#destroyer!chris smut

[navybrat817]

Destroyer!Chris having you straddle his thigh and slowly moving you back and forth so his jeans get all wet. Expect a hand around your throat if you try to stop.

[sebastiansluts]

Please please please a part 2 to that delicious destroyer chris imagine you wrote where his cock is so sensitive and swollen and he cums so easily.

Destroyer Chris x Reader; extra sensitive cock, excessive coming, overstimulation, oral m receiving, vaginal sex, cockwarming

ANY HATE WILL BE DELETED THIS IS A JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE DON’T LIKE, DON’T INTERACT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

“Wanna try somethin’ different tonight pretty girl,” Chris murmured in your ear, the two of you sitting on the couch, the house empty for once. You were laying with your head in his lap, his hand stroking your hair. You sat up, grinning at Chris as you turned to face him. 

“C’mere,” Chris said, grabbing you by your waist and lifting you until you were on his lap, straddling him. You bit your lip, grinding down onto his bulge, Chris shuddering as it swelled, already sensitive. 

“Yeah? Y’want me on top tonight baby?” you asked, rocking back and forth along his bulge, his dick growing until it was straining the zipper of his pants. 

“Wait, wait, lemme- fuck, I can’t, oh jesus that feels better,” Chris groaned as he undid his button and the zipper pulled down itself, his hard cock poking out of his boxers, tip already red and leaking. 

You licked your lips, sitting back on Chris’ thighs and bending until you could lick a stripe up the vein on the underside of his cock. Chris moaned and precum dripped onto his boxers. You licked up his cock, sucking lightly on the head and he spasmed, coming before he could warn you, but you were ready for it, swallowing it down and licking his tip clean. 

“Sh-shit baby, m’sorry! Fuck you look so good with my cum on your tongue,” Chris groaned and you flushed, his filthy mouth still managing to make you blush. “C’mon pretty girl, want you sittin’ on my dick next time I come.”

You nodded quickly, standing up and dropping your sweats and panties, clambering back onto Chris’ lap and raising your dripping pussy above his dick. His hands were tight on your hips, helping you stay up, then he began pulling you down, the head of his dick bumping against your entrance before catching and slipping in. 

You moaned immediately, his size always a lot at first, but you relished the burn, forcing your hips down faster, Chris’ eyes widening. 

“Baby wait, can’t- too fast,” he moaned, burying his face in your chest, hands clenching and releasing on your hips as he came. You giggled, holding his mostly shaved head against you, grinning when you were able to slide down another few inches thanks to the cum filling you. 

Chris gasped, biting down on your tit as he bottomed out, your ass against his thighs. You yelped, clenching around his dick and Chris cried out, breathing heavily as he tried to compose himself. 

“This what y’wanted baby?” you asked him, trying to roll your hips, but he grabbed you harder, forcing you still. 

“Fuck, p-please pretty girl, needta fill you up again and again, can ya do that baby, can you let me?” Chris asked desperately, blue eyes shining, and you smiled, it turning into a smirk as you leaned forwards, his eyes pleading with you, as you captured his lips with yours. 

“M’all yours Chris,” you murmured between kisses and he groaned low in his throat, dragging you up off his dick until just the tip was in, then you slammed down onto his lap, a higher pitched groan escaping him as he came immediately, your cunt milking his dick until he was nearly babbling.

“Fuckfuckfuck shitfuck p-pretty girl, d-drain me baby, please, drain me and- and take it all, f-fill you up,” Chris said mindlessly, barely even noticing when you started rocking in his lap, grinding your clit against his pelvic bone. 

“C’mon Chris, c’mon fill me up, just like you said, you can take some more right? Need to fill me up til I’m bursting, gimme it all baby,” you whispered in his ear, and he cried out raggedly, his hips jerking beneath you, rutting into your pussy with desperation. 

“M’gonna- m’gonna make you mine forever,” Chris groaned, and you gasped, his dick hitting that place inside you. Now you rut back against him, rolling your hips again and again until you were screaming your release. 

You could feel Chris coming again, dripping out of you along with your slick, making a mess of his boxers. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, riding your high and giggling when you saw him almost passed out beneath you. You thought about moving, but as his dick stayed partially hard inside you, you stayed where you were, cunt lightly pulsing. You put your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, smiling to yourself as you felt his dick twitch, pulsing one last time into you as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in. He moaned softly as you sank into him, pressing his lips to your temple. 

“Mmm my pretty girl, don’ move. Jus’ stay here,” Chris mumbled, half asleep and trying to go all the way. You grinned and kissed his neck, his breath hitching, before you closed your eyes and just relaxed.

[vunblr]

Masterlist

Thanks for stopping by! Enjoy the journey through these stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

What if...? (Fluff. Smut. Slight angst.) Oneshot.

Summary: Bucky navigates his insecurities and guilt from his past as he grows closer to his new neighbor, a nurse.

The Weight of Choices (Smut. Slight angst.) Oneshot.

Summary: Torn between his instinct to protect his family and his desire to be a part of their lives, Bucky tries to deal with the reality of his ex-wife going on a date while he stays home caring for their son.

---

An Unfinished Goodbye (Slight Angst. Story before TWoC, still it would be good to read that one first.) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky tells himself he’s only watching over his ex-wife and son for their safety. But when someone threatens to alter the status quo, his quiet vigilance falters.

The Memory Remains (Fluff. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: An unexpected encounter brings Bucky face-to-face with someone from his past, stirring memories he thought were long buried.

Roots and Branches (Fluff. Smut. Lumberjack AU) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky has built a quiet life in the woods, content to keep the world at arm's length. But when a new neighbor moves to town, her presence ignites emotions he’s hesitant to face.

Heartwood (Fluff. Smut. Lumberjack AU) Oneshot

Summary: After Sam’s party, Bucky begins to navigate uncharted territory as he works to balance his growing feelings and lingering insecurities in his blooming relationship.

Threads and Timber (Fluff. Smut. Lumberjack AU) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky grapples with a questionable Christmas gift.

The Recipe for Us (Fluff. Smut. Lumberjack AU) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky sets out to surprise his girlfriend with a simple yet meaningful gesture, but quickly learns that some things are easier said than done.

Wounds and Walls (Smut. Slight angst.) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky starts to walk into his new civilian life but struggles with his painful past, while slowly building a connection with someone who sees through his walls. As the relationship deepens, he must decide if he’s ready for something more, or if he’ll hide and push it all away.

Chains of Fate (Fluff. Smut. Destroyer!Chris) Oneshot

Summary: A florist keeps having trouble with her bicycle, and Chris, her rugged mechanic neighbor, is always available to help. Or isn’t he?

Crumbs of Connection (Fluff.) Oneshot

Summary: When Bucky wanders into a quirky late-night bakery, he doesn’t expect the warmhearted owner to challenge his defenses.

A Heart in Hiding (Angst-Hurt/Comfort) Oneshot

Summary: Caught between the shadows of his past and an unexpected connection, Bucky wrestles with his demons and his growing feelings for a new Avenger.

Fangs and Spells (Smut. World of Warcraft AU) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky, a grumpy worgen warrior, and his sharp-tongued mage partner are sent on a relatively simple quest that quickly spirals into chaos.

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[lokisivy]

Cardigan - Peter Quill

Warning this contains GOTG VOL3 spoilers!!!

This may contain vague mentions of trauma and Ptsd

Summary: Peter wants to go back to Earth and even though you left Earth to escape the shit you went through, you decide to go back to be with Peter.

inspired by Taylor Swift, I recommend listening to the song while reading

...

The melody of your favourite song started playing you listened to this song because it reminded you of Peter.

Peter grabbed your waist as you automatically started to slow dance he was moving slowly with the rhythm of the song.

Sequin smile, black lipstick

Sensual politics

When you are young, they assume you know nothing

"I'm going to miss you" Peter broke the silence he twirled you smoothly

"Im coming with you."

yes, you hated Earth the moment you got to leave with Thor to help in some issues with Loki you never came back and when you were done with your job you joined the guardians.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favourite

"No, you do not. you stay here and help Rocket I know the shit you've been through there and I'll be damned if you go back for me." His tone was stern but he kept the rhythm

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favourite

"Peter, I love you, I don't think I've ever loved someone this much before, please I've lived all my life being unloved by everyone around me I'm coming with you not for you for me because I need you." his eyes gave up the fight he loved you too much to let you feel hurting again.

To kiss in cars and downtown bars

Was all we needed

You drew stars around my scars

But now I'm bleedin'

"But promise me you will leave the moment you hate it there."

"I promise. but don't ever do what you did to me on Sakaar."

he held your back and lend you back causing you to lift your leg

I knew you

Tried to change the ending

Peter losing Wendy, I

I knew you

Leavin' like a father

Running like water

Peter broke up with you on Sakaar because it was getting too dangerous and he wanted you to stay out of it and go back to Asgard where it was safe. he thought wrong though you came and fought. Until the stone was safe. you left. You guys never saw each other until Thanos.

Earth was never your home but you were always thankful for Thor having open arms and welcoming you back to Asgard When you and Peter separated.

"I love you," you whispered

"I love you the most."

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favourite...

[crazyinlovewithbucky]

Sal's Masterlist (Sebastian Stan)

fluff💗 - smut❤️‍🔥 - angst🖤

===========

Bucky Barnes (MCU)

“you’ve bewitched me doll,” 💗❤️‍🔥

“my aphrodite.” 💗❤️‍🔥

“let me put my hands on your knees, you can braid my hair.” ❤️‍🔥

“don’t fill your void with me” part one 💗🖤❤️‍🔥

“don’t fill your void with me” part two 💗🖤❤️‍🔥

“my girl”💗❤️‍🔥

“in the bedroom, I’ll be screaming but outside, I’ll keep it quiet.” 💗❤️‍🔥

“who would’ve thought I’d get you?” 💗❤️‍🔥🖤

===========

Sebastian Stan

love language (coming soon)

lowkey (coming soon)

===========

Mickey (Monday)

===========

Frank (Endings, Beginnings)

===========

Lance Tucker (The Bronze)

teacher’s pet (coming soon)

===========

Chris (Destroyer)

born to die (coming soon)

blue jeans (coming soon)

===========

Max (Sharper)

===========

Steve (Fresh)

animals (coming soon)

[sebastiansluts]

I'm so excited request are back open! Can I please get a destroyer! Chris fic where his cock is so sensitive. Everytime you touch it he's cumming so he gets overstimulated reallllly easy to the point he's crying but he loves your pussy so much. He can't help it and his cock gets swollen from just how overstimulated he is. He can hardly fit it inside you . when he finally gets the tip in he's cumming and is able to slide in but he's a whimpering mess when you start squeezing him on purpose .

