#mechanic!destroyer!chris

[navybrat817]

Miss Navy! Holiday party with the motocross boys. What are they doing?

That's a great question, nonnie! It's a fun night all around.

Hal suggests instead of ugly Christmas sweaters that they should wear holidays pajamas. Almost all of the guys end up losing their shirts through the night because they never sleep with them on.

Jake comes up with the idea to do a gingerbread house competition, and he's happily surprised when everyone participates. Steve wins, which surprises no one.

Color Curtis surprised that Princess stuck to the spending cap on Yankee Swap or White Elephant or whatever you want to call it. And color him impressed and just a little turned on when you suggest a playful snowball fight and hit him square in the face with a smile on your beautiful face.

Chris doesn't sing along to the music, but he plays the songs on the piano. And Ari sings loud enough just for you to hear.

It's Daisy who brings up watching a holiday movie, which Steve more than happily agrees with as it'll give him a chance to cuddle up, but it's Spitfire and Bucky who suggest turning it into a drinking game with holiday BINGO. Just regular hot cocoa though for anyone driving.

Except no one is really going to drive home. Couples crash in the available bedrooms, couch, floor, and one couple sleeps in front of the fireplace.

I wonder which couple that is.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[vunblr]

Masterlist

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

Bucky Barnes

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 The Weight of Choices, 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.

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.

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.

To Mend a Soldier (Slight angst. Comfort. Fluff.) Oneshot

Summary: Pressed by a worried Sam, Bucky reluctantly agrees to try an alternative -and, if you ask him, weird- therapy program: rent-a-mom. What starts as an obligation soon turns into something far more meaningful than he ever expected.

Lumberjack Bucky Series

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

Summary: Bucky grapples with a questionable Christmas gift.

The Recipe for Us (Fluff. Smut.) 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.

Destroyer!Chris

Chains of Fate (Fluff. Smut.) 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?

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[vesearlee]

this is the hub for all of my posts and masterlists regarding my countless AUs.

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐁

⠈⠂⠄⠄ 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭

26

⠈⠂⠄⠄ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

⇀  Bucky Barnes ⇀  Winter Soldier ⇀  Steve Rogers ⇀  Natasha Romanoff ⇀  Wanda Maximoff ⇀  Sam Wilson ⇀  Peter Parker ⇀  Ari Levinson ⇀  Chris (Destroyer) ⇀  Hal Carter ⇀  Nick Fowler

⠈⠂⠄⠄ 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥

Can’t decide which to read first, or which to revisit? Click on the link below that will take you to a spinner wheel to help you decide between every published AU of mine.

𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄  𝑴𝑼𝑳𝑻𝑰𝑷𝑳𝑬

➺ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Multiple Pairings — 𝐅 + 𝐒 Today was the day — your birthday, but how would the many Bucky’s treat you? With a lil’ bit of nice? Or a lil’ bit of spice?

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⠈⠂⠄⠄ Biker ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Bodyguard ⠈⠂⠄⠄ DILF ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Farmer ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Incubus ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Lumberjack ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Mafia ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Mafia and Artist ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Mechanic ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Monster ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Omegaverse and Mafia ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Outlaw ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Paramedic ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Personal Trainer ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Pirate ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Pornstar ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Scare Actor ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Street Racer ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Stripper ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Tattoo ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Viking

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⠈⠂⠄⠄ Bodyguard ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Omegaverse

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⠈⠂⠄⠄ Firefighter ⠈⠂⠄⠄ Florist and Tattoo

[menageriemadness]

Pancho’s Myopic Movie Review - II : Dungeons and Dragons - Honor Among Thieves

Part I: I Roll to Seduce the Dragon

Ah! At last, a true fantasy flick that would make Roger Corman eat the script out of sheer jealousy knowing that he himself, the king of schlock, would not be able to replicate it even with a trillion monkeys plunking away at hypothetically hyperbolic typewriters.

Yes, dear readers, it is once again time for a Myopic Movie Review from your humble narrator, JP Pancho, fresh from overseeing a new batch of films delivered to the Menagerie via semi intelligent rocks rolled downhill toward a small Tibetan village.

2023 gave us many thrilling and unexpected outcomes, Zelinsky, hallowed be his name, kicking Putin in the teeth, an indictment of a former president, and Paramount producing what is likely the be the best fantasy flick of the decade - D&D: Honor Among Thieves.

Our story takes place in the D&D campaign setting of Faerun ie the Forgotten Realms. Actor turned director Frankie “the Destroyer of Box Offices (and orifaces)” Daley teams up with small time director Jonnny “Boi” Goldstein and deliver a pithy, action packed, and simple adventure that harkens back to the golden era of 1980s schlock with a modern flair for comedy, on screen table humor, and a real multi million dollar studio budget.

What we are left with is a stunning masterpiece of epic and small scale proportions. Even the stakes, which continually raise throughout the script never turn into saving the planet or the Realms themselves, just saving a single, albeit famous, city from the sinister mechanizations of an evil Thayan scheme. Overall - it’s low stakes, and for that, dear readers, your humble narrator is enterally grateful.

I saw this movie alone after a really rough day of feeling hopeless about the future and frustrated with the creeping walls closing in around me. I decided to go see it, bought the tin bucket hat and bladder buster cup, and tromped inside the theatre to find myself the only familiar in the whole town who wanted to see this movie opening weekend. It was empty.

What I saw blew my mind from the first 10 mins.

I laughed. I laughed so hard I cried. I even teared up a few times at some of the genuinely simple and heartfelt monologues and troubles the characters faced. When we came to the pivotal “all is lost moment” I was completely subverted when they all simply sat on a stump and had themselves a group hug. SIMPLE.

That’s all I have to say about this movie. There’s nothing insanely clever or deep about this plot, dialogue, or characters. It’s simple. Simple. Simple. Simple. And I love it. Theres a Druid who doesn’t like people, a barbarian with a penchant for halflings, a Harper bard who’s given up on life, an uptight Thayan paladin who doesn’t understand turn of phrase, a wizard who sucks at wizardry, and a conman who cons his way right into my heart. Nothing wild, nothing new, but the actors really did a great job making me feel like it’s a motley band of nobodies thrust into plans way above their level range. There’s a giant bridge that they need to cross, but it’s rigged with deadly traps. As the truly bearably unbearable lawful good paladin explains the intricate manner in which they need to cross, someone sets off the trap and the bridge collapses. That’s it, nothing more. No huge danger, only a new obstacle they have to work together to solve - just like the tabletop rpg.

When they see the city in peril and they have a literal ship filled with gold and all Chris Pine can say is “ah, shit,” and turn the boat around (because they all need the xp to level), definitely says it all. I remember my own experiences in rpgs where me and the party did the exact same thing. We turned our asses right back around and we defended the town, because that’s what heroes do.

The simplicity of the plot along with the heartfelt, funny, endearing characters and their clear motivations drives the plot and keeps the action quick. I love that everyone has a moment of defined growth as well, either letting go of something or learning to overcome their own insecurities. It’s never anything truly massively deep, but it’s real problems we all face - imposter syndrome, loss of loved ones, trusting new people, and learning to let go of the past and embrace the now, looking toward a brighter future. There’s plenty of wonderful moments where I can just see a party of adventurers on their own little D&D adventure getting told what epic things are happening in game, but this time we get to see it live action and in person - the obese dragon (great lore reference from Forgotten Realms for all you nerds), the exquisite Druid chase scene, beating up a hobgoblin in prison, Jarnathan’s escape, the old west street battle with the red wizard (and a tumbling basket - lol), a reference to the D&D cartoon during the Games, and seeing Hugh Grant’s face on the Goodyear blimp - chef kiss 😚 it’s a treat.

Speaking of live action and in person, the special effects are absolutely incredible. I haven’t seen such a good mix of CGI and practical puppetry since probably The Sorcerer’s Stone, and Jarnathan and the dragonkin and the furries are all charming and made me almost spit out my popcorn because I wasnt expecting such good puppets and animatronics.

There’s a scene where our heroes get sucked into the ground. I was shocked to discover it was all practical - they literally dug a pit and had them sink in it. Praise Helm!

What more can I say about this incredible film? Much, much more, but unfortunately, dear readers, all good things must come to an end, and your humble narrator needs to be off on a special task for the Menagerie - mucking out the vile Mephits who’ve taken over the water closet.

I give this movie an arbitrary score of one childhood and a late night college D&D session out of 7. If you haven’t seen it, please go watch it. Mind you, it’s not the best movie ever written, it’s not the best acted movie either, but it’s full of whimsy and charm, and I’m pretty sure Roger Corman is hastily writing a script to combat it, if only to cash in on the zeitgeist.

Alas, our time in the Menagerie has come to a close. Until next time, dear readers. I hope all is well in your world, for if it is so, then it is as well in mine.

