, and his hands grabbed your hips more roughly, his strong fingers kneading your ass and helping you hump harder on his cock. 

“Good girl, wanna feel you cum on my cock, princess,” he rumbled, his sweet praise making your body hotter and your slit wetter as you rode him through your clothes. “Want you to make a mess all over my lap.” 

“Jakey, Jakey, Jakey,” you whined, leaning back and changing the angle of your hips as you ground down on his bulge. Your fingers clung to the back of Jake’s neck and you panted as your body strained, rocketing toward your release, but you knew you wouldn’t get there without something else. “I need…” you huffed unhappily, not knowing what you needed. 

“I got you, princess,” Jake murmured, pushing your sweater up and pressing a hand between your shoulder blades, lifting your tits to his mouth. His lips wrapped around one pebbled nipple and he sucked, flicking his tongue over the hardened peak and making you cry out. “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, princess, you’re my fucking dream girl.”

“Oh god, oh Jake, that feels so good,” you babbled, shoving your chest into Jake’s face and pressing your pussy down on his rock hard cock. You began grinding your clit down on his hard length, and you knew you’d reach your release in moments, your lips parting with a gasp as you asked, “Please, can I cum, Jakey?”

Jake froze for just a second, then he was giving your nipple one last affectionate flick of his tongue before moving to the other. He wrapped his lips around it, sucking the hard peak and the softness of your breast into his hot mouth as he stared up at you with his bright blue eyes. 

“You need my permission, princess?” Jake asked teasingly, letting your tit fall from his mouth so he could lean up and cup your face, pressing a heated kiss to your lips. 

“Yes, Jake, please,” you begged in a tight voice, holding yourself back from cumming. 

“You have it,” he rumbled, a ghost of his crooked grin on his lips. “In fact, it’s an order—cum on my cock, princess, let me feel you come apart in my lap.”

Jake’s fingers pinched your nipple at the same time as his hips thrust up from beneath you, his other hand holding you firmly on his lap so his cock was wedged perfectly between your thighs. It was too much and too good and too perfect and the tension in your core snapped. 

You shattered apart with a sharp cry that Jake swallowed with another kiss. His arms wrapped around you and held you tightly as your body shook through the pleasure of your release. Your hips stuttered and your pussy clenched around nothing, and you moaned obscenely into Jake’s mouth until you needed to pull away to gasp for air.

“Oh fuck, you’re so fucking pretty, so fucking gorgeous cumming on my cock,” Jake babbled, pressing kisses to your jaw and neck and cheeks and anywhere he could reach. “I’m gonna—oh shit.”

He groaned loudly, pressing his face into the valley between your tits, his goatee tickling your sensitive skin while his hips rutted up into you from below. Between your thighs, you could feel his cock twitching and a growing wetness pressing into the heated flesh of your legs. 

It took you a long moment for your pleasure-dazed mind to realize what had happened, but when you did, you wrapped your arms around Jake’s neck and raked your nails soothingly through the short hair at the back of his head. 

“Jakey,” you purred, enjoying the way he shuddered through the remnants of his release, his cum sticky through his jeans and cooling rapidly on your inner thighs. “Did I really just make you cum in your pants?” 

“Yes.”

The word was grumbled against your tits a moment before Jake sank his teeth into the soft flesh, making you squeal and writhe on his lap. You may have just gotten off, but you already wanted more. You wanted Jake’s cock buried inside you, filling you completely while he made love to you slow and hard, whispering praises in your ear. 

“You’re too fucking perfect, my fucking dream girl,” Jake muttered, licking his tongue over your skin to soothe the place where he’d just bitten. His tone was a little resentful, and you could tell from the way he was refusing to meet your eye that your big, tough bodyguard was feeling a little insecure about cumming in his pants.

“And you’re my dream guy, Jakey,” you murmured, squeezing him tight and dropping a kiss to his forehead. 

Your words made Jake finally look up, though it was only to give you a dubious look. You laughed lightly and raked your nails through his hair, petting him affectionately.

“My dream guy is someone so obsessed with me that he’d cum in his pants just from watching me cum in his lap,” you explained, grinning down at Jake and lifting him up for a kiss that felt like a promise. “I love that I made you cum, Jakey—especially since it means we have to throw your clothes in the wash now.”

A wicked grin curled your mouth as you pushed yourself up on shaky legs and stood from the couch, dragging Jake up after you. He grabbed his glasses and put them back on, then let you drag him into the laundry room off the kitchen in your apartment. His eyes darkened as you knelt down and undressed him, a groan slipping from his lips as you took your time cleaning him up with your mouth.

When you finally made it back to the couch, the credits were rolling on the movie you’d put on, so you started up another one, barely glancing at the title. You were too distracted by the sight of Jake in one of your t-shirts and a pair of oversized sweatpants that fit him just snugly enough that you could see the outline of his cock through the fabric.

The sound of candy shaking in a cardboard box pulled your attention away from Jake’s lap and you found him searching through the conversation hearts again. You curled into his side and waited patiently while he picked one out, then held up your hand eagerly when he gestured for it.

Be Mine.

Your heart thumped happily in your chest and you popped the candy into your mouth before leaning up and kissing Jake, sharing the chalky sweet taste of the candy with him. 

“I’m all yours, Jakey,” you promised, whispering the words against his lips, unable to stop yourself from grinning wildly. 

“And I’m all yours, princess,” he echoed, pulling away only long enough to pull off his glasses and set them aside. Then he was pushing you down onto your back on the couch and settling between your thighs. “You’re my dream girl.”

“You’re my dream guy,” you said, pulling him down for a kiss. 

It was a long time later when the two of you finally came up for air. Jake’s cell phone was buzzing on the coffee table and he grabbed it, glowering at the screen before typing a response with one hand. He tossed it back down before returning his attention to you. 

“We’re going to have to tell Clay about us, aren’t we?” you asked, giving Jake, then his phone, a wary look. 

Jake huffed a laugh and buried his face in your neck. “Apparently, he already knows,” he muttered.

That gave you pause, and Jake must’ve felt the change in your body because he lifted up, giving you a wry smile. “They all know I’ve had feelings for you since we started this security gig,” he explained. “Clay was saying my lack of timely responses prove Roque’s matchmaking efforts finally worked.”

Your eyes widened as you understood what Jake was saying. Roque hadn’t really been sick, he’d been trying to get you and Jake together on Valentine’s Day. You felt a sudden surge of affection for the gruff man, and even for the leader of the security team, since it seemed he didn’t mind you’d definitely acted inappropriately with your bodyguard.

But that made you wonder, “Will you still be my bodyguard?”

A crooked grin spread across Jake’s face and he ducked down to kiss you. “Of course, princess,” he murmured, squeezing you tight in his arms. “Clay knows I’ll take even better care of you now—I’ll be the best bodyguard you’ve ever had.” He brushed a kiss to your cheek, making you giggle at the tickle of his goatee. “He’s sending Cougar over to watch our backs, though.”

That made you giggle and pull Jake’s face back to yours for another kiss. “Good,” you said in between pressing kisses to Jake’s mouth. “Then I don’t have to worry about distracting you too much.”

You giggled when Jake attacked your mouth, and the two of you sank into each other again. It wasn’t long before you were tugging each other’s clothes off and exploring each other more fully. 

For the rest of the night, you enjoyed your time with Jake, getting to know him on an even deeper, more intimate level—and learning he was just as good at cuddling as you imagined.

It was the first of many Valentine’s Days with Jake Jensen, your bodyguard and boyfriend, and each one was more special than the last because your crush had grown into real feelings, which he returned. He was no longer off-limits. He was yours and you were his.

sweethearts game masterlist

[bigtreefest]

New Year Coming In

Pairing: Boyfriend! Jake Jensen x Girlfriend! Reader

Summary: You and Jake may have signed up for more than you can handle to start off the new year with a bang.

Word count: 1,514

Content/warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, smut, p in v unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), cum eating, kissing, exhausted sex, aftercare, Jake and his glasses and his hair and his beefy body and his everything

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR!! I hope you all enjoy this Jakey crackfic that took over my mind at 2am. Please, feel more than welcome to screech with me about it. And a special little thanks to @brandycranby for a line of dialogue.

Comments, reblogs, and asks are especially appreciated!

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Main Masterlist

The idea sounded perfect at first. Jake was happy to indulge you. Heck, it felt amazing for him, too. He got to welcome the new year with a good release, pleasing himself and the woman he loves. But oh man, if he didn’t wish he met you sooner before, this was the one thing that would get him pleading for it to be 2001 all over again, even if he had to relive the awkward years to avoid death by dehydration. Never mind how old the two of you were back then, he would’ve time traveled for it to be that year with you now.

A nice year would’ve been 2004, too. Coming four times in one session was something he could do with his eyes closed. Except he hadn’t, his eyes were peeled open, looking at the bright screen, in the times where he remembered being locked in his dark bedroom with his first laptop. Four times, easy. Really, even ten times, 2010. It would’ve had to have been parsed out over the course of the day, but he could’ve done it without complaint. Except, for the year 2025, the two of you had gotten a late start, not realizing how long and how much 25 rounds would take out of you. The agreement being 25 times, for each of you.

Not that he wanted to complain, but Jake Jensen never thought that he would’ve seen the day where he thought it was too much sex. And yet, here he was nearly drained. He laid on his back, cheeks ruddy, glasses crooked, bleached strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as he looked up at you with hooded eyes. His pupils were dilated in bodily satisfaction, just barely able to focus on you as you bounced on top of him, chasing your 12th simultaneous orgasm.

The sheets had been discarded long ago to the side, leaving you both exposed to the air in the room that was steadily rising in temperature, the sweat on your bodies lingering.

His fingertips dug into your thighs, sore hips sloppily raising to meet yours. Just enough sensation remained in his dick to feel you begin to clench in closeness as you reached down to rub your clit, tipping yourself over the edge with Jake joining you. His eyes squeezed shut and his chest heaved, nothing coming out of him despite the sensation of overstimulation that had overwhelmed him. In fact, he had shot blanks for the last three orgasms, too.

While you both came down from your highs, puffs of humid air filling the narrow space between your mouths as you leaned down to kiss Jake, he looked up at you, his face a mix of pure exhaustion, lined faintly with dopey satisfaction, but also a little worry. He hummed against your lips, pressing his forehead to yours to get just enough leverage to speak.

“Baby, I don’t think I can get to 25. We’re at 12 and my dick is gonna fall off.”

You giggled, pulling away and placing a hand on Jake’s cheek, thumb brushing back and forth.

“Okay, okay. How about this, what if we just make it 25 total?”

Jake furiously nodded his head, grateful for the reprieve. Between the two of you now, you’d reached 24. He could get you to 25. Hopefully. He knew his body was past halfway to limp, sucked dry, but maybe you weren’t as much of a noodle. Maybe you had one more in you.

Just when he thought he could take a breather, though, the both of you looked over your shoulder at the TV that had been softly playing in the background. In the top corner by the year’s newest pop sensation was a countdown clock to the new year. It had just reached under ten minutes.

Your head snapped back forward and your gaze met your boyfriend’s, the both of you panicking with eyes as wide as saucers. You had to make your deadline and time was dwindling quickly! But Jake swiftly jumped into action, tugging your hips in a gesture to pull you up his body. There was no way he had the time to recover and go another round, but this was dire!

“Use my face. USE MY FACE!” he urged you as he frantically pulled his glasses off and set them on the bedside table. You shuffled forward on your knees, his limp dick sliding out of your puffy entrance, filled with multiple rounds of your combined release. You moved so quickly to hover over his head that it didn’t have time to seep out of you before Jake yanked you down to his mouth with a firm grip by his large hands.

In an instant, his tongue was inside you, laving at your still spasming pussy, drinking down your wetness as his nose nudged your clit, coaxing it back to a stage of readiness. In seconds, he had you whining, grinding your hips against his face, begging for more attention on your sensitive nub. Jake could tell exactly what you needed, moving his mouth upwards, goatee lightly scratching your labia as he did so, and latched on to your clit, tongue working in tandem with the suction he was creating.

As if he still weren’t close enough to you, he used his hands to press on your plush thighs, squeezing you closer to him when he sucked harder. A new wave of arousal flowed through you, confirmed by Jake’s satisfied hum that sent a shockwave out from your core and across your limbs.

Your arms flailed, searching for something to hold onto, one reaching the headboard, the other drifting down into his damp locks. As you fisted his hair, you made brief eye contact with him, a smile on his face evident by the creases at the corner of his bright blue eyes when he reached up and tweaked a nipple towards the end of his focus range. Jake could just barely make out the scene above him, squinting slightly, when you fought throwing your head back in pleasure.

You might have felt like ecstasy was about to make your body implode, but you would’ve held on for just how pretty the sight of your boyfriend was, enjoying this moment underneath you, trying to feed your insatiable appetite for him. You were so zoned in to his every feature that he caught you by surprise when he did that thing with his tongue, guaranteed to make you topple over the edge every time.

You barely caught the image of him winking at you in reassurance that he wanted you to let go as you squeezed your eyes shut and your fists clenched hard, the headboard creaking. Jake let out a groan against your pussy that sent another tingle up your spine, causing you to call out, “Ah, Jake!” when you careened over the cliff once more.

Jake broke the suction of his mouth, gently easing you off of him, his strong arms setting you into the mound of sheets that laid at his side. He had regained just enough life in his legs to jet to the bathroom quickly to clean himself up, returning with a warm, damp towel which he used to tenderly wipe between your legs. He discarded it, tossing it into the hamper as fast as he could.

Jake settled back into bed, slipping his glasses back on and looking at the countdown clock on the television which had just dipped below 30 seconds, as he pulled your naked body on top of his, a sleepy smile filling your face, eyes closed peacefully. You hummed contentedly, finding comfort pressed against his beefy torso as his one arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other hiking your knee up for you to toss your leg over his slim waist. Your head settled on his shoulder, nearly face-to-face with him, just in time for the final countdown.

Both of your gleaming smiles matched each other when the ball dropped and you lifted yourself up to kiss him, lips dancing slowly, reverently. There was no longer a rush. The two of you could just enjoy each other as you rang in the new year with a definite bang.

As you pulled away, gasping for air, you resettled yourself down with your ear right over Jake’s heart, your hand moving to idly rub over his belly as the two of you watched confetti fall over Times Square on the screen.

“Got any resolutions, babe?” you slurred.

Jake blew out a contemplative breath, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as his fingertips teased up and down your arm. He clicked his tongue in thought, “Maybe presenting the suggestion to you that we take the square root of the year and do that many orgasms instead from here on out. That way in 2064, when we’re old and wrinkly, we’ve only gotta do eight. And in 2081, our frail bones can settle for nine.”

You laughed along with his warm chuckle that rumbled his chest and nodded. “Good idea, Jakey.”

Bonus A/N: My life’s dream is to drain Jake’s body like this. Thank you.

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles @steviebbboi @thiquefunlover63

[ronearoundblindly]

For the every Cevans character, what is each one’s favorite position in bed? 😏😆

Fac-i-na-ting. I have categorized them into similar positions and then broken down the specifics or variations. No, I do not know the actual names of a lot of positions. I use the terms 'top' and 'bottom' but NOT in a BDSM way.

Sincerely, MINORS DNI. Warnings for very smutty descriptions of each of these characters 'in the act' and just...do I need to warn you about how much I was sweating during this???

