#chris evans reader insert

[sweetsbfreex]

toot.

Summary: your three=year-old joins Chris in his workout

Warnings: none!

Pairings: husband/dad!chris evans x reader

-

The pitter-patter of tiny feet against the extortionate floor hits your ears before the sound of a soft, cherub voice. 

“Mommy?” Evelyn calls out.

“I’m in here, honey.” You answer from the living-room, placing your book on your lap. 

She walks through, clad in a boxy patriot baby tee, her pampers, and pink socks. Evidently, it’s a very chill day in the Evans household. Beside her, her Mickey Mouse stuffie drags along the floor. 

“Hi mommy,” she waves her little hand as she comes closer. 

“Hi sweet pea. Is your cartoon all finished?”

She nods a yes. 

You go to respond, but she speaks first. You can tell a thought has popped into her mind with the way her eyes widen.

“Where daddy?” She looks around the room as she asks. His snuggly, strong figure is nowhere in sight, only his mug from earlier. 

“He’s working out in the gym downstairs.”

“Okay!” She turns swiftly, making her way to the basement.

Evelyn makes her way to the basement, down the steps carefully, with one hand clasped around the railing at all times. She walks into the expansive room filled with everything you need to exercise. It always makes it easier for days like this, where you or Chris can workout at home. Or have his personal trainer meet him there. 

“Daddy?” Evelyn calls out. 

Chris is in a prone position, his body supported on his palms and toes of his shoes. His chain clinks against the mat. With his biceps bulging and face glossed with sweat; Chris doesn’t hear the sound of his name until two pink socks stand in his view. 

Chris sits up and pulls his earbuds out. 

“You alright, honey?”

“Hi daddy,” she waves.

“Hi honey” he smiles and chuckles. 

“What are you doing?” She asks and slightly tilts her head to the side. 

Chris tilts his head too, as a quip. “Working out, so I'm all healthy, and can fight all the bad guys.”

“Me too!” 

“You want to be healthy too?”

“No, fight bad guys.”

Of course, Chris thinks to himself. 

“C’mere my brave girl.” Chris grasps her by her sides, tickling her protruding tummy as she squirms in his hold. “We’re gonna start with pushups. So you gotta get on the floor like this..”

She listens intently, but struggles, of course. But that was what her father’s support was for. In the end, she ends up with her butt in the air, unable to get her body flat like her father. But she pushes up and down on her arm, smiling up at Chris.

“I do it!” She laughs. 

“Look at you, you’re gonna beat all the bad guys’ butts.” 

He pats her diaper bottom before getting into position so he can continue. They workout side-by-side. A toddler and her father, the imagery almost ridiculous in the juxtaposition between the two. 

It only takes one set of ten push-ups, before he feels small hands on his back and a little grunt of her trying to lift her body onto him. So he drops his body into a plank, on his knuckles. And she plops herself on her father’s back, gleefully and giggly. 

“Ready?”

“Ready!” But it’s all muddled since her filled cheek is flat against his back. Her arms hanging against the side of his body, feet laid out straight, and her Mickey Mouse stuffy is left behind on the floor. 

He pushes up and down, slowly, cautious as not to disrupt her too much. But she could care less as she laughs, at some point wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“Daddy strong!”

“He has to be,” he answers with a laugh. “How else am I gonna protect you and mom, hm?”

“Dodger.” She answers seriously. 

“That’s true,” he rasps, his breath picking up as he continues to chat and workout. 

Some time passes before he gets close to the ground again. “Ride over.” He jokes. 

His toddler slides off his back to stand next to him

“Are you ready for the next part?” He asks. 

“Yeah!” She claps her hands together and jumps in excitement.

Chris walks over to the rack of dumbbells. He picks up the set of fifty and one five pound dumbbells. He sets the smallest in front of her and holds his in each hand.

“We’re just gonna lift some weights.”

Chris knows there’s no way his three-year-old would be able to lift the dumbbell, but she’s as stubborn as a mule and wants to be involved in every shape and form of her parents’ lives. While Chris does his bicep curls, he cherishes the way his little one stares at the dumbbell for a little too long, then peeks up at him in question. 

“You got it,” he encourages, a lopsided smile on his lips.

So she goes for it. 

She uses both her small hands to grasp the handle. She tries with all her little might, a small squeak past her lips represents her efforts…

Toot. 

“Oops.” She stands to her full height, an innocent look masking her face accompanied by an embarrassed grin. 

“You toot?” Chris asks in hysterics. 

“Wasn’t me,” she crosses her arms over her chest. “Dodger!” 

Chris can’t help but lean back as laughter takes over his body. She’s precious, he thinks to himself. Taking in her distraught face, puffed out cheeks, and furrowed eyebrows. 

“Not me, daddy!”

“Okay, okay,” he drops the dumbbells to pick up her upset figure. “You don’t gotta be embarrassed,” he dotes and kisses her cheek. 

-

It’s three in the afternoon before you know it. Chris always finishes his workout by three, so by this time you go to the gym with a strawberry coconut protein milkshake— and a strawberry shake in your other hand, since presumably Eve had joined her father. 

You walk into the sound of a familiar, deep laugh which brings an immediate smile to your face. And heat on your cheeks at the sight of a post-workout Chris. 

“Hi,” You greet the two as you walk in. 

“Look who’s here,” Chris turns towards you and wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer. “Hi,” his eyes brighten at the sight of you and he pulls you in for a chaste kiss. 

“Hi, mommy,” Evelyn recovers quickly, a bright smile on her face as she waves.

“Hi, honey.” You kiss her cheek. “Did you have fun working out with dad?”

“Yes.”

You hold up both cups (one smaller and decorated with Bluey). Chris grabs Eve’s cup and hands it to her before grabbing his. He takes a sip, always looking forward to his wife’s smoothies. They’re always the perfect consistency and garnished with whatever fruit she has used. 