Your Humble Narrator,

J. P. Pancho

[ikaris-whore]

Fixer Upper

((HERE GOES NOTHING. My first fic for public consumption, second ever written))

Mechanic!Chris X Reader

18+ only please

Shout out to @spacemansam for giving us this with her message “if I could spawn a Sebastian (or one of his characters) for one of you to do these things I would SO do it.” In which I said “He can make a house call and come change my oil… shirtless…” and thus this imagine began. ENJOY. It really took on a slightly different life than originally intended but I love the beginning, dont judge me for the end because I was drunk by that time. Shout out to my BFF, @iamafadedmoon for helping me when I got in a rut, she’s my smut guardian.

_______________________________________________________________

First he noticed the car, a 69 Mustang, candy red, top down. Then he saw you struggling a bit under the hood, face buried. He meandered up your drive, slowly as to not scare you, and introduce himself. “Do you need a hand there?” You looked up to see who was behind the gruff voice. A tall, lean body, scruffy face, hair shaved close on the sides. He was handsome in a dirty way, you had to admit. You wiped your hand on your shirt, unable to find your rag at the moment and reached out to shake his hand and give him your name along with a joke about no one else touching your baby. He laughed, eyes crinkling at the sides. “Name is Chris and I am actually a mechanic. Moved in just down the road recently. This baby is in impeccable condition.” You saw him follow the sharp lines of the car with his eyes.

Your father taught you how to fend for yourself when it came to your car and repairs, but with such an attractive mechanic offering his help you couldn’t help but allow him to lend you a hand. So you motioned to the car and commented “Be my guest... but if you hurt her I will come after you.”

The two of you spent two hours working side by side talking, getting to know each other, and of course arguing about the best tool for the job. The sun was at its peak now and you were getting hot and the sexual tension was building between the two of you as the minutes passed. You excused yourself to go get some iced tea to cool down.

When you returned from the kitchen, a pitcher and two glasses in hand, half of his body was sticking out from the underside of your car covered in sweat, oil, and dirt. You sat down in a lawn chair sipping on the cold tea soaking up the sun imagining how it’d be to straddle the tree trunks he called thighs that were wriggling back and forth as he tightened something under the car with his full force. He hollered for you to hand him a tool, but you didn’t hear him too lost in your thoughts. You were only pulled out with the sweet sound of his chuckle and a dirty red mechanics rag being waved in your face.

You regained your composure from your daydream as he squatted in front of you, tucked the rag into his back pocket and asked “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, sweetheart?” You blushed at the pet name and scrambled for something to say other than what you were actually thinking. “Oh, just wondering how I am going to repay you for all your help today, you really saved my baby with that trick you showed me.” You managed to stammer out. He placed his hand on your bare knee gently leaning forward slightly replying with a sly smirk “I have some ide-.”

That was all it took for the tension to snap. You leaned forward to meet his lips in a searing kiss. Your heart was hammering in your chest, did you read that wrong? He pulled away and you thought you definitely misread the signs, but he proceeded to stand up, wasting no time lifting you up to him. No words were exchanged just a silent conversation as you nodded as he gave you a look as if asking for permission. Lips still locked, he carried you to the car and set you on the hood. He started to trail his mouth down your neck, beard tickling you along the way. You moaned as he hit that sweet spot right below your ear. “mm sweetheart.. I love that noise.. coming from you.” he managed to get out between kisses as he continued his descent to your breasts. You could feel his calloused hands on your sides as he slowly slid your shirt up. Your body shivered at the touch. He nipped your neck as he roughly grabbed at your breasts under your shirt causing you to arch your back and rub up against his now hard cock. His hands slipped down your sides to the button of your pants undoing them with ease. He slipped his hand inside your underwear and slipped his fingers along your folds. You bucked against him. “so wet for me already” he drawled out. You went to reply with your usual sarcasm but his fingers stroked against your clit causing you to lose all words. “F-Fuck” was all you managed to get out. He wasted no time at moving on to pumping his fingers in and out of you as you leaned back against the hood biting your lip.

He started to drag your shorts down with his other hand but you caught his wrist, “Let’s not get my baby dirty, why don’t you take me inside and then you can have your way with me” you whispered in his ear as you nipped at his ear. He growled and picked you up groping your ass along the way. You could feel his hard cock rubbing against you every step of the way and it only made you more wet. He shifted you to his left arm as he opened the door with his right hand and brought you through the threshold. He hummed into your mouth as you pulled on his shirt and pointed the correct way to your bedroom with a tilt of your head, lips still locked because you couldn’t be close enough.

He finally made it to the bedroom with a few struggles through the house, throwing you onto the bed and quickly hovering over you with your wrists pinned up above your head with one hand and the other dragging you bottoms off. He kissed a trail down your midsection, letting go of your wrists,  and gave your folds a cursory lick of his tongue tasting you for the first time. “so sweet, love” he groaned and continue his assault licking and sucking as you shifted close to your release. You felt the heat in your belly, “so close” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear as you rubbed your nails on his scalp in encouragement. He hummed against you causing your release to snap. Hands grasping at the sheets and hips bucking up, he was unrelenting continuing his work as you came down from your high. He looked up at you with a cheeky grin. “Now you said I could have my way with you?” he snarked with a twinkle in his eye as he made his way up your body kissing you. You could taste yourself on him as you replied “god... yes” between kisses.

Next thing you know your hands are tied together with the red mechanics rag from his back pocket. You are lying there naked and waiting for him as he drops his clothes to the floor at the foot of your bed.  He crawls back over you, lining his cock up to you. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. “Chris, please just fill me up and fuck me into this mattress” you managed to reply unsure of how that actually just came out of your mouth. He pushed himself in slowly allowing you to stretch. “You tell me when to stop and I will immediately” he assured you. Nodding your head for him to continue wrapping your legs around him and pulling him into you as you started to rock your hips desperate for any kind of movement. He gripped your hips with his hands as he started to move in and out faster, his beard tickling and hot breath stuttering along your neck letting you know he was enjoying this as much as you. You could already feel your walls starting to clench around him at the sensations. “fuck, ‘m s’ close, Chris” you mumbled. “Not yet baby, I haven’t had my way with you” he said into the crease of your neck.

He pulled out and you whimpered at the loss.  He flipped you so your ass was in the air, grabbing it roughly he pounded into you harder than before. It was too much for you as he grabbed and smacked your ass while he did. Your legs gave out from under you and he laid on top of you whispering filthy words into your ear now bringing you closer to your second release. That was all it took, moments later you clenched around him as your body shook, he continued pumping through your orgasm. As you caught your breath he too was close. He pulled out tugging on himself and marking your ass with his pearly spurts. He fell to the side of you in bed out of breath. You turned your head to give him a kiss as he released your wrists from the makeshift binding. He smiled waving the rag in your face again as he spoke “Well I guess that’s one way to repay me, but I was thinking you let me take you on a date?”

[yuyungi]

Mechanic!Chris Moodboard

@spacemansam requested this a while ago, and I completely forgot about until now. So apologises honey. And @marvelous-meggi wrote a damn right dirty piece for mechanic!chris called Fixer Upper which I highly recommend, and is worth rereading over n over bc god damn it's so good.

@cchellacat @book-dragon-13 @buckmesideways22 @eurynome827 @spacemansam @chuuulip @jobean12-blog @jewelofwinter @loricameback @cametobuyplums @thesaltyduchess @sallycanwait68 @randomfandompenguin @mrsmookie @msruchita @lookwhatyoumademequeue @marvelgirl7 @if-n0t-l8ter-when

[luxeavenger]

It’s Time For Kinktober!

here, have a masterlist:

1. Overstimulation (Nomad Steve x reader)

2. Pegging (Backstage Pass!Steve x reader)

3. Daddy kink (Nomad Steve x reader)

4. Butt plug (Backstage Pass!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x reader)

5. Dirty talk (Random Drysdale x reader)

6. Nipple play (Curtis Everett x reader)

7. Edging (Loki x reader)

8. Breathplay (Destroyer!Chris x reader)

9. In Public (Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Mafia!Steve Rogers x reader)

10. Spit Kink (Biker!Mechanic!Bucky x reader)

11. Cock warming (Jake Jensen x reader)

12. Dubcon (Best Friend!Roommate!Bucky x reader)

13. Impact play (Mafia!Bucky x reader)

14. Double penetration (Neighbor!Andy Barber x Neighbor!Ari Levinson x reader)

15. Bondage (Loki x reader)

16. Sex toys (Roommate!Bucky x reader)

17. Cum play (Backstage Pass!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x reader)

18. Begging ( Loki x reader)

19. Fisting (Backstage Pass!Bucky x reader)

20. Mutual masturbation (Backstage Pass!Bucky X Backstage Pass!Steve x reader)

21. Orgasm delay/denial (Ransom Drysdale x reader)

22. Voyeurism (Dark!Andy Barber x reader)

23. Knife play (Backstage Pass!Bucky x reader)

24. Face fucking (Beefy!Biker!Bucky x reader)

25. Sadism/masochism (Backstage Pass!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x reader)

26. Rough sex (Backstage Pass!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve)

27. Temperature play (Mr. Freezy x reader)

28. Thigh riding (Mafia!Steve x reader)

29. Praise kink (Pre-War!Bucky x Pre-War!Steve)

30. Mirror sex (Backstage Pass!Steve x reader)

31. Roleplay (Backstage Pass!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x reader)

Main Masterlist | Backstage pass Masterlist | Ko-fi

[virgo-opinions]

My motivation to read these last few months has been horrid, but it’s slowly coming back! I decided shove the last few months all into one list, so make sure to give these writers love and appreciation for their hard work!!