This genuinely made me giggle with excitement when I read it omg this is exactly what I needed!!

Destroyer!Chris x Reader; sensitive cock? (idk it's a warning), lots of cum, excessive coming, overstimulation, vaginal sex, handjob, messy sex (cum)

ANY HATE WILL BE DELETED THIS IS A JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE DON’T LIKE, DON’T INTERACT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

“Fuck pretty girl, need ta get in you,” Chris muttered fumbling with jeans that were hanging loose on his slim hips. He had you pressed against the wall, one thigh hiked up over his forearm, your pussy wet and bared to him beneath your skirt. You reached up and stuck your hand down his pants, grabbing his hard cock and feeling it immediately jerk, warmth flowing over your fingers. 

“Shitshitshit, baby wait, you gotta-” Chris cut off as he came again, your hand jacking him lightly, sliding easily through all the cum spreading down his shaft and soaking his briefs. 

“Gotta what, Chris? Go on, tell me to stop, tell you don’t want me,” you goaded, your hand never stopping, and Chris whined, coming again as he got his jeans unzipped. His hands shook as he pushed his pants down his thick thighs, and you released his dick, a breath slipping out of his lips.

“You know I can’t baby,” Chris groaned, and you grinned wickedly, trailing a single finger up the thick vein on the bottom of his cock. His dick jerked wildly, cum spurting out of the tip, making a mess between you and him. 

“Fuck it,” Chris muttered, and spun the two of you around, throwing you down onto the bed in the middle of the room. He kicked off his jeans, tossing his shirt in a far corner as he crawled on top of you. His dick brushed against your thigh and you could feel wetness spreading. 

“Again? God Chris, you’re so fucking messy!” you laughed, reaching down and stroking him again. He buried his face in your neck, hips pumping into your fist, soaking your skirt as he came yet again. 

“Ba-baby, shit can’t stop, s-so sensitive,” Chris whimpered into your skin, sucking desperately on your jaw as tears formed in his eyes. You stroked the back of his shaved head, pushing his face back into your neck. 

“It’s okay Chris, c’mon, you can do it, just the tip,” you said, grabbing the short hair on top of his head and pulling, until he was staring at you with wet eyes. “You can do that, can’t you?” 

Chris blinked and a tear fell onto your cheek, dripping down to your neck. “Y-yeah pretty girl, I can- fuck!” he swore as you gripped him tightly, his dick pulsing as he came, coating your hand and stomach, your shirt rucked up to beneath your breasts, no bra underneath. Cum ran down in between your boobs, pooling at your neck. 

“Chris! Gonna have to shower after this,” you giggled, and his eyes roved over your body, covered in his cum. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a moan, his eyes rolling as he came yet again, his dick swollen in your hand, your fingers barely touching around it. 

“Gotta- gotta, just the tip,” Chris panted, still crying almost without realizing it. He reached down, fitting his dick to your entrance, coming immediately, spurting inside you but dripping back out instantly.

Chris whined pathetically, his dick sliding through your folds against your cunt, finally catching on your hole. The head popped inside you and Chris gasped then cried out as he came again, filling your pussy and slicking the way, his swollen dick inching into you, both of you swearing the whole way. 

“Jesus fuck!” you shouted as his balls slapped your ass, finally settled inside you, coming again. You felt messy, inside and out, and Chris was still crying above you, propped up on his forearms. 

“Baby, shit, I can’t- can’t move,” Chris grunted, voice low but breathy, his body trembling as he held himself above you, mostly still. His breath blew across your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and you clenched on his dick, feeling it huge inside you. Chris whimpered, collapsing on top of you, a huff of air escaping you as his weight landed on you. 

He rut his hips into yours, coming, longer this time, so you squeezed again, milking him. A strangled noise came out of Chris’ throat, his teeth grit together as he tried to push off you, surrendering when you tugged at his shoulders. He laid heavy on you, rutting you into the mattress, coming endlessly as you rhythmically clenched and released your muscles. 

“Love this pussy baby, love it, love you. Fuck, too much, baby I can’t,” Chris sobbed, crying into your shoulder as his hips rocked his cock in and out of your tight cunt. “Love it so much, need ta make you come, c’mon p-pretty girl,” he whimpered, cock swelling again, stretching you out further and making you moan. 

Chris pressed deep into you, rubbing his cock back and forth against a spot inside you that made you see stars and you choked on your breath, cunt spasming as you came, orgasm pulled from you out of nowhere. 

Chris sobbed as you squeezed around him, tightening until you couldn’t hold back and relaxed, body melting with your release. Chris sank into you, pressing you into the bed, until you almost couldn’t breathe. He was still crying, dick still pulsing inside you. 

“Chris, baby, come on, roll over,” you encouraged quietly, whispering in his ear, his face hidden in your neck. He groaned, sliding his arms under you, wrapping them around your middle before rolling the two of you over so he was on his back and you were on top of him. You slowly sat up, his arms sliding down to cup your ass, down to your thighs to support you as you carefully lifted up and off his dick. 

He cried, groaning as you came off him, before rolling to his side and scooping you into his arms, cradling your back against his chest, one arm across your breasts, the other around your hips. Chris buried his face in your hair, his tears lessening as he breathed, his dick pressed against your ass, still hard but not as swollen. 

“Love you Chris,” you whispered, and he pulled you tighter against him, whimpering when his dick pressed harder to your ass. You shushed him, reaching back and rubbing the side of his thigh, stroking his flank until his breathing had evened out and he was relaxing into the bed, asleep.

[vunblr]

Chains of Fate

Pairing: Destroyer!Chris x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Summary: A florist keeps having trouble with her bicycle, and Chris, her rugged mechanic neighbor, is always available to help. Or isn’t he?

Word Count: About 6.8k.

notes: Yup, this story isn’t about Bucky. After reading this story by @sashaisready featuring Destroyer!Chris the other day, I had an overwhelming urge to write something with him. It was an itch I just had to scratch and well, here we are.

When she closed the shop's door behind her, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the street. The aroma of the last plants she touched still clung to her hands as she fumbled to lock up. The bicycle leaned against the wall, her reliable companion in her daily routine.

Except today, it wasn’t so reliable. As soon as she set her hand on the handlebar, she noticed the chain dangling uselessly, smudged with grease, and utterly dislodged.

"Seriously?" she muttered, brushing a strand of hair from her face and crouching to inspect the damage. Her attempt to wrestle the chain back into place was met with resistance and a smear of black grease across her palm. With a resigned sigh, she glanced toward the mechanic shop next door.

The large garage doors were half-open, spilling the faint sound of a radio murmuring some old rock ballad. She hesitated. The other workers had surely gone home already, leaving the place unusually quiet.

The thought of asking him made her nervous and self-conscious. They’d spoken a dozen times, exchanging brief pleasantries when their paths crossed. He always looked like he belonged in an old motorcycle catalog: broad-shouldered with a padlock beard, hair shaved on the sides of his head, and effortlessly self-assured. Also, attractive. Very attractive.

As she predicted, he was still there, leaning against a workbench, the sleeves of his denim jacket cut clean to reveal his tattooed arms. His sharp features and unreadable expression gave him an edge that was as intimidating as magnetic.

Don’t overthink it. Just ask for help, she told herself. Still, her fingers fidgeted nervously as she wheeled the bike toward the shop.

"Hey, Chris?" she called softly.

He looked up, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, he simply studied her, then he tossed the rag he’d been holding onto the bench. "What’s up?"

"My bike... The chain came off," she explained, gesturing toward it. "I was hoping you might be able to fix it, if it’s not too much trouble."

His lips curved slightly, a smirk that wasn’t unfriendly but held a flicker of something she couldn’t place. "Bring it here."

She rolled the bike closer, and he took it from her hands, their fingers brushing briefly. He turned it toward the stand, crouching low as he inspected the damage.

"You know," he said without looking up, "you could fix this yourself if you had the right tools."

"I guess I’m not very handy," she admitted softly.

He glanced up, smirking faintly. "Good thing you’ve got me, huh?" before she could answer, he returned his attention to the bike, muscles flexing as he worked the chain back into place. She found herself mesmerized, gazing at the strength in his forearms and the grease-streaked curve of his jawline.

"Something on your mind?" his voice broke the silence, and her heart jumped.

"No! I mean-" She flushed, caught staring. "Just...thank you. For helping." She glanced around the workshop, her eyes catching on the faint outline of a lipstick kiss smudged on an old coffee cup by a wooden table. Her stomach twisted. She wasn’t stupid, she’d seen the kind of women who came and went from here. Long legged, sun-kissed beauties, wearing barely there shorts, with loud laugh and bold hands.

Not exactly like her.

He stood, rolling his shoulders, the chain now secure in its place. He moved closer, his sharp blue eyes studying her in a way that made her self-conscious again. His smirk softened. "Next time it happens, come straight to me. Don’t try to fix it yourself."

She nodded. "So… how much do I owe you?" she asked after a beat, softer than she intended.

He wiped his hands on his jeans. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" she repeated, a little startled. "I don’t want to take advantage of you,” she stated. “You took the time-"

“Y/n,” he interrupted, his smirk fading into something more serious. “It’s just a bike chain. I’m not charging you for that.”

She bit her lip, unsure how to respond. The way he said her name made something flutter in her chest, and she cursed herself for letting it. She glanced down at her bike, hoping to steady her nerves. "Well, thank you. I really appreciate it."

As he handed her the bike back, his fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary. "You’re welcome," he murmured, and she could swear his gaze flicked toward her lips.

She tightened her grip on the handlebars, offering him a small, grateful smile before wheeling her bike toward the door. As she turned the corner, she couldn’t help but glance back. He was leaning against the doorway, watching at her.

----------

The following day, she couldn’t focus. Not on the meticulous task of pruning succulents, nor the subtle rearranging of potted lavender displays. Her mind kept drifting back to the workshop next door. Specifically, to Chris.