With your hand free, it naturally falls to the nape of Chris’ neck. Your fingers running through his soft locks. 

Eve is quick to take a sip, a milk mustache left behind her in haste. 

“What do we say?” Chris reminds her.

“Thanks, mommy!”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Of course. Anything for my babies,” you squish their cheeks in jest. 

-

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

[thefallennightmare]

Forgotten-Part Two

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, maybe some fluff

Summary: Have things worked out for Reader and Chris or is their relationship too far gone to try to save?

Author's Note: Here is the very long-awaited part two of Forgotten one shot. Hopefully you all like it!

Snow fell softly but swiftly against the hard ground below as my eyes took in the sight in front of me. Winter in Boston had come on suddenly but I didn’t mind it; never did.  I did find myself minding, however, the news of a bad blizzard just mere hours away. 

Chris was supposed to be flying in two days but with the incoming snow, I knew that those plans were bound to change. With the jump in my heart, I didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing that he might not make it home in time. 

The fire cracking and popping in the fireplace of the large living room had added a small comfort to my worried thoughts. My mind had been racing all day, every day for the last few days in preparation for his arrival back home. We hadn’t spoken much the past few weeks and truthfully, I was thankful. 

I was still upset at the fact that the weekend I tried to surprise him had ended so sour that I was thankful for the time to think things over. While I loved Chris with every inch of my heart, there came a point in the relationship where you got tired of trying to keep things alive and I was close to that point. 

With the last text I received from Chris the other morning made that decision a tad bit easier. 

I know things are hard right now but please remember that I love you. I want things to work out but you have to understand this is my career. I’m not ready to give it up just yet. 

With my text in response, he had gone silent since. 

But yet you’re on the verge of giving me up without even realizing it. 

A quiet whine brought my attention back and with a soft sigh, I nodded towards the dog that had his head perched on my lap. I gave a quick glance at the clock and couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Right on time, Dodge. We need to make this walk a fast one, I think the blizzard is coming faster than they said.”

Dodger was immediately at the door waiting for me while I did my best to bundle up for his post dinner walk. 

“Mother fucker,” I cursed while shedding my winter jackeet, the snow falling to my feet. “I swear you bring me out into the cold to torture me for dad not being here.” 

Dodger took his previous spot in front of the fireplace, his soft snores filling the room once again. 

“He’s a stickler for that post dinner walk. Can’t ever miss it.” 

A hand clutched to my chest as I spun on my heels catching sight of the tall figure leaning against the doorway into the kitchen. His beard had grown a bit in the last few weeks and the bags under his eyes were heavier than the last time I saw him. But the slight smile pulling at his lips warmed my cold skin. 

“Chris, hi. I thought you weren't coming home for a few days.” 

I stumbled over my words with nerves. 

Chris nodded while he bent down to give Dodger some much needed love. “I was but with the upcoming blizzard I was able to fly back early. Plus we wrapped up shooting yesterday.” 

It was my turn to nod. 

“Do you want me to make you something to eat or-?” 

He declined. “I grabbed something to eat on the way home.” 

Silence fell between us, engulfed in an awkward cloud, and I shifted on my feet. There was still some kind of tension between us but neither of us took the first step to talk it through. 

My lips parted, ready to swallow my pride and be the first one to talk about things but when I noticed the weight on his shoulders, I decided against it. 

“I’ll let you get some sleep,” I nodded  towards our room at the end of the hall.  

Chris raised a brow towards me. “Are you not coming?” 

“I’m not tired,” I lied with shifted feet. “I’ll come to bed soon.” 

To be honest, I wasn't sure if he even wanted me in the same bed as him. 

A deep sigh rumbled in his chest before he placed his hands on his hips; a stance I knew all too well. 

“I’m not avoiding anything so don’t even say it,” I warned while walking past him towards our bedroom. 

Anger was beginning to radiate off of me that I hadn’t noticed the way he slowly reached for my hand but I was out of his reach in an instant. 

Chris’ long strides followed behind me. “You do this every time you know?” 

I turned swiftly on my heels and arms crossed over my chest “Excuse me?” 

No matter how quickly he followed behind, there was still a decent amount of space between us. 

“Every time we disagree or have an argument, you’re always the first one to either ignore it or move on. You don’t want to work through things.” 

The scoff that fell from my lips echoed throughout the room. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Do you remember that weekend? You basically ignored me the whole time I was there.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you that I was-.” 

“Working,” I finished the sentence for him. 

It was always the same argument between us and no matter how many times we would try to talk about it, nothing would come of it. I wanted him to put more effort and time into our relationship but he wouldn’t, no couldn't, stop filming. Not yet. 

I couldn’t hold it against him, however. This was what he loved to do and he was damn good at it. But he would always say he wanted to settle down to start a family soon. Yet here I was, standing in front of him, ready to give him everything he wanted. 

The empty space on my ring finger made me remember that he was in fact not ready for any of that. 

We had been together for years and only wanted each other but Chris couldn’t take that next step which always made me wonder if I truly was the one he wanted. 

“I don’t know what else you want from me, Y/N.” Chris stated, exhausted. 

“All I want is for you to give me the time of day!” I exploded. “When was the last time you texted me good morning when you were away?” 

Hands stuffed deep into his pockets, Chris remained silent. 

“I want you to care about me. You can be in denial all you want but we haven't been the same in a long time. We haven't actually shared a kiss that wasn't a goodbye one in so long. You haven’t even touched me in months, I’m starting to wonder if you even want me like that anymore.” 

Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. 

“Y/N,-” Chris started. 

“I thought this time apart was going to be good for us but I’m starting to wonder if I should have-,” my voice trailed off. 

“Should have what?” Chris asked with a shaky voice. 

His face was etched with worry. 

My bottom lip trembled and I took a deep breath, trying to gain the courage to say the next words. I wasn’t sure how Chris would react. 