Find everything I’ve read under #xxshelbsxx fic rec

*Remember, only you are responsible for your media consumption. Be sure to thoroughly read the writers warnings and know they have their own blog boundaries regarding minors.*

FIC REC MASTERLIST

Bucky Barnes:

❆ Falling in Love with You by @bloomingbucky

tfatws!bucky x female!reader

❆ Thank You Daddy by @sweeterthanthis

sugar daddy!bucky x f!reader

❆ Your Filthy Heart (ongoing) by @sweeterthanthis

part seven: break her pretty

part eight: miss me in your bones

stepdad!bucky x 18+ female!reader

❆ Rebel with a Cause by @soldatsass

bucky barnes x female!reader

❆ Faking It (ongoing) by @bucksfucks

one: the first meeting

two: the first date

three: the post that broke the internet

actor!bucky barnes x f!actress!reader

❆ Don’t Look, Don’t Touch by @angrythingstarlight

beefy biker!bucky x reader

❆ If You Were Mine. by @wintersldr1

mob/mafia!bucky x f!reader

❆ Feels Like Murder to Put Your Heart Through This by @bloomingbucky

fwb!bucky x female!reader

❆ Roadside Assistance by @anastasiabvrnes

mechanic!bucky x reader

❆ Love/Hate by @metalbuckaroo

bucky barnes x f!reader

❆ Your Dad Would Fucking Kill Me If He Heard by @seventven​

dbf!bucky barnes x reader

❆ Little Bird (ongoing) by @gogolucky13​

one

dbf!bucky barnes x f!reader

Nick Fowler:

❆ Wake Up Call by @navybrat817

Nick Fowler x female!reader

Destroyer Chris:

❆ Flutter (ongoing) by @babyboibucky

flutter

ride or die

destroyer!chris x reader

Steve Rogers

❆ Hey Handsome by @sunshinebuckybarnes

biker!steve rogers x female!reader

***please let me know if any of these links aren’t working***

[nocturne-pisces]

Satisfied Customers: Ari Levinson x Reader

Smaller: Stucky

How Endgame Should Have Ended

Kitten: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Darlin': 40's Bucky x Reader

Sunshine: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Good: Ari Levinson x Reader

Feel: Mechanic!Bucky x Reader

Renegotiate: Thomas Shelby x Barmaid!Reader

Everything in this list has dark themes and dark characters.

Arkham Menace: Jason Todd x Reader

Thanks, Sunshine: Destroyer!Chris x Reader

Fixture: AndrewGarfield!Spiderman x Reader

Underdog: Bobby Pronge, Justin Capshaw x Reader

Bronze: Lance Tucker x Reader

Mutual Benefits: Scott Huffman x Reader (1)

—Matrimony: Scott Huffman x Reader (2)

Prince Charming: Carter Baizen x Reader

Lamb: Chase Collins x Reader

Tastes Like You: Steve Kemp x Reader

Little Fairy: Jefferson (Once Upon A Time) x Reader

Pretty Little Thing: Lee Bodecker x Reader

[navybrat817]

Miss Navy, which of the motocross guys are morning people, afternoon people, and evening people?

Love this question, nonnie. ❤️

Early morning - Steve 

Early runs or getting some laps in, he's one of the first guys up. It sets the tone of the day. Even better if he catches Daisy out and about. Maybe they can get a coffee or breakfast together? 

Late morning - Ari

Like Steve, Ari likes to exercise a bit earlier in the day, but he's content to stay in bed just a little bit longer. If Sweetart is beside him, he may not find a reason to leave. 

Afternoon - Hal

Usually when the temperature climbs for the day and sun is shining bright so Hal can lose his shirt. He'll gladly take it off for Belle and perform mundane tasks that way. 

Late afternoon - Bucky

It's when Bucky gets his second wind, usually after relaxing with a book if he can. Spitfire isn't surprised when he wants to get busy during that time either and it's lots of fun before dinner.

Early Evening - Chris

Chris loves to watch the sun go down and reflect on the day. Snuggling up with Kitten to watch the view is evening better.

Evening - Curtis

He doesn't mind the darkness, especially if the stars are out. And some nights he just can't sleep. Maybe Princess could help with that. 

Depends on the day - Jake

Morning, afternoon, evening, it all depends on his energy and mood. Lucky knows this and goes with the flow. 

Love and thanks! ❤️

[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

[cryptid-kratt-kid]

What did everyone bring for presents and what did everyone get (the ones we didn't see lol)

I'm only gonna do the brothers from my AUs here because if I didn't this post would be rediculously long.

Ocean Blue Martin got a carving of a seahorse

Ocean blue Chris got a railgun.

DSID Martin got a "How to Draw Furries" book.

DSID Chris got a Bazooka.

Cat Martin got a wool blue heron.

Cat Chris got a knife laced with cocaine.

Cryptid Martin got a flluffy winter coat.

Cryptid Chris got a jingle bell glock.

Dimension hopper Martin got a pair of mechanical wings.

Dimension hopper Chris got the favor of Zorgoth, destroyer of worlds.

Feral Martin got the keys to eacape horny jail.

Feral Chris got a bat that can bonk his brother right back into horny jail when he tries to escape.

FNAK au Martin (They all got put back together in time for prezzies) got a bedazzled top hat.

FNAK Chris got a plasma canon.

And as for who brought the presents,

IT WAS ME. I BROUGHT ALL THE PRESENTS. I BROKE OUT OF THE KRATT BROTHERS' BASEMENT, STOLE JEFF BEZOS' CREDIT CARD, AND WENT CRAZY. MWAHAHAHAHAHA.

[actionadventure2022]

Best Action Adventure Games

Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy

Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy is an amazing recreation. It is truly a creative, thoughtful rendition of the Marvel property. After playing the game, I'd love even more than anything to plunge into the world that created this group of heroes with a ragtag look. And at this moment, I'm thinking I truly will because I have fallen additionally in love with the world. Regardless of the world truly being inundated with superheroes appearing on the silver screen, it truly is only in the past decade that we've been able to provide gamers with seriously distinctive and relaxing games based on comic book components. With Guardians of the Galaxy, players can play among the most enjoyable comic book games available, which can distinguish themselves on their own from the tremendously well-known MCU brand and which can lovingly alter the abundant, illustrated world that it is based on. The original hurdle Guardians of the Galaxy needed to overcome was distinguishing it from James Gunn's vision. The films "Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 1" and "Vol. 2" were fantastic, bringing the Guardians to the forefront and adding much-needed character to the individual pre-"Avenger" films. Without a doubt, Eidos-Montreal's job is cut out for them for their upcoming film. On its initial public appearance, Guardians of the Galaxy was mocked as a copy-and-paste-style version that was a copy-paste version of its MCU counterpart. Nonetheless, nothing will be any further from the facts than you already know.

Eidos-Montreal certainly uses Gunn's style selections to create. Star-Lord presents a ripped-far from the world of Earth from the 1980s and is obsessed with the sounds of his time. Characteristics like Rocket Raccoon's aggression and Drax the Destroyer's tendencies to be a literalist are on full display within the action. The acting and direction of those films happened to be superb and functioned to describe the non-comic personalities of these characters. Yet still, after virtually two hours during the contest, I had no idea what to think of Chris Pratt or Bradley Cooper. I believe there may end up being some gamers who are unable to distinguish these two characters from one another because of the way their brains work. However, it's not as big of an issue as it was in the past year's Avengers play, where those titular characters and actors weren't provided with enough product.