She bit her lip, hands hovering over a basket of moss she’d been fluffing for far too long. It wasn’t just the gratitude she felt for him fixing her bike, it was the way his voice sounded when he said her name, the fleeting brush of his fingers as he handed her the handlebars, and damn, that stare.

By mid-morning, her resolve solidified. A thank-you was in order, a proper one. And if she were being honest, maybe she wanted an excuse to see him again. As the thought settled in her mind, she absently plucked at a stray leaf from one of her displays, and a memory came to her mind.

It was late summer, she’d been in a corner near the counter of the bakery, debating whether to get a cinnamon scone or stick to her usual croissant, when the doorbell chimed, and Chris strolled inside.

He was hard to miss, even in a crowd. Tall, broad-shouldered, denim jacket slung lazily over one arm. He’d made his way to the counter, nodding a greeting to the baker before ordering a box of assorted treats.

At the time, she’d assumed they weren’t for him. He didn’t seem the type to indulge in baked goods. Maybe the box was for his employees, or one of the women who frequented his workshop. But then, weeks later, she’d seen him again.

It was mid-afternoon, and she’d been sweeping the sidewalk in front of her shop when she noticed him sitting at the curb just down the street. He had the bakery box open on his lap, a brownie in hand, and his expression was uncharacteristically soft.

She had to do a double take, blinking in disbelief. Chris -the intimidating, sharp featured mechanic- was biting into the brownie like a kid savoring his favorite candy. A trace of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, his usual hard edges momentarily softened in the golden light.

She’d stared longer than she should have, her broom forgotten in her hand. The sight had been… endearing, unexpected, and strangely magnetic. It lingered in her mind long after he wiped his fingers on his jeans and walked back to the workshop.

Now, standing in her shop, the memory made her smile. It also gave her an idea. If he had a soft spot for baked goods, why not lean into it?

Decided to give it a try, she flipped the sign on her door to Closed in the afternoon and hurried home. Baking wasn’t exactly her forte, but she could manage something simple. Something thoughtful. She sifted through her cupboards, pulling out cocoa powder, sugar, and butter. Chocolate cupcakes seemed perfect: rich, sweet, and easy enough to make without risking disaster.

The process wasn’t without its hiccups. Flour dusted all over her counter -and somehow her shirt-, and she almost forgot to preheat the oven. But as the cupcakes rose, the warm aroma of chocolate filled her small kitchen, and a satisfied smile spread across her face.

By the time the ganache was swirled on top and the sea salt sprinkled for flair, it was late. She packed the best of the batch carefully into a small box, tying it with twine.

Tomorrow, she thought, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Tomorrow, she’d thank Chris properly. And if she was lucky, maybe she’d get to see him smile like that again.

----------

The next morning, she arrived at her shop earlier than usual, the cupcake box nestled securely in the basket of her bike. Her heart raced as she pedaled through the quiet streets, rehearsing what she might say when she saw him.

As she rounded the corner near the workshop, her eyes immediately landed on Chris. He was standing at the garage doors, fumbling with the heavy lock, a slight scowl on his face. The sight made her smile, seeing someone so self-assured look momentarily frustrated was oddly endearing.

She braked to a gentle stop in front of her flower shop, propping her bike against the wall. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the box and walked toward him.

“Morning, Chris,” she called softly, trying to steady her voice.

He looked up, and is scowl disappeared, replaced by a flicker of surprise. “Morning,” he replied, his voice gruff from the early hour. “You’re up early.”

“So are you,” she countered, her lips curving into a small smile. She stepped closer, holding the box in front of her. “I, uh… I wanted to thank you for helping me with my bike the other day. Properly, this time.”

His gaze shifted to the box in her hands, one brow quirking slightly. “What’s this?”

She bit her lip, feeling uncharacteristically shy. “Just a little something. I… made you cupcakes.”

Chris blinked, as though trying to process her words. “You baked me cupcakes?” he repeated, his tone hovering between surprise and amusement.

“Yes.” She hesitated, glancing down at the box. “I know it’s not much, but… I really appreciated your help, and I thought… well, you seemed to like sweets, so…”

His lips twitched, the corner pulling into a faint smirk. “You noticed that, huh?”

Her cheeks warmed. “I might’ve seen you at the bakery once or twice.”

Chris chuckled, low and warmly. He reached out, his rough fingers brushing hers as he took the box. “This wasn’t necessary, you know.”

“I wanted to,” she said quickly, meeting his gaze. “It’s just a thank-you.”

For a moment, he studied her with a soft expression that made her stomach flutter. “Well, thank you,” he murmured. He peeped inside the box, then back at her. “I’ll have to try them later. If they’re as good as it looks, I might have to hire you as my personal baker.”

She laughed nervously. “Don’t get your hopes up. Baking isn’t exactly my forte.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, with a growing smirk.

She shifted on her feet, unsure of what else to say. “Well, I should get back to my shop. Have a good morning.”

“You too.” He murmured. As she turned to leave, she felt his gaze linger, and it took everything in her not to glance back.

----------

It was later than usual when she finally locked up the flower shop. The delivery truck earlier in the afternoon brought far more than she’d expected, and sorting through the dozens of plants had turned into an all-day affair. She was tired, her hands aching a little from hauling pots and unpacking boxes, but it was a good kind of tired, that came with satisfaction.

She grabbed her bike from where it was propped against the wall outside and prepared to head home, already looking forward to a quiet dinner and a hot bath. But when she tried to pedal, the resistance was immediate. The familiar, dreaded clink of the chain greeted her ears.

Her brows furrowed. Again?

Her first instinct was to crouch down and take a look, but she paused, remembering Chris’s words: “Next time it happens, come straight to me. Don’t try to fix it yourself.” It had been a direct instruction, accompanied by a pointed look, and though she didn’t like feeling helpless, she also didn’t want to make things worse.

With a reluctant sigh, she wheeled the bike over to the garage next door. The overhead door was still partially open, spilling soft light onto the pavement, though the space beyond looked quiet. She hesitated at the threshold before stepping inside, her voice tentative.

“Chris?”

There was no immediate response, but a moment later, a door creaked open.

Her breath caught at the sight before her eyes.

Chris stepped out of the small bathroom at the back of the garage, barefoot, wearing only a pair of well-worn jeans that clung low on his hips and a towel that hung loosely around his neck. His chest and abs were still damp, droplets of water catching the light as they slid down his skin, evidence of a quick rinse before heading home. He stopped mid-step when he saw her, his brows lifting in surprise for the briefest moment. Then, slowly, a wicked smile spread across his face, and he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, the gesture both lazy and deliberate.

“Well, Poppy,” he drawled, his voice low and amused. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

Her cheeks heated instantly at the nickname, and she gripped the handlebars of her bike tighter, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the space felt with him standing there. “My chain,” she said quickly, gesturing to the offending bike. “It came off again.”

He tilted his head, still grinning as he sauntered toward her. “Did it now?” His tone was almost teasing, and she couldn’t help but feel like there was something unspoken in his words.

“Yeah,” she agreed, clearing her throat. “So… here I am. Like you said.”

Chris stopped just a foot away, his gaze dropping to the bike and then back to her face, his smirk never faltering. “You’re a good listener,” he remarked, crouching down to inspect the chain. “Most people think they know better and end up making a bigger mess.”

She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened as his shoulders flexed with the movement. “Well, you made it pretty clear not to touch it.”

“Smart girl,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

As he worked, his fingers deftly maneuvering the chain back into place, she studied him, trying to distract herself from the warmth creeping up her neck. There was something about his expression, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“You seem… amused by this,” she observed, narrowing her eyes slightly.

Chris glanced up at her, his grin softening into something more boyish, though no less mischievous. “Do I?”

“Yes,” she shot back, though her voice lacked the bite she intended.

He straightened, brushing his hands on his jeans as he inspected his work. “There. Good as new,” He leaned casually against the bike, and the smirk returned, slow and deliberate.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep coming back,” he added, replacing the boyish smile with the smirk again.

Something about the way he said it… no, she was imagining things. She shook the thought away, offering a polite smile instead. “Thanks,” she murmured. “Let’s hope I don’t have to. I’ve bothered you enough already.”

He didn’t reply immediately, just chuckled low. A rich, warm sound that made her stomach flutter despite herself. Reaching for the towel draped around his neck, he tossed it over his shoulder, his smirk never fading.

“Guess we’ll see,” he replied, his tone dripping with mirth.

She gave him a quick nod, gripping the handlebars of her bike as she turned toward the door. As she wheeled it out of the workshop, she could feel his gaze on her the entire time, heavy and lingering.

----------

It couldn’t be just a coincidence, and she didn’t believe in hexes. As she stepped outside the shop the next day and tried to ride her bike, only to find the chain dislodged again, she was sure Chris had something to do with it.

But why? Was he bored and was using her as a form of distraction? Did he catch on to her little crush and find joy in teasing her? The thoughts simmered in her chest, leaving a heat that burned more from frustration than embarrassment.

Biting her lip, she squared her shoulders and left the bike leaning against the wall. Her resolve hardened as she stormed toward the garage, striding straight through the open door. The bang of it slamming shut behind her echoed in the quiet space.

There he was, perched casually on the edge of a workbench, a giant biscuit in hand. His broad shoulders hunched slightly as he chewed, and he looked up at her with a genuine flicker of surprise in his icy blue eyes. Good. Let him be surprised.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed, her tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

He didn’t answer immediately, his poker face slipping into place as he leisurely took another bite of his biscuit. She marched closer, the click of her boots on the concrete floor punctuating her frustration.

“You think it’s funny, huh?” she snapped, her voice rising. “Messing with my bike to entertain yourself like some immature teenager?”

This... was not how he pictured this would go.

Chris blinked at her, caught off guard by the fiery edge in her tone and the determination blazing in her eyes. He hadn’t accounted for this, hadn’t considered that the sweet, flustered woman next door might come stomping into his workshop like a storm ready to unleash hell.

And damn if it wasn’t kind of hot.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he suppressed the smirk threatening to form, masking his features into neutrality. Okay, Poppy’s got thorns, he thought, his nickname for her taking on a new meaning. His smooth plan -one that felt straight out of a cheesy romcom, the kind his friends always mocked him for enjoying - was spiraling quickly out of control.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare or are you going to explain yourself?” she pressed, crossing her arms. Her cheeks were flushed, and her frustration was palpable.