'Top' Positions

Curtis Everett - Jimmy Dobyne - Steve Rogers - Ransom Drysdale - [Bucky Barnes]

Curtis is a cramped-quarters kind of lover, like you have been fucked up the bed until you and he are pressed against that headboard like a pretzel on a baking sheet. Gahdamn, he is intense. He threads an arm beneath you to make sure you're as close as possible. He grinds his pelvis into you, loving how his balls slap your ass. He likes it real sweaty, but he'll help you clean up in the shower, too. Dirty boi. 😮‍💨 We need him.

Jimmy and Ransom like you bent over but in different ways. Ransom just enjoys doggie-style. He feels awkward with too much eye contact and doesn't have to worry about that from behind. Jimmy is exceptionally good at spontaneously pressing you back or down onto a counter or the couch or perhaps a fence outside. 😳 He's oddly into fucking with at least some clothes on, but not because he doesn't like your body. He has a thing for choosing sex over chores or other obligations, so he and you are dressed for doing whatever else. It's just a little naughtier that way.

Steve is--I'm sure we can all agree--a missionary man. He looooves that eye contact Ran is so afraid of, but BUT! Steve's also a most considerate gentleman. He worries about putting too much of his weight on you, so his actual favorite position in pinning you against a wall (or mirror or window, etc) because he can lean into you without fear. He also enjoys that you get very, very excited for him to hold you up like that. You wrap around his neck and kiss him like it's your purpose in life. You get handsy, and that's about his favorite part...

[I know you said CE characters, nonnie, but Bucky just sneaks in, sorry!]

Ngl, Bucky took me the longest to figure out, and I'm not entirely sure he has a true 'favorite,' something he likes a good deal more than other positions. I have, however, landed on Bucky going braindead and gooey inside when he gets you in a mating press. There's, uh, a symbolism to wanting him and his cum inside you for as long as possible that hits all the right buttons to shut him down to the rest of the world for a while. He likes to sit back afterward and grip your knees to keep you right there until some drips out as you clench around nothing. You aren't empty though.

[Why. the fuck. does Bucky always get so 🥵 in these?]

'Bottom' Positions

Johnny Storm - Jake Jensen - Lloyd Hansen

Lloyd lets himself be lazy. He legitimately tucks his hands behind his head like he's at the beach and taunts you to work harder. He's so used to ordering people around and being quite active. Unless he has some aggression/frustration to work through, Lloyd needs to not be bothered with effort. It's your turn. Put your back into it.

Jake lets you control everything. Let's be fair: Jake is just happy to be here, ya know? He gets to be naked, he gets to see you naked, and he is going to come no matter what. Use him to your heart's content. Don't try telling him not to touch you (like an order or a deprivation game) because he can't stop himself. Every other order or request, he's game for, but on his back offers the best view of you--and technically, his glasses fog less 😬.

Johnny straight up loves when you ride him. He controls everything from below, though, because it's not actually about you taking over. He loves guiding your hips. He loves fucking up into you. He loves already being prone to fall asleep faster. [Go on, try to tell me I'm wrong. ::listens:: ::crickets:: Yeah, that's what I thought.] It's a win-win-win situation. All around cannot fail to please him. Johnny is definitely the type to assume that what feels good to him feels as good for his partner.

'Side' Positions

James Mace - Ari Levinson

Mace technically changes positions so much it maybe doesn't count as 'side,' but he's so playful, I'll allow it. His favorite sex, in general, is filled with natural ebbs and flows, quicker frantic times as well as soft doting and sweet, blissful enjoyment. A position that puts either him and you a hair's breath away from taking over is ideal. He wants to enjoy your company as much as your body. Mace can do both of those things in many, many different positions.

[Mace is quickly becoming a sleeper-fave of mine, my gawd. He's 😘🤌]

Finally, if Ari doesn't scream "wants to wake up fucking you," I don't know who does. He's spooning you, or coiled together with you someway, and just...ready when he sees you first thing in the morning--or in the middle of the night. Why bother moving much? He'll lift that leg up for you. He'll wrap around you to cup your breasts, play with your nipples, and rub your clit. Don't you worry 'bout a thing. Doesn't have to do with the position you're in, per se, but Ari also gruffly whispers other shit he'd like to do to you in your ear. It's vaguely easier to do that when your heads are on the same pillow, just saying.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; 'Who Would..." Asks; Ko-Fi]

A/N: I successfully scheduled a post! Look at me, learning and shit...

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fools Rush In 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, naivety, horny Jake, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Jake Jensen

Summary: you marry your online boyfriend only to find that IRL is much more intense. (plus!reader)

Note: another one i didn't expect!

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You hold back a giggle as you stare at the screen. Even through webcam, Jake looks nervous. His cheeks are red as he recites the line after the officiant, his eyelashes flickering as if he can’t focus. Your own heat is racing. 

“...see no impediment to why I should not be wed...” He continues. 

Your eyes almost cross as your cheeks bulb. It’s not every little girl’s dream wedding but that’s never been something you cared about. You didn’t want to be let down if it never happened. This is perfect though. You’re marrying him. Someone who makes you laugh. Someone who listens. 

He finishes the same avowal you gave and officiant squints as the read through their script. You fix your pearl head band, glad your fidgeting hands are out of frame. Jensen wipes his forehead as the final line comes. 

“I now declare you husband and wife from this day forth,” he proclaims. 

You give a giddy shimmy and Jake blows a kiss before bashfully looking away. The officiant congratulates you and you thank him. They leave the call and screen comes up in the app confirming your marriage is complete. You blink. 

“That’s... it?” You murmur. 

“Ha, yeah, I guess we’re married,” Jake chuckles.  

You smile at the lens, yeah. I’m sorry... sorry I couldn’t come down sooner. It’s expensive right now.” 

“You know I’ll wait,” he assures you. “I have.” 

“Oh, I know, Jakey.” 

He grins, “I love it when you call me that.” He rubs his eyes. “I love being able to see you.” 

“It would be nicer in person,” you say. He nods and deflates just a little. His eyes narrow. “What?” 

“You’re just so pretty,” he says. “I married the most beautiful woman on earth. Wow.” 

“J,” you chide, “please, you’re so lame.” 

“Lame and your husband,” he teases. 

You chitter again and cup your cheeks as your smile aches, “Jake...” 

“Yes, honey,” he says. 

“I do have a surprise...” You bite your lip, “for the wedding night.” 

“You do?” His eyes round. You nod. 

“Can I show you?” 

“Yes, honey,” he utters, once more brushing the brims of his eyes. 

You get up and back away. Your puffy dress clouds out around you. The layers are short enough that they don’t make you feel too big. You sway and clutch the skirt above your thigh. 

“Close your eyes!” You command. 

He covers his face and chuckles. You notice his bow tie, a bright green with a little charm in the middle. He’s got his own style but so do you. You love that he just doesn’t care. 

You reach back to tug down the zipper. It’s a bit off a struggle but you manage to get it halfway. You wiggle free of the layers and step out. You look up to make sure he’s not watching. 

You check the little image of you in the corner, not too closely. The lacy one-piece linger is high-cut on your pelvis and lifts your chest so it jiggles with each breath. You pose and let out a nervous puff. 

“Jakey?” You say, “you can look.” 

He drops his hands and his mouth falls open. He leans in and blinks. You burn with self-consciousness. 

“I-I-I—honey! Oh! My!” He stammers as his eyes look ready to roll back, “that’s... you’re so hot!” 

“Really?” You squeal and shimmy. You gasp as your tits threaten to spill over and you catch the top of your chest. 

“Oh, fuck, sorry,” he covers his mouth. 

“You really like it?” 

He peels his hand away, “God, yes.” 

You tilt your head and drag your hands down the lace. He groans and shifts. 

“Can I see the back?” He asks. 

You make a face. You couldn’t find anything that wasn’t a thong. It’s supposed to be sexy but you would feel better with a bit more. 

You turn and he growls. You look over your shoulder as he bites his fist. You give a sheepish grin. 

“It’s okay?” 

“Spec-tacular,” he chokes on the word. 

“Yeah?” You face him. 

“Baby, what are you doing?” He groans. “I want to touch you so bad. I need to.” 

“Me too,” you coo and near the computer. “One day. I wish... I wish it wasn’t like this.” 

“I wouldn’t change a thing as long as I got you,” he grits. He stares, hesitant as he searches the screen. “Can we... have some fun?” 

“Oh, uh, I... sure,” you can’t say no. It is your wedding day. 

“Why don’t you tell me what we’ll do, huh? When we meet.” 

“Um, oh,” you bat your lashes, “I don’t...” 

“Can you back up again?” He interrupts. “So I can see all of you?” 

“Oh, sure,” you obey and back up, pulling the chair with you to sit. 

“Open your legs,” he snarls. 

A thrill rolls through you and you obey. You watch him as he reaches down and his chest strains. You gulp. 

“Well, I’ll wear this,” you begin, “and... I’ll kiss you.” 

“Mmm,” he hums, “what else?” 

“And I’ll hug you and er, touch you all over.” 

He purrs again as his arm moves slowly. You realise he’s touching himself off-screen. You shudder. 

“And then, um, um...” 

“Will you get on top?” He rasps, “or do you want me on you?” He grunts and pushes his head back,  “tell me how you want it, baby.” 

You’ve never been good at the dirty talk. It makes you nervous. You’re still not sure if he knows you really don’t know what to do. 

“Yeah, you could... be on top.” 

“Can I see your tits?” He asks suddenly. 

You bat your lashes and another raze of fire spreads over you. You nod and bring your hands up to the straps of the bodysuit. You shiver as he bites his lip. 

“Come on, baby, I bet they’re just as gorgeous as the rest of you,” he coaxes. “Mmm, I’m almost there, please?” 

You pull the straps down and fold the cups over. Your tits spill out and you squeak. His neck strains and he growls. 

“Mm, yes, and they’re all mine. You’re all mine,” he drones as his image shakes, “my wife.” 

[gremlin-girly]

Dorky & Do-able

For @yenzys-lucky-charm 's Cranky! Grumpy! Stabby! Oh my! Challenge

Pairing: Jake Jensen x f!reader

Prompt: "Are you trying to turn me on or are you just that oblivious?"

Not beta'd and I don't give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Tags/warnings: Highly Suggestive Content, no smut but hoe thoughts ✊🏻😔, fluff, a sort of confession, Jake being an oblivious dweeb (bless him), 18+

Summary: Aisha's cute friend Jake drives you insane with impure thots thoughts. And there's only so much a girl can take.

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: I had a few prompts lined up (because this was so fun!) But I just had so many wips I couldn't make it through 🥲 shout out to @bigtreefest who I word associated with Jake and @brandycranby for sandwich one snippet!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Jake Jensen Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Alisha had warned you about flirting with her other friends - about Clay's Cassanova Cowboy charm, Roque's brtuish tough-guy facade, Cougar's silent sultriness, how Pooch was happily married... however, she had omitted to warn you about one adorably dorky and utterly do-able Jake Jensen.

He half trips over himself when he greets you and beams a smile so bright you swear puppies and rainbows magically surround him. You were smitten at first sight and tried so very hard not to flirt or flounce every time you saw him, per Aisha's warning glare.

That did not mean, however, that Jake made it easy on you for the week you spent visiting your best friend.

The first time it happens - you can kind of blame yourself. You were staring. It's not your fault he was a snack, or your fault you'd used your laptop as a bath bomb and asked him to fix it, but the way his tongue runs over his bottom lip ought to be a crime.

His eyes are fixed on your motherboard - you think that's what that is anyway - focused with an intensity that surprised you and it did things to you that was only spoken about in books.

"How did you learn to do this?" You ask more dreamily than you intend - not that Jake notices. He has to shake himself from his thoughts to give you a smile and an answer.

"Oh... you know - I was just always good at fixing stuff like this." He shrugs and turns back to the pieces of your laptop.

"Uh huh."

He picks up a tiny screwdriver and gently pries under a piece of metal. "It came in handy when my mom or sister needed me to do something."

"That right?"

Jake peeks up at you, smiling again and you want to tackle him. "It was nice to feel useful. Like a handyman or something."

"Well, it's nice to jnow you're more than a pretty face." You're about to wink at him, but the slam of Aisha's mug on the countertop startles you both, and you resign yourself to an apologetic smile her way and watch Jake's cheeks grow pink in your peripheral.

Chin in your palms you continue to watch him work, hoping he or anyone else in the room, didn't suddenly develop the power of telepathy.

You feel cursed. Wanting something you can't have is one thing but craving something you've never had is an entirely different ball game.

You had popped to the store for some snacks and had totally accidentally bumped into Jake. Well, he bumped into you. You were too busy trying to look nonchalantly to the snacks at the very top of the shelves - ones you certainly could not reach.

"Hey!" Jake greets, again with that goofy grin. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Hi." You try not too excited. "What a coincidence."

"Yeah!" Jake clears his throat and looks up to where you'd been staring before looking back at you. "Want me to grab those chips for ya?"

"Oh, if you wouldn't mind!"

You couldn't care less about the chips. They weren't even your favourites. Any excuse to talk to him without Aisha present was a chance worth taking.

However, as he reaches up, your eyes catch on his bright graphic tee just in time for the material to rise up and reveal his snail trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath his jeans.

Time stops. You wish you could rewind time. The unbearable throb of want coursing through your body like a drug makes you want to scream in the middle of the store. You dont even notice, in your stupor, that Jake is holding the chips to you until he says your name.

"You okay?"

He looks so concerned, bless his cotton socks and you have to wipe your mouth to make sure you haven't drooled anywhere.

"Headache." You lie quickly. "I'll be fine."

"Oh, man, uh... do you want me to drop you back?"

You cant think of anything worse than being trapped in a close space with him at this moment in time so you wave your hand and tell him you'll enjoy the stroll back alone (with your impure thoughts).

The following day, everyone is gathered for a late lunch. Jake had promised the sandwiches from a local deli were the best around and the comment had gone uncontested so, suffice to say you were excited to try what was on offer. However, once again, you were only here to suffer.

"Oh fuck -" Jake moans around his sandwich loudly and as he moves it back, he's licking away sauce from his lips and fingers. "Tastes so good."

The table creaks under your white knuckle grip. You are close to your fucking limit with this guy. Your jaw sets, your thighs clamp shut and you beg for mercy on your soul. Someone this hot cannot know what he's doing.

You are seconds away from slamming your face against the table when Jake's blue eyes flick up from his sandwich (which does look ridiculously good) and meet yours with an innocently curious gaze.

"You not gonna eat?"

There is only one thing on your mind right now that you want to eat and that is one Jake Jensen.

"It's good I promise." He continues when you only stare at him wide eyed as he licks a finger again. "It'll blow your mind."

"Are you trying to turn me on or are you just that oblivious?" You blurt suddenly, causing Pooch to almost choke on his sandwich and Roque to gag on the straw of his drink.

Jake's cheeks go pink and he half gapes at you like a fish unsure of what to say while you continue to stare him down waiting on an answer. You then point at Aisha who's sat across from you.

"Did she put you up to this?"

"I - what - no!" Jake blunders looking around the table for help but his friends are either being rescued from choking or snickering to themselves.

"I didn't do anything." Aisha protests and fixes you with a sarcastic smile. "But watching your brain break has been great."

"I hate you." You say flatly, staring at your best friend in disbelief, trying not to let the corners of your lips twitch. "This week has been torture."

"Uhhh, can I ask what this is about?" Jake says quietly, taking another bite of his sandwich and looking between you and Aisha.

"To answer your previous question; yes he is just that oblivious." Aisha says, leaning back to pop a fry in her mouth. "And your ban is lifted."

"Oh wow," you raise your eyebrows. "That's.... wow."