Guardians of the Galaxy is one of the most conversational little games ever made. You will find a good number of RPGs loaded with inane conversations with NPCs that are one-offs, but I am unable to imagine the number of terms and pages that make up this game's script. From page 1 until the very end, Peter "Star-Lord" Quill, Drax, Gamora, Rocket, and Groot are talking nearly nonstop. In a sense, people could consider this to be the "Gilmore Girls" game. The raucous banter between all five characters in the show is unstoppable. And, while that word may have negative connotations, I cannot think of a better word to describe it. Discussions are threaded through quests, fights or idle strolls, dogfights, and life-threatening episodes. Conversations are a constant stream of words, as Groot may discuss his trademark "I am Groot" as Rocket translates, while Gamora and Drax tend to be engaged in their specific dialogue. The characters can speak, but it never feels like they are speaking without purpose. Every word, every stupid joke, or cruel comment is based on a thought-provoking perspective that the writers employed to make the characters more distinct. It never felt like an unnecessary flood of verbose rubbish. This truly is the way the Guardians communicate in their groups and with each other. One thing Guardians of the Galaxy greatly benefits from is the structured gaming experience it provides. Without multiplayer or games-as-a-service game mechanics to satisfy, the overall game seems highly polished as well as curated and, above all, ample in detail. As you progress through the story, you will be able to switch between your home on the Milano, the Guardians spaceship, and the various locations you explore throughout the game. Each place you visit is very different from the other, as it is a place that feels alien to the touch in kaleidoscopic color. In between missions, it's enjoyable exploring the ship to find interesting objects to chat with, talk with the staff, and if you're a worrier like me personally shut the fridge door, which is always open in your kitchen on the ship. If you uncover items hidden in each world, you'll also be able to have another conversation with other Guardians, which will give their characters and background and provide some of the most intimate connections you'll have in the video game. You'll also have a variety of options for dialogue—usually, they ask you to choose with one Guardian or another, make decisions on how to respond to an issue, or determine what the focus of your team should always be. These selections may alter the circulation of the adaptation of the story, as certain possibilities could affect your relationships with different groups of people or your relationship with the team. You can choose to go against Rocket repeatedly, in which case he may start to feel a bit petty, which could limit his truthful willingness to assist your future. These choices don't appear to change the narrative in any way However, you can play them according to "what sounds" significantly more enjoyable at the moment.

The fight is thrilling. You control Quill in almost every moment of every battle, and you legitimately look like the leader of the Guardians. Drax and Co. all provide their strengths, and they'll fight by themselves, but they're influenced by Quill. Each hero presents a unique power in battles, such as crowd control (Groot) or the ability to conduct enormous problems (Gamora). The way you use their strengths can determine the course of the fight. In fighting, gamers go around firing their guns at foes and dodging, making use of Peter's rocket boots. As close Peter is to an opponent, the more harm he can cause. Firing would not last forever, as ultimately the guns will overheat, but can be swiftly recharged when you hit R2 at the appropriate time. Like Peter, the players are expected to battle with a tactical sense in their minds. Through storyline development or abilities points, Peter, along with the remaining Guardians, retains four abilities that aren't locked and are put on the encounter keys. Peter's abilities tend to be turned on by clicking the left stick. It may feel somewhat clumsy from time to time during battle. The team's abilities are activated by holding down the L1 button while aiming at the enemy, hitting an appropriate face button for a specific teammate, and after that, pressing a face button that is assigned to the player's specific ability.

Puzzles play an important part in exploration, but they aren't especially tricky. The variety of worlds and locations is done to perfection. I was fascinated by the places to go off and find some treasures, such as, for example, particular elements to supply to my sexy colleagues to study much more about their valuable past and get a hold of the latest clothes to equip. The assorted locations are breathtaking to look at, and every single one is unique due to its vegetation and monsters. Lady Hellbenders' animal sanctuary planet is truly lush with greenery and strange humanoid sculptures. There's also the chance to explore spaceships and the massive spaceport "Knowhere," which resides inside the skull of a massive celestial being. Hidden crafting elements are scattered all over the world, which lets you upgrade the perks. While at a workbench, Rocket can improve Star-Lord by making him new equipment systems that are represented as benefits. You will discover fifteen in total, ranging from faster shield recharge, greater wellness, and reduced time required to complete a perfect dodge. Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy is all you can want from a Marvel videogame that is the best of both electric situations and thought-provoking junctures. The images immediately grab your attention with stunning views and vivid shades that range from neon lights and the markets at Knowhere to the sprawling scenery of Lady Hellbenders' Seknarf Nine. To go along with the video game's unbelievable visuals are the facial animations.

Ratchet & Clank: Rift Apart

Ratchet & Clank: Rift Apart pursues the happenings of 2013's Ratchet & Clank: Inside the Nexus and Expression Franchise legendary characters Ratchet and Clank, in addition to the introduction of a new character playable in Rivet. While Rift Apart actually does technically follow the events of Into the Nexus, it can be played out in its own game without knowing about Into the Nexus. It is the first game created for the next-generation consoles. Ratchet & Clank: Rift Apart is truly intended to highlight all of the distinguishing characteristics which make PlayStation 5 such an appetizing purchase.

The amazing year 2016 PS4 update of the first Ratchet & Clank made for an entertaining retread of its very own, but it was iterative-this walked so Ratchet & Clank: Rift Apart could run. It's awe-inspiring, indeed, how the game runs. The Rift away shows the PS5 an intense workout. This provides you with sweeping artwork of characters and models for the characters, along with lighting and effects, that don't appear outside of the spot in a 3D-animated movie, and its particular fluid combat could spotlessly feature tens of opponents and projectiles on the monitor all at once, without any issues. Getting errors out of the way early on, there are only a few errors throughout Ratchet & Clank: Rift Away, but they're small. At one point, I noticed myself jumping onto a ledge only to be caught in some geometry, resulting in a quick demise. But since quicksaves are extremely easily placed and there's no punishment for dying, these little troubles just didn't bother me even somewhat. My brain stayed deadlocked on the artwork, the storyline, and the battle. All of them seamlessly connect and are so incredibly captivating that it is hard to get angry when something goes wrong.

At its heart, Ratchet & Clank: Rift Apart is very much a new platformer meets third-person shooter game and, while it's not an open-world game, the design of the levels makes it appear as if you're part of something larger, which is why the illusion is right there, including quests and subquests that aid you in exploring these new universes. Similar to former gaming titles, you have the mechanic wrench you have been using to smash crates like Thor, which allows you to collect bolts, which are later used to buy new products and improve your existing models. The process of leveling up can help you when you are on your final quest, in particular, the bad guys that you encounter. When you ride on canines, grind like Tony Hawk, float around jumping, smashing, fighting, exploring, and meeting new friends, one exciting new feature is your ability to tether to portals. When you connect to portals, this allows you to be teleported to another location, which is truly useful when fighting against enemies or wishing to solve mysteries. Just keep in mind that you will need to reorient yourself from time to time. Another innovative mechanic is the phantom dash, which allows you to rewind reality to reach another location faster, which again works for double jumps. As well, while Ratchet and Rivet are alike in the way they play, fans of Clank will be delighted to learn that, once again, you get to manage this bot through puzzles and mini-missions, including an alternate galaxy spider named Glitch (Sara Amini) who hacks. Also, there's KT, who happens to be the alternate world's Clank and is also a fun brand-new character from the series.

Buy Cheap Games for PlayStation.

Combat is well-handled via the game title and you have use of a wide great diversity of totally different arms, from common blasters to a couple of absolutely clever suggestions which I'm not going to discuss here, such as power-ups that have been purchased through your bolt collecting. However, the game isn't without its challenges in certain instances, especially if the adversaries start to gather while you try to shoot with aplomb to save your life. Fortunately, the developers have included a few level stages, and if people simply want to relax and take in the story without too much stress, this is certainly an alternative. Nevertheless, on those higher difficulty levels, ammunition is scarce and the boss battles are indeed an obstacle, but not quite on the very same scale as Demon Souls.

Kena: Bridge of Spirits

In the form of an action-adventure Kena: Bridge of Spirits lets players explore a vast and varied world to defeat evil spirits and cleanse the land of corruption. Armed with a sword and capable of drawing upon spirit vitality, Kena is truly adaptable in what she will do. The plot is told through fully-voiced cutscenes, some of which use the in-game engine, while some use fully animated CGI All of which look like something definitely from Pixar or Dreamworks. The animation is stunning in the spiritually charged universe that borrows from historic Eastern cultures. When you assist the spirits of one group while other arcs explore the same serious narrative template quality of the screenplay, this is a universe that's not difficult to lose yourself in, and the cast list is truthfully enjoyable because they each traverse a path of love and loss in their unique way.

There are a variety of quests and jobs you can perform, some as simple as finding the Rot and putting a statue back in place, and others that require the next step and trying to test your accuracy using the bow during a shooting challenge that unlocks another Rot. One of the things I completely love is the chests with curses, which are close to a specific combat task to overcome ( across the fast region) that you must accomplish as a way to open them. Nothing can be said to be a challenge in Kena: Bridge of Spirits is more complex than a Fallout quest, but every little thing is fun and corresponds with the things you've done in other games, such as Sly Cooper as well as the aforementioned PS2 classics.