He swallowed the last of the biscuit, brushing the crumbs from his hands. “Explain what, exactly?” he drawled, calm but with a hint of amusement.

“My bike,” she snapped, pointing toward the door. “The chain’s off again, and I know you have something to do with it.”

Chris finally let the smirk slip, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stood, the movement slow and deliberate. “Maybe you should take better care of it,” he advised, in a low and teasing tone

Her eyes narrowed, and he could almost see the steam rising off her.

“Don’t play dumb,” she shot back. “You told me not to touch it, to bring it to you, and now, magically, it keeps breaking?”

He stepped closer, his hands sliding casually into his pockets. “And yet, here you are,” he murmured, deepening his infuriating smirk.

Her glare faltered for the briefest moment as she registered his words. Indeed, he was doing it on purpose.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she breathed, her voice dripping with disbelief.

“Guess you figured me out,” he admitted, his voice dipping lower as he stepped closer, vanishing the space between them. Their bodies almost touched, and his heat radiated against her skin. “What are you gonna do about it, Poppy?”

That sultry tone, paired with the teasing lilt in his words, sent a wave of electricity coursing through her body, nearly making her knees give out. But she forced herself to stand firm, her chin tilting upward to meet his gaze.

Before she could stop herself -before her rational side could intervene- her hand shot out, slapping him across the face.

The sharp sound echoed in the quiet garage.

Chris’s head snapped slightly to the side, the sting blooming on his cheek. His free hand instinctively flexed at his side as he turned back to her with a stunned expression, as though he truly hadn’t seen that coming.

“Okay,” he muttered, almost to himself.

She didn’t give him time to recover. “I didn’t think you were such an asshole, Chris,” she spat, her voice trembling with anger, her chest heaving. “You have all those women fawning over you nonstop, and this-” she gestured between them, her voice breaking with frustration” was completely unnecessary. I hope your little game entertained you enough. Your stupid neigh-”

He cut her off the only way he could think of.

By kissing her.

The motion was swift. His hand slid around her waist, keeping her in place as his lips crashed against hers. It wasn’t a soft, tentative kiss. It was firm, heated, and unapologetically bold, the kind that stole the breath right out of her lungs.

For a split second, her mind went blank, her anger eclipsed by the unexpected intensity of his actions. She froze, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

His lips softened slightly, coaxing rather than demanding, as if asking her to meet him halfway.

And damn it, she did.

Her hands found their way to his chest, whether to shove him or steady herself, she couldn’t tell.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against hers, and his breath was hot against her lips. “Now,” he murmured “are you gonna call me an asshole again, or should I keep going?”

Her eyes snapped open and her cheeks flamed as she registered his mischievous and utterly unrepentant smirk. Her chest rose and fell, words stuck in her throat as he leaned closer, his lips curling into a knowing grin. "That's what I thought," he murmured, his voice low and taunting, before capturing her lips again.

This time, the kiss was deeper, hungrier. His hand slid from her waist to her hip, pulling her flush against him, while the other cradled the back of her neck. Her protest melted into a soft moan as his tongue parted her lips, exploring her with confidence.

Her hands found their way to his shoulders, clutching at the firm muscles beneath his shirt as he walked her backward, guiding her toward the little office at the side of the workshop without breaking the kiss. When her thighs hit the edge of the desk, he took the opportunity to press his body even closer.

His name on her lips only seemed to spur him on, his kisses growing fiercer and insistent. The room was filled with the sounds of their ragged breaths and the scrape of papers and stationery being pushed aside as he lifted her onto the desk, stepping between her knees with a possessive grip on her thighs.

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. "You can still walk out of here," he rasped, though the way his thumb traced lazy circles on her inner thigh suggested he knew the answer already.

Her lips parted, but instead of answering, she grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him back to her. That was all the permission he needed.

Chris’s hands gripped her thighs firmly, pulling her hips closer to the edge of the desk as he kissed her like he was starved. His teeth grazed her bottom lip, drawing a gasp from her mouth, which he swallowed with a low, satisfied growl. One hand slipped under the waistband of her cotton shorts, rough fingers skimming over the soft fabric of her underwear, teasing but not quite daring enough to push further… yet.

“Fuck,” he murmured against her lips, his breath hot and ragged. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”

Her nails dug into his shoulders, as he trailed his mouth down her jaw to the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered, her head tilting instinctively to give him better access.

“You think this is fair?” she managed to gasp, with a trembling voice as his fingers edged lower, brushing over her clothed pussy. “Messing with me like that?”

He smirked against her skin, his lips trailing down to the hollow of her throat. “Fair’s overrated,” he muttered, nipping at her collarbone. “Besides, you didn’t seem to mind earlier.”

Her retort died in her throat as his hand slipped beneath the elastic of her panties, and, without preamble, he slid two fingers inside her, groaning low in his throat at the feel of her warm pussy clenching around them. “You’re so goddamn wet,” he rasped, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Was all that attitude just for show, Poppy? You have been wanting this as bad as I have?”

She couldn’t answer, not with the way his fingers curled, hitting a spot that made her gasp and clutch at his shoulders. Her nails dug into his skin through his shirt, and she felt his smirk against her neck before he nipped at her pulse.

“Exactly what I thought,” he stated, his voice laced with smug satisfaction as his thumb found her clit, circling it in a way that had her thighs trembling. “You’ve been waiting for me to take you apart, haven’t you?”

Her only response was a desperate moan, as her hips ground against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was so expertly coaxing out of her. He didn’t relent, adding more pressure to his movements, his breath hot against her skin as he kissed and bit along her collarbone.

“Say it,” he demanded, as his fingers plunged deeper. “Tell me how bad you want it, Poppy.”

“I… please” she whined trying to press herself harder against his hand.

Chris chuckled darkly against the sensitive skin of her neck. “Please, what?” he teased, his fingers slowing just enough to make her whimper in frustration. “Use your words, sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.”

Her pride warred with her need, but the desperate ache building inside her won out. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she tilted her head back, exposing her throat in a silent plea. “I need to cum,” she whispered, with a trembling voice. “Please, Chris.”

“That’s my girl,” he growled, his lips crashing back onto hers as he pumped his fingers harder, the slick sounds of her arousal filling the small office. His thumb pressed firmly against her clit, drawing a broken cry from her as her hips bucked wildly against his hand.

Her legs felt weak, her body trembling under the relentless assault of his touch. He pulled back just enough to watch her face, his eyes dark with hunger. “You gonna come for me, Poppy?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “Right here, with my fingers buried in this pretty little pussy?”

That was all it took. Her body tensed, her walls clenching around his fingers as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out, her nails dragging down his back as her orgasm left her trembling in his arms.

Chris didn’t stop until her shudders subsided, pulling his fingers out slowly and bringing them to his mouth. His eyes never left hers as he licked them clean, with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured.

Before she could recover, he was reaching for the hem of her shirt, his intentions clear as his eyes roamed her flushed, trembling body. “We’re not done yet, Poppy,” he said, his grin wicked. “Not even close.”

Her body was still trembling from the aftershocks, but her mind was beginning to clear, and with clarity came a surge of boldness. As Chris pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it somewhere across the room, she caught his wrist, halting his next move.

“Do you always pull stunts like this?” she asked, breathless but with a hint of sharpness in her tone.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk still firmly in place. “What, you mean fixing your bike?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she gave his chest a push, not hard enough to create distance, but enough to make her point. “Sabotaging it, you mean,” she shot back, her lips curving into a small smile despite herself.

Chris didn’t deny it. Instead, he leaned in, his mouth brushing against hers as he murmured, “Worked, didn’t it?”

Her retort was interrupted by his hand sliding up her thigh, fingers tracing a slow, teasing path over her bare skin. She bit her lip, trying to hold onto her composure. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know,” she managed, her voice wavering as his hand crept higher.

His grin widened. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She rolled her eyes, but her breath hitched as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts, cupping her possessively. “You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though her hands betrayed her words as they gripped his forearms, nails digging in as he teased her.

“And you’re gorgeous when you’re pissed off,” he countered, his voice dropping an octave.

Her laugh was soft but shaky, cut short when he slid her shorts and panties down in one swift motion, leaving her bare before him. He stepped back slightly to take her in, his gaze burning as it swept over her flushed skin. “Fucking perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself.

She felt heat flood her face, but instead of retreating into shyness, she stepped forward, placing her hands on his belt and tugging him closer. Her fingers worked at the buckle with purpose, though she glanced up at him with a smirk of her own. “You’re not the only one who gets to have fun, you know,”

Chris groaned, his hands gripping her hips as he watched her undo his belt, anticipation clear in his darkened eyes. “Careful, Poppy,” he warned, though there was no real threat in his tone, just raw, unfiltered need.

“Or what?” she challenged, her fingers sliding beneath the waistband of his jeans to push them down.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he grabbed her wrists and guided her back toward the desk, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that left no room for argument. He lifted her effortlessly, settling her on the edge as his mouth moved down her neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses.

Her head fell back with a gasp, her hands rummaged against his shaved head as his beard scraped against her skin. “Chris,” she breathed, the sound of his name a plea that made him growl against her collarbone.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice rough as his hands roamed her body, mapping every curve.

Her words snapped whatever fragile thread of restraint he’d been clinging to. He surged forward, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, rough and consuming, as his hands gripped her hips like he was staking a claim.

Her nails raked down his back, as her hips shifted to meet his. “I want you to fuck me."

“Say it again,” he rasped against her lips, his voice low and gravelly.

She trembled, her nails kept digging into his back as her legs wrapped around his waist. “I want you to fuck me,” she repeated, her voice tinted with a mix of desperation and challenge.

“Good girl,” he growled, reaching between them to line himself up. With one hard thrust, he buried himself inside her, drawing a sharp cry from her lips as her body arched against his.

The desk creaked beneath them, the sound mingling with their ragged breaths and the low, guttural groan Chris let out as he began to move. His rhythm was relentless, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge as he held her firmly in place, one hand gripping her behind her knee and the other gripping the nape of her neck.