Jake shakes his head slightly going back to his sandwich. He'll just have to make sure he asks you later.

Later, as you pad to the bathroom ready to complete your nightly routine, you bump into Jake on his way out; hair and skin sparklingly moist, taut muscles and tats on display all the way down to the towel cinched around his slutty waist like nobody's business. Without his glasses he looks just as good, if not better. You can't help as your tongue darts out across your lips, it's the best you can allow otherwise you would be licking him.

"Hey."

"Hi." You eke out, mouth dry. You force your eyes to stay on his face but there's taunting rivulets of water running down the lines of his muscles, following his snail trail and into the towel.

"I need to-" he points past you to his room and you jump out of his way.

"Sorry."

As you enter move to enter the bathroom, he calls your name and you turn back and he's studying you closely, as if trying to catch you out.

"Earlier today, at the table." He begins slowly. "What was that about?"

This is the worst interrogation ever.

"Uhhh... when?" Playing dumb was a dumb play.

"About me turning you on?" He presses, making both of your cheeks grow hot.

"Maybe don't... say it like that." You wince a little but somehow managed a smile. "But look at you! You're gorgeous! Who wouldn't want a piece of that?"

Jake's blush deepens, spreading pink splotches over his neck and chest too. But this was an opportunity to get it all off your chest, you couldn't not take it! Anything to make that boy blush...

"Aisha made me promise not to flirt with you - since I have a bad habit of collecting cuties." You lean against the doorway, hoping the shift in your legs draws attention to them (it does) but giving a half chuckle of relief. "I stuck to my promise but holy shit, you did not make it easy."

"I didn't?" Jake is a strawberry now, clutching his towel in a death grip.

"Nah," you snort. "But since Aisha lifted the ban; you're fair game now lover boy."

He blinks for a moment and then a grin spreads across his face. "You're gonna put the moves on me?"

"Not just the moves," you say proudly. "My moves."

"I think you're going to eat me alive." He chuckles, raking a hand through his wet locks; inadvertently flexing his muscles.

"And then some." You add quietly, glancing up at him to catch a delightful deer-in-headlights look. "But I should let you get to bed..."

You sigh dramatically before fixing him with a smirk and sultry gaze. "Unless you want to jump into mine?"

Jake swallows thickly and has to adjust his towel while you try not to giggle. "Yeah, um, that... that works."

"Let me brush my teeth and I'll see you in five." You wink at him and skip into the bathroom feeling higher than life. This week just got so much better.

End

A/N: if you haven't seen this post, @buckyys-babydoll and I are trying to boost engagement across fics in the writing community. If you liked this fic, please reblog - you dont have to leave a comment. You can leave a reaction image, gif or emoji(s)!

Support writers. Support artists. Support the fandom.

Love ya! 🫶🏻

A/N 2: I didn't think this was 1.6k - it was supposed to be a drabble! 😩 but that's 2 of 13 fics done 💪😌

Taglist - add yourself here

@stargazingfangirl18 @late-to-the-party-81 @irishhappiness @looking1016 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @peaches1958 @alicedopey @brianochka @steviebbboi

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 21 | END

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Dark, Mystery, Betrayal.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

By the way, my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing is FREE on Kindle for a few days. Check it out!

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

You can’t leave. Not when he’s already found you. And now… you have no choice but to play Bucky’s game.

You force a smile, even though your hands are trembling. Your heart races, thudding against your chest like it’s trying to escape. Bucky steps closer and shrugs off his jacket, placing it gently around your shoulders like it’s nothing—like he didn’t just appear out of nowhere in the dead of night.

“You must be freezing,” he says softly. His voice is full of fake concern, the kind that would melt anyone else. “Where are you going this late?”

His eyes are too kind. Too knowing. His tone might fool another woman—but not you.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “My dad’s doctor just called. The surgery’s happening sooner than expected, so I was going to check in.”

Bucky exhales and runs a hand through his hair. “I knew it. I had this feeling something would happen tonight. I’m glad I followed my instincts.”

Bullshit.

You glance at your phone, trying to pretend everything’s normal. “Mind if I join you guys back to the hotel?”

Bucky smiles again, that warm, practiced smile that’s all mask and no soul. He pats Thor’s shoulder. “Of course. Let’s go.”

Inside the car, you sit in the back, clutching the jacket tighter around you even though it makes your skin crawl. Bucky slides into the passenger seat like a king reclaiming his throne. Thor starts the engine without a word.

For the first time tonight, you’re glad this town is small. Your broken-down car wasn’t that far from the hotel. Just a few minutes. Just a few minutes, you tell yourself.

To kill the silence, you blurt out, “When do you think the renovation at my house will be done?”

Bucky doesn’t turn around, but you can hear the smugness in his voice. “Probably next week.”

“Next week?” Your voice rises a little too quickly.

“Not fast enough?” he asks, amused. “I’ll tell the crew to finish in three days.”

“No—no. Next week is fast enough,” you quickly backtrack. Don’t push. Don’t make him suspicious.

You pass the new hospital under construction. The steel skeleton towers in the night, surrounded by floodlights and scaffolding. It’s quiet, too quiet—like something in a dream that doesn’t feel real.

“When it’s finished,” Bucky says with pride, “I’m bringing in the best doctors in the country. Tom won’t have to leave town again.”

You go still. He’s not just talking about your father. He’s talking about you. He’s building a town no one can escape from. A town where he decides who stays—and who belongs to him.

“That’s... great,” you say, voice thin. “No one will have to worry about their health anymore.”

The car pulls into the hotel parking lot. Relief swells in your chest like a wave—until you remember it’s only temporary. You’re still trapped.

Bucky steps out first, then circles around to open your door with exaggerated politeness. You hesitate before accepting his hand. You wish your nails were sharp enough to cut him. But now’s not the time. You have to play nice.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

He studies your face. “You look pale. Want me to have dinner sent to your room?”

Your stomach twists. The last thing you want is him at your door tonight.

“No thanks,” you say quickly. “I’m not that hungry.”

He nods slowly, eyes narrowing for a split second. “Alright. But if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“All right. If you need anything, just call,” Bucky said, his voice smooth like velvet—warm on the surface, but something colder lurked underneath.

You forced a smile. A shallow curve of the lips. The kind people give in tense family dinners or awkward public events—where they have no choice but to play along. You turned from him, heels clicking against the polished tile as you walked toward the lobby.

Each step felt like walking through molasses.

You couldn’t breathe. You needed air, distance—space to think. But no matter how fast or far you tried to go, he was always one step behind. Always.

And then you heard him. The heavy footfalls. He was following.

The elevator was waiting at the end of the corridor. You tapped the call button and stared ahead, not daring to look back. You could feel him close, like a shadow stitched to your spine.

The doors slid open with a soft metallic shhhk. You stepped inside. Of course, he followed.

Now it was just the two of you in a small box of mirrors and steel. Trapped.

The hum of the elevator filled the silence. You could hear your own heartbeat. You kept your eyes trained on the digital numbers above the door. As if they were your countdown to safety.

Then his voice sliced through the stillness—calm, casual, like he was sharing a bit of gossip. “Oh, right. Since what happened to Tony… the director’s seat at the hospital is empty now.”

You blinked, confused for a second. “What?”

Bucky turned to face you slightly, his expression unreadable. “Drysdale was supposed to be the hospital’s biggest investor. But after what happened to him…” His jaw tightened just a fraction. “That’s on me.”

A chill crept up your spine.

His voice remained calm—steady—but there was something cold behind it. Like he wasn’t confessing. He was warning.

“And now that you’re here,” he continued, “it makes sense for you to take over. The hospital needs someone smart. Someone trustworthy. Someone close.”

Your throat tightened. Every alarm in your body was screaming.

You nodded quickly, trying to keep your voice level. “I’ll… think about it.”

The elevator dinged, and you didn’t wait. The doors weren’t even fully open before you slipped through the gap, striding down the hallway with quick, clipped steps. Your hands were shaking.

“Good night,” you tossed over your shoulder.

Behind you, Bucky still hadn’t moved. Still in the elevator. Still watching.

But just as you reached your room, you heard him again—so soft it sent goosebumps crawling across your skin.

“Get some rest. I have to go pick up your car.” Pause. “I’ll make sure it gets fixed properly.”

You glanced back once—just once.

He was still in the elevator. Still smiling. Like this was normal. Like he hadn’t just followed you, hadn’t just dropped a cryptic statement about a man who mysteriously vanished.

You swallowed the fear rising in your throat and turned away, heart hammering.

You fumbled the keycard into the slot with shaking fingers. The green light blinked. You slipped inside and slammed the door shut with your body pressed against it. You threw the bolt, locked the chain. Every click of the lock felt like placing a weak bandage over a bleeding wound.

The room was dim. Quiet. But not peaceful.

You weren’t safe here. Not anymore.

You backed away from the door, breathing hard. Your fingers trembled as you grabbed your charger, plugged in your phone, and called Jake.

No signal.

Your blood went cold.

You stared at the phone. That couldn’t be right. You’d used it here before. You called your lawyer from this room a few nights ago. Texted your lawyer. Checked your emails. There was always signal.

You stepped closer to the window, holding the phone up. Nothing.

Tried again. Nothing.

“Come on. Come on,” you muttered, biting your lip as your hands shook. You tried toggling airplane mode. Tried Wi-Fi. Tried every trick you knew.

Still nothing.

It didn’t feel like bad reception.

It felt… deliberate.

“Did he—” You couldn’t even say it aloud.

Was this part of it? Did Bucky somehow jam the signal? Cut it off? How far had he planned this?

You dropped the phone onto the bed and sat beside it, rubbing your hands over your face.

You felt sick.

Your body was trembling and your chest was too tight. This wasn’t a coincidence. Too many little things. Too many gestures that looked sweet on the outside but were twisted underneath. Too much control hidden in kindness.

The hospital. The car. The signal. Everything. Controlled.

You had to get out. You had to find a way to leave this town before it was too late.

Because now you understood— This wasn’t protection. This wasn’t affection. This was possession.

And you were already in the cage.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

You woke long before the sun rose. Not that you’d slept.

You'd laid in bed for hours, body still but mind spiraling—trapped in a loop of every unnerving detail from the day before. The silence in your room wasn’t comforting. It was thick. Suffocating. You kept glancing at the door, half-expecting it to rattle.

By the time light began to seep in through the curtains, dull and gray like an old bruise, you were already dressed and ready.

You tiptoed to the door, your fingers brushing over the chain lock before sliding it free. Quiet. Don’t wake him.

You cracked the door open and peeked into the hallway. Empty.

Still, your heart pounded as you slipped out, carefully pulling the door shut without a sound.

Bucky lived just across from you. Too close. Every creak of the hallway floor felt like a flare gun going off. But his door didn’t move.

You made it to the elevator and hit the button. The wait felt eternal. Ding.

You stepped inside. The doors closed with a soft hiss. The moment they sealed shut, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

For the first time in hours, you were alone. And for a moment—just one trembling moment—you felt safe.

At the Restaurant

The scent of coffee and baked goods drifted toward you as you stepped into the hotel’s restaurant. The soft clatter of cutlery and murmured conversations felt oddly surreal—normal, almost—like the world hadn’t shifted under your feet.

But then you saw him.

Jake had just walked in, brushing rain off his jacket. You didn’t wait. You marched straight toward him.

“Jake.”

He turned, surprised. “Hey, you called me—” You grabbed his wrist.

“Upps.” He chuckled, but you didn’t.

Without a word, you pulled him into a quiet corner of the restaurant—out of view from any guests, and more importantly, out of reach from the hotel’s security cameras.

“I called you last night,” you whispered, eyes darting around. “Because I need your help.”

Jake frowned. “What happened?”

You shivered.

Not from the cold.

From the memory. From the things you were piecing together. From the weight of knowing—really knowing—who Bucky had become.

Jake’s brow furrowed. “Y/N… are you okay?”

You looked up at him, eyes wide, voice trembling. “Jake… Bucky is evil.”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, I know what he did to you before. But he’s changed now. He seems—”

“No,” you cut him off. “This is different. He’s the mastermind of it all.”

Jake’s expression shifted. He was quiet. Then: “Mastermind?”

You hesitated. You had no proof. Just instincts. Fear. The way every piece of the puzzle seemed to lead back to Bucky’s hands. His watchful eyes. His reach.

“I need your help,” you said, pulling a crumpled paper from your pocket. “Call this number. When someone answers, just say: The contract has terminated. That’s it.”

Jake looked at the paper, confused but trusting. “Okay… But we might have to wait. I heard on the radio this morning—the transmission towers are down.”

Your breath caught. “So it wasn’t just my phone?”

“No. It’s town-wide. Radio, calls, internet… Everything’s messed up.”

You stared at him. Your last thread of hope thinned. “Can you do something? This is urgent, Jake. Please.”

He studied your face. Something in your eyes must’ve told him this wasn’t paranoia. This was real.

“I… I’ll try,” he promised.

You let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

Jake stepped forward, voice softer. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

Then— A voice behind you. Smooth. Inevitable.

“Hey,” Bucky said. “Turns out you’re here. I was knocking on your door.”

You froze. Your pulse jumped. Jake turned stiffly. “Oh, hi Bucky. Y/N was just helping me with… calculating my taxes.” He talked too fast, shit. He's a bad actor.

“Simple, actually,” you added, voice tight. “I’ll see you later.”

You bolted. Walked quickly into the breakfast hall. But you didn’t have to look to know—he followed.

Breakfast Hall

You filled your plate slowly, eyes focused on the scrambled eggs and toast like they held state secrets.

Bucky stood close behind. Too close. His hand brushed the small of your back as he leaned forward.

“There’s no signal,” you murmured, testing. “I can’t make any calls.”

He sighed as if it annoyed him. “Yeah. Something happened at the network tower. I don’t get the details, but the mayor issued an order to fix it fast.”

Of course he did. You nodded slowly. Pretending. Smiling. Playing the part of the patient guest. But your fists clenched around the tongs.

You sat down with your tray, picking at your food. Bucky, as expected, joined your table.

You laughed at the right moments. Asked polite questions. Let your eyes soften when he talked.

And the whole time your skin crawled. Like you were being watched by something wearing a mask.

Eventually, finally, he stood. “Duty calls. I’ll check on the staff.”

You didn’t breathe until he disappeared down the hallway.

At the Information Desk

You moved fast. Straight to the information desk. Your voice low but urgent.

“Could you call a taxi for me? I need to get to the train.”

The young man behind the desk looked apologetic. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. The trains can’t operate either. Network’s down. Even the scheduling system is frozen.”

Your chest tightened. “The train, too?”

“Yes… Sadly, yes.”

Shit. Everything was locked. Controlled. Every way out cut off.

But then you remembered— Natasha. She mentioned heading back to the city later today. Maybe she hadn’t left yet. Perhaps she could help.

It was a long shot.

But it was the only one you had left.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

The arcade reeked of sweat, old popcorn, and something faintly metallic—like rusting wires. The light inside buzzed unevenly overhead, stuttering as you stepped in. The manager sat hunched over a cracked monitor, his eyes bloodshot from too many late shifts and not enough sleep. His chair creaked as he turned slowly to face you, his face already sour with contempt.

“You,” he growled. “It was because of you she quit this morning.”

Your chest tightened. “Really?”

“Ah-ha. She came in, said she was done, and left. Packed up her locker in five damn minutes.” He tossed a grimy towel over his shoulder. “Can’t say I blame her.”

You hesitated. “Do you have her address?”