Besides these, you can find many collectibles to be found, and the game even outlines exactly how many you need to locations across the globe. In the meantime, before we jump into the fight of Kena Let's talk about the rot that I talked about in the last paragraph. These tiny black blobs of a creature tend to be certainly delightful, along with the form the game's title makes use of them is incredible. When you gather the blobs, they prove useful in numerous steps. The most charming aspect is that you simply don't need to spend a lot of time with them since they won't die, as most NPCs do in battle scenarios. This is handled via "they truly are terrified tiny beings and you must build up their courage by fighting to increase the meter", which is a great method of explaining the amazing moves they offer. Operating these could result in significant damage, but it is extremely beneficial on occasions when your overall health is compromised. The Rot becomes increasingly useful in lifting objects to search for more Rot, moving statues back to their original positions, and even moving boxes to assist Kena in getting to difficult-to-reach places. You will find an extremely powerful rot capability; offering them the liquid of a bloom them all into a rushing cavalcade of rots that resemble their specific original phase and can take out the corruption along with unlocking and healing distinctive areas. However, they're not completely useless to you, since they can feed the corruption flowers when you've cleaned the opponents' free, purifying the spot you are in.

Here you can buy cheap games, from all categories whether we are talking about action adventure, racing, sports, strategy, or shooters.

Although the action aspect of the entire action-platformer game is very strong, the platforming portion is a bit less luminous in comparison, specifically the bouncing. Invisible structures are generally awkwardly present as players attempt to jump over rooftops or platforms they're not meant to reach. The design decision for it to be essentially vertical was a mistake, not simply because it's uncomfortable, but because it also creates the impression that you can reach specific surfaces, which the invisible wall structure eventually keeps you from. Kena: Bridge Of Spirits might attract some aged influences, but the way this assembles the parts of the mystery makes it appear very contemporary indeed. The video game will charm you with its lovable universe, only to smack you around a little with its ferociousness. While the gameplay is the weakest component, however, overall, Kena is a great time that should not be forgotten.

[halseyhazzard]

Scrolling Utopia: Internet Interaction Design and the Posthistorical Subject

Halsey Hazzard, fall 2018

for a class on German media theory

Writing just before the internet threatened to take over the world, philosopher and communicologist Vilem Flusser has often been called a prophet of the digital age, based on his concern with then-nascent internet technology and the applicability of his theories to the so-called digital age. Certainly he did dream of a utopian society in which communications technology would engender a more egalitarian global society, but his optimism was far from idealistic. Rather, Flusser’s work contains a demand that we understand the way technology shapes human consciousness so that we might develop and use it responsibly. A sense of urgency underlies Flusser’s calls for responsibility, and this call has grown only more crucial as the internet has grown more pervasive and social networks have ascended to global near-hegemony.

In many of his essays, Flusser argued that historical consciousness, engendered by linear writing, was giving way to a new, posthistorical consciousness as a result of changing technology. Now, nearly thirty years after his death, it would appear the new consciousness Flusser both dreamed and warned of has arrived, ushered in by the digital technology we call, not insignificantly, “social media.” In this paper I hope to deploy Flusser’s theory of humanization to understand one of social media’s most quietly pervasive design elements—infinite scrolling—and its relationship to the so-called posthistorical consciousness. Infinite scroll, I argue, is a key example of how technology shapes human consciousness and how its effects demand that we pay attention and take responsibility for the ways we are constructing ourselves as human subjects.

Throughout his work, Flusser articulates a definition of “human” that depends heavily on technology, and communication technology in particular. He is concerned with an apparent shift that took place with the appearance of apparatuses, which he defines in Toward a Philosophy of Photography as something that mimics a human capability and which merges with a human operator. The human is profoundly affected by its interaction with the apparatus, and because technology is constantly changing (being changed by humans), what is “human” is constantly in flux. What is constant, however, is communication. Humans distinguish ourselves from the “non-human” by our need to store and use “information,” defined as negative entropy. Flusser makes frequent reference to the second law of thermodynamics, arguing that humanization is thus the process of fighting against inevitable entropy through the creation of information technologies. He puts it succinctly in a 2003 interview with Patrik Tschudin: “a person becomes human to the extent to which he figures out which of one’s functions can be mechanized and then delegates those to machines. What remains, that which cannot be mechanized (for the moment, anyway), is that which becomes human” (“The Lens is to Blame”, 6). Taken together, these statements define humanity as a process of endless becoming, driven by the human drive to communicate and the responsibility to one another (and, as a result, agency) communication entails.

If humanization is a process of endless becoming, one should probably wonder what the human is becoming now. In “Humanizations,” Flusser illustrates the status of the human with reference to the “little brain man,” a model for how the brain perceives the body borrowed from neurology. In the linear era, the little brain man is a “tongue-thumb man,” but Flusser hypothesizes that in the telomatic future, “The fingertips, which will touch the keyboard, will doubtless be the most important organs, and it will become apparent that the purpose of the Brain Man’s entire body will be to support the fingertips” (“Humanizations” 190). While he is certainly right that technology has shifted the focus from the tongue, he was perhaps too quick to predict the shrinking of the thumbs.

In recent years, so-called “social media” has saturated Western culture, with Instagram in particular reaching one billion users worldwide (Carman). Much of this growth has occurred concurrently with the rise of smartphones, expected to be in 2.5 billion hands by 2019. While much attention has been given to the content on such platforms, this impending ubiquity demands an analysis of how the material apparati of apps like Instagram are shaping what it currently means to be human. In 2013, at the dawn of Vine, writer Chris Baraniuk situated the then-new (now defunct) video-sharing service in a long history of visual loops. Like the gif before it, the Vine video takes a moment—no more than six seconds long—and repeats it ad infinitum. Hypnotic and without a true beginning or end, digital loops are “uncanny” and “disturbing,” for, according to Baraniuk, ‘the complete absence of teleology and catharsis within the loop destroyers our sense of self, our idea of progress, our intention to accomplish anything.” (Baraniuk). The logic of the loop, he claims, is built into the very languages that make up the digital world. A similar “narrative dissonance” can be found in in “infinite scrolling,” a design element that, alongside the rise of digital visual loops, has quietly achieved near ubiquity as a feature of websites, in particular those considered to be “social media.” Infinite scrolling might at first appear to be the anti-loop. Where gifs only have one frozen moment to offer up for eternity, the infinite scroll seems to promise endless variety. Yet it shares with the visual loop a lack of teleology thanks to its lack of a clear beginning, middle, and end.

When one loads a page on a website that employs infinite scrolling, one is dropped into a seemingly-endless stream of modular pieces of content, known frequently as posts. These can be images, short texts, video clips, or a combination thereof. Scrolling is particularly popular in app design for smartphones which, with their small, vertical screens, replace the horizontal thrust of traditional text with a relentless vertical pull. The promise of new content just beyond the bottom of the screen draws the eyes down and the thumb up. Pagination, a holdover from the pre-internet days of bound paper books, presupposes a hierarchy of information, an order that requires a linear progression. Page one must come before page two, page four follows page three, and so on. Entries on sites like the search engine Google that still use this skeuomorphic setup, when not bound to a linear progression, are often algorithmically sorted by relevance. Posts on infinite scrolling sites, however, are typically arranged chronologically, which gives them all the same importance. Yet the constant updates endemic to social media mean the chronology of the infinite scroll is essentially an eternal present. It is impractical, if not impossible, to reach the end of the scroll, yet if even one were successful, one would have to find one’s way to the ever-extending beginning, and start the process all over again. The only way to read everything is in real-time. The infinite scroll thus begs to be constantly checked, foreclosing any possibility of action.

According to Baraniuk, this process--or, rather, lack of process--threatens our sense of self. He may be right, if what we mean by the self is the form of human consciousness that has for so long been constructed in and by linear writing: “historical consciousness”. In “The Future of Writing,” Flusser writes

“Writing is an important gesture, because it both articulates and produces that state of mind which is called “historical consciousness.” History began with the invention of writing, not for the banal reason often advanced that written texts permit us to reconstruct the past, but for the more pertinent reason that the world is not perceived as a process, “historically,” unless one signifies it by successive symbols, by writing” (Future 63)

For Flusser, writing is associated with logic and reason, with the sort of scientific thought that thinks of things in terms of cause and effect. History takes a narrative form, with a beginning, a middle, and an end. The consciousness created by this kind of thinking is historical. The posthistorical consciousness, on the other hand, begins with the photograph. In contrast to the linear, logical thinking of alphabetic writing, images encourage formal thinking, and make it impossible to understand the world as “becoming.” Linear reading “has the sense of going somewhere, whereas, while reading pictures, we need to go nowhere” (Line 23). Images contain denser messages than linear writing, and demand to be thought of structurally rather than linearly. Images preceded writing, yet in their current iteration as photographs serve to explain written text, hence their post-historicity. This begs the question: if “[n]arratives make history” (On the End of History 143), does the narrative-less infinite scroll and its attendant digital consciousness make posthistory?