“When I came back from that weekend, I had all of my things packed, ready to move out,” I admitted with a shaky breath. 

He shook his head, dumbfounded. “What?” 

“I was two steps away from walking out the front door but do you want to know what stopped me?” 

“Dodger?” 

A small smirk pulled at the corner of my lips, even in the middle of our fight, Chris knew that at the mere mention of our pup, it would ease whatever tension was between us. 

“Well yes but he wasn't the only thing. I remember turning back to look one last time around the house, the memories we created together, and knew that I couldn’t let you go, not without one last fight for you.” 

Chris shrugged his shoulders, the words I spoke not meaning anything to him. “You were still willing to give up.” 

I scoffed. “Can you fucking blame me? It feels like I’m the only one fighting for us.” 

He started to pace around the room. “I’m so tired of this. Can we sleep on it and maybe continue it tomorrow?”

Without another word, I walked into our shared closet and lugged out my suitcases. Chris watched with parted lips as I started tossing in my clothes and things. 

“Wha-what are you doing?” 

I ignored him and continued on. It was at the point of when I finished, zipping up the suitcases, and was dressing myself ready to leave, that it finally woke Chris up. 

“You’re not leaving,” he informed me while taking the bags out of my hands and placing them back into the closet. 

Anger filled me that he was stopping me. “Chris, stop. You can’t keep me from leaving.” 

“The hell I can’t,” he said. 

I went to side step him, wanting to at least leave for the night because I knew that we weren’t going to solve anything, but he gripped my wrist stopping me. 

“You’re willing to give everything up because I’m too tired to talk?” 

I wretched my arm away from him. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, Chris. You accuse me of turning my back on a fight, willing to ignore it, but yet you were the one that wanted to stop tonight. Do you want me to stay because you love me or because you don’t want to have to deal with starting over with someone else?

He pinched his eyes closed but remained silent. 

“Do you even love me anymore?” I choked out a sob. 

Chris’ shoulders fell, hearing how broken I sounded. 

“Of course I do, Y/N,” he reached for my hand, wanting to link our fingers together. 

“Then why won’t you marry me?” 

My sobs now echoed through our room, the question that I had been dreadding to ask finally falling from my lips. 

He retreated his hand while stumbling over his answer. 

“Please don’t lie, I need to know if this relationship is even going anywhere. We’ve been together for years and everytime I try to bring up the mention of marriage, you blow me off.” 

“Y/N, please. It’s not as serious as you think,” Chris sat on the edge of the bed. 

I stood in front of him, hands on my hips. “Isn’t it? You tell everyone who will listen that you want to settle down and start a family but when I tell you that I’m ready to, you tell me one day or ignore me completely.” 

“It’s my career-.” Chris began. 

“Don’t you fucking say because of your career,” I interupted with a sharp finger pointed towards him. “It’s always the same god damn excuse with you, Chris!” 

My voice boomed off of the walls.

“Just tell me that you don’t want to marry me and I’ll leave your life for good!” 

“It’s because I’m scared!” Chris’ own voice boomed around us while he stood from the bed. 

My body slightly flinched, not in fear, but in shock of never hearing Chris raise his voice before. We had our fights, yes, but not once did he raise his voice towards me. 

He noticed the way I stepped back, lips parted in shock, and slowly reached for me with an apology falling from his own lips. 

“Scared?” I asked. “Of what?” 

For the first time that night, I allowed him to link our fingers together, him bringing them to his lips and ghosting kisses over my knuckles. The first mere action of affection from him was enough to mend my hurting heart. 

“I’m scared of not being the husband you deserve. You deserve someone that you can count on, that will be there when you need them,” Chris began confessing. 

I cupped his cheek and he leaned into my warm touch. “I know I’ve been gone a lot for work the past year and it hasn’t been easy on you or our relationship but I’m finally doing something outside of Marvel.” 

My heart sank, suddenly feeling guilty. I knew that deep down Chris had been dealing with trying to move out of his phased Marvel status, wanting to show his old and new fans that he can be something other than a superhero. 

I told him everytime that they love him for whatever role he decides to take on, he doesn't have to prove anything to anyone. 

“I’m not saying quit acting, Chris. All I want is for you to take some time out for us. Show me some kind of effort.” 

He nodded, lips pressing into my palm.  “I’m trying.” 

I nodded now. “I know you are. And we don’t have to get married right this second but it would be nice to maybe talk about it so I know if you want a future with me or not.” 

“I do, I promise you I do.” 

Chris wrapped his arms around me, bringing me into his chest. I felt his lips pressed into the top of my head, him breathing in my scent. 

I grasped his hips, craving more of this new affection he was giving me. I couldn’t remember the last time we had been in this position. Our bodies began to sway together, the same soft tune playing in both of our minds. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a distant asshole,” Chris apologized. 

I pulled away from his chest and looked up towards him, giving a slight shrug. “I’ve been kind of a bitch to you too. We both could have gone about things better.” 

“Forgive me?” Chris wondered, lips pouted. 

I stood on my toes to bring our lips together in a soft but firm kiss, one that caused him to let out a quiet moan into my mouth. Our lips mended together in a much needed heat, our hands grasping at each other's skin underneath our clothes. My fingers worked through Chris' hair, while he snaked underneath my ass, lifting me into his arms with ease. 

“Always,” I mumbled into his lips before feeling my body being gently laid onto our bed. 

[jbreenr]

𝕷𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙

Pairing: Chris Evans × Actress!Reader

Summary: You find out your crush actually likes you back in the best of ways.

Word count: 1.8k

Warning: Poorly written smut (+18 only, please), masturbation (m), slight panties kink (?), voyeurism, oral sex (m receiving), a bit of gagging, kinda face fucking, some dirty talk and hair pulling, mention of unprotected sex at the end (don't do that, kids. be responsible), this is a RPF fic so, don’t read if you’re not comfortable with it. And I think that's it.