His jaw clenched. He didn’t answer for a moment, just stared at you like he was trying to burn a hole through your skull. But eventually, maybe because he didn’t care enough to fight it—or maybe because he wanted you gone—he scribbled the address on the back of a receipt and shoved it toward you without another word.

You followed the address. The roads were quiet, too quiet, like the entire town had shrunk in on itself. When you finally reached the apartment building, the air felt different—heavy, charged. You barely raised your fist to knock before the door swung open.

There stood Natasha, her jacket half-zipped and a battered suitcase dragging behind her.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was sharp. Defensive.

“I thought…” You swallowed hard. “I thought I could come along with you.”

Her eyes narrowed, scanning you like she expected something to explode. But then, something in her posture loosened. If you were with her, it might actually work in her favor. You were well-spoken. Clean-cut. You’d be the best walking recommendation letter she'd ever have.

She sighed. “Sure. But you’re paying for gas.”

“Of course.”

Her car was old, faded yellow paint peeling at the edges, the kind that creaked when you opened the door like it might snap in two if pushed too hard. Inside smelled like gasoline and stale fast food.

As the engine sputtered to life, Natasha grumbled, “Seems like the universe fucked me. No signal. No train. So I’m stuck driving this antique.”

“You tell me.” You looked over your shoulder again.

Natasha noticed. “Why do you keep checking behind us?” Her voice was calm but probing.

You hesitated. “Did someone chase you?”

“You have no idea,” you muttered, eyes glued to the rearview mirror.

Ten minutes out of town, the needle on the fuel gauge dropped to red. Natasha swore under her breath.

“Shit. We have to refill.”

You pulled into the nearest gas station—an old, creaky thing at the edge of nowhere. A single flickering fluorescent light buzzed above. Natasha stayed near the car, lighting a cigarette, shoulders hunched against the wind.

Inside the convenience store, the air was warm but stale. The cashier looked bored, flipping through a magazine with chipped nails. You approached the counter.

“I’d like to fill up. Can I use a card? Do you have signal here?”

The cashier looked up slowly, puzzled. “Of course. Why? You don’t have signal?”

“No. Do you?”

“I’ve got full bars. No issues.”

Your stomach twisted.

Something wasn’t adding up.

You handed her your platinum card and forced a smile. “Can I… borrow your phone for a second? I need to call someone. It’s important.”

She hesitated. Looked at the card. Platinum. Her eyes softened. “Sure.”

You took the phone in trembling hands and typed in the number. It rang. You clenched your jaw.

“Come on. Pick up. Please. Please…”

Through the window, something caught your eye.

A black SUV rolled in. Smooth. Expensive. You recognized it instantly.

Thor stepped out first.

Your blood froze.

You watched in horror as he reached for the passenger door. Natasha’s eyes went wide, but before she could react, Thor was dragging her out of the car, one hand clamped over her mouth, the other twisting her arm behind her back.

“No,” you whispered, panic crashing over you in waves.

And then— The call connected.

“Hello?” a deep voice answered on the line.

You didn’t hesitate. “The contract is terminated. The contract is terminated!” The words fell from your lips like a lifeline.

You shoved the phone back to the stunned cashier and snatched your card.

Your legs moved before you could think.

You ran for the door—

—but he was already there.

Bucky.

He stepped out from behind the SUV like a ghost, too calm, too fast. His eyes locked onto you with that unreadable expression, his mouth flat, his body blocking the exit.

You turned to bolt the other way, but his hand clamped around your wrist like iron.

“Let go of me!” you screamed, struggling, but his grip didn’t even flinch.

Customers turned. The cashier looked up, startled.

“Ssst…” The sound was soft. Almost gentle. You barely had time to register it before you felt a sharp sting in your neck.

Your eyes went wide. Your limbs jerked instinctively, a burst of adrenaline flooding your system—but it was already too late. The syringe was already in.

Bucky’s grip tightened just enough to steady you. Not enough to bruise, not enough to panic the few people watching. But firm. Practiced.

Your mouth opened in a breathless gasp. The edges of your vision blurred almost instantly, like ink spreading across paper. The world tilted.

“You always made things difficult,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low, almost fond—almost.

Your knees buckled. He caught you before you hit the floor.

He held you for a second, making sure the sedative had taken full effect. His eyes scanned your face, watching the last flicker of consciousness flicker out like a dying candle.

Only then did he exhale—slow and controlled, like a man who’d been holding his breath too long. Relief and possession curled around his expression like smoke.

He turned, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. The cashier blinked at him in confusion, the silence pressing in like thick fog. Your limp body in his arms turned a few heads. The other customers froze in that awkward half-awareness, unsure if this was an emergency or a domestic drama.

“She ran away from the hospital,” Bucky said calmly, adjusting your weight in his arms. He gave the cashier a reassuring smile, that picture-perfect charm that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “She’s not dangerous. Just scared.”

The cashier’s brows drew together. “O-oh.”

He smoothly pulled a laminated card from his coat and handed it over. The name. The logo. The government seal.

“Here’s my card if you want to confirm anything,” he added. His voice was velvet, but underneath it was the unmistakable edge of control.

She took the card with trembling fingers, eyes flitting between the official badge and your unconscious form.

“I… okay,” she murmured, uncertainty etched into every syllable.

Before he turned to leave, he paused, still wearing that polite, terrible smile.

���Mind if I ask something?”

She nodded, slowly.

“What did she say when she called?”

The cashier swallowed. “She said… ‘The contract is terminated.’ That’s all. Just that. Nothing else.”

Bucky’s expression didn’t flicker. But something behind his eyes changed. A beat. A calculation.

“Really?” he said with a mild curiosity that didn’t match the way his jaw ticked ever so slightly. He reclaimed the ID, slipped it back into his pocket, and nodded once.

“Well. Thanks for your cooperation.” His voice was soft. Final.

He walked out with you cradled in his arms like a sleeping child, but the way he moved—sharp, focused, efficient—was the farthest thing from tender.

In the parking lot, Bucky opened the back door, laid you down gently beside Natasha, and closed it with a soft click that echoed louder than a gunshot in the still air.

He climbed into the driver’s seat, expression unreadable now.

“Contract’s terminated?” he repeated under his breath, starting the engine.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

He had no intention of letting that happen.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

You woke up slowly.

Your head throbbed, and your body felt unnaturally heavy. You blinked up at the pale ceiling, watching shadows shift as soft light filtered through drawn curtains. The air was still. Too still. There was no buzz of city traffic, no hallway chatter, no hum of a minibar. Just silence—thick, padded silence.

You sat up a little. The sheets smelled clean, unfamiliar. The bed was too soft.

Where is this?

This wasn’t a dungeon. There were no chains or stone walls. But it wasn’t your hotel room either. Not the one you remembered. The muted wallpaper, the furniture—none of it matched. For one terrifying moment, you thought: Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe you’d imagined running away, the syringe, the gas station.

You closed your eyes, trying to will the panic away.

Then came the voice.

“You’re awake.”

Your eyes snapped open.

Bucky was sitting in a chair beside your bed. Close. Too close. His posture relaxed, one arm draped over the backrest, the other resting on his knee like he’d been waiting for hours.

Your heart shot up into your throat. You pushed back, inching away, your hands clutching at the blanket like it could protect you.

He saw it. The fear in your eyes.

And it hurt him.

“I would never hurt you,” he said, softly, like a promise he wished you could believe. But you didn’t. And he knew it. That terrified look on your face—it wasn’t part of the plan. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

You were supposed to understand. To forgive. To stay.

“The one piece missing,” he murmured, mostly to himself, “is you.”

You forced your voice out, your throat dry and scratchy. “Where is Natasha?”

Bucky tilted his head slightly, like he was weighing how honest to be. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“She’s fine,” he said at last. “Unless you try to leave me. Then maybe not.”

Your breath hitched.

“I admire you, you know,” he continued, tone unnervingly gentle. “Even after everything she’s done to you… you still helped her. You still cared.” He leaned closer, voice almost reverent. “You’re different. Completely different from all of us.”

There was something too smooth in his voice now. Too careful. He was speaking sweetly, lovingly—but it tasted like poison. The tension in the air was unbearable. It coiled around your throat.

“Why… why are you doing this?” you whispered.

He blinked. Then his eyes widened, surprised you even had to ask.

“Is it not clear enough?” he said, softly.

He leaned back, dragging a hand down his face. And then—finally—he let it spill.

“I never apologized to you. Not once,” he said, eyes unfocused, voice lowering. “I made your life hell. I ruined it. Because I blamed your family for stealing my dad.”

Each word came like a confession he’d been holding for years. His face twisted, as if the weight of it all was finally too much.

“I made everyone hate you in school. Every cruel rumor, every whispered lie—I was the one pulling the strings. I was the designer of your misery.”

He didn’t look at you when he said it. Couldn’t.

“But then I found out it wasn’t your family’s fault.” He let out a hollow laugh. “Your mother had cut ties with Alex. Your mother never wanted anything to do with him again. It was him. My dad. He was the one who couldn’t let go.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched.

“He listened to her wish… but he never stopped watching her. Wanting her. Imagine that—seeing the woman you love every day and knowing you can’t have her.” He looked up at you, and this time, there was something broken in his eyes. “That’s how I feel when I see you.”

You stared, frozen. It was too much. Too fast.

“After graduation, I ran. Left the town. I was ashamed. I studied overseas to get away. But I never stopped thinking about you.” He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. “I lost my mind. I know that. I went too far.”

He looked back at you. “I orchestrated everything. Jake, Natasha losing his job. Thor and Steve—those accidents weren’t accidents. I’m the reason their lives fell apart.”

Your stomach dropped. “You… you’re the one who—?”

“I’m the mastermind,” he said without flinching.

You felt cold spread through your entire body.

“Why?” you whispered.

“Because they deserved it. I deserved it.” His voice cracked—finally cracking.

You wanted to scream. To run. But your voice caught in your throat. You stared at the man in front of you—this boy who once haunted your high school halls with smirks and whispered threats—now grown, twisted, obsessed.

He leaned forward again. “All I ever wanted to hear from you… just once… was this: ‘Thank you, Bucky, for what you’ve done. You punished everyone who made my life hell.’”

You looked at him, blinking through the disbelief.

“…No,” you said quietly. “You’ll never hear that from me. You’re not a judge. You’re just obsessed with rewriting the past.”

His face faltered. His expression cracked open like a window in a storm. Disappointment flashed like lightning across it. For a long, long second, he didn’t say anything.

Then he stood.

“Just rest,” he murmured. His tone was resigned. “Soon, you’ll appreciate what I’ve done.”

He walked to the door and closed it behind him with a heavy click.

You sat frozen for a beat, then launched yourself from the bed. Your legs trembled but you forced them to move. You ran to the window—locked. You rattled the door—also locked.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. You finally realized. You were trapped.

Days passed.

You didn’t know how many. The room blurred into itself—same sheets, same soft lamps, same suffocating stillness. Bucky came every day. Brought food. Always calm. Always too sweet. Like this was normal. Like you belonged here.

You never ate.

Until one day, he set the tray down and said:

“Do you want me to put a strap on you so you can eat?”

That made your blood run cold.

“No,” you said quickly.

You picked up the spoon.

After that, he changed. Loosened.

You weren’t confined to the room anymore. You could walk. Breathe.

And when you finally stepped out—barefoot, heart hammering—you realized the truth.

You weren’t in a facility. You weren’t in a bunker.

You were in his home.

A beautiful, sterile house tucked away in the woods, where no one could hear you scream.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

The house was quiet—too quiet. Every footstep echoed like a warning. The walls were white, sterile, with picture frames that felt too curated to be real. As you followed the faint sound of murmuring, your heart thudded louder with each step.

Then, you saw her.

Lydia sat in a dimly lit lounge, slouched in a faded armchair that had likely once been elegant. The curtains were half-drawn, letting in thin slashes of daylight that made her skin look almost translucent. Her frame had withered into itself. Collarbone sharp, wrists too delicate. A robe hung off her body like it belonged to someone else. On the table before her—dozens of pill bottles scattered like forgotten chess pieces. Half-empty. Some knocked over. Some with their labels torn off.

You froze. You didn’t mean to stare, but the shock rooted you.

She noticed. Her bloodshot eyes flicked toward you. Her voice was raspy, drained from something that went far deeper than exhaustion. “I wish I never gave birth to him,” she said, like she was coughing up venom.

You blinked, stunned—but only for a moment. “Every child is a blessing,” you said, your voice steadier than you expected. “He became like this because of you. And your husband.”

The slap came in words. “You bitch!”

The hiss of her voice cut the air just as—

“Mother.” Bucky’s voice, sharp and low, sliced through the tension like a blade.

Both you and Lydia turned. His shadow filled the doorway. The moment his eyes landed on you, something in them flickered—panic, protectiveness, maybe even guilt.

“Don’t you ever speak to her like that again,” he said, jaw clenched. He stepped further inside.

Lydia didn’t flinch. She scoffed, picked up a pill bottle, turned it in her hand. “It’s not like she understands your feelings. Just like her mother. Playing every man’s heart like a toy.”

The room dropped ten degrees.

He exhaled—long and heavy. A quiet fury, tightly reined in. Then, with a hand lightly on your back, Bucky guided you out.

The hallway swallowed the confrontation behind you. He didn’t speak until you were out of sight from her door.

“I’ll take care of her,” he said quietly. “She won’t talk to you like that again.”

You didn’t answer. Your eyes stayed ahead. His hand lingered on your back like it belonged there—but it didn’t.

There was a pause. Then he tried again, gentler this time. “I’ve prepared dinner. For the two of us.”

You stopped walking. His words hung in the air, brushing your skin like invisible wires.

Your stomach curled at the thought—but what were your choices? Say no and risk another version of a locked room? Say yes and play the part?

You nodded. Just once.

That was all he needed. His entire face softened with relief, lips curving in a small smile—as if your silence meant progress. As if he believed he was winning you over.

He didn’t know your silence was survival. He didn’t know every nod you gave was calculated.

Still, that smile... it chilled you more than his threats ever did.

The dining room was beautiful, and wrong.

A chandelier spilled warm light over the long table, casting soft shadows that danced on polished wood. The clink of cutlery, the glow of red wine in crystal glasses, and the soft music playing somewhere far in the background tried to sell a lie: that this was normal. That you were just another couple sharing dinner in a grand home.

The food was plated perfectly—steak, mashed potatoes, a side of greens. The wine bottle stood tall between you, uncorked. But your appetite was buried beneath nausea.

Bucky poured the wine with practiced ease. His sleeves were rolled up, his forearms relaxed—but his eyes never left you.

He smiled. “The mayor will retire this year.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I’ll replace him,” he said calmly, as if it were already set in stone. “You’ll be the hospital director. Both of us… ruling this town. Like it’s meant to be.”

You stared at him, fork trembling in your hand. “I don’t want to.”

He set down his glass, jaw twitching. “This is a good thing. Why do you always reject me?”

“Because you’re not giving me choices, you’re giving me cages.”

“I gave you everything!” His voice cracked against the walls. “Respect, power, a future! And you act like I’m the villain!”

“You are the villain!” you shouted, shoving your chair back. “You stalked me, drugged me, locked me up—! You think because you cooked me dinner, I’m supposed to fall in love with you?”

His face contorted. “Don’t you—don’t you dare pretend like you didn’t ever want this. That you didn’t dream of getting out of your pathetic little life and being someone.”

Your heart pounded like a war drum. “Never.”

Then silence.

Your hand moved before your thoughts caught up.

CRASH. The bottle of wine shattered against the side of his head.

Bucky staggered back, red staining his temple—wine or blood, you didn’t know. He crumpled to the floor with a groan.