The infinite scroll, lacking finitude, has no historical sense of causality. In the scroll, things simply occur. The infinite scroll, then, with its lack of teleology, would seem to be a departure from linear, historical thought. Yet Flusser explains in “The Future of Writing” that in a world dominated by lines, “everything...follows from something, time flows irreversibly from the past toward the future, each instant is lost forever, and there is no repetition” (64). This sounds awfully like the endless streams of content on social media, signalling that the shift between history and post-history is not so cut-and-dried. In fact, the infinite scroll could perhaps best be compared to films, which, according to Flusser, “incorporate the temporality of the written line into the picture, by lifting the linear historical time of written lines onto the level of the surface” (Line 26). We still fail to grasp the posthistorical surface quality of films and TV programs, reading them as we would written lines. But Flusser suggests that “for those who think in films, it will mean the possibility of acting upon history from without” (25). This will become key, particularly if we understand the infinite scroll as a technology that allows us to step outside the procession of history.

Shortly after making this claim, Flusser calls attention to the distinction between immediate experience and the necessarily mediatized fictions of images and concepts, and further, the distinction between conceptual fiction (“line thought”) and imaginal fiction (“surface thought”). The relationship between these two forms of thought is at stake for our understanding of how media shape thought and thus impact humanization. Surface fictions, he claims, are not only advancing due to technological developments, but becoming more and more indistinguishable from reality, which linear fictions are becoming more and more abstract. Ultimately Flusser claims that “[t]he synthesis of linear and surface media may result in a new civilization” (31). The infinite scroll, by extending surfaces indefinitely so that lines may be followed forever, might perhaps be the very technological development that ushers in this new civilization.

This new civilization could ostensibly take two forms. The first, in which imaginal thinking fails to incorporate conceptual thinking, would lead to “the totalitarianism of the mass media” (34). If imaginal thinking does succeed, however, leading “to new types of communication in which man consciously assumes the structural position,” “a new sense of reality would articulate itself, within the existential climate of a new religiosity” (34). Flusser concedes that neither outcome is inevitable, and that the shape of the posthistorical future depends on choices made in the present. The infinite scroll could be a harbinger of either outcome. It is easy to see how the mass distraction and loss of teleology engendered by the technique could lead to totalitarianism.

On the other hand, the destruction of hierarchies it seems to encourage gestures toward a much more egalitarian future. Flusser, who often wrote urgently of the need for dialogue, might see this as a welcome step toward a classless, networked society.

The society Flusser has in mind is one where “dialogue and discourse balance each other out. If, as we see today, a discursive form dominates, which prevents dialogues from taking place, then society is dangerously close to decomposing into an amorphous crowd” (Stroehl, xvii). Media that encourages discourse imparts information from the top down, such as mass broadcast media like television or radio, whereas media like telephones encourage “[d]ialogue as a noncoercive relationship of mutual respect” (xviii). According to Andreas Stroehl, Flusser “believes that dialogue is the purpose of existence. The sense of responsibility inherent in the dialogic relationship between speaker and addressee offers the speaker an opportunity to give his or her own life meaning in the face of entropy and death” (xviii). To be human is to act on this responsibility to the other by communicating, and the technologies humans design to communicate impact the ways in which we become human.

Digital interfaces are no exception. Social media, by virtue of its “social” nature, can perhaps be seen as a step toward this telomatic networked society of mutual responsibility. Still, infinite scrolling is a key example of how it is not free from being determined by the political and economic contexts in which it was developed, contexts which impact the very interaction design of the internet. According to Chadwick Smith, for Flusser, “since objects impact the lives of others...and are a projection of some designer’s decisions, they are thus situated in a relational field, encompassing not just aesthetic and political dimensions but, given their infinitely intimate scale, ethical ones as well” (“The Butterfly and the Potato” 48). The infinite scroll, though a feature more than an object, is a prime example of this dynamic. In 2006, software engineer Aza Raskin developed infinite scroll as a way to maximize the time users spend on websites, eliminating the natural stopping points at the end of pages that inspired users to navigate away. This habit-forming tendency was conceived in the service of websites and advertisers that depend on keeping eyes on screens, indicating a motivation behind the design choice other than intersubjective goodwill. Even Raskin is critical of the scroll’s anti-human tendencies: “It's as if they're taking behavioral cocaine and just sprinkling it all over your interface. And that's the thing that keeps you like coming back and back and back” (Hamilton). When we situate the scroll in the context of the rise of technocratic totalitarianism with which Flusser was concerned, it becomes part of the tradition whereby “The Enlightenment has overshot its mark,” causing extreme rationalism to turn irrational, thus barbaric.

If that is the case, what can we do to rescue humanity from this path? Flusser may give us, if not a plan, then at least a set of guiding principles. If being human is about communicating with each other to stave off impending entropy, and if humans have the agency to create technology to do so, then it is imperative that we take seriously our responsibility to each other in our efforts to design the future, especially considering the anti-human tendencies in what we’ve already built. As Smith writes, “Flusser’s concept of design is not about building a better world, but rather of eradicating from it everything that makes it worse” (“The Butterfly and the Potato” 53). That may not necessarily mean doing away with infinite scrolling, but taking seriously the dialogic potential within it when considering the effects it will have and is already having on collective human consciousness.

Luckily, if Flusser is to be believed, the posthistorical consciousness is giving humanity the means to step out of the stream of progress and look at structures, to critically assess our own history in order to fully take advantage of the opportunities the present presents. As long as technology like infinite scrolling threatens to pull us further into our future selves, we owe it to each other to know who those selves are, and who we will become.

Works Cited

Baraniuk, Chris. “‘The Wheel of the Devil’: On Vine, Gifs and the Power of the Loop.” The Machine Starts, www.themachinestarts.com/read/2013-01-the-wheel-of-the-devil-vine-gifs-idea-of-loop.

Carman, Ashley. “Instagram Now Has 1 Billion Users Worldwide.” The Verge, The Verge, 20 June 2018, www.theverge.com/2018/6/20/17484420/instagram-users-one-billion-count.

Flusser Vilém, and Ströhl Andreas. Vilém Flusser - Writings. University of Minnesota Press, 2005.

Hamilton, Isobel Asher. “Silicon Valley Insiders Say Facebook, Snapchat, and Twitter Are Using 'Behavioral Cocaine' to Turn People into Addicts.” Business Insider, Business Insider, 4 July 2018.

“Number of Smartphone Users Worldwide 2014-2020.” Statista, www.statista.com/statistics/330695/number-of-smartphone-users-worldwide/.

Smith, Chadwick T. ““The Butterfly and the Potato: Vilém Flusser and Design”. artUS. issue 26, 2009-1, 46-53.

Smith, Chadwick T. “The Lens is to Blame”: Three Remarks on Black Boxes, Digital Humanities, and The Necessities of Vilém Flusser’s “New Humanism” Flusser Studies, vol. 18, http://www.flusserstudies.net/sites/www.flusserstudies.net/files/media/attachments/smith-the-lens-is-to-blame.pdf . Accessed 18 December 2018

[the-ss-horniest-book-club]

HBC 1k Celebration Week Day 5 Masterlist

Friday 8-9-19 - Drabble Day! Since Drunk Drabbles are a cornerstone of the HBC, we’ll have a whole day for drabbling - sober leading to not-so-much. 

18+ FOR ALL

Give Me Your Lap by @marvelous-meggi (Clumby!Seb x Reader)

America’s Ass by @stuck-y-together (Stucky x Reader)

Home by @spacemansam (Bucky x Reader)

For A Week by @marvelous-meggi (Dayton x Reader)

You, Me, And The Stars by @jewelofwinter (High School AU Lance Tucker x Charles Blackwood)

Celebration Party by @eurynome827 (Dayton x Reader plus surprise guest)

Wreck Me by @stuck-y-together (Ducky)

Professor by @eurynome827 (Professor!Bucky x Reader)

Strapped by @stuck-y-together (Dayton x Reader)

Sweet Awakenings by @beckzorz (Bucky x f!Reader)

Verbal Sparring by @beckzorz (Lance Tucker, Bucky x Reader)

“You’ve been a bad girl, kitten!” by @buckmesideways22 (Charles Blackwood x Reader)

Carter by @buckmesideways22 (Carter Baizen x Reader)

The Couch by @lancetuckersmustache (Mackie x Stan)

Actions and Consequences by @lancetuckersmustache (Destroyer!Chris x Reader)

Clay by @lancetuckersmustache (Clay Appuzzo x Reader)

The Hatter’s High Jinks by @jewelofwinter (Baddy Daddies)

Call Me Daddy by @lookwhatyoumademequeue (Charles Blackwood x Reader)

Veterinarian!Hal by @jobean12-blog (Hal Carter x Reader)

Acrobatic Moves by @buckmesideways22 (Lance Tucker x Reader)

Medical Instruments by @buckmesideways22 (Chris Beck x Reader)

Bone by @buckmesideways22

Jacktoni by @buckmesideways22 (Jack Benjamin x Antoni Porowski)

Finish Line by @stuck-y-together (Dayton x Reader)

Halfway There by @jewelofwinter (Winter Soldier x Reader)

Threesome by @stuck-y-together (Ducky x Reader)

After The Race by @lookwhatyoumademequeue (Ducky x Reader)

Destroyer!Chris by @marvelous-meggi (Destroyer!Chris x Reader)

A New Mechanic by @stuck-y-together (Dayton x Reader)

Lucky by @littledarlinwrites (Dayton x Reader)

Work Husband by @eurynome827 (Chris Beck x Reader)

By The Pool by @chuuulip (Poolboy!Bucky x Reader)

Runaways by @spacemansam (Hal Carter x Reader)

Birthday Sex by @littledarlinwrites (Sebastian x Reader)

Kiss You Good by @littledarlinwrites (Bucky x Reader)

Soft and Smooth by @abovethesmokestacks (Sebastian x Reader)

Sucker For You @stuck-y-together (Ducky)

T(h)rust by @abovethesmokestacks (bi!TJ x f!reader)

4 dialogue prompts from @definitelybuckybarnes answered by @nobernieyouareunderreacting: 

“what would you do to me if you were here right now”

“I’m dying of horniness over here”

“I want to know how you touch yourself”

“When was the last time you touched yourself?”