A/N: So, it's Chris's birthday and I couldn't let this day pass by without writing some p0rn about him. I'm sorry it took me so long to post again. As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*. Lmk your guys' thoughts. I love that shit.

You were not supposed to be back in the hotel until later that night, but like many things in life, your plans changed so you decided to return to your room earlier and study your lines for tomorrow's call.

This situation could have been avoided if you stuck to the schedule of the day.

But in your defense, he wasn't supposed to be there either.

Not because it was early, not because you didn't plan on meeting that afternoon, but because it was your room, not his, the one he was in.

He wasn't supposed to be there at all.

The strange, muffled sounds caught your ear as soon as you approached the door, and having known him for a while now, you knew how his voice sounded even from afar, even if it sounded raspy as it did now. The thing you didn't know though, was the reason he snaked into your room when you were out.

As you closed the door behind you, the question was answered, stopping you in your tracks with the key still held between your fingers.

Chris's ragged groans filled the air, making it thicker; heavier; hotter.

You left your purse and key by the door, careful not to make a noise and took your shoes off.

A thin wall divided the bed and closet from the rest of the room, and the more you got closer to it, the louder Chris's sounds were.

And they were intoxicating.

It was no secret that you wanted him, flirting with him on set and during reunions. He never accepted any of your innuendos arguing that he was too old for you, but by the way he said that, you knew that he meant you were too young for him. Of course, that never stopped him from occasionally flirting back or complimenting you on your looks or acting skills.

But since it never went beyond that, you were rather surprised– no, amazed to see him naked, with his legs sprayed on your bed with a good amount of your underwear around him and his hand pumping his big, hard cock up and down with– with your favorite panties laced between his fingers.

“Fuck.” Chris moaned, the muscles of his arm shifting as he kept working, his head falling back in pleasure. “Yes, baby girl, choke on my cock.” He squeezed, and if it wasn't clear enough that he was thinking about you while jerking off, you felt your legs getting weak and your heart skipping a beat the second he said your name.

His muscular legs tensed and his hips jolted, an indicator that his release was close, and even though you wanted to see how he looked when he came, the idea of a closer view seemed better.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” The steadiness of your voice surprised you, but not as much as it surprised Chris as you walked out of your hiding position. Jumping from his spot, he reached for a pillow to cover his hard on, but to no use, there was no way on earth you'd ever forget what you saw.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Chris ran a hand through his hair, his breath was uneasy, and his body glowed with a thin layer of sweat.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Tilting your head, you drank in the sight before you; broad shoulders, bare abdomen, the hand over the pillow still gripping on the teal cloth… “But it's pretty clear.” A devilish smile appeared on your lips, your ego all over the roof since you confirmed he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him, even if he denied it in the past.

“I can explain.” He moved back, almost hitting the headboard as you made your way to the edge of the bed, blocking completely his discarded clothes from his reach.

But as much as you'd like to amuse yourself hearing some poor excuse that you wouldn't believe, you simply reached for the pillow and yanked it away from Chris, taking advantage of his still fresh shock, exposing him in all his splendor.

“What about you show me instead?” Kneeling in front him and never breaking eye contact, your hand searched his shaft and resumed the task he left unfinished. “How would you make me choke on your cock?” You kissed his red tip and he swore, his cock twitching in your palm.

“We shouldn't…”

Your fingers ran along his shaft delicately, your thump smearing the precum leaking. “Why not? It can be stimulating.” Your other hand roamed around his thigh, your lips leaving feather-like kisses on his abdomen.

Chris didn't dare to move. He couldn't. Not with you, looking at him through your lashes and so close to his cock.

“Cause you need to find a guy your age.” He barely whispered. “Live these kinda things with him.”

“They don't know how to treat me.” A teasing touch of your lips to his tip had him hissing. “Plus, I like 'em a bit older.”

“But–” His complaint got caught on his throat as you enveloped as much of him as you could in your mouth and hollowed your cheeks. “Holly shit. Just like that.” He said when your tongue drew a line in one of the veins of his length. Your panties, forgotten somewhere in the bed.

“Mhmm?” Like that? was the real question, the vibrations of your throat had Chris gripping in the bed sheets with force. You licked again.

“Yes, love, suck it whole.” Even if Chris wanted to throw back his head, he didn't. He wanted to see how pretty you looked, giving him the blow job of his life.

Did he like you? Of course he did. That was the reason you found him in that embarrassing situation in the first place.

Ever since the first time he saw you the only thing he wanted to do was bury himself in your sweet pussy and never leave, have you trembling and begging him to cum, but he knew better, knew that could never happen. Not with the age difference, not with the public eye watching your every move. He couldn't do that to you.

He tried to keep his distance, downplaying your flirty comments and taking dozens of cold showers only to stop fantasizing about you.

Chris also knew that you would be out that day, knew all he had to do was tell the lady in the hallway that he left his key inside and she'll be nice enough to let him in. He couldn't contain any more after seeing you the night before in your hot pink bikini during the improvised party the cast held by the pool of the hotel.

So he got in your room. And truth to be told, it wasn't his fault that you left your underwear drawer open, it also wasn't his fault that he imagined you modeling all that lace and silk only to him, and it certainly wasn't his fault that you looked even better with your mouth full of his cock than he imagined.

You bobbed your head up and down, moaning every time his tip hit the back of your throat, your hand stroking the rest or him you couldn't fit.

When your fingers brushed his balls, Chris lost it.

The hand that had been gripping the sheets was now in the back of your head, fingertips digging in your skull and forcing your head down his cock. You gagged, the unexpected action, not giving you time to even adjust to the change of rhythm.