You didn’t wait to see if he’d get back up.

Your breath hitched as you turned and ran.

The house twisted around you like a labyrinth. You turned corners blindly until you burst into the lounge again—and saw Lydia, still slouched on the couch.

“Lydia!” You rushed to her, shaking her gently. “We have to go!”

She didn’t move.

You leaned in—her chest didn’t rise. Her skin was pale. Eyes open, staring at nothing.

Dead.

“Kyaaaa!!” The scream ripped from your throat. You stumbled back, hitting the table, collapsing to the floor as your body curled in on itself. Your stomach turned. Did he do this? Had she overdosed? Did she… give up?

Your eyes darted. A lighter sat next to her on the side table. You grabbed it. You didn’t know why. Maybe you wanted to burn the whole damn house down.

You ran again, frantic, feet flying over hardwood.

“Natasha!” you shouted, voice cracking. “Natasha!!”

“She’s dead too.”

You skidded to a stop, turned—

Thor. He stood at the end of the hallway like a nightmare, too broad, too quiet, too solid to move past.

Your stomach dropped. No. No, not him too.

You ran. He followed.

You ducked into the study, your lungs screaming. Bookshelves loomed around you, walls of knowledge offering no safety.

You threw yourself into the wardrobe, door creaking shut behind you. You held your breath.

Darkness swallowed you. You crouched in silence, heart hammering like it might betray you. And then—something cold pressed against your back.

You reached slowly. The shape, the curve, the steel.

Footsteps creaked into the room. Thor's voice rumbled, cold and close. “Give up. You can’t run away.”

You didn’t breathe. But you whispered, just loud enough:

“Behind you.”

A pause. His boots shifted. He turned.

BANG. A sharp crack exploded in the air. Thor jerked, eyes wide in shock, as the bullet tore into his chest.

He dropped like a tree.

You stepped out of the wardrobe, hands trembling but steady enough to hold the cold weight of the shotgun. The bullet belt was slung across your shoulder, heavy against your chest, metal clinking with each slow, deliberate step.

Thor lay on the floor, still breathing—barely. Blood soaked through his shirt, seeping into the carpet, dark and thick. His broad chest rose and fell with ragged effort. His eyes met yours—wide, glassy, full of disbelief. The great enforcer of the house, brought down by you.

He choked, mouth twitching with one last breath.

“Where is she?” Your voice was ice. No fear, just fire beneath your skin.

His throat clicked as he forced out his final words.

“In the basement.”

You didn’t thank him. Didn’t hesitate.

You marched through the twisted halls, shotgun clutched in your hands, past the portraits of smiling liars and rotting love. The house felt alive now, breathing smoke and secrets with every creaking board.

The basement door was hidden behind a curtain, locked with a deadbolt. You smashed it open with the butt of the gun. The staircase creaked beneath your feet as you descended into the dark. Each step down was a step into the pit of your nightmares.

The air was damp. Cold. The hum of a single flickering bulb buzzed above you like a dying insect.

And there she was.

Natasha. Strapped to a wooden chair.

Her head slumped to the side. Her skin was pale. Lips faintly blue.

You dropped the shotgun.

“No—no, no, no…” you whispered, stumbling forward. You fell to your knees in front of her and shook her shoulders. Her arms dangled limp.

“Nat, please—” Your voice cracked into a sob. “Please wake up. Please." You cried for her. A future ahead of her was taken away. She could have started a new chapter.

You pressed your fingers to her wrist. Nothing.

You let out a sound that wasn’t quite a scream, but wasn’t human either. The kind of grief that breaks something in you forever.

You stood, staggered back, fists clenching.

You hated him. This house. This bloodline. This lunatic fantasy he built on the bones of others.

Your eyes scanned the basement—rage sharpening your vision. You saw shelves of chemicals. Canisters. A broken-down workbench. Oil drums.

You grabbed one. The liquid inside sloshed like gasoline. You ripped the lid off and poured it over the floor, over the walls, over Natasha’s lifeless cage. You grabbed another. And another. Until the stench of fuel choked the air.

Your hands found the lighter in your pocket. You flicked it.

Click. Flick. Flame.

The fire danced to life—hungry, beautiful, merciless.

“You wanted an empire,” you spat through your teeth as the flames caught. “Here’s your goddamn legacy.”

The fire swallowed the basement like it had been waiting for this moment. Flames curled up the walls. Smoke billowed toward the ceiling, thick and black. The heat pulsed against your skin.

You grabbed the shotgun again and ran.

The house moaned as you sprinted through it, fire chasing your heels. Furniture cracked. Glass shattered from the heat. Flames kissed the staircase and licked the paintings off the walls.

You reached the front door, lungs burning. Just as your fingers touched the doorknob—

“Click.”

“BANG!”

The shot rang past your head, grazing the wood beside your face.

You turned—heart in your throat—and there he was.

Bucky. Blood ran down his temple, staining his white shirt crimson. His left eye was swollen, but he still held the shotgun like it was an extension of his body. His smile was twisted, more unhinged than ever.

“I see you’ve found my grandfather’s treasure.”

The fire crackled behind you. The heat rose between you both like hell itself opening wide.

The barrel of your shotgun tilted up just slightly. The smoke clawed at your throat, but you didn’t blink.

“It’s a good toy,” you said, cold and calm, voice carrying over the snapping fire.

Bucky’s face broke into a wide grin, teeth flashing like a madman’s mask. “Hahaha… this is the Y/N I remembered.” His laugh twisted into something unhinged, echoing through the burning house. Then, abruptly, his tone dropped, eerily calm again—like the switch of a broken man trying to hold on. “I won’t hurt you. Just put the gun down… and we’ll start over.” His voice softened. Hopeful. Like nothing around you was turning to ash.

Your grip tightened on the shotgun.

“We?” you whispered. “There’s no we.”

His smile faltered. And that was all it took.

Something broke behind his eyes.

“Well, since I asked nicely…” He lifted his shotgun with mechanical precision. “I’ll use the hard way.”

“Shit!” You threw yourself behind the overturned dining table as a blast ripped through the air.

The house shook as both of you started firing—BOOM! BOOM! The walls cracked, glass shattered above you, and the fire groaned like it wanted blood. You ducked behind a pillar, breath short, heat blistering.

“Who taught you how to shoot?” Bucky shouted from behind a smoky corner.

You peeked through the flames and yelled back, “Ransom’s grandfather.” Another shot. Another duck. “I spent summers with the Drysdales. Harlan taught me how to shoot wild animals.”

You could almost hear Bucky’s eye twitch.

“Tsk.”

The moment he emerged—you fired. The shot caught his shoulder.

“Arrrgh!” He screamed and crashed into the wall, gripping his bleeding arm. He looked down at the blood like it betrayed him.

His voice was hoarse now, but desperate. “Why do we have to hurt each other? Don’t you understand why I’m doing all this? It’s for you!”

You crouched low, creeping behind the smoke-thick curtains, hands slick with sweat and soot. You found a corner with partial cover and aimed again.

“Why?” you demanded, voice cutting through the chaos.

Bucky stood crookedly, one arm limp at his side. “Because I love you.” He said it like it justified everything. His voice cracked. His eyes burned more than the fire ever could.

You stared at him from across the scorched room.

Your lips parted.

Your voice dropped, quiet but lethal.

“We can’t be together. Not in this life… or another… not even in your dreams.”

The words hit him like a second bullet.

He didn’t scream.

He laughed.

But it was broken—manic—a dry, cracked hysteria. “HAHAHAHA!” Tears welled in his eyes as he leaned back against the wall, shaking with laughter that wasn’t joy. “After everything I’ve done for you…” His smile collapsed into grief. “It won’t matter. Nobody will believe you. I’ll burn it all down. I’ll frame you. I’ll make it look like you killed Lydia… Natasha… Thor. You know what I’m capable of.”

The flames hissed louder, licking the ceiling. A chandelier fell behind him, shattering into sparks.

Silence fell, thick and heavy.

Then your voice returned—low, confident, and chilling.

“Are you sure about that?”

Bucky’s breath hitched.

Then—a voice played. His voice.

From a recorder buried deep in the folds of your jacket. From somewhere you left playing just loud enough for him to hear.

“…so you’re the one who made Jake and Natasha lose their jobs, made Thor and Steve have that accident that ruined their careers?”

His voice. Calm. Boastful. Careless.

Then: “Yes. I’m the mastermind.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in horror. His mind couldn’t keep up with the trap snapping shut around him.

And then—he laughed again. Not maniacally.

This time, it was hollow. Like everything had finally cracked.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured. Almost with reverence. Even in his dying moment, he can't keep up with you.

You stood a little taller, your finger near the trigger. “You still have the chance to pay for your sins. To stop. To do one thing right.”

But the fire was already consuming the hallway. The walls behind him were collapsing.

And then he spoke.

His voice was quieter now. “It’s too late for me.” He wasn’t yelling anymore.

The world had gone quiet—but not in peace. It was the silence of something dying. The kind that came before a scream.

All around you, the fire surged higher, roaring like a beast finally let off its leash. Heat pressed in from every direction. The wallpaper curled. Beams cracked overhead, moaning as the structure gave up.

Then— CRACK—THUD!

A burning wooden beam split from the ceiling and crashed just inches from your body.

“Kyaa!” You stumbled back, shielding your face from the embers that flew like angry sparks. Your lungs choked on smoke, and your heart pounded so violently it rattled your ribs.

Then—his voice cut through the inferno like a ghost reaching out.

“Y/N.”

It wasn’t angry. Not like before. It was… still. Too calm.

“Could you look at me?” he said gently. “I won’t shoot you.”

You froze, back against the singed remains of a bookshelf. Slowly, you lifted your head.

Your eyes met his.

He stood on the staircase above you, framed by flames, his shadow long and flickering behind him. Ash clung to his hair. Blood soaked through his shirt. His shotgun hung loosely at his side.

But his eyes— They didn’t hold rage anymore. Only something final.

“You have to go out now,” he said, voice strained but firm.

Your throat tightened.

“You too.”

He shook his head once, slowly. That same soft smile lingered on his lips, cracked and bleeding.

“There’s no redemption for me.”

The floor beneath him creaked—sickening, ready to collapse. You stepped forward anyway, fists clenched.

“Y/N, listen.”

You stopped. Your eyes burned—not from the smoke.

And then he smiled. That broken, tender smile. Tear stains cut through the soot on his face, streaks of something too human for a monster.

“Remember me like this,” he said, voice trembling. “Just this last time. I love you. Even after you shot me… burned my house… my love for you never changed.”

You didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

You stood in the glow of the inferno, unable to move, unable to breathe. Maybe it was the smoke. Maybe it was the heartbreak.

He sighed—a long, tired sound. Like he had hoped for something that never came.

And even now, you still wouldn’t say it.

His expression didn’t shift. Not this time. There was no anger, no madness left.

Just… surrender.

“Goodbye.”

He didn’t hesitate.

In one swift movement, Bucky brought the shotgun to his chin.

BANG!

The sound shattered the air like thunder.

“BUCKY!” you screamed, a raw, guttural sound that ripped from your throat.

His body crumpled backward—limp, weightless—before the flames swallowed the staircase whole. You ran toward him, but the fire surged up the bannister like it wanted to keep him. Keep his secrets. Keep you out.

“BUCKY!!”

But he was gone.

The smoke clawed at your lungs, the heat forced you back. You stumbled out of the collapsing house, the sky above black with ash, your scream echoing long after the fire silenced everything else.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

The house, a shell of its former self, was now nothing but a smoldering ruin. The fire had devoured everything—walls caved in, timbers fell in a fiery collapse, leaving nothing but ashes. The sirens from paramedics and police vehicles pierced the air, but even their arrival seemed distant, the weight of what had happened still pressing down on you.

They didn't even bother to check on you. The paramedics only moved in to assess the damage, eyes steely and distant. The local police moved past you with barely a glance, their focus solely on the charred remains of the house.

You stood there, isolated, the weight of the world in your chest.

Then, a voice broke through the haze. “Y/N!”

It was Jake’s voice—loud, relieved, and so familiar it almost made you crack.

You turned and saw him, rushing toward you with Ransom, Steve, and your dad right behind him. They were a shield, a reminder of something you thought you'd lost.

“Guys…” you whispered, a tremor running through your voice.

Jake’s face softened, but his brow furrowed in concern. He reached out for you, but before any of them could get too close, the local sheriff stepped forward, blocking them with a hardened stare.

“She’s the prime suspect,” the sheriff said flatly, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Ransom’s jaw tightened. His eyes, always calculating, now burned with anger.

“Prime suspect? She's a victim here! She was kidnapped! We've been looking for her!" Ransom spat, stepping forward aggressively. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

The sheriff didn’t flinch, his stance unwavering. But Ransom wasn’t done. He turned to Jake, who was still standing back, his expression a mix of disbelief and frustration.

“We’ve got a lawyer here. The Chief of Police is already on their way.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s supposed to mean something?”

Before anyone could respond, a black SUV pulled up, its tires screeching on the gravel. The door swung open, and out stepped a tall, authoritative figure in a dark suit—Chief of Police.

The sheriff’s expression shifted, uncertainty flickering for just a moment. His shoulders stiffened, a visible sign of tension as the Chief of Police approached.

The Chief of Police ignored the sheriff entirely and walked straight up to you, his eyes locking with yours for a brief moment. He gave a small nod, a silent signal that you were no longer alone in this.

“Chief…” the sheriff stammered, unsure of what to say.

The Chief of Police didn’t answer at first. Instead, he turned his gaze to Ransom, who had a smug look on his face.

“That’s enough, right?” Ransom asked, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

The Chief of Police raised a hand, signaling for quiet, then finally spoke.

The local sheriff and his deputies stood frozen, their mouths agape as they watched the Chief of Police back you up. This was clearly a scene they weren’t prepared for.

You sighed, the weight of everything slowly lifting from your shoulders. You reached into your jacket bag and pulled out the evidence—the recording.

You handed it to the Chief of Police, watching as his eyes scanned over it. Bucky’s voice crackled through the speakers, his confession echoing in the silence around you.

“This is it,” you said quietly. “He was behind it all.”

Ransom leaned in, crossing his arms, a satisfied smirk still on his face. “You know what to do next.”

The Chief of Police paused for a moment, then looked at the sheriff. “That’s enough. She’s free. You can’t touch her.”

The sheriff’s face twisted in confusion and anger, but he couldn’t do anything. Not now.

The Chief of Police turned to you, offering a rare, genuine smile. “You’re safe now.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you let out a long breath, finally feeling the release you so desperately needed. This fight—it was over.

But there was one last thing you needed to say.

You caught Ransom’s eye, and without a word, you slipped him a small nod. A code only the two of you would understand.

'The Contract Has Terminated means I’m going to die. Help.'

The remainder of those dark days, the dangerous people you’d encountered, flashed briefly through your mind. Working in investment had always meant navigating treacherous waters.

You were free. And, for once, you didn’t have to run anymore.

Finally, this nightmare of yours is over.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

Epilogue

1 Year Later

You returned to work with Ransom again. After everything he’d done to you, you felt like you owed him a lot. Yet, over time, you noticed a change in his behavior towards you. He didn’t want you to get hurt anymore. His actions were more protective now, almost as though he cared in ways he hadn’t before. And he's less of an asshole than before. Perhaps there could be romance between you two? There's a chance.

As for Tom, your dad, he had recovered from his kidney surgery. He decided to stay in the city and live with you, enjoying his retirement. He found a new community at a local golf club, which you had encouraged him to join. There, he met many new friends—surprisingly, more than you had. Living in the city seemed to suit him well.