“Fuck, Poppy,” he muttered, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “You feel so damn good.”

Her hands clawed at his back, her head falling backward as his pace quickened. “Chris,” she gasped, her voice breaking on his name as her body tightened around him. The way he filled her, the intensity of his movements, it was overwhelming, intoxicating, everything she hadn’t known she needed.

He tilted back her head by the hair, his lips finding hers again in a kiss that was more raw than refined, his teeth catching her lower lip before he pulled back to look at her. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice a guttural growl that didn’t leave place for argument.

“Yes,” she whimpered, her nails scraping against his scalp as her thighs clenched around his waist.

The admission seemed to snap something in him. He shifted his angle, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, each one drawing a broken moan from her lips. Her hands flew to the edge of the desk, gripping it for stability as her body shook with the force of his movements.

Her climax hit her hard, her vision went white as her body clenched around him. She cried out his name, raw and breathless as the pleasure overtook her. Chris followed moments later, as his hips jerked against hers one final time as he came with a soft groan, his release flooding her as he sank deep, unable to hold back any longer.

They stayed like that for a moment, bodies connected, and breaths mingling as they came down from the high. Chris pressed his forehead to hers, his lips curving into a lazy, satisfied smirk.

“Still think I’m an asshole?” he teased, his voice rough but filled with amusement.

She let out a breathless laugh, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “Oh, you’re definitely an asshole,” she replied, despite the sated look in her eyes.

He chuckled softly, but then silence settled between them. His gaze shifted to the floor, his hand running through his hair as if to busy himself. She tilted her head, sensing his sudden unease.

After a beat, he let out a sigh, furrowing his brows. “I didn’t think you would say yes,” he confessed, almost hesitant.

She blinked at him, her fingers pausing their lazy strokes on his chest. “Say yes to what?”

He bit his lip, clearly debating whether to answer. Finally, he sighed again, his eyes lifting to meet hers, though they held a vulnerable edge now. “When you told me I could just have asked you out,” he admitted, his words a little rushed, like getting them out quickly would make them easier to say.

Her gaze softened at the sight of his cheeks turning pink, the blush spreading up to his ears. He looked so different like this, shy and unsure. It was a stark contrast to the cocky, self-assured man she’d come to know. It reminded her of the way he looked when she’d caught him eating her baked goods on the sidewalk, his face lighting up like a kid at Christmas.

“Chris,” she said softly, pulling his gaze back to hers. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His hand rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I don’t know. You’re… you. And I’m me. I guess I just figured… hell, I don’t know.” He laughed awkwardly, shaking his head as if to dismiss the thought. “That’s why I thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?” she pressed gently.

He flushed deeper, his hand falling to his side as he let out a resigned breath. “If I kept fixing your bike, it’d give me a reason to see you. Even if you weren’t interested. And maybe… eventually…”

Her lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, she just stared at him. Then, a slow, amused smile crept across her face. “So, you’ve been sabotaging my bike this whole time just to spend time with me?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he ducked his head. “Pretty stupid, huh?”

Her laugh was warm and bright, and when he glanced up at her, she was grinning. “Chris,” she said, reaching up to brush her fingers along his jaw, “you really are an asshole. But you’re a cute one.”

That earned her a boyish grin, the confidence starting to creep back into his expression. “Cute, huh?” he teased, leaning in until their noses nearly touched.

She rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t pull away. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

His grin softened, but before he could respond, she added, “Also… I never thought you’d be interested in me. I’m not your usual… cup of tea.”

The playful spark in his eyes faded into something warmer, more serious. He leaned back just enough to study her face, his brows furrowing. “What makes you think that?”

She shrugged, her fingers fidgeting against his chest. “I’ve seen the women who hang around you, Chris. They’re all so… well, let’s say I don’t exactly fit that mold. I guess I just figured someone like you wouldn’t look twice at someone like me.”

Chris’s jaw clenched, his hands slid to rest firmly on her waist. “First off, that’s bullshit. You’re gorgeous, smart, and you’ve got this thing about you…” He paused, his lips quirking into a small, lopsided smile. “You’re real, Poppy. And if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been looking a hell of a lot more than twice.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, unable to suppress a small, bashful smile. “You’re just saying that because I slept with you,” she teased lightly, though her voice wavered just a little.

His expression turned serious again, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I’ve wanted you since the first time you walked out of your shop six months ago, all wide-eyed and nervous to exhibit some plants in the sidewalk. You had a yellow apron full of poppies.”

She blinked in surprise. “You… remember that?”

His expression softened, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “Of course, I remember. How could I not?” His thumb continued its gentle caress over her cheek. “You were fussing over every little detail, making sure each pot was lined up just right. I was watching you from the garage and thinking how someone could be so damn... adorable.”

She blinked again, stunned. “Adorable?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dipping lower. “You had smudges of dirt on your face, a little furrow in your brow like the whole world would fall apart if one of those plants was crooked. And that apron…” He grinned, his eyes glinting with affection. “It had those poppies on it, and I thought, Poppy. It just… fit you.”

Her cheeks burned, the memory suddenly vivid in her own mind. She’d been so self-conscious that day, trying to make a good impression in the neighborhood. “I had no idea you noticed me,” she murmured.

“Are you kidding?” he asked, a soft laugh escaping him. “I couldn’t not notice you. I kept trying to come up with excuses to walk by, hoping you’d look up and say hi. But you didn’t even glance my way.”

She bit her lip, feeling a pang of guilt. “I was so focused on not messing up… I didn’t even think to look around.”

“Well,” he said, his grin returning as he leaned in closer, “I guess I just had to get creative after that.”

Her lips quirked in a wry smile. “Creative like messing with my bike?”

He winced, his blush deepening. “Yeah, maybe not my best plan. But it worked, didn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her smile. “You’re lucky it did.”

Chris chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Okay, but watching you storm in here like a little spitfire? Worth every second.”

She swatted at his chest, though her laugh undermined the gesture. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, but I’m your worst now,” he replied pulling her closer by the waist.

She arched a brow, giving him a deadpan look. “You just called yourself my worst. That’s not exactly a glowing endorsement, you know that, don’t you?”

“Fine, let me try again.” He caressed her cheek and pressed his forehead against hers “What about… I’m your guy now?”

She felt a flutter in her stomach at his words. Biting her lip, she hesitated for just a second before leaning in, brushing her lips softly against his.

“Much better,” she smiled, her gaze locked on his.

Chris’s grin widened, his cockiness tempered by something gentler. His hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, pulling her closer for another kiss.

Outside, the faint chirp of crickets signaled the end of the day, but inside the garage, time felt suspended, wrapped in the warmth of shared smiles and the lingering taste of the kiss.

“Guess I should fix your bike now,” Chris finally murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his thumb still brushed lightly against her cheek as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching her.

She laughed softly, the sound carrying over the music. “Maybe I’ll let you if you promise not to sabotage it again.”

His smirk was immediate, wickedness returning in full force. “Can’t do, Poppy. You looked way too damn hot storming in here.”

She swatted his chest, as the song faded into another, its upbeat tempo matching the rhythm of her fluttering heart.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[sashaisready]

Feel The Burn: Chapter 1

Lance Tucker x Reader | Destroyer!Chris x Reader

Series Masterlist

Your casual situationship with notorious flirt Lance Tucker comes to a shocking head at a party, fortunately the mysterious stranger you meet that same night is more than happy to help take your mind off it.

Wordcount: Approx 4.3k

Me again! I've never written for Lance but felt inspired by the wonderful @nickfowlerrr and her recent Lance fic (it's great, go check it out!) Expecting lots of angst, smut and drama cos you know I love that. Warnings for Lance being a dickwad. Also my first Destroyer!Chris attempt so let's see how we go. As always - reblogs and comments mean the world!

🥇

He’d snuck out before you had woken up.

The little shit.

You knew it shouldn’t be a surprise…but it still stung regardless.

You weren’t stupid. You knew your ‘arrangement’ with Lance was a casual one – no labels, no expectations, no exclusivity. You’d both been transparent about that, and you weren’t exactly looking to lock into anything serious at the moment – between work, friends, family and general surviving, you only really had time and headspace for fun and stress release.

Lance was the perfect candidate for that. Between his personal trainer role job and coaching on the side, he was just as busy as you were. He was also fun and wanted to keep things light, he didn’t put demands on your time and didn’t ask for more than you were willing to give.

He was also an asshole. Which helped keep the boundaries and lines clear.

You’d met at a bar a few months prior. He’d sent over a cocktail via the bartender, and you were rolling your eyes at the cheesy gesture from the guy who appeared to be wearing what looked like a bright red Olympics jacket at the dive bar. But then he came over, and you were surprised at how disarming his stupid smile was, and how easily he made your friends laugh. And then suddenly you were laughing along with them.

He was cute, you’d give him that. Big blue eyes swimming with mischief, a permanent smirk tattooed across his face. Carefully coiffed hazelnut hair that you just instinctively knew had to be perfect before he left the house.

A walking red flag.

Literally too, with that jacket.

You ended up chatting deep into the evening, your friends moving onto the club while you chose to stay with your new buddy. You found out he was a former Olympic gold winning gymnast turned personal trainer and gymnastics coach, which sounded so fake that you laughed out loud at the outrageous claim – until he smugly made you google him on your phone…

…Touché.

Your job wasn’t quite as impressive, but he did seem interested in the fact you owned your own coffee shop downtown. He’s big into the whole self-made thing.

He was cocky and arrogant; you rolled your eyes constantly and groaned at all his jokes all evening. He was everything you’d normally avoid in a man, yet you were strangely captivated by him. There seemed to be a self-awareness to him that intrigued you, as if he knew how awful he was and leaned into it with a knowing wink. At least he was upfront about his assholery, so many men you knew hid theirs until you’d fallen into the deep.

Of course you ended up back at his place, practically falling through the door as he kissed you feverishly, his hands all over you as if he couldn’t get enough – tugging your clothes off before he’d even closed the front door behind him. He spread you out across his couch and ate you out like a starving man, you were shocked at how quickly and how hard he made you come. Men like him often only talked the talk, so you were genuinely caught off guard that he could also walk the walk.

You’d giggled at the utter ridiculousness of the tattoo across his crotch after he’d removed his boxers, the fuzzy haze from your orgasm giving way to clarity as the ludicrous medal image snapped everything back to focus. What the fuck were you doing here??