“Fucking hell.” Chris took a handful of your hair in a makeshift ponytail and started directing your pace, both the pulling in your roots and the burning feeling of him so down your throat had your eyes watering, but you didn't care. Not when he looked so high on ecstasy and all because of you. “You're a dream come true”

He wasn't expecting a response, not a verbal one at least, so you ran your tongue over his hardness again, and again with every push of his hand.

Tears adorned your flushed cheeks, saliva gathered in the corners of your mouth and you did your best to breath through your nose as Chris stilled your head and moved his hips forward, starting fucking your face.

You shut your eyes closed, concentrating on relaxing your throat and ignoring the slight sting on the back of your head.

He stopped.

“No, baby. Eyes on me.” Chris yanked your hair, making you lock gazes with him again. “You wanted me to show you? This is how I make you choke on my cock.” He brought you down again, your nose brushing his skin with each thrust, your clit throbbing with every groan he let out. “You look so damn good like this.” Your lust and desire must have been written all over your face by the time he said, “Bet you're so fucking wet you're drenching those little panties of yours.” And you knew he was right. “Can't wait to fuck your pretty cunt and cum so deep inside you, you're gonna feel me for days.”

You clenched around nothing, the idea of Chris railing you senseless had you moaning again, desperation for making that scenario a reality glowing in your pupils.

“Oh, I will.” He confirmed, breathing hard as you placed your hands on his thighs for support. “But first, you're gonna be a good girl and take everything I give. Think you can do that for me?” His movements were slow, no doubt to have the most part of your attention in his words.

A tap on his thigh was enough confirmation for Chris to resume his thrusting, your heart hammering against your chest with the intensity of his movements.

You felt him twitch at least, his assault faltering and his grip on your hair tightening. He was close again, and you'd help him reach his release this time.

So you sucked harder, trying to milk the life out of him while your palms massaged his thighs.

Chris cursed, head thrown back, hips going still, and his whole body tensing up as you felt ropes of his hot spent painting the inside of your throat and the weight of his softening cock on your tongue.

Obeying, you swallowed every drop, freed him with a soft pop and licked your lips in the most sensual way Chris had ever seen.

When Chris came down from his high, he took notice of your state; hair tangled, glassy eyes, swollen lips, chest heaving. He felt himself getting hard again.

“Am I still too young for you?” Your voice was hoarse, no doubt due to the recent activities.

“I don't know.” He said, helping you on your feet and out of your sundress. “We can keep figuring it out.” He smirked, lowering your ruined underwear until it pooled at your feet.

You straddled him, ready to take on the promise he made minutes ago. “I'm in no rush.”

And he kissed you fervently before dragging you down on him, stretching your thigh walls so deliciously that you thanked whoever above for changing your afternoon plans in the first place.

[nostxlgia18]

Mine

Pairing: Chris Evans × Wife! Reader

Summary: Jealousy doesn't suit people well, but Chris has a different thought bout this.

Warning: 18+ Smut, angst and fluff

You storm into the house and slam the door. Dodger, who was laying on the sofa in the living room, is taken aback by the impact of this gesture. You instantly stoop to apologise and pet him before hurrying to the bedroom. When you open the door, you see him sitting beside the bed in his sweater and jeans, indicating that he just returned from the interview. Dropping your purse and coat by the door, you announce your arrival. 

"Hey, you're home.  The interview was……," he says, looking up at you. You straddle him and kiss him passionately before he continues. The intense kiss breaks as the two of you need to breathe. "Are you okay, baby?" "What's wrong?" he asks, catching his breath.

"Stop talking!" You cut him off and push him down till he hits the mattress with you on top of him, and you kiss his lips rough again. You move your lips down to his neck and begin marking a hickey, making him groan. You kiss him below his Adam's apple, causing him to tighten his grip on your waist.

You run your hands down his clothed body, then down his pants zipper. As you unzip him, he releases go of your waist, you take down his pants, and you see his cock. It's big and hard, with pre-cum seeping from it. You make him moan by rapidly pumping your hands. "Oh my god, yess Y/n!" he exclaims. "Do you like that baby?" you ask as you begin kissing his jaw and neck once more. " Oh yes, Y/n! He says. "I believe you'll enjoy it inside me." You sit up straight to ride up your dress, shove your panties aside, and slide down on him while saying this. Even after five years together, you can never grow used to size.

As you begin riding him, you let out a really whining moan. The sound of both of you moaning fills the room. He thrusts his hips upwards, mirroring your tempo and attempting to blend in even more. Your head drops back as you sense your orgasm nearing. "Oh yess bubba, I'm going to cum," you groan. "Mmm Y/n, I'm cumming too!" he murmurs, captivated by your sight. "You look so beautiful, darling!" he exclaims as he massages your breasts through your dress.

Increasing your pace, you tightly fist his sweater and cum on his cock. Trying to settle down from this escatsy, he rids you through your orgasm and cums deep into you.

"Fuck," you gasp as you pull him out of you and lie next to him. You both sit in silence, trying to catch your breath. "Ahh, that was fantastic," he says as you turn to face him. "Not that I'm complaining, but may I ask as to what happened to you all of a sudden?"

"A few girls at the restaurant were fangirling over your interview and talking….umm pretty nasty about the things they'd do to you," you admit, avoiding looking him in the eyes. He then raises your face to face him and lightly pecks your lips. "And you're jealous?" he asks, sliding his hand around your waist.

"If you getting jealous leads to this, then I hope everyone out there fantasizes me" Chris says trying hard not to laugh at your pouty face.

You hit his chest and try to get up when he pulls you back to him, "they can fantasise and dream all they want, but you are the one who can actually do those things to me, isn't that true?" he says, bopping your nose.

"Amm hmmm," you nod, caressing his lower lip with your thumb, and add passionately, "Your mine." 

"Yess, ma'am, I love you Y/n," he responds with a smile. "I love you more," you respond, capturing his lips once more.

Masterlist

Taglist: @shyconversationalbookworm @cevansrogerss @justreadingthatsit

Reblogs are appreciated 💗

[whiskeyncoke-redux]

Together

Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: You and Chris finally have your first time together.