Steve, on the other hand, had become a famous artist, just like he’d always dreamed. He traveled the world, and he made sure to pay what he owed you. He never forgot how you opened the door to him when he needed it most. Sometimes, Mr. Rogers would even travel with him, and they would share stories about their adventures.

As for Jake, with your evidence and the help of lawyers, he was able to clear his name. He got his old job back, while his mother continued her travels around the world on a cruise.

Everyone had moved on, yet you couldn’t shake the memories of what had happened in that town. The scars it left on you were deep. You still went to therapy to work through the trauma, but even now, there were nights when the haunting images resurfaced. The weight of those moments stayed with you, lingering in the corners of your mind, reminding you that some things, no matter how hard you tried, would never truly leave.

Until one day, Steve visited you and handed you a letter. It was from Bucky. You didn’t want to open it. You placed it on the table, where it remained untouched for a month. Eventually, you found the courage to open it. Taking a deep breath, you read the letter:

“I can’t think of a better way to defend what I’ve done for you. It was bad. I acted like a judge to punish people.

Still, you don’t deserve it. I robbed your childhood, your teenage years.

Every day, I thought to myself: What if I never meant to you? What if we were friends? What if you never hated me? What if we loved each other? What if you don’t hate me after I’m gone?

I write this letter to you in case I’m gone. My love for you never changed.

Hate me all you want, but I knew you would never be able to forget me. Just like the town where we grew up, the one we hated the most.”

You regretted opening the letter. You couldn’t stand reading his words anymore. Grabbing a lighter, you burned it, watching the paper curl and blacken in the flames.

How you wished you could make him see how wrong he was.

After that day, everything in the town began to change. The mayor’s corruption was exposed, the illegal casino shut down, and the bodies that Thor had buried in the forest were discovered. Bucky’s schemes, the ones that led to his own mother’s death, Natasha’s murder, and the malpractice by Dr. Stark, were all unveiled. Both he and the mayor would rot in jail for the rest of their lives.

As for Natasha, you built a grave for her. You couldn’t hold on to the past anymore because, in the end, Natasha was also a victim—just like you.

Ransom was furious and wanted to rid the town of its rotten core. He transformed the once-dying town into an exclusive area, completely changing its landscape. The Barnes residence, a symbol of Bucky’s twisted life, was turned into a flower park. No business, no reminders—just peace.

The town was unrecognizable, and the letter Bucky sent was nothing but a lie. It felt wrong in every possible way.

You realize that you've kept living and breathing since that day, and everything is different. You don't let that day make you afraid. You’re still able to go outside, meet people, and work. And that damn town has changed too.

You raised your middle finger to the ground and muttered, “Fuck you, Bucky. Rot in hell.”

-The End.-

Woohoo... finally, it's done!!!

I never thought I could complete this story. I realize that writing mystery stories is more difficult than the other stories I’ve written.

Thank you to everyone who has been following this story from the beginning.

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My book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing is FREE on Kindle for a few days. Check it out!

Link for Arrogant Ex-Husband

Link for Dad I Can't Let You Go

[krirebr]

Updated 4/27/25

Tag lists are open

Here is a current list of all of the work I've posted here. I write mostly for Chris Evans characters and all of my stories are intended for an 18+ audience. Minors please DNI.

Requests are closed but my asks are always open! Come riff with me or send asks/what ifs about any of my works! But no NSFW GIFs, please and thank you! 💜

🖤 Dark 🩶 Soft!Dark 😥 Angst 🥵 Smut ⭐️New/Updated

Trapped AU

Andy keeps telling you how lucky you are that he chose you to be his wife. 🖤 😥

Head Over Heels

All Cole wants is someone to share eternity with. He won't stop looking until he finds them.

I Know I Should Know Better series

Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it? 😥🥵

Heads Will Roll series

Training to be a slayer becomes even more difficult when you must hit the road with two hunters for your own safety.

Luck Be a Lady

Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head? 🩶🥵

Still Life series

Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad... 😥

Drabbles & Headcanons

Curtis + soft!dark + soothe 🖤

Curtis Takes the Snowpiercer 🖤🥵

Curtis + Possessive 🥵

Just Part of the Process - I Know I Should Know Better AU - Actor!Curtis Everett x PA!Reader 😥

Heads Will Roll series

Training to be a slayer becomes even more difficult when you must hit the road with two hunters for your own safety.

Drabbles & Headcanons

Relax

A Merry Little Christmas

Killing Moon

When you and your boyfriend steal something without fully realizing who you are stealing from, you're sent on a cross-country adventure by an ally you're pretty sure you shouldn't trust.

Giving Me a Thrill

A few years after your divorce, a friend gives you a nudge to try something new.

Psycho Killer AU

A drunken dare and chance encounter jump-starts a whole new life. 🖤🥵

Dance Hall Days - Steve Rogers x Ransom Drysdale

Ransom meets a man in a bar who seems like he'll be fun for a night or two 🖤🥵😥

More Than This series

Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn. 😥⭐️

I'm Feeling Like I Never Should

It's bad enough you've been forced to be at this charity gala, but now you have to deal with your ex, Ransom.

Lips Like Sugar

Finally cut off by his mother and grandfather, Ransom has to find a new way to access the lifestyle he's accustomed to. He figures it won't be too hard to find some rich old lady willing to bankroll him in exchange for sex. You aren't exactly what he expected. ⭐️

Drabbles & Headcanons

Jealous Ex Ransom

Sequel 🥵

End

No Way of Knowing - More Than This What If 😥

What You Can Do For Your Country

Being Captain America is a lot harder than anyone realizes. Steve thinks you might be able to help. 🖤

Everybody Wants to Rule the World series

Your vacation comes to an end when a powerful and mysterious man gets his first taste. 🖤🥵

Dance Hall Days - Steve Rogers x Ransom Drysdale

Ransom meets a man in a bar who seems like he'll be fun for a night or two

All Things Go series

It's been a few months since Steve was pulled out of the ice and immediately had to fight aliens with the newly formed Avengers. He is doing fine with all that, all things considered. Which is why he's so upset when he's suddenly benched from missions and forced to welcome a support omega into his home. He's fine! 😥

Drabbles & Headcanons

Arranged Marriage Steve Headcanon

Tell Me One Thing - More Than This What If 😥

What if Reader was into it? - What You Can Do For Your Country What If 🖤

We're All Monsters

Multi-character, multi-reader vampire AU 🖤😥🥵

[thezombieprostitute]

The Arrangement Masterlist

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16 (Finale)

Asks:

Jake's Cooking Skills

[bigtreefest]

Tangled Up

Pairing: Andy Barber x Soft!Dark Reader

Summary: Andy has no idea how he’s found himself so quickly tangled up in your web. And your basement…

Word count: 2,756

Content/warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, dark themes including but not limited to kidnapping and isolation, restraints and interrogation, noncon/dubcon, emotional manipulation and humiliation, forced and semi- dom/sub dynamics, kissing, smut, grinding and pussyjob, p in v unprotected sex, cum tasting, mentions of starvation, swears

A/N: I’m SO EXCITED for you all to read this! This reader is a certified feral loony and such a blast to think about. Made in collaboration with @brandycranby

Comments, reblogs, and asks are especially appreciated!

Dividers by @ghoulbloggerrr

AU Masterlist | Bigtreefest Masterlist | Brandycranby Masterlist

Andy roused from a restless slumber fully confused and disoriented. His head was pounding, eyes crusty, hair matted to his forehead likely from a stress dream he couldn’t remember now, despite the way the cortisol still flowed through his bloodstream. Everything around him was unfamiliar, yet he’d memorized the barren surroundings in the couple days he’d been trapped in this basement. At least he thought it’d been a couple days. Time seemed irrelevant now.

He never thought it would happen so quickly, having been solitary for so much of his life. Before, being alone meant peace, but since the divorce, and a couple days with such few creature comforts, he realized that wasn’t the case.

He moved to run a hand over his face in thought, in an attempt to clear off his brow so he could focus a little better, but winced from the pull at his tender wrist. That’s right, the man with the goatee tied him up pretty tight. His back was slightly arched, shoulders digging in uncomfortably to the backrest of what he assumed to be a dining chair. His lower half was nearly numb from the worn cushion underneath him, tailbone growing sore. He attempted to adjust, just to remember his ankles were restrained, too which yanked him back down to the hard wood.

The hiss Andy let out mixed with the vague sounds of footsteps upstairs. It just barely made it through the soundproof walls, but was easily picked up through the deafening silence. That must’ve been what had woken him, they were coming. You were coming.

His body went stiff as a board at that, no longer groggy, but fully at attention. This would be the time to fight back. Maybe he could finally convince you to return him to his bachelor pad, to his life.

Andy sat in anxious anticipation. In seconds that felt like hours with the way his heart was in his throat, the door at the top of the steps cracked open, golden hour sunlight bouncing off of the drywall and towards his eyes through the double glass doors of his cell, the first non-fluorescent glow to hit him in eons. Andy had never been one to stop and admire the sunset, except maybe on vacations with Laurie, but now, he’d give anything for a glimpse of the sky. Because that would mean freedom. Freedom from this place that he still couldn’t quite understand that he found himself. It was gone too soon as the door clicked shut.

He watched as your bare feet padded down the steps, tantalizingly slow, revealing bare legs under a short, silk robe. Warm food steamed in a low-brimmed bowl that balanced on your hand, the other holding a glass of water with a straw. Your eyes were focused on the next step until you reached the bottom, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It was so beautiful, so blue, but so full of turmoil. You smiled, seeing him in all of his glory, finally in your house.

Your slow stalk towards him was diverted to the basement bathroom to grab a washcloth, before you resumed your walk to the airlock. As you made your way through the double doors, a smirk broadened your lips at the sight of Andy tied up in the center of the room. Unable to do anything but be at your mercy. You set the bowl of food and glass of water down beside his chair and sat sideways on his lap, placing a gentle hand on his cheek as your eyes roved over his face, taking stock of every detail. At your touch, Andy turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut, causing your face to scrunch in disappointment.

“Andy, honey, let me clean you up.”

He moved just barely enough to shake his head as you lifted your other hand to his face, firmly guiding him to look towards you once more. He opened his eyes again to be met with a soft look.

“That’s better, now, isn’t it?”

You began to wipe off his eyes and forehead, doing your best to clean him up. Andy’s breath picked up as his lips parted.

“I want to go home.”

Your hands froze, just about to tousle his hair, cupping his beard instead. As your eyes bored into his, all Andy saw was deep, deranged darkness behind them.

“You are home, silly. How many times do I have to tell you that? I’m going to take such good care of you, but you just have to let me. The more you learn about how to be a good husband, the more freedoms I’ll allow you, hm? Now, how about some dinner?”

Andy’s eyebrows were furrowed in anger, disgust as he stared you down, pulling at his restraints until he realized it was better to avoid the rope burn that was developing. But you didn’t seem to be bothered by that at all, setting down the washcloth and swapping it for the bowl of food, no longer steaming, but still warm. He could tell it by the way the scent surrounded him, and he hated that he thought it actually smelled good.

As you resettled in his lap, Andy found himself looking in the bowl, seeing gravy, speckled with bright orange carrots and something green, over rice.

You nestled in close, putting together a spoonful of the food and clocking his curiosity.

“It’s beef stew. Curtis is nearly famous for it. So savory, so delicious, and packed with love for this very special Valentine’s occasion. It’s a real treat.”

He was confused by your evident excitement with the dish. Were you trying to sell this to him? Poison him? What was the point? Who was Curtis? And it was already Valentine’s Day? Where had the time gone?

You held a bite up to his mouth, eyes sparkling, but your eyebrows gathered when you were met with sealed lips.

“Open up, Andy. It’s good. You’ve got to eat. Don’t want those plush swimmer’s muscles wasting away. That would be a shame!”

The tone of your voice was almost as shiny as the lipgloss you wore, making Andy’s stomach turn more. You attempted to make another bite, a smaller one of just rice, and put it to his lips again.

“C’mon. Just a little. He worked so hard on it!”

Andy opened his mouth and scraped the grains off the spoon with his teeth, chewing slowly and swallowing them down. Carbs were good, maybe that could fuel him for a few more days like this, and keep him in your good graces. Your face softened in satisfaction to the way he acquiesced and you held up another spoonful, which he promptly refused. You shrugged and set the bowl down, this time straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck when you came back.

Your tone was congratulatory, yet nonchalant, “One bite! That’s progress. I’m sure I’ll have you eating out of my hand soon enough.”

Andy looked up at the ceiling. Anywhere but at you and the way your silk robe had parted where your legs had spread, teasing what little fabric lied underneath.

A grumble emerged from his lips. A mere mumble you were hoping you didn’t catch correctly, as you ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“What was that?”

He directed his face towards you again, eyes sharp as his nose and jawline, a killing look almost.

“You’re sick.”

You threw your head back with a light laugh.

“Honey, I’m nothing of the sort. I just know what’s best for you, and that’s being here, with me.”

He shook his head, moving to gesture to the nearly empty room, only to be reminded of his restraints again.

“This? This….empty torture chamber!? This is what’s best for me? There’s nothing down here! It’s just some shitty IKEA rug over a concrete floor, blank walls, a mattress, and a prison bathroom!”

Your face flashed a hint of anger at his defiance before you steeled yourself quickly, replacing it with a look of concern.

“Well, there’s not much down here because I don’t want you hurting yourself, Andy pandy. You don’t know what’s best yet, I’m taking care of you. Once you learn how to behave, there’s no need for these precautions. You can have all sorts of trinkets and decorations eventually. And if you’re really good, maybe you can come upstairs and stay in bed with me.”

His jaw ticked at that. This wasn’t his home.

“I have a house. It has everything I need. People are looking for me! I’m sure it won’t be long.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and your head dropped to your chest, a low, dry laugh emanating from your throat before you shook your head and met his eyes that were full of faltering conviction.

“Andrew, no need to lie to me. We can be honest with each other.” Your voice was sickeningly sweet and dripping with feigned sympathy. “I know you live in a sad, lonely apartment. And that your name as Assistant District Attorney doesn’t get you as far as it once did. Especially with the way you fumbled into success on your last case.”

His nostrils flared with ire. He opened his mouth to respond, deny, but was met with your shushing finger.

“Let me finish. A little birdie told me that you’re going to be let go any day now, especially with the several days you haven’t shown up, without a single call! And then what are you to do? Wither in your bachelor pad, squandering your nice severance payments? It’s not like Laurie would jump to comfort you. But I would. So, be a good boy, and let me take it from here.”

Andy shuddered as you shuffled closer to him, his tight lips denying the kiss you pressed to them.

“Still gonna be difficult? We can move to dessert. I know you hardly had any dinner, but let me give you a taste of how sweet things could be for you, old man. Just relax and sit back.”

Behind his back, Andy’s hands gathered into fists and his teeth clenched together. He had a feeling what your agenda was, and it was solidified by what he saw as you shrugged the pink robe off of your shoulders. Underneath it lied a white, lacy teddy, adorned with small pink hearts all over. So darling and sweet, and innocent. It was nauseating, the image coming together in front of him. The honey that poured from your mouth and hugged the curves of your body, soured by your true intentions that bubbled below the surface.

You tentatively ground your hips in a circle over the dress slacks that he still wore, pleased as he struggled to contain a moan. No matter how much Andy tried to deny it, his body was betraying him, blood rushing south, gaze sucked into the sight of your breasts being pushed up near his face by the flimsy lace.