But he was unperturbed, laughing along with you and shrugging off your reaction – surely, he must be the cockiest man on the planet. “I earned it,” he grinned wickedly, pulling you into him.

His touch was dizzying. He knew exactly how to hold you, how to feel you, how to push you to let go. You were initially conscious of your softer body compared to his rock-hard abs, you didn’t exactly have a gymnast body yourself - but he looked at you unashamedly – circling every inch, tracing every curve. He’d eyed you hungrily, helping himself to you as if you were the tastiest buffet he’d ever had. If you covered your tummy with your hand he’d rip it away, leaving no part of you hidden from him.

It was intoxicating.

And god, the stamina. The flexibility. You lost count of the positions he’d twist you into, effortlessly coaxing your figure into shapes and angles you didn’t even know you were capable of. Never too far, never leaving you uncomfortable for long – or you’d just be too euphoric to notice. Something just clicked with the two of you physically, your bodies fit together as if they’d been designed that way. If your body was a song, he hit every note.

You’d never experienced anything like it.

That was a few months ago and you were unable to fully disentangle yourself from him. What you had intended to be a one-night thing had spread into many nights. Texts. Filthy FaceTime calls. Meeting each other after nights out with respective friends. One of his buddies even began dating one of yours, so you find yourself in the same spots more and more regularly. You were very different people – he was loud and brash, you were more shy and reserved. He would talk the ear off anyone who’d chat to him, you’d quietly listen and observe the conversation. Nobody would have ever put you two together, and your friends were slightly baffled by the arrangement – but they just wanted you to enjoy yourself.

Every time you said you’d wean yourself off him, he’d pop up on your phone and it would be back to square one again.

You knew he was toxic, you knew he was bad, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your brain switched off when you were with him, no anxiety, no insecurities – just enjoying the moment, lost in your pleasure. Nobody had ever made your feel like that in the bedroom, or outside of it either, he was an addiction your body couldn’t curb. He was the bag of candy you knew was in the cupboard and couldn’t resist sneaking the occasional piece.

…You just had to be careful not to binge the whole thing.

All you’d ever asked from him was respect. You may have just been casual, but you wanted to be treated decently – no degradation or meanness unless you’d specifically requested for it in bed (and sometimes you had), no ditching once you’d agreed to meet, no asking anything too personal about each other’s lives. Sure, you were always mouthing off to each other, but it was infused with fun and banter – never cruel, never unkind.

Just because this was casual didn’t mean you should treat each other like dirt.

Sometimes you stayed over at each other’s places, you both enjoyed a post-coital cuddle – even if neither of you had ever said it aloud. You often ended up sleeping on his chest, hearing his breathing deepen as he absent-mindedly played with your hair. Or you’d shower together, and he’d carefully clean you up, the one time the wise cracks were muted as he washed your body and stood with you under the water, holding you against him. Sometimes you’d just stay up late talking, laughing into the night. As wrong as he was for you, he was also easy to be around. You didn’t need to put on a show or performance for him, maybe because you had never really felt the need to impress him. It took the pressure off.

If you didn’t know any better, the altogether picture might look like something resembling tenderness (but you did know better).

Leaning over this morning and seeing him gone felt like a surprising shot in the gut.

He knew full well you were a light sleeper, he’d accidentally woken you up numerous times at your many sleepovers during late-night bathroom trips or bumping against you after rolling over. He was very used to the angry pillow thrown in his direction as you groaned at the interruption and snuggled back into the sheets or allowed him to tug you back into his arms.

But this morning…He must’ve put his training to good use and crawled out of bed like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, carefully dodging the creaky floorboards in your bedroom like lasers and collecting his clothes at the same volume as a gnat's hiccup.

You frowned, not liking that.

It’s not like you wanted him to hang around. You had to go to the shop anyway. But normally he slept in with you, sometimes getting up before you to make you both coffee, or on rare occasions getting something started for breakfast. Ever the committed coach and former athlete, he often liked a detailed ‘debrief’ of the previous night’s performances – with focus on high points, and areas to develop and work on. Yes, really. He took it very seriously and wanted to be top of his game. Which only really benefited you in the long run, as farcical as the whole ritual was.

You knew his schedule, you knew he didn’t have any sessions booked at this time. Him sneaking off just felt…wrong. Rude, somehow. Like he’d got what he needed from you so felt no need to keep up niceties or courtesy, even though that’s always how this thing had worked.

You glanced at your phone. A message from Kat but nothing else. You checked your text thread with Lance – nothing except the ‘you up, Cupcake? 🧁’ text and selfie he’d sent you last night before you’d arranged for him to come by. Hmm.

Fine. Whatever. Unusual, but shit happens – maybe it was just a one-off. You shrugged it off, despite the faint pang of anxiety it left in your stomach.

You fired off a quick text to him, “nice disappearing act, Tucker. You must’ve pulled a muscle with all that stealth”.

You watched the screen and saw that immediately the little bubbles appeared to show he was typing. They hovered for a few seconds, then disappeared, then started again…only to disappear once more. Huh. Weird. Not like him to ignore a jibe like that. Oh well. Maybe he was in the middle of something.

You put it to the back of your mind and got ready for work, heading over to the coffee shop. Marina had opened that morning so you joined her behind the register, greeting her cheerily and asking about her day so far. You did a quick scan of the shop – a few regulars had piled in, but it wasn’t too busy yet. You threw yourself into your normal tasks – helping with customers, wiping down tables, checking inventory, doing some accounts in the back office. All very normal. You soon forgot about Lance and the unusual start to the morning, getting into full work mode. Filter and Foam Café was your baby, your life. It hadn’t been easy to get the business up and running, you started out with a second-hand espresso machine and a cart, then built your customer base brick by brick until you could eventually afford to lease a premises and hire a small team. It was the result of endless long hours and hard graft, but it had paid off. Maybe your business degree had been worth the money, after all.

You felt at home here with your regulars and your staff, life was hard for many, and you were never going to cure cancer or broker world peace – but if you could brighten someone’s day with a decent cup of coffee and a nice pastry, that was something at least. There were lesser contributions to life.

You took a break and checked your phone. Nothing from Lance, unusually, but you replied to Kat’s message from this morning. She was reminding you about her party at the weekend, asking you to bring a bottle. Kat was dating Lance’s friend, Matt, and they were throwing their first joint-party at their new place together. It was cute.

If all else failed, you could berate Lance for his radio silence when you got to the party.

The week rolled on. Still no word from Lance, which was strange as he normally replied to your messages quickly, but it also wasn’t unusual for one/both of you to vanish for a little while if you had a lot going on. You weren’t worried, and you weren’t the type to be obsessively checking your phone. A tiny voice at the back of your head told you that something felt off, but you easily smothered it. The whole point of your arrangement with Lance was to avoid stress and drama, so you wouldn’t entertain anything else.

Friday night came around. Marina was closing which meant you could leave the shop early to go get ready. You settled on a black dress you were fond of, not too showy, not too frumpy, but hugged your figure nicely. You threw on a pair of comfortable heels and did your hair and make-up how you liked, grabbing a taxi to Kat’s place with the requested bottle and feeling excited about spending some time with your friends – even if parties weren’t your scene.

As you walked in the party was in full swing. Kat rushed over to you excitedly and thrust a cocktail in your hand as she gabbled about the new place – giving you a mini tour. Matt chimed in where he could and you grinned at their dynamic – Kat the whirlwind of chaos, Matt the calming breeze. It worked. It was charming to witness, they’d moved fast - but anyone could see how much they meant to each other. Kat and Matt, even their names worked together.

As you moved through the house with them you recognised most of the faces dotted throughout the party, waving and promising to catch up with some of them after you had finished the home tour. You noted you hadn’t seen Lance, but no doubt he would be making himself known sooner or later.

An hour later you were perching on the arm of the sofa, giggling along with Kat as she regaled Matt and some of your friends with a notorious anecdote from your college days.

“I just can’t believe you did it!” Kat squealed with laughter as she playfully knocked your arm, “and here was me thinking I was brave!”

“Well in my defence, he did cheat on one of our best friends…and it was unlucky for him that I still had all that chicken feed after the farm volunteering day,” you grinned, slightly awkwardly as you’re not always comfortable holding court like this. “But hey, it wasn’t like he couldn’t get the bird crap off of his car after they’d finished eating…”

The group all laughed raucously but your eyes were drawn to someone watching you from across the living room. You sipped from your glass as Lance observed you carefully. His expression was strangely unreadable, not giving you the knowing grin he usually flashed when you locked eyes. He wore dark jeans and a nice navy button-down, no sign of the ubiquitous Team USA jackets this evening.

He made his way over to the group you were talking to, Matt greeted him enthusiastically and they did their buddy fist bump thing they often did. He said hello to the other members of the gathering then gave you a curt nod.

“Cupcake”.

“Tuck”, you responded with your own nod.

The group exchanged knowing glances. Your friends were very aware of the unconventional nature of yours and Lance’s ‘friendship’.

He joins in the conversation effortlessly, much easier than you, flowing and diving in with jokes like he’d been standing there all evening. When separate discussions broke off and formed within smaller groups, you took the opportunity to freshen your drink in the kitchen.

“What’s up with you two?” someone hissed.

You looked up from your glass as Kat slithered around the door, checking over her shoulder to ensure you were alone.

“What? With who?” you wrinkled your nose.

“Don’t play dumb! You and Lance! What’s the latest?” your friend pestered, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You laughed, “oh, stop. Nothing. You know it’s just a physical thing…”

“Yeah, whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other. Having your weird silent conversations with your eyes. When are you going to wake up and realise that you’re basically dating at this point??”

You huffed in protest but she persisted.

“I’m serious, babe, you know Matt said recently that he hasn’t seen Lance with any other girls for a while now…”

You were surprised by that. You and Lance had never been exclusive, but also had the manners not to discuss anyone else with each other. You’d had the occasional date but nothing much, and based on his aggressive flirting had just assumed he had a steady roster of women in his life (although sometimes you weren’t sure how he’d fit them in based on how frequently you saw him).

But you shook it off. You weren’t naïve enough to think someone as greedy as Lance Tucker would be satisfied with only one girl in his life.