Warnings: Smut (but it’s sweet) 18+ ONLY Minors DNI

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The date had been perfect. They usually were. You and Chris had been out to a nice but casual dinner and then walked around the city, hand in hand, enjoying the coolness that was starting to permeate the air, signaling that autumn was soon approaching. Honestly, you couldn’t have been happier… Well, there was one thing that would make things better.

See, you and Chris had been dating for nearly a year and yet you two hadn’t moved past doing anything other than making out; and while you loved that (his soft lips on yours, the way his hands would caress your body, his strong arms around you) you wanted more.

Really, you felt like you couldn’t complain since he was hands down the best guy you ever dated. He was kind and considerate, he listened, and he was loving, pretty much everything all your exes hadn’t been. With that thought, you decided to be happy and just live in the moment. It would happen when it would happen. Besides you were with him, together, and that’s all that mattered.

“So, what else you wanna do,” he said, squeezing your hand, shaking you out of your thoughts.

You shrugged. “Dunno, you?”

“Well, I figured to end the night, we could just cuddle on the couch and watch a movie?” he looked at you, hoping you’d say yes. He didn’t want the night to end.

You smiled at him, since you were near your place, you decided to head in that direction. “Okay, but I pick the movie.”

“Okay, but nothing too sappy, I’m still not forgiving you for making me watch those Lifetime movies last Sunday.”

You laughed as you took out your keys, seeing your building near. “Oh, please, you know you liked it. You got way into the one about the cheerleaders.”

“Okay, but that one was pretty good. I still can’t believe they tried to frame that girl like that.”

“Devious,” you said, opening the door of your apartment. “But it’s Saturday night, so no Lifetime movie marathon.”

“Good,” he said, as he followed you in. He shed his jacket and headed to your kitchen in search of popcorn and something to drink.

While he was fixing your snack, you went to get a blanket, and change into something more comfortable. You changed into some sweats and a t-shirt, then grabbed the soft wool blanket your mom had bought for you the Christmas before. When you came back out, Chris, who was emptying the popcorn into a bowl, looked at you.

“Hey, isn’t that mine?”

You looked down at the shirt you had put on.

“Yup,” you said simply. You had borrowed it when you spent the night at his place after a party he had had. You had meant to wash it and bring it back to him, but it had slipped your mind… Sort of. Truthfully, you just wanted to keep it because, even though you had washed it, it still smelled faintly of him.

He shook his head and took in your outfit.

“You look comfortable,” he said with a slight tinge of jealousy.

“You could have some of your stuff here if you want,” you told him, taking the bowl from him as he grabbed himself a beer and collected the glass of wine he had poured for you.

“Really?” he asked following you to the couch.

“Yeah, man, we’ve been dating for a year. I know you live like five minutes away, but just in case, ya know?”

“Cool,” he said, grabbing a handful of popcorn and settling back. “So what movie are we gonna watch?”

“Hmmm how about I give you a choice: I got Sleepless in Seattle, Sixteen Candles, and When Harry Met Sally.”

“That’s all you have?”

“Nope, but those are your choices.”

“All right, all right, When Harry Met Sally, then.”

“Yes, I love that one,” you said as you put the movie on.

Chris rolled his eyes at you, and you lightly punched him for it, making him laugh. You snuggled into him to watch the movie you had seen several times before.

You watched the movie, unaware that Chris wasn’t focused on it in the least. He was busy watching you. Watching the way you laughed and mouthed the words along with Meg Ryan on the screen.

Halfway through the movie, he pulled you in closer to him. The popcorn was all gone along with your drinks. You looked up at him and smiled. He leaned his head down and kissed you. You deepened the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. He enveloped you in his. You felt his tongue against your lips and you opened your mouth letting it slide in. your tongues danced with each other, the tastes of his beer and your wine mixing together.

You straddled his lap; your fingers playing in his hair, his hands running up and down your back. He slid them up under your shirt, and you sighed at the warmth of them. Underneath you, you felt him getting hard, and you started to rock slightly against him, making him groan softly. Normally this is when he would stop, but tonight he didn’t. Instead he lowered his hands down to your hips, gripping them a little tighter than he normally would. You took that as a sign to keep going.

You moved your lips from his, kissing along his jaw, til you reached his neck. You placed small kisses here and there until you got to the spot right below his ear, you knew it was a sensitive area, and you began to nibble at it. He groaned louder, and with a smirk, you started sucking on that spot. You felt him getting harder as you did that.

He maneuvered his head so he could capture your lips in another kiss. Soon he pulled away, and looked hard at you.

“What?” you whispered.

“Can we continue this in your bedroom?”

You were shocked, but so pleased, finally it was happening. You smiled at him and nodded. Getting up off of his lap, you grabbed his hand and pulled. He got up and followed you into your room, shutting the door behind him.

You turned to look at him. Now that this was happening, you were shy. You didn’t know how to start with him. Luckily, he wasn’t feeling nearly as shy as you were. He reached for you and pulled you close, sliding his hands around you. His hands went from your waist, down your hips, to grab your ass. You giggled against his lips at that and he smiled. You walked backwards towards the bed, stopping when the edge hit the backs of your legs. You reached down and found the hem of his shirt, once you had it, you started to raise it up and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the floor.

You ran your fingers up and down his chest, to his torso, the hairs on his body tickling your fingers. You placed a few kisses on his exposed body. Then he did the same to you, pulling his tee off of you. His hands went to your bra, cupping your breasts through the fabric. He lowered his head to your neck, kissing you there and then on your bare shoulder and on down til he got to the tops of your breasts, he tugged the cups of your bra down, exposing your nipples, which he licked and sucked on, inducing a moan from you.

You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, letting it slide down your arms to the floor. Then you reached for his pants, undoing them and pushing them down. You pulled him in for another kiss as you slid your pants off, and he did the same.