Your pleased expression couldn’t be hidden either as you continued to hump against him, your hands moving to rub up and down his chest through his dress shirt which was no longer pristine and pressed. As you smoothed some of the wrinkles, you felt the broad expanse of what was underneath.

With a simmering eagerness, you began to undo the buttons painstakingly slow, revealing his faded undershirt. Your fingertips gently, teasingly grazed over the ridges of his pecs, thumbs flicking his nipples, gracing your ears with a low growl from his throat. You bit your bottom lip in excitement at what you were able to pull from him already, leaning in to press a soft, rewarding kiss to the straining muscles of his neck. He really was so beautiful like this, so needy already.

His dick was pressing against your thigh almost insistently with every fluid motion you were making to brush over it, mirroring the growing impatience you felt rising within your belly. Without wasting another second, you scooted back to undo the zipper of Andy’s dress pants and reached your hand in, his cock immediately standing at attention, precum already leaking from the angry red tip.

You swiped it up with your finger and sucked it off between your lips, taking pride in the way Andy’s breaths continued to pick up.

Genuine elation was filling you at that. “Mmm, tastes so good. Gonna give me more?”

His pupils went wide and dark, nearly as much as yours. You could tell his protests were wavering, despite the wispy denial spilling past his lips.

“N-no. Stop. I-I don’t want this.”

Your hand lowered again to cup his cock against the lace that covered your pussy, hips grinding up and down his length. The pressure and pleasure was almost dizzying with how you could feel the ridge of the head nudge your clit. The thin lace was quickly becoming soaked.

As you looked up at Andy, his face was turned downward and to the side again, so your brought your hand up to his hold his jaw, lovingly brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek. You could tell he was biting the inside of his mouth to refrain from making any more noise, and you simply couldn’t have that.

You placed your forehead against his, speaking in the hot and humid air.

“I don’t believe you. I think you want more.”

You reached your fingertips under the gusset and pulled it to the side, revealing your bare, slick pussy, and pressed in closer, ground faster, watching as his cock was hugged between the lips. When your eyes flickered up to his again, his long eyelashes were brushing against his cheeks, gaze glued to the slick sight before him. It was the source of both his pleasure and his torture, and he evidently couldn’t get enough from the way his hips bucked into yours.

A wry grin graced your face as you took him in. A blush crept up his neck, and painted the tips of his ears. It was everything you wanted to see, but still not enough. You needed him to fully submit. To give in to just the beginning of the pleasure you knew you could give him. In your bounces over his lap, you inched yourself higher, his tip catching your entrance and slipping in with a delicious stretch, finally drawing a moan from the grumpy, stoic man.

It was all too much, all at once. The wet, tight warmth surrounding was him better than anything he’d felt in years. It only took a couple more bounces of your ass against his thighs, slaps muffled by his dress pants, for you to feel his dick twitch. You pulled him out just in time for his thick spend to coat your lower torsos, painting the innocent white material in sin. Andy whimpered, his orgasm torn from his grasp as you rubbed your clit to tip over the edge with him, the sight and sounds driving you towards bliss.

Drained to near exhaustion, he flopped forward as far as the restraints would allow him, straining every part of his body as it jerked and tensed beyond his will. His chest heaved, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath, eyes squeezed shut in a whirl of feelings and emotions. Shame, fear, relief, confusion.

You giggled triumphantly at the scene, smiling with fulfillment of the first step of everything you wanted from Andy. You brought your lips to his forehead and placed a kiss, speaking softly against his dewy skin.

“See? I think that was really nice for both of us.”

You lingered there for a second, breathing in his scent.

“Jake will be down in a little bit with a change of clothes and to help you freshen up.”

You pushed yourself up out of his lap. Andy sat there stunned, still in shock with his head limp and facing the floor. As you gathered your robe and shrugged it on, you made your way to the airlock and entered the code to leave his room, turning back for one final look. Andy just barely glared at you through those long lashes, resenting the sweet smile you gave him once again, but the cloudiness penetrating his mind made him think it was maybe a little less so than he did an hour ago. You waved teasingly with your fingertips before gracing him with your parting words.

“Welcome home, Andrew. And happy Valentine’s Day.”

Bonus A/N: who fed us after midnight? Because we’ve become gremlins😈

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles @steviebbboi @thiquefunlover63

[witchywithwhiskey]

first christmas with trucker jake jensen

pairing: trucker!jake jensen x former sex worker!female reader

summary: jake makes your first christmas together special by surprising you with some christmas decorations and asking for your help decorating his tree, which brings the two of you closer in new ways.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, painful childhood memories, some angst/crying, fluff, jake jensen is a christmas menace

word count: 1.7k

a/n: based on this ask from @veltana: Are trucker Ari's and trucker Jake's readers gonna decorate the rigs for the holidays? i wasn't going to write a lot, but, uh, well i did so i hope y'all enjoy some christmas fluff/smut/angst with trucker Jake!! i really enjoyed digging into his and reader's backstories!

dirty filthy truckers universe masterlist

Ok so here’s the thing: trucker Jake Jensen LOVES Christmas. (Honestly, you’d be hard-pressed to convince me this isn’t true to canon Jake Jensen—he just seems like the kind of guy who’d love Christmas!) 

I imagine Jake didn’t have the best childhood. Maybe he had some really magical Christmases when he was very little, but then his parents became absent or they died when he was still pretty young, or a mixture of the two. His parents not being around is why he’s so close to his sister and niece, and why family is important to him.

But I digress. The point is, I think Jake had a lot of lackluster Christmases, and he realized that if he wanted Christmas cheer in his life, he was going to have to be the one to make it. And boy does he.

Now, I should also mention that I think Jake’s reader had a similar childhood experience. You grew up with cold, sparse Christmases—maybe your parent/parents would get a tree but it was fake and pre-lit and they’d only decorate it with generic decorations. 

All the homemade ornaments you brought home from school might’ve been hung up on the tree that year, but your parents would toss them when putting everything away and you’d have to dig them out of the trash. Eventually, you stopped giving them to your parents and kept them in a shoebox under your bed. You’ve kept the box, but never hung them up.

Unlike Jake, you stuck with what was comfortable because it was what you’d always known, so you weren’t very big on decorating for Christmas. Most years, you wouldn’t even get a tree. 

You’d always figure you’d get one when you got a day off from Diesel Dolls, but then you’d spend your days off relaxing and not wanting to go through the process of getting a tree, lugging it back to your apartment alone, and then decorating it. 

All this is to say, you’re not the type to even think about asking Jake if you can decorate the inside of his rig for the holidays. But that’s ok, because he’s way ahead of you.

Early in November—so early, you’re not even thinking about Christmas yet—Jake gets a motel room for the night. This isn’t out of the ordinary, he likes to get a room when the both of you are craving a shower and some sex in a real bed.

That night, Jake fucks you to sleep. Literally. He makes you come so much, you pass out and are snoring softly before he can even grab a warm washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up. 

Jake watches you sleep for a little while (it’s cute, not creepy, I swear), but when he tries to doze off himself, he can’t. He’s heard the stories about your austere childhood Christmases and he’s determined to bring you some Christmas magic.

So while you sleep, he pulls out the boxes and boxes and boxes of Christmas decorations he keeps in the storage of his rig. He spends all night stringing lights and hanging garlands and other decorations until the front seats and the bunk in the back are so stuffed, there’s barely room to sit, let alone move around.

It’s all worth it for the expression on your face when you see what he’s done, though. The way your eyes light up with surprise and delight and even a touch of wonder. It’s more Christmas than you’ve ever seen before crammed into the small space of his rig and you… love it. 

You love it more than you ever thought possible and you’re speechless as you climb up into the rig and flop into the driver’s seat, your eyes greedily looking around at all the decorations while your mouth hangs open in surprise. 

There’s even a little plastic Christmas tree fixed to the dashboard, tiny little lights twinkling. It’s all so perfect, so wonderful, that you don’t know what to say.

“Do you… like it?” Jake asks tentatively, his hands on either side of the open door, one foot on the step up into the rig, while he watches you taking it all in. He thought he’d read you right, that you’d enjoy some Christmas cheer, but he’s beginning to worry he’d been wrong.

Unable to find the words for how you feel, you turn back to Jake with tears in your eyes and you practically tackle him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you kiss him hard. He stumbles back a step into the parking lot of the motel, his arms bracing you against his chest while he kisses you back.

Jake turns to walk you backward into the motel room, but you make a sound of protest. Kissing his stupidly handsome face—including the goatee you love so much—and knocking his glasses a little askew, you drag him back into the rig, impatiently waiting while he closes and locks the door behind you. Then you haul him into the bunk in the back until he covers your body with his own.

Quickly, the two of you tear your clothes off, and when Jake slides inside you, filling you up perfectly the way that only he can, you feel like your heart grows two sizes. You’re so happy, tears slip from your eyes and slide down your temples into your hair while Jake coos at you and kisses the tears from your skin. 

“Don’t cry, kitten, I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he murmurs in your ear, his hips working you open with his cock until you’re moaning more than you’re crying. You can’t even find the words to tell him they’re happy tears, you just cling to him and hold him tight in your arms.

Jake fucks you slow and sweet in his rig while you’re surrounded by a ridiculous amount of Christmas decorations—so much that when Jake hikes your thigh up around his hip, you accidentally kick some loose. But Jake doesn’t care enough to stop, filling you over and over again in a steady rhythm that drives you wild, pleasure coiling in your core.

He makes you come while a fallen garland tangles around your entwined legs, the snowflakes he’s hung from the ceiling swaying with the force of his thrusting. And then he tumbles over the edge after you, filling you up with his come and holding you close as you catch your breath together.

You laugh at the mess the two of you have made of his decorations and he chuckles right along with you, telling you he’ll fix them before you get back on the road. You snuggle into him and thank him for the early Christmas present.

But you have no idea what else Jake has in store for you because, like I said, he LOVES Christmas.

I imagine Jake has a house somewhere deep in the Rocky Mountains, high enough that there’s guaranteed to be snow at Christmas. It’s so remote, in fact, that there wouldn’t be any service or cable if not for the robust satellite setup he has. 

Your first Christmas together, he takes you to his house and pulls the same trick he did with the truck rig, where he decorates the house to the max while you’re asleep. (It isn’t uncommon for Jake to go a couple days without sleeping. He used to be in the military and it fucked with his ability to maintain a normal routine, which is why he enjoys the freedom that comes with being a trucker.) 

The only thing Jake leaves undecorated is the tree. It’s a fresh pine he had shipped to his house, and set up in the massive living room, the tall tree taking up an entire corner by itself.

Jake makes you some coffee while you look at the decorations he’s put up and then you sit on the couch sipping it while he strings the lights on the tree. He’s focused and methodical while he works, and you can’t help but get a little turned on by the cute, determined expression on his face and the way his biceps bulge and flex.

But when he’s done, the heat that had been simmering in your core is extinguished because Jake pulls out a shoebox that looks far too familiar, and it brings up far too many painful memories. 

Jake sits down beside you, his head hanging a little like a guilty puppy while he tells you he pilfered it from your apartment the last time he was there. He catches your eye and you see the earnestness in his gaze when he asks you to tell him about all the ornaments.

When you hesitate—because you’re not sure whether to be mad at Jake for going through your things or to love him even more for remembering that you’d kep the ornaments—he pulls you into his lap and kisses your forehead.

“I want to know all of you, kitten,” he says gently, tipping your face toward his so he can look into your eyes. “Even the bad parts—especially the bad parts. I want to hear about all your bad Christmas memories so I can replace them with good ones.”

By the time he’s done talking, your eyes are misty with tears and you nod, leaning in for a kiss before you take a deep, steadying breath. It helps that Jake’s arms are big and strong, his chest firm as you lean into him. Then, you open the box.

Jake listens patiently while you pull out each ornament and tell him what you remember about it, the Christmas memories you associate with it. It’s a long, difficult process, but when you’re done, you feel inexplicably lighter. 

When you look to Jake, to see his reaction, you find him with red-rimmed eyes, like he cried while you told him about your childhood Christmases. But before you can ask him about it, he captures your lips in the softest, sweetest kiss you’ve ever felt. Once he pulls away, he helps you up from the couch and, together, you hang the ornaments on the tree.

Then you spend the rest of the morning hanging up all of Jake’s tree ornaments—of which there are many—and he tells you stories about his sister and his niece. By the time you’re done, you feel filled up with Christmas cheer and you drag Jake back down onto the couch.

There, under the lights of the Christmas tree and all the decorations overflowing his mountain home, you kiss your trucker prince charming and show him how happy you are to be spending the holiday with him.

dirty filthy truckers universe masterlist

[mercurial-chuckles]

I put together these Thoughts list that I keep having--pretty much self-indulgent, to be honest. Banner credits to me (a bit rough n ready), photo credits to the internet. Divider credits to @buck-star (thanks, Sydney, you’re amazing!). Minors DNI. Note: Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work! Check out my other works: Masterlist Updated: February 27, 2025 ✨ Have a Thotful Day, my darlings! ✨ If you have a thought you'd like me to write about, visit me at Grace's Abode and Voice your Wild Thoughts! Indulge Away!

♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

Mortifying Monday Thought

Mirthless Monday Thought

Mischievous Monday Thought

Tantalizing Tuesday Thought

Tenacious Tuesday Thought

Wibbly-Wobbly Wednesday Thought

Witless Wednesday Thought

Thirsty Thursday Thought

Taut Thursday Thought

Frisky Friday Thought

Snuggling Saturday Thought

Savage Saturday Thought

Serene Sunday Thought

Sappy Sunday Thought

****

If you wanna be tagged in my works, add yourself here. <3 Please send me a message if you wanna be removed from the Tag list. :)

Tag list: @nekoannie-chan @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @bitchy-bi-trash @theallknown213 @tripletstephaniescp @rogerscut @greatenthusiasttidalwave @zaraomarrogers @shadowrose13-blog1 @king814318 @yiiiikesmish @steviebbboi @bernelflo @saiyanprincessswanie @blushingrn @looking1016 @jvanilly @mimisweetz @navyhua23 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @shadyloveobjects @alexxavicry @feynightlight @astheskycries @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @patzammit @soelstress @8crazy-freak8 @stellar-solar-flare @stuckysgal @bval-1 @slowlyshycomputer @rogersbarber @avengersfan25 @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @thiquefunlover63 @blackhawkfanatic @notsostrangerthing @awkwardgiraffe726

[holylulusworld]

Their Bride (Snippet 1) - Kinktober 28

Summary: You always dreamed of letting your dirtiest fantasies become reality. Your men made your dream come reality.

Pairing: fem!Reader x Nick Fowler, Ari Levinson, Lloyd Hansen, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Warnings: mentions past consensual non-con/dub-con roleplay, kidnapping, multiple partners,  mentions of sex tape, mentions of callboys/prostitution

Trope: Post-coitus moment

A/N:  A short follow up to: Best bridesmaid ever

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

“Just relax, lean back, and enjoy how we dismantle your ex.”

Lean back and relax, Ari said, while you tried to wrap your head around the situation. Not moments before they revealed their true identities, you believed your bridesmaid and best friend hired the most handsome and best callboys walking on earth.

The fulfillment of your secret desires still lingered in the back of your mind. Memories flashed up, bringing back every moment of desire and lust.

Did their true identity change your desire for them after all of them gave you what your body and mind were craving? You pondered when Ari stepped back inside the room to hand you a cup of your favorite tea.