THANK YOU to all the authors and everyone who sent in prompts for a day totaling FORTY THREE DRABBLES!

[peacefulwriter88]

Change Your Mind

Chris (The Destroyer) X Curvy WoC

Warnings: M for Mature (SMUT), fluff

A/N: This is a build from my original story that I wrote month back called Dust to Dust. I’m fascinated by Chris’ character and decided to not take the same path for his character in the movie. 

The flames are a harsh contrast to the bitter cold wind that whips past him, ices over his ears as he checks on the grilled chicken. The smell of mixed spices takes over his nostrils, distracts him temporarily from the sound of laughter and chatter that escapes from within the town home.

He was meeting your parents for the first time.

Dating for nearly two years and you had broached it casually and cautiously how you wanted to invite them over for dinner. You had been wrapped up in his arms, the short, sparkly gold dress you had opted to wear for New Years Eve gleaming under the moonlight with the faded jean jacket he had thrown over your shoulders, the both of you stepping  out of your friends party to have a moment to yourselves.

He had wanted to say no. This had already gone on long enough - you and him - but every time he mustered an ounce of courage to tell you he was done, looking into your full eyes he always, always backed down. He was ashamed of his weakness - he was no good for you. He saw the questioning glances that your friends shot his way whenever you both entered a room, not understanding how you were so in love with someone like him.

You didn’t care. You told him all the time, convinced him enough to finally move in. To get him to come out and be a part of your world - to meet your friends who wore expensive clothes and drove fancy cars and talked about having mortgages and vacationing in Europe. To host game nights with your brother and your sister, meeting their partners for the first time as you all scarfed down pizza and yelled at the other. You were testing him, getting him comfortable with you, leading up to this moment.

He closes the heavy, metal grill and rubs his hands together, blowing on them. It was only February and the California weather kept shifting from blistery cold to warmth and he was stuck outside with the thin, maroon button down you had kindly asked him to wear for the occasion, one of two of the only nice shirts he owned.

He turns around, watches the way you smile as you chat enthusiastically with your mother and sister, your hands busy chopping radicchio, kale and tomatoes while checking on the cinnamon apples that were cooking nearby. You were wearing a cherry wine dress, long sleeved that flared out around your thighs in a fun teasing way. Thigh high stockings that your mother had clicked her tongue too (“do you really think a girl with your frame should  wear things like that out”) though she complimented the long gold necklace you had paired with it, the long thick waves in your hair. You both planned on going out after, you promised him anywhere he wanted and he wonders if its because you know your parents would never approve of him - that he wasn’t enough and you wanted to take his mind off of the knowledge.

“Mind if I join you?”

The deep, gruff voice comes from your father who’s opened the patio door -  has two beers in his hands as he closes the glass behind him. It mutes the soft indie rock that floats from your living room speakers, leaving the both of them to the muffled sound of cars occasionally passing by, the sound of gas feeding the fire in the grill, birds chirping.

“No, it’d be nice to have company.”

You had your mother's looks, her hips and face shape and eyes and smile, but your personality was just a boxed version of your fathers. Humor and wit that was charming, drew you in knowingly and then an edginess that took you off guard, made you fumble over your words. He even had an intimidating name, Duke, regal and confident.

He had already put his foot in his mouth with the older gentleman five minutes into meeting him. He had no idea how the hell he was supposed to survive a casual conversation while he grilled chicken. Figured he’d pray the chicken would finish before he could figure it out.

“Chicken smells good.”  Duke says now, handing over  the beer to him and he takes it happily, pulls his key chain out to pop open the familiar bottle. Does the same for your father.

“Your daughter is a great cook. It's been marinating overnight, should be good.”  

Duke nods, takes a sip and watches him carefully. Chris shifts, lifting the grill to check on the cooking meat though he knows nothing has changed since he’s checked on it two minutes back. He’s had a gun placed to his head, the threat of death just a click away and he was nowhere near as terrified then as he is now

in this moment.

“What do you do again, Chris?”

Chris looks over at him, places the hood of the grill down.

“I own a small mechanic shop in the county over.”

“Mechanic,” Duke mules the words I’m his mouth, “Trade you learned?”

“I was always fussing around with cars. Ran in my family - my grandfather was a mechanic, my dad. After I got my GED figured might as well take over the shop.” 

“GED?” Duke takes another sip, watches him carefully and Chris nods slowly.

“Yep.”

He’s never felt more ashamed of his life choices than he does in this moment, couldn’t imagine what your dad would do if he knew that there was a duffel bag full of 100′s hiding in the closet upstairs that he’s been trying to figure out how to get out of  the house since Tuesday. Didn’t want to tell him about the two 9mm’s he kept locked up under the bed, that he invested in a whole new security system because he couldn’t trust that Silas and one of his goddamn crew members wouldn’t get the hint that he was done with that life and that he just wanted to be a goddamn mechanic.

“How’d you meet my daughter again?”  

“We were at a bar. She challenged me to pool and nearly won.” Chris takes a sip now, eyeing him and Duke nods slowly, clearing his throat.

“And now you both live together, in this nice house she bought herself after she got promoted to marketing director of  the company she’s been working at, cooking dinner on her grill.”

The bite of it hurts, what he was inferring and Chris sticks a hand into his pocket, flickers his eyes away. He knows what he was thinking.

‘Why are you wasting my daughters time?’

He doesn’t voice it, Chris knows. Knows it’s what most people in your life ask when you pull him into your world happily. He was becoming exhausted of the feeling.

“You’ve impressed her,” Duke chuckles almost skeptically. “You know, my little girl isn’t an easy one to impress. Most men she dates….bore her. But you’ve been stained on her tongue for two years now, wrapped in her heart and I wonder what it is. You seem good enough a man. I can tell you love her at least as much as she loves you. But what can you bring her outside of happiness and a home?”

Duke shakes his head, stares out at the horizon.

“You want me to break up with her.” Chris doesn’t have to question it, knows it and it makes him want to cower upstairs, to sit next to the Akita-Shepherd dog, Apollo, that you both had adopted five months back together and be reminded that something outside of you loved him.

“I want you to be able to be a good man to her. I don’t fucking care that you have a GED and your a mechanic. You’re a working man. But I need to know you can take care of her. Need to know she’ll be okay if she gives herself completely to you. I understand that loving look you both share with each other...it's not going to go away even if you left. I want her to be happy and I want to make sure you can keep her happy.”

It takes Chris off guard, makes him look over at the older man questioningly as he takes another sip. He was raising a white flag, knew that his opinion didn’t matter. He was trying to give his blessing.

“I know I’m not good enough for her but I love her. I’d do anything to keep her happy.”  

Duke looks over at him, gives a faint smile in the waning light.

“Good,” he takes another sip of his beer, hesitates before he asks, “....she tell you yet?”

_____________

Chris  stares down at the small, plastic device that sits on top of the granite bathroom sink, daunting as it unassumingly stares back at him. Bold, blue lines that glare back up through the natural light of your master bathroom, the result undeniable.

Positive.

He had to look for the paper that told him the difference to be sure as he leans over the sink to stare down at the stick. There’s someone playing rap a few houses down, it blares loudly in contrast to the rapid fire Spanish a woman is speaking to another occupant, loud enough for the neighborhood to hear.

He drowns it out. Can’t focus on it when there’s a steady ringing noise that trills in his ears, his hands gripping the counter top, heart pounding in his chest as his lungs expel air out of his mouth like a small leak in a balloon.

You we’re pregnant.

He drinks in the statement in his mind. You were pregnant. You were pregnant with his child. There was a little life in you that he had helped create, a combination of both you and him.

It takes his breath away.

So much so that he has to splash water on his face, stare into the mirror into his blue eyes.

What did this mean for him? For the choices that led him to here? His immediate thought is that he should have fucking broke up with you. Probably should have thrown on that rubber when he treated you to a weekend in Vegas. He fucked up, like he always did, by tainting your body with his seed. How could he leave you if he has too, to ensure your safety now that a child was involved? It was painful enough to try to deny you but now you and a baby?