You both stood there in just your underwear and you began to giggle again.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head, still laughing. “Everything, I don’t know.”

“You are silly,” he said, kissing you again.

“I know.”

You then climbed up on the bed and he followed. He crawled over to you until he was on top of you, kissing you again. He slowly made his way down your body, kissing from your neck, to the valley between your breasts, down your stomach, til he got to the top of your panties. He hooked his fingers in the elastic and tugged them down your legs and off. He kissed back up your thighs until he got to your core. He could feel the heat emanating from you. You squirmed a bit, wanting him to do something, instead of just laying there.

You got your wish soon, you felt him slide a finger inside you, then another, causing you to gasp.

“You’re so wet,” he said as he slid his fingers in and out of you.

“Mmm-hmmm,” was all you could get out, you were thoroughly enjoying the feel of his thick fingers inside you.

He chuckled and then lowered his head, taking his fingers out and replacing them with his tongue. He licked up your slit and then slid his tongue inside you. You bucked your hips at that, your hand going to his head, your fingers tangling in his hair, pushing him deeper as you spread your legs wider. He then wrapped his lips around your clit and began sucking on it, causing you to push your head back into the mattress. You moaned loudly enjoying the feel, then you yelped as you felt him slide his fingers back inside you.

“C-Chris, s-stop,” you stammered.

With a final lick, he raised his head.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You okay?”

You nodded. You had been close to coming, but you wanted him inside you.

“I want, I need to feel you inside me,” you told him.

He nodded, then standing up, he walked over to the nightstand next to your bed and fished around for a condom. He knew you kept them there just in case. Once he found one, he slid off his boxers and opened the wrapper and slid it on. He then climbed back onto the bed and positioned himself on top of you. He guided himself inside you slowly, stretching you deliciously. It had been so long, and you had waited for this, yearned for this. Once he was fully inside you, he rested his forehead against yours. His eyes closed.

“I have wanted this for so long,” he whispered.

“Me too,” you said, reaching up to caress his cheek. “I’ve wanted you so much.”

He opened his eyes and looked down at you with a smile. Then he started to move inside you. Your arms went around his back holding onto him as he moved in and out of you slowly. You moaned as you felt the drag of his dick inside you. He began to speed up and you dug your nails into his back, wrapping your legs around his slim waist. He felt better than you could have ever imagined.

He then rolled to his side, still inside you. Your leg resting on his hip. He put his arms around you, pulling you in closer as he started to move again. You put your hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. You moved with him, you tongue tangling with his, your fingers in his hair and his on your back.

You moved your hand to his chest and pushed him back, letting him slip from inside you. You then raised yourself up and straddled him again. You gripped his dick and positioned it so you could slide down on top of him. He sighed when he felt you around him and when you began to move, he grabbed your hips. You rode him slowly at first, relishing the feel of him as the head of his dick hit that sweet spot inside of you.

He watched you as you began to move faster on top of him, his hands on your hips keeping you steady. He then reached down and began rubbing at your clit. Feeling his thumb on that sensitive bundle of nerves sent you over the edge. You came with a loud moan of his name, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

He held onto you, guiding you through your orgasm. Once you came down from your high, he rolled you off of him and back onto the bed. He then slipped back inside you, and moved again, chasing his own orgasm.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured softly. “You feel so good. So amazing.”

You could tell he was close, and you wrapped your arms and legs around him, whispering in his urging him to let go, to cum for you. With a loud groan he emptied himself inside the condom and then collapsed on top of you. You held him close, stroking his back, while he caught his breath. He then got off of you and climbed off the bed and walked slightly unsteadily to the bathroom to throw the condom away.

He came back and laid on the bed. He reached for you and you cuddled against him. He peppered kisses on your face, making you both laugh. You grabbed his hand and interlaced your fingers with his, while intertwining your legs. You both laid on the bed like that together, whispering and laughing with each other.

Soon you both drifted off to sleep. You woke him up a few hours later by climbing on top of him and kissing him, causing you to go at it again. Then once more in the shower. Then another time in the kitchen. He said a few times that he had to go home, but every time you went to kiss him goodbye, it would start yet another round of lovemaking. You both ended up spending the weekend together wrapped around each other. But you were together and that’s all that mattered.

[callmissrogers]

She Thinks I'm Handsome. Steve Rogers x Reader Short Story

Summary: Y/n is terribly tipsy. Having only had one margarita, Nat texted Steve to come take her home. Y/n's tipsiness makes her admit something to Steve. Something she didn't mean to say out loud.

Warnings: mentions alcohol, reader being tipsy, and lots of fluff. Wrote on my phone with little editing.

Word count: 1,034

Inspired by: pin and a scene in the movie New In Town with Rene Zellweger, but I couldn't find it on YouTube.

Y/n couldn't stop giggling at the dinner table. Everything was just hilarious.

"Y/n you only had one margarita.... Are you sure you're ok?" Nat asked, sitting back in her chair, eyes wide with concern.

"I'm mine. I mean time. I MEAN I'm fine." Y/n replied, giggling at her own inability to speak coherently.

"Yeah. Sure you are. I told you this was a terrible idea." Nat whispered to Wanda.

"She told me she wanted to come! Besides, how is it my fault that she's a lightweight?" Wanda argued as if Y/n wasn't sitting right there.

"I am not a lightweight! I'm good." Y/n protested like a child not getting the sweets it wanted.

"Of course you are. You definitely aren't talking like someone who's done 20 wisky shots." Nat answered sarcastically.