You scoffed in response, “oh come on Kat. It’s not like that…it’s just fun. Besides, he snuck out of my apartment earlier this week and then didn’t respond to my text. Hardly boyfriend behaviour…”

“What? That little…want me to beat his ass?”

“I’d love to see that. But no, I’m good. Thank-you,” you chuckled, Kat was 5’1” – any ass kicking she did would be a sight to see. But you knew full well she could handle it, if she wanted to badly enough.

“I’m not letting him treat you like shit…you know that…” she warned as she squeezed your shoulders.

“I do, Kat,” you smiled, “but you know I’m not letting him do that, either”.

She nodded and grimaced, but that seemed to put her mind at rest.

As if summoned, Lance entered the kitchen a second later, making his way over to the rows of bottles to make himself a drink. Kat was being called back into the living room by a loudly drunk partygoer, she rushed out and shrieked an apology to you as she flew out of the door.

“Fuck, Marcy, not the vase!” you heard her cry out as she vanished.

You laughed at her disarray and finished pouring your own drink.

“So, what’s up with you, Tuck?” you asked Lance as you took a sip.

You watched as he made his gin and slimline tonic – always health-conscious, of course.

He shrugged, “what? Nothing. I’m good,” he said blankly without looking up.

“Right…well why did you sneak out the other day? That’s not like you,” you asked casually, “you’d never normally miss a debrief, and sneaking isn’t really your thing,” you laughed good-naturedly, “louder and prouder, in my experience”.

He shrugged again, “I had to run. Sorry”.

His voice was flat, with none of his usual vigour or mirth. It was…weird.

“Oh, okay. Well…you could’ve said bye. But no biggie. I just thought it was weird you didn’t text me back, so thought I’d check you were okay. All good? Gymnast emergency?” you joked.

“Nope,” he shot back – his tone contained none of the lightness that yours did. “And would you just get off my back, already?”

“Jesus, okay,” you frowned, surprised at his reaction. This wasn’t like him at all. “I was just playing…it wasn’t like you-”.

Suddenly he slammed his glass down, it rattled as it hit the counter, “Fucking christ – just drop it, would ya? Needling away at me…I’m not your fucking boyfriend, alright?”

You flinched, completely caught off guard by his vitriol. This wasn’t Lance, this wasn’t the usual dynamic, normally you bantered back and forth and teased each other. He was often crass, but never…mean.

You didn’t speak for a moment, scrambling for words as your brain tried to compute what had just happened.

“I didn’t say you were…” you mumbled.

“Do this, do that, let’s have coffee, don’t sneak out, blah blah blah. I mean what, are you my fucking wife or something?” he spat venomously.

He looked up at you with anger in his eyes, a look you’d never seen in them before.

“No…Lance, I’m just messing around…”

“Are you? Because it feels like you’re suffocating me here”.

You scoffed in disbelief, “what? How? Because I asked you why you snuck out of my apartment?! Because it’s something you’ve never done before. And then I dared to texted you once about it? Hardly a fucking marriage proposal!”

“I don’t need to tell you where I am every fuckin’ minute of the day…”

“I’m not asking you to, fuck! I just think it’s shitty to sneak out like that. You could’ve just told me you were going! Or sent a text or something, damn! It’s pretty basic decency! Like having to acknowledge me before you leave is that strenuous…”

Both of you were yelling now, fortunately drowned out by the blaring music from the living room, the party obliviously continuing in full swing as you two of you exchanged barbs across the kitchen.

After some time going around in circles, he eventually sighed, taking a deep breath as he placed his palms flat on the kitchen counter. His voice now lowered.

“Look…I thought we were on the same page about this. It’s just fun…just messing around. We aren’t a thing, you and me”.

“I know,” you scowled. “I’m very aware. But I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask that you treat me with a degree of respect…We can have fun and be casual without contempt for each other. Sneaking out and then ignoring me…then acting like I’m the asshole for bringing it up…that’s just…”

“All of it…the coffee…the showers…the sleepovers. It’s just gone a little too far,” he sighed. “Cupcake I…”

You blinked at him, bewildered.

He continued, his voice was soft, as if approaching you like you were a frightened deer, “you’re a great fuck, alright? But that’s it. I can get it from 10 other girls in my phone, if I want. You’re cute, you’re funny, but you’re also a means to an end. You get my dick wet, and you’re good at it. Damn good. You make me so hard I can’t see straight. But I also don’t need you interrogating me about my business. Got it?”

You were shocked by his reaction and the callousness of his words…and the pang of hurt that radiated in your chest.

But more so you were angry. Angry at how he’d blown up out of nowhere, angry at his cavalier approach to all of this, angry at his patronising tone, angry at him for trying to talk you down like you were some kind of idiot. Acting as if he could say whatever he liked as long as he did it in a soothing tone. Like you were some kind of besotted lovesick pup he pitied and needed to let down gently.

Asshole.

You glowered at him so hard he actually leaned back a little, the arrogance in his eyes suddenly dulling in response.

“Cupcake, look, I’m sorry…that was-” he started, moving towards you.

“Oh save it, Lance!” you shot back furiously, shoving him away as he advanced towards you.

“Cupcake…I’m sorry-”

“And don’t call me that!”

“Okay, sorry, look, I was out of line…really…” he said gently.

Great. Pity. That was somehow worse.

You wished you had some witty retort for him, some clever insult to stop him in his tracks and put him in his place. But your rage paralysed any potential wit you may have been capable of.

“Tell it to one of the other 10 girls in your phone. Fuck this…and fuck you too!” you told him through gritted teeth.

That would have to do.

You downed your drink and stormed out of the kitchen. He was hot on your heels, telling you not to be like this and just to take a second but you could barely hear him over your own anger. You did a quick scan of the room but couldn’t see Kat, doing your best to ignore the stares from other partygoers as your newly found shadow tried to stop you from leaving. Some of your other friends were calling your name but you couldn’t bear to speak to anyone.

“Cupcake…hey, wait up,” Lance pleaded, cupping your shoulder.

“Just…leave me alone,” you hissed and wriggled his arm off you. You hope he didn't notice the slight crack in your voice.

He relented, letting out a low exhale and sheepishly shoving his hands in his pockets. You turned away from him, quickly grabbing your coat from the large pile in the hallway, leaving the house as fast as your feet could carry you.

You were trembling as the cold outside air hit you, not quite sure what had just happened. Your face felt hot and flushed with humiliation as you stood uselessly on the porch.

You somehow managed to quickly fire off an apology text to Kat saying you’d left. No doubt she’d be blowing up your phone imminently after the partygoers filled her in on all the drama. You suddenly felt immense guilt for making her big night all about you.

“Motherfucker!” you said aloud into the night.

“What did I do?” replied a smooth voice.

You flinched, confused until a man stepped out from the front of the house. He was smoking out here, initially hidden from your view as he must’ve been leaning against the wall just out of sight. He was tall, his hair shaved at the sides but longer and darker on top. He had a thick beard, cutting an intimidating figure in his denim vest, showing off the tattoos on his biceps. Mostly you were struck by his eyes, cerulean pools that were as striking as they were daunting.

They were also oddly familiar in a way you couldn’t place.

“S-sorry, I wasn’t talking to you…” you mumbled, embarrassed to have been caught out like this in your current state.

“Well, I got time. Just taking a break from the party,” he took a long drag on his cigarette, “I’m Chris. So, tell me about this motherfucker…”

🥇

[ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist]

Sebastian Stan Masterlist

Here you will find all of my Sebastian Stan works, arranged by character and type of work.

One-Shots

Something Old, Something New - Explicit - Nick Fowler x Reader - Your childhood best friend invites you to your old vacation spot for her wedding, and you have been catching up with your first crush: her recently divorced big brother Nick.

Events

Up A Creek | Lee Bodecker + Male Reader + Impact Play + “I told you, you would eventually start begging.” + Smut (Sweet Treats Events 2024)

Series

Bright Like The Moon (ongoing) - Justin is a minor character.

Events

COMING SOON

Events

COMING SOON

Bucky Barnes (Marvel)

Charles Blackwood (We Have Always Lived in the Castle)

Steve Kemp (Fresh)

Max (Sharper)

Nick Fowler (The 355)

Lee Bodecker (The Devill All The Time)

Chris (Destroyer)

Justin Capshaw (Law & Order)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR SEBASTIAN

FULL MASTERLIST IS HERE.

[holylulusworld]

Destroyer!Chris masterlist

Masterlist for all Destroyer!Chris stories

Contains: 💦 smut   // 💔 angst // 💕 fluff // 🖤 light smut

Legend status:❌ on hiatus // ❗ ongoing // ✔ complete // 🆕 upcoming

TBA

Jerk next door masterlist feat. Andy Barber & Captain Syverson

Find all other stories with Bucky Barnes/SebStans characters here: Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan/other roles Masterlist

Divider by me *for my blog use only*

[blueberryreads]

♡·˚tags per actor·˚♡

no actual real actor x reader, only characters

ADAM DRIVER CHARACTERS

kylo ren  (smut, fluff, angst)

flip zimmerman  (smut, fluff, angst)

dan jones  (smut, fluff, angst)

adam sackler  (smut, fluff, angst)

clyde logan  (smut, fluff, angst)

misc. adam driver characters (smut, fluff, angst)

CHRIS EVANS CHARACTERS

steve rogers  (smut, fluff, angst, social media au, multipart)

andy barber  (smut, fluff, angst)

ransom drysdale  (smut, fluff, angst)

ari levinson  (smut, fluff, angst)

lloyd hansen  (smut, fluff, angst)

SEBASTIAN STAN CHARACTERS

bucky barnes  (smut, fluff, angst, social media au, multipart)

destroyer!chris  (smut, fluff, angst)

steve kemp  (smut, fluff, angst)

carter baizen  (smut, fluff, angst)

misc. sebastian stan characters (smut, fluff, angst)

JON BERNTHAL CHARACTERS

frank castle  (smut, fluff, angst)

ethan sawyer  (smut, fluff, angst)

TOM HARDY CHARACTERS

eddie brock  (smut, fluff, angst)

venom  (smut, fluff, angst)

(fics will only be tagged as venom if they actually include a relationship between venom and reader)

alfie solomons  (smut, fluff, angst)

[navybrat817]

Hi!!! A long time lurker/follower!!! Fic questions coming up!