He doesn’t get enough time to answer– instead he’s distracted by the way the main door slams close, the sound of your footsteps mixed with Apollos smaller ones as he barks enthusiastically as you both slowly make your way up the stairs.  He moves hastily, grabbing the small plastic device and stuffing it back into the box, throwing it back in the basket where you kept your extra shampoo and conditioner and body wash, what he had originally been seeking before his hands had landed on the lightweight box. He closes the cabinet softly, places the body wash on the counter right as you walk into your master bedroom. You had stepped out for a run, something you rarely did but Apollo was so energized he had inspired you to get back into the cardio exercise. You walk to your bed with him devotedly at your side, watching you curiously as you looked down at your phone frowning.  

Your have one headphone in, one out and he can hear the upbeat techno and hip hop music you liked to play occasionally, your hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail as your thin tank top stuck to your sports bra, your torso. Drank in the way the soft material of your workout pants clung to your thick thighs – your ass and your calves and he sighs resignedly.

This was why he couldn’t let go. He belonged to you. Every inch of his being was made to ensure your happiness and he knew, without hesitation that it didn’t matter that you were pregnant because whatever you decided he would support. The decision only partly belonged to him; for as much as it would change everything for him it would change every inch of who you were and his role was to support in any way that meant. It bites at him guiltily that seconds earlier he was plotting how to leave you because when he sees you he wants nothing but the opposite.

Love has truly fucked him over.

He smiles, shaking the guilt away as he walks over to you. Apollo runs to him eagerly, easily jumping up on his legs begging for love that he returns happily before he wraps his arms around you, drawing you flush back into him as he rests his head on your shoulder, kisses your cheek. You yelp – nearly scream and jump out of your skin as you drop your phone, look over at him.

“Goddamn – warning much!?”

You throw him a glaring eye though your voice is teasing and he squeezes you tighter, drawing you closer,

“I thought you heard me moving around in here.”

“No I got distracted by an email…” your voice trails off as you temporarily release your hold over his arms to pull out your headphones, start to wrap it around your phone that’s fallen onto the bed. He wonders if the email has to deal with the baby, confirming your pregnancy as you look back at him and whisper,

“Have you showered and gotten ready yet?”

He smiles at you coyly and you roll your eyes as you lean back into him.

“Christopher Ricks! My parents are going to be here in two hours and we haven’t even started with dinner.”

The small dimple that forms at the bridge of your nose deepens, a tell tale sign that you’re worried. You frown and your voice is doing that soft, whiney thing it does when you want him to do something. Your irises widen, looking at him innocently and he feels his heart stop for a second, his breath gone.

Completely and utterly devoted to you.

“We have enough time honey. We’ve already marinated the chicken and I’m going to grill it when they arrive….everything else will take an hour tops.”

You move your head to the side, watching him carefully before you sigh and nod.

“Okay, you’re probably right...”

You’re not convinced and he moves his hands lower to your hips, squeezing them softly and leaning over to brush his lips against yours. You make a slight moan, eyes flickering back to him as he watches you back carefully before you shift your body to move closer to him. It's only a second before his lips hungrily fall on your own, his tongue dominating over yours as he pulls you back into him, into his growing erection. Your hand has moved to find the back of his head, drawing him closer to him as your mouth tries to dominate over his, your finely manicured nails scraping against his scalp and he hisses into your mouth as he turns you with one swift movement, pushes you back until the back of your calves hit the bed. Your hands move around his neck drawing him closer as he leans you back and you both fall back onto the large king size bed with ease, your laughter ringing high between his kisses as your thighs wrap around his torso. He leans over you, nudging his nose against your own as he stares down at you, at your edges starting to curl at the base of your hair roots, the way your two small dimples dig into the fatty curvature of your cheek.

“I love you. Do you know that?” he whispers seriously, lips brushing against your own and you smile into him, nodding as you wrap your arms around him, drawing him closer.

“I know.”

“I’d die for you. Climb mountains, dive in the deepest darkest part of the of the ocean if it ensured I’d get to spend every waking minute of my life with you.”

You blush, shift your eyes away before you look back up at him. You hated verbal affection when it was directed toward you - had somehow managed to lie and convince yourself that you were unworthy of it and he hates the two large pools of water that linger in your eyes as you smile up at him.

“I didn’t realize I fell in love with a romantic,” you nudge his nose and he juts his hips into you involuntarily, causing you both to groan before you whisper, “But you’re my world Chris. I love you too….love you so much I couldn’t imagine my life without you”

His lips skim down your chin, finding comfort in your neck as his rough hands move toward the hemline of your shirt, tugging on it softly. You try to fight him as he raises the material, try to convince him that you were sweaty and gross but it falls on deaf ears, the fabric pulls over your head, his lips skimming between the apex of your breast which he kisses tenderly before his journey takes him to the softness of your stomach.

He know that you hated it when he lingers too long in the area, your insecurity that your stomach was too big and gross for his liking but he loved the softness to it. He liked the way it felt now as he kisses your skin tenderly and he wonders if the life in you can feel his feathery kisses, knows how lucky it was to have a mother like you that gave a guy like him a second glance.

“I love you, I love you, I love you….”  he says it to no one in particular as your hands rub the top of his buzzed hair, your hands soft as you stroke him affectionately and he moves lower, down to your abdomen which you protest.

“My vagina is so sweaty and so gross….no.” you whine and he chuckles as he looks up at you, at the way you watch him carefully and he nods.

“Fine. Then let's take a shower and clean you up then.”

You look at him, your eyes twinkling before you sit up becoming face to face with him.

“Fine. But you gotta scrub my back.”

“I always scrub your back.” he teases back, nipping at your nose.

_____________

The shower was needed, helped distract his nerves as his hands payed reverence to your body, his name a whisper as your soapy hands fell over his hard torso, scratched down his back as his cock slammed into you. You didn’t mind at all when he came in you, gripping him tightly as you both watched each other lovingly, shaking in the hot steamy water before his head fell into your neck line, breath hitting your decolletage as you gripped him closer.

He wonders when it had started to become a habit, him fucking you bare and cumming in the sweetness of your walls and why either of you had cared enough to think about the consequences.

Perhaps, subconsciously, it's what you’ve both wanted.

The memory is refreshing in the setting sun, and he turns to look back at you. Normally you liked to sip wine when you cooked but you had politely declined after you offered it to your mother and sister, had subconsciously had your hands flit down to your stomach like you did now.

No you hadn’t. Not yet.

“No.”

“Hm….I think she will tonight. Try to act surprised,” Duke finishes his beer, looks over at him. “Don’t break her fucking heart. Or I’ll break your fucking head.”  

He places the  empty beer bottle beside the grill, patting Chris’ shoulder before turning on heels, back into the house.

He’s the first person in your world that’s given him your blessing, told him it’s okay that he could be him and be with you. It gives him hope.

You come out minutes later, a large smile on your face as you shudder, wrapping your arms around yourself as you walk toward him. He opens up the grill, checks on the chicken as you tuck yourself into his arms, nuzzling your face into the side of his chest.

“You’re freezing. Come inside when you’re done checking on the chicken,” you look up at him as you wrap your arms around his body, “have a good conversation with my dad? I know he can come off strong.”

His hands graze lower, stops at your midsection and he rests his hands there, rubbing it tenderly,

“It was fine.”

You nod, resting your head back to the setting sun and looking out into the horizon. He knows he should wait for you to broach, to pretend his ignorant but he knows you, knows that if you haven’t already bought it up it was because you feared his response. The last thing he wanted was you to believe you weren’t enough so he takes a leap.

“How far along are you?” He finally asks and he feels you flinch, to hesitate as he looks down at you.

“Three months.” You finally whisper and he smiles, kissing your forehead.

Definitely a souvenir from Vegas.

“I’ll support you in whatever you choose baby. I love you and I’m not adverse to becoming a father. Not when it means you’re the mother.”

There’s a moment of silence that ripples between you both as you squeeze him. He thinks you’re going to say something - you always had something to say but you don’t.  Instead you smile up at him endearingly, lift on your toes to place a kiss on his lips. He likes these kisses, the ones where your lips nestle between the softness of his goatee and he doesn’t hesitate to capture your lips for his own, to squeeze you back as just as fervently.

The moment is short lived. There’s a knock on the door, Apollo’s barking and your sister enthusiastically lets out, “I’ll get it!” before either of you can move.

He turns just in time to catch Silas in the doorway entrance, smiling at your mom and dad and shaking their hands. Chris feels his heart drop, knows that out there, somewhere in hell is laughing at the notion that he thought he would be safe; that he could keep you safe. Your sister opens the screen door, smiles at the two of you.

“Chris your brother is here. Silas?”

You look up at him curiously as Silas walks behind your sister, drinks in the protective way Chris has wrapped his around you and smiles.

“Hey brother. So nice to see you.”

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