“I can see the wheels in your head spinning,” he said, sitting opposite you in an old armchair, while you watched him with curiosity. This man did unspeakable things to you and your body but looked almost shy when you stared at him. “We never said that we are callboys, sweetness. You gave in to our demands so easily; we just went with the flow. At first, we only wanted to scare you a little and fuck with your finance’s mind.”

“What?” You gaped at Ari. Did he just make it sound like they didn’t lie to you? “You made me believe you’re the callboys my friend hired.”

“Baby cakes, do you honestly believe guys like us offered their dicks for money?” Lloyd chuckles as you try to not throw the cup of tea at him. “My meat is a filet mignon, not a cheap burger.”

“Hansen, you’re not helpful. Not at all,” Ari grunted. “We should explain our plan to her. Y/N is not a pretty doll you can use and put in a corner.”

“Oh, Levinson,” Lloyd plopped down on the couch next to you. “I won’t ever put my muffin into a corner. I’ll make her scream my name any time of the day.” His hand crept up the nightgown they offered you this morning, one of many designer clothes they got for you. “Right, sunshine. You loved it when I got down on you to tickle your clit with my mustache.”

“Lloyd!” Steve snapped at the man next to you. “We wanted to talk, not bend her over the couch too. Let’s finish her ex-fiancé off before we get to her naughty cunt again.”

“Doll, are we having a party?” Bucky strolled into the room, Nick hot on his heels. They sipped at their coffee while undressing you with their eyes. Similar eyes, turning you into a puddle of goo whenever they look at you. “What do you want me to do to you today?”

“Get your shit together. No sex this morning. If we want to hit Walker hard and fast, we must do it now. Let’s give him a taste of his own medicine. I want him to suffer through every scream and moan we forced out of his lovely fiancé.”

You watched Ari take over the lead. He wildly gestured while talking, making you whimper more than once. You barely listened to what he had to say. These five men fulfilled your darkest desires and offered a new life to you within the same heartbeat.

How could you ever go back to a normal life? What would you tell anyone? That you let these five men, members of the mob on top of all, do unspeakable things to you?

You’re ruined in more than one way.

“How about you enjoy the show, cupcake?” Lloyd said, and wrapped one arm around your shoulders. “Later, you can enjoy more of me. Let’s sneak out and do it outside like the animals.”

“Lloyd!” Steve snapped his fingers in Lloyd’s face. He was done with Lloyd’s endless appetite for you and the noises you made for the mustache-wearing bastard. “Stop thinking with your dick for once, will ya.”

“Let us have our fun. We already fucked Walker over by fucking his lovely bride. He still thinks she’s going to marry him. How about you stab him in the back and twist the knife?”

“I prepared everything,” a new face stepped into the room. A cocky guy with glasses and spiky dark blonde hair. He was wearing a pink shirt with an imprint saying go petunias.

You would’ve giggled at his outfit, but he switched a large monitor on and talked about hacking into John’s system and other things you don’t understand.

“Alright,” he said. “A livestream would’ve been much funnier, but this will do too.” He dipped his head to look your way. His cheeks turned red, and he gasped loudly. “Oh, she’s here.”

“Stop staring at our girl,” Nick warned before pointing his index finger at him. “Get the job done. We don’t have all day.”

“Name’s Jake,” he said, instead of doing his job. He flashed you a smile, making you giggle. You could imagine turning him into your sweet puppy. A stark contrast to the roughness your other men provide.

“Jensen, do your job!” Ari barked at Jake. “I want results, and I want them now!”

“Here we go,” Jake said. He typed away on the keyboard, starting a countdown. You watched John on the monitor. His phone rang, and he got a message to switch his laptop on.

John sat down on his expensive leather chair and switched the laptop on. Jake immediately took control of the laptop, easily hacking into the computer.

Moments later, you could hear the scene you remembered so well unfold once again. Your moans and the men barking orders at you filled your ears as John grabbed his laptop to smash it against the wall.

“Hah, as if this would stop me!” Jake snickered. “Let’s drive him insane.”

Next: Playing with their bride

Tags in reblog.

[ronearoundblindly]

What do the cevans + bucky guys do if someone's trying to move in on their girl? Someone with more of an in than a rando - an ex, a coworker, a friend.

So this took me a while because there's a difference between exactly who is making a move on you and exactly what your guy's situation is. I've done my best to generalize but also add enough context.

Warnings for some questionable reactions, language, and possessiveness. MINORS DNI.

James Mace

He's away for long periods, so I could see him being quite upset with someone getting too friendly while he's gone. Mace understands people are supportive of each other in stressful times; he can't be mad at you getting support, but if he ever caught that friendly, supportive guy touching you? Absolutely, a fight would break out. He's not bulky but scrappy as all hell, and he will viciously defend you(r relationship).

Curtis Everett

Possessive. Super duper possessive. If he gets a whiff of any other man in your life--in any part of your life--being interested in you, there's a 'talking to' that happens, and either the dude backs off respectfully or you never fucking see that guy again. All your exes are either dead to you or really dead. Period.

Jimmy Dobyne

Ok, shockingly, not that possessive. In some ways, he finds it flattering that others are interested in you. Why shouldn't they be? You're great. As far as them making an actual move on you, Jimmy expects you to shut it down firmly, quickly. The only time he'll get physically involved is if a guy tries to hit on you while you're drunk. Un-fucking-acceptable. Do not fucking try it, asshole. Jimmy don't care if that's your boss's boss or the goddamn governor. Step the fuck off his girl. You're allowed to enjoy yourself without fear of someone taking advantage

Johnny Storm

lol, what? What's going on? Unless Johnny sees or hears you distressed about it, he's not bothered. He trusts you, and he assumes you're having fun getting some attention unless you give him a look (or text) that says 'step in, please.'

Jake Jensen

Does the guy mind being doxxed? Does he want himself to suddenly receive subscriptions for gay BDSM magazines or have his personal number listed as a provider for STD treatment? "Hello, I'd like you to take care of my genital herpes." "Oh my god, man, my dick burns. You gotta help me!" "Uh, can you get crabs from a rimjob???"

Yeah. Go ahead, put that arm around Jake's woman and see what happens. Here's your copy of Anal Angels Monthly, dickhead.

Jake...won't actually tell you he's doing any of this, but he hopes that fucker goes insane or to jail. No big deal. What are you thinking for dinner, babe?

Lloyd Hansen

Um, he probably put you in the dude's path on purpose, honestly. Like you are there to distract while Lloyd works in the shadows of that guy's life and steals something, tortures someone, or lures them in to kill. Lloyd thinks it's nice you're so useful in this way.

If a nobody (to Lloyd) gets close to you, he doesn't really care because you know Lloyd's got that good D you'll come back to...🫣 He has his own criteria for who is nobody and who is somebody, and it doesn't really matter what you think of the person or who they are to you. They are you are either useful, or Lloyd doesn't care.

Ari Levinson

Whole thing about it here from Bedrock and Blueprints, but in general, I do see Ari as on-guard for you receiving unwanted (or wanted) attention from men close-r in your life. His go-to move is to plant himself like a brick wall beside you until you make it very, very clear to the guy that Ari is your one and only. He doesn't think of himself as a possessive person because he will do this subconsciously.

Ransom Drysdale

Usually gets nasty and snippy with you. How could you not shut down the flirting? How could you let the guy think he has a shot?? How come you didn't apologize to Ransom for the embarrassment??? It's bullshit, but good fucking luck getting Ran to see that...

Andy Barber

Mixed bag. Andy arbitrarily gets super-pissed or doesn't notice at all, based on the level of attention he's paying in a social situation. Maybe he's distracted by a case at work when you all are out at dinner with people, so the fact your recently-divorced coworker is thrilled by your concern for him goes right over Andy's head. Maybe you two are at a friend's wedding and your bestie from middle school wants you to come onto the dance floor with him for that song--the one you made up moves to back in the day,--but Andy refuses because you're his and promised him all the dances tonight. He's unpredictable without knowing the full context.

Steve Rogers

Whole thing about it here for Fools Rush In, but Steve doesn't really get flirting. He barely does it himself, so it's hard for him to recognize someone being too nice to you. Someone making a move on you--short of physically moving to take you somewhere--goes right over his head. He isn't the jealous type as long as there's trust between you. Steve might get a smidge frustrated if he can't relate/speak about huge, important subjects to you, but instead of being jealous of guys who can talk to you about those things, he just learns more about them to join the conversation. Pretty simple solution if you ask him.

If, however, the guy makes you uncomfortable, Steve will do everything possible to separate you from that, though he will do it discreetly in public so as not to draw more unwanted or uncomfortable attention.

Bucky Barnes

Highly unjealous until he is megajealous. No, those aren't words, but they are applicable. Bucky just lets most things roll off him like a duck in water when he's happy in a relationship. He'll start off a bit prickly while getting comfortable and gaining trust in you, but after that, he's all-in...until someone goes too far. If a guy you know is flirty or whatever, Buck's fine (excepting you don't seem mad or upset about it), but if one motherfucker professes his love for you and how you should ditch Bucky, etc, you'd be hard-pressed to find the words to stop Bucky from hunting that son of a bitch down. The guy would be forbidden from being near you, if you work together, someone has to quit, and if it's an ex? Well, likely that guy disappears off the face of the earth and his body is never found. The end.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Who Would... Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Captain's Wife

No warnings needed but please reblog and comment.

House husband!Jensen x wife!reader

🏠🏠🏠

Jake walks into the room looking pale. You sit up, concerned. You tilt your laptop to see him clearly.

"Everything okay?" You ask.

He nods and gulps, wide-eyed as he crosses the room, setting down the plate beside your mouse pad. "Grilled cheese with pickles."

You shift and tilt your head, "Jake? Honey?"

"Honey," he repeats dreamily and fidgets with his glasses. His cheeks tinge.

"What is going on?" You lean forward.

He snorts and twiddles his fingers. "You're my wife."

You squint and bare your teeth. "Did you get into the gin again?"

"No," he chuckles. "I was just thinking. I have a wife."

You can't help but smile, "you do. And she's very grateful for her lunch." You slide the plate closer. "Dill?"

"No more spicy ones. It's on the list." He assures you.

"No worries. Dill is good," you take half and watch the cheese ooze. "You used the fancy stuff."

"For my wife!" He proclaims. You shake your head.

"Jake," you chide.

"You're my wife." He takes out his phone and aims the lens at you, just as you take a bite. You put your hand up as you try to block the lens. "I gotta show everyone!"

"Jake!" You nearly choke. People know. He was the one who posted the wedding pics on Insta.

"My sexy wife," he says as he types with his thumbs.

"I'm going to--" you drop the sandwich and stand up. You swallow as you come around the desk. "Delete it."

"But you look so pretty."

"Jake."

"I just want to show you off," he holds the phone out of your reach. You slap his chest but he doesn't relent.

"Oh my god. Get rid of it," you growl.

"But--"

"Captain Jensen, you delete that picture or you sleep on the couch," you deepen your voice.

His lashes flick and he deflates. His eyes fill with fear and he offers you the phone. You take it and quickly hit the bin icon to get rid of the post.

"Good boy," you give it back.

He gurgles, "yes, my dear wife... sorry."

"Don't be sorry," you say as you stride back to your chair. "Get me something to wash this down with... will you, honey?"

You blow him a kiss and he pretends to catch it. He gives a nervous laugh.

"Yes, honey."

[gremlin-girly]

Cartoon Boxers

Bf! Jake Jensen x curvy!gf!reader

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, 18+ for suggestive themes,paranoid worried thoughts of cheating,Jake is a dork, Jake gets very worried haha, but he's easily distracted

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

Summary: After finding a pair of boxers that aren't his at your apartment, Jake spirals.

Word Count: ~800 words

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

Jake Jensen Collection | Masterlist

Living with your significant other always had its ups and downs. How many times you had loaded the dishwasher versus them, never-ending amounts of washing were a few of the downsides, however, love, laughter as well some other physical activities made it all worth it.

On the topic of washing, Jake Jensen was an amateur. He only wore bright graphic tee and jeans so many of his clothes could all be washed at once. When you had first moved in with him, he was banned from washing in the first week for putting a red shirt in with a your favourite cream, now peony pink, dress.

He had learned since then what not to do but he felt useless if he just left all that washing to you. So, one day when you were out catching up with your mom, he began sorting the clothes into three piles; darks, brights and whites.

Not four articles of clothing in, Jake finds something he has never seen before. Offensively bright boxer briefs besotted with cartoon characters. He had to admit they were cool - and while totally something he would wear - they aren't his.

The boxers are bigger than his and it's not a pair he recognises. No male members of your family visit and he doubted they'd wear something like this. Which only meant ...

You were... cheating?

Jake stuffed the boxers back down into the washing basket, trying not to think about them. You never said you were unhappy with him, there was never any signs that you may be thinking of leaving him. Or cheating.

Jake shakes his head, telling himself that there had to be another explanation; although he couldn't think of what. You'd be home soon and he'd have to confront you - spiralling thoughts making him nauseous with worry of your reaction, his life crumbling apart before him, the dramatics of it all. He speeds out of the apartment and almost forgets to lock the door, grabbing a random pair of shoes.

He needed to clear his head before you got home. Going for a walk to reminisce his favourite memories of you and him together and decide on his next steps.

"Baby!"

Jake came back from his walk fifteen minutes before you were due but you were already home. Jake was in a panic as the sound of your padding feet drew nearer.

"I got off early and came to surprise you! You okay?"

He doesn't want to have this conversation - ever - but when you appear from the bedroom, Jake does a double take. You're wearing one of his shirts, and it grips every single one of your curves like a vice and sits snugly on your waist. Your lower half, however, is far more eye catching. Your hips and ass are hugged by bright poly-cotton boxer briefs, like the ones he found earlier, but these have less cartoon characters on them.

"All of my pj's are in the wash thanks to you." You chuckle sweetly, jogging up to him and pulling a stunned Jake into a hug. Standing on your tip toes you peck his lips before stepping back to give him space to follow you to the kitchenette. "I've ordered our favourite so you don't need to worry about cooking."

Jake's not listening. He's more intrigued by how the material stretches over your glutes and disappears into the soft of your thighs.

"Whose are they?" He asks pointing at your scrumptious legs.

"Huh?" You do a double take and raise an eyebrow at him. "They're mine?"

"Yours?"

"Well, they're not your boxers. I need a triple XL for them to even fit me comfortably." You tug at the hem of the boxers mid-way down your thigh thoughtfully. "Why? do you want a pair?"

"I - uhhhh..." Jake flushes and can't bring himself to admit he was a victim of his own stupidity but you get the wrong idea and your expression turns from thoughful to devious.

"Should we get matching undies?"

Jake's cheeks burn and you laugh, coming closer again for a another kiss. "You like my boxers?"

Jake nods firmly - glasses jumping all over his face as his hands find your hips. "Very much. And on a totally unrelated note, how long until food gets here?"

You giggle as Jake starts peppering kisses up and down the column of your neck, all of his worries melting away. Maybe he'd tell you about his brain fart one day or maybe he'd just buy you some more boxers to wear around the apartment (and hide as many of your pj's as he could).

"Jake," You halt him looking down at his feet. "Why are you wearing two different pairs of shoes?"

Your eyes sparkle as you look back at him and sure enough, when he glances down he's wearing one sneaker and one slipper. In his rush to outrun his thoughts in the apartment earlier he'd grabbed whatever he could; which meant two mismatched shoes. He cringes with a groan and kisses you again. "I'll tell you about it after dinner."

End

A/N: for some reason the app won't let me edit Bearskin Part 2 which is why this has been posted first. Well, my loves, enjoy!

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