Which fic is your favorite?

Which one did you struggle to write the most?

Is there a certain fic that you revisit, if so when?

<333 have a great day/night!!!

Hi, nonnie! I love these questions.

Which fic is your favorite?

It's tough to choose a favorite because I love so many for different reasons. My Howling Commandos Tattoo AU comes to mind for because I just had a blast with it and I think my readers could sense that. Smut, feels, and our beautiful bastards. For a one-shot, probably First and Last. One of my older dark fics. Our poor omega.

Which one did you struggle to write the most?

Emotionally, A Lover's Lament. I had to stop at times because I was crying and it was a different style of writing for me, but I was proud of it. Destroyer!Chris doesn't get enough love.

Is there a certain fic that you revisit, if so when?

I don't generally like to reread my own writing because I can be very critical of myself, but I did recently reread a bit of my shifter!Bucky. The AU has been from Bucky's perspective and I find that very interesting.

Curious, do you have a favorite fic of mine? I appreciate you sending these in. Love and thanks! ❤️

[lavenderpenumbra]

here are my fic recs with other characters, fluff/angst/smut/oneshots/series are all combined.

main fic rec masterlist

[fluff] / [angst] / [fluff & angst] / [implied smut] / [smut] / [dark]

oneshots

[f & a] untitled by @/buckyalpine (destroyer!chris)

Bucky leaves you

[a] untitled by @fandoms-writings (sam wilson)

(request: "You know me better than that")

[a] [s] [d] The Truth Will Set You Free by @/navybrat817 (nick fowler & max burnett)

An agent from Max's past has some questions for you.

[s] physical by @buckycuddlebuddy (max burnett)

even a con man can get emotional sometimes, and sometimes the only way to show their emotions is being physical.

[f & a] [s] untitled by @/buckyalpine (eb!frank)

frank loves you

series

[coming soon]

© lavenderpenumbra.tumblr.com 2023

[howdoyousleep3]

"They get licked into a drippy mess in a cramped bathroom at a gang's house and then pumped full of cum."

"We shouldn't-" your voice wavered as Chris unzipped your denim shorts and pushed them down.

You already felt exposed in what he insisted you wear, but now he was depriving you even of the scraps that barely covered your body.

"We're undercover and- and-" you tried to reason with him, but your brain seemed unable to follow the reasonable thinking.

Definitely not with Chris getting down on his knees, kissing his way down your body as he did.

His breath was hot on your skin; big, calloused hands rough on your trembling body.

You braced your hands against the rickety bathroom counter, gaze flicking up to the door which Chris purposely left unlocked.

"Exactly," came his reply, voice dark and sweet as honeyed whiskey. "They should believe you're my good little slut. And in their eyes this is what sweet pieces are for."

He pulled your panties down and hoisted one of your legs over his shoulder.

"They get licked into a drippy mess in a cramped bathroom at a gang's house and then pumped full of cum."

His nostrils flared as Chris leaned to your already damp heat. You saw a smirk forming on his lips as he looked up at you, a dark gleam of satisfaction in his steely-blue eyes.

"So make sure they hear you moan, baby. And keep begging like a needy slut I know you are for me."

[lanabuckybarnes]

| Request/Ask Rules |

| I write for a female reader, I try to remain as inclusive as possible. Any women used in my photo headers are not how I see reader and are not how reader is supposed to look. Reader is you and I will try my best to keep that level of anonymity to her, that being said I am still human and it can slip through the cracks, I hope you can forgive anything that does.

| Most of my work will be 18+ so Minors DNI, I will block you if I catch you however I’m not responsible for what you consume it is up to you to make that decision by yourself.

| I do on occasion post dark content on my page. All works will be appropriately tagged and warnings will be posted alongside the work itself, if any of them trigger you DO NOT read, if you think they’ll trigger you refer to my previous words. Read at your own risk and if there is anything that you don’t think you’ll like I hope there will be something else for you.

| Since this whole thing is completely new to me I’m still figuring out what I am and what I’m not comfortable writing.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

| Writing |

- I WILL WRITE -

Smut, Fluff, Angst, Soft, Dark, AU’s (I love them), Age difference (characters are legal ages), Polyamory, Dub Con, Non Con, CNC, Dom/Sub, Somnophilia, Cockwarming, Sex Pollen, Breeding, Daddy Kink, Mommy Kink, Praise, Degradation, Humiliation (depends), Breeding, Chase, Breath Play, Weapon Play, Sensory Deprivation, Overstimulation, Edging, Bondage, A/B/O, Stepcest, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Dacryphilia - Feel free to ask if there is something you want but not on here

- I WILL NOT WRITE -

RPF, pedophilia, bestiality, necrophilia, incest, race play, watersports, underage scenarios, scat play, cheating between "main" couple, miscarriage.

| Who I Write For |

- SEBASTIAN STAN CHARACTERS -

Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier, Lee Bodecker, Max Burnett, Steve Kemp, Lance Tucker, Nick Fowler, Charles Blackwood, Mickey Henry, God the Bounty Hunter, Chris Destroyer

- CHRIS EVANS CHARACTERS -

Steve Rogers, Ari Levinson, Andy barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale, Jake Jensen, Johnny Storm, Pete Brenner, Curtis Everett

I hope you enjoy reading my works and if you feel like requesting please do I’m always looking to talk, hear your filthy thoughts and be inspired 💚💚

[sweeterthanthis]

Aww, would you look at that? Your new neighbor is getting a show.

Your boyfriend doesn't mind. He likes showing people you're his. 🔥

The Devil You Don't Know

Pairing: Destroyer!Chris x F!Reader x Dark!Nick Fowler (sorta 🤭)

Summary: Your husband loves to show you off. Little does he know, the new neighbour in town has far more in mind than just sitting back and enjoying the show.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dirty talk, mild possessiveness, male masturbation, mentions of infidelity, dark undertones, 18+.

Word Count: 850

A/N: It's been a while. Life has been crazy. Wanted to dip my toe back in the pool. Be kind. Thank you @navybrat817 for always knowing exactly how to destroy me! 💗

All my works are 18+. If you click the read more tab, you are agreeing that you are 18 or over, have read the warnings and take responsibility for your own media consumption. I do not consent to having my work translated or posted anywhere else.

“Come on, baby. You got another one for me?” Chris croons in your ear; one hand curled over your shoulder and the other gripping the nape of your neck. The sound of his flesh slapping against yours rings through the air, the window in front of you misting with every panting breath that escapes you. “I know you do. You’re still standing, aren’t you? Won’t stop pounding this pretty pussy ‘til you can’t hold yourself up anymore.”

Your fingers dig into the window ledge before you, forehead seeking out the cool relief of the glass. You don't remember how you got there. Just moments ago he was eating your cunt like his life depended on it on the couch. You know Chris enjoys showing you off. Everytime he takes you out you feel the pride that radiates from him when people see you on his arm. But this? This is entirely new. 

“Think he’s jerking off, sweetheart? I bet he is. Poor guy’s probably sittin’ there wondering how good you feel.” All you can do is moan in response, catching two of his fingers between your teeth when his hand snakes up to toy with your mouth. You hum around his digits as they hook the inside of your cheek, allowing yourself to be tugged back against his chest. You whimper when his cock brushes that tender spot inside you, slurping on his fingers, drool seeping from your lips and dripping down onto the sturdy rings that adorn them. “You can be louder than that. Know you can. Let him hear you, baby. Let him hear how good I fuck my girl.”

Your eyes flit to the open window. If you weren’t so blissed out, you might be embarrassed. Bracing yourself, palms flat against the glass, you grind yourself back against him; humming in contentment when his free hand dips between your legs. You shiver at the feel of flesh-warmed metal against your clit, Chris’ fingers expertly working the sensitive nub, swiping back and forth at a torturously gentle pace. 

“Chris,” you whine shamelessly, “need more. Faster. Please.” 

“My fingers? Or my cock?” He taps your cunt with his palm, grinning against your shoulder and grazing the skin with his teeth. “Be more specific, baby. Use those big girl words for me.”

"Your cock." You cringe at the thought of your new neighbor being able to hear your pleas, but you could care less if it means you get to come on your husband's dick again tonight. “Fuck me harder. Make me come. Use me.” 

Chris all but growls against your throat, his arm winding its way back around your waist, holding you tight as he pounds into your soaked, spent cunt mercilessly.

You can barely make out the outline of him in the window across the street, but you know he’s there. You know he watches you. Has done every night since Chris decided he was worthy of a sordid little show. You haven’t met him, and honestly, you’re not sure if you could face it if you happened to bump into him in the neighborhood. Not now that he’s seen you fall apart at the capable hands of your husband multiple times this week. 

“Know why I let him watch, baby?” Chris asks, his voice husky and his breath hot against your ear. All you can do is shake your head, moaning loudly in time with each brutal thrust of his rigid cock into your cunt. “Let him watch because it gets me off knowin’ that other men wanna fuck my girl. Knowin’ that there isn’t a chance in hell that I’d let him. You’re mine. This is my pussy.” 

“Yours,” you groan, feeling every inch of him and trembling when his hips grind against your ass with each firm, insistent thrust. “Only yours.” 

Nick Fowler isn’t one to sit back and watch someone else take what he wants. Even if that possession happens to have been in someone else's hands before he even set eyes on it. He wasn’t exactly excited about moving into the shitty little neighborhood, but you? Well, you make it almost tolerable. 

Laying low isn’t something he’s used to, but now that he has a little game to play? Well, he’s not as bored as he thought he’d be. He raises his glass to his lips and swallows down a heavy mouthful of scotch, tongue flattening against his palm when he licks at it and moves to wrap his hand around the meaty, throbbing dick standing to attention in his lap. 

Nick Fowler only keeps his distance for so long, and soon enough he’ll have you exactly where he wants you.

Beneath him, clawing your nails down his back and crying out that he’s the best fuck you’ve ever had.

It won’t be the first marriage he’s ruined, but if you’re as soft and pliable as you look from afar, you’ll be holding his attention for a lot longer than the last. 

A/N: I no longer have a tag list, but if you want to keep up to date with what I post follow my sideblog, @sweetersficlibrary​, and turn on alerts to be notified whenever I post something new 💕