"What are we gonna do? My car only has two seats. Unless we tape you to the roof." Wanda asked in a whisper. "I've got an idea." Natasha said conspiratorially, taking her phone out. "Who are you texting?" Wanda asked, an eyebrow rasing. "You know who," Nat said in a sing-song way. "You can not text him!" "Why not? They need a push." "She's about to fall over. " "Good. Let him play knight in shiny armor." "You know this wasn't I meant when I said we should set them up." "Well, it's what we're doing. He already responded and said he's on his way. Way too much of a gentlemen to abandon a maid in distress." "You are having way too much fun with this." Wanda sighed, leaning on her hand.

A few minutes later, y/n was trying to explain something to the girls, grabbing random bits and pieces of information and giving it to them as of it should all make sense.

The door to the cozy little restaurant opened and he walked inside. Spotting them easily and coming over to collect Y/n. Her back was to him so she had no idea of his presence.

Nat and Wanda remained completely silent as he approached giving him knowing and teasing looks. Nat mouthed "get her out" to which he couldn't help but smile.

It wasn't till he placed a gentle hand on y/n's shoulder that she noticed him at all.

"Steve!" She gasped much too loudly and drawing the attention of some of the other guests. "I didn't think you'd be here!" She said wobbling to her feet and throwing her arms around his neck. She'd never done that before. They've never exchanged any sort of hug before. So he shot the other two a look of complet and utter shock as his face turned three shades of pink.

"How much did y'all let her drink?" He demanded. "Steve. She had one margarita." Wanda deadpanned. Steve looked at Y/N and back to them, his brows raised in amazement. "Just one?" He asked. "One. And it wasn't even that big." Nat replied, lips forming into a smirk. "Wanda only has two seats in her car, and I road with her. So I figured you'd be happy to get Y/n home safely." She continued.

Steve put an arm around Y/n's shoulder in an attempt to steady her, grabbing her coat off the back of the chair, he said "c'mon. Let's get you home." "But I don't wanna!" She complained. "Y/n, you should go with Steve. We're gonna head out too." Wanda assured her. "Fine." She whispered/mumbled letting him guide her out.

Once they were outside the resturant she looked around wildly. "Where's your car?" "It's down the block. I couldn't find a spot here." "Oh. Where's my coat?" "That's right here." He answered holding it up to help her get into it. "Watch your hands. Mr Handys Hands." She slurred. "I'm. I'm not doing anything." Steve said blushing again.

She took a few steps forward and then stumbled into the street some. "Wait, wait, wait. My car isn't over there, " He spoke, quickly pulling her back.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." She assured him, walking along again, taking wobbly but somewhat straight steps.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck nervously and followed after her.

"Ok," He said after they had walked just a little bit further. "My car is right there"

Then she dashed up to a car that somewhat resembled his and started rapidly pulling on the handle causing the car alarm to go off.

"That. That wasn't my car." Steve said sounding embarrassed.

He used his key for, unlocked his car, before softly grabbing her by the arm and getting her seated inside. Taking a deep breath before coming round to get himself. He was gonna get Natasha for this. She had been teasing him about his growing affection for Y/n for months. She was trying to push his hand.

The drive home wasn't as crazy as the walk to the car had been. Y/n sat starring out the window commenting on the pretty city lights, how she liked the outfits of some of the pedestrians they passed, and got very excited when they stopped next to a car which had a Scottish Terrier in it.

He couldn't help smiling he was actually enjoying the drive with her.

When they finally pulled up to her house, he got out and came around to help her out. Not trusting that she'd be able to get out of the car and onto the curb without tripping.

Arm around her shoulder, he helped her to the door. Where she struggled to get the key into the lock. "Here," He said trying to take the key from her. "I got it. I got it." She said trying again to get the key go in. "Let me help." He said gentily taking it from her.

She finally looked up at up him and whispered "Gosh. You're handsome," pausing, her lips forming an O shape. "I just said that out loud, didn't I?"

Steve smiled broadly, "Yes. Yes, you did."

So he helped her inside and made sure she was settled with a glass of water and aspirin for the morning and then went home himself.

Whispering to himself, "She thinks I'm handsome."

(I know I haven't posted the next part in That's My Girl. Got a bit of writers block as to how to finish the chapter. I'll try to have it done by Wednesday. )

[ramp-it-up]

lactation kink Chris evans

You will find him if you drive down the road, turn left, go past the green bridge, turn right by the bell tower and then click here:

Choices

[mcuamerica]

Races

Pairings: Chris Evans x GN!Reader (i try my best to make it gender neutral. Let me know if I messed up!)

Request: “Going to the races with Chris. him being such a gentle giant, protective, his hands either resting on your waist or shoulders, sitting on his lap, betting together and putting his hands on your shoulders to lead the way through busy crowds. literally just so much fluff, butttt with some little parts of angst: the reader starts to feel insecure about themselves with all of the people around them feel like everyone else is better looking. but chris reassures the reader” - @remshearts

Warnings: mentions of insecurity, crowds, reader sits on Chris’s lap, might’ve included more angst but there’s plenty of fluff too

Words: 770ish

There you were, Chris’s arm wrapped around your waist, his hand on your hip rubbing small circles as you waited in line to bet on the horses that would be racing. You couldn’t help but look around, noticing that everyone around you seemed slightly better dressed then you. You noticed a couple people that were definitely better looking (in your opinion), so that insecure feeling started bubbling in your chest. Your thoughts were interrupted when Chris pressed his lips to your head. “Who do you want to bet on?” He whispered in your ear. You were surprised you could hear him over the loud crowd.

He was wearing a tan suit that made him fit in perfectly with the surrounding people, his sunglasses perched on his head since you two were in a shaded area. You looked up at him, admiring the freshly shaped beard until your eyes landed in his blue ones. “Uh… nor incredibly sure. I’ve never done this before.” You responded.

Chris’s eyes softened, if that was even possible, upon hearing this. “It’s okay, babe. We’ll bet together, yeah?” He suggested. “We’ll win because we’ve got you. And you are my good luck charm.” He said with a wink, squeezing your waist as he nudged you forward.

You both placed your bets, deciding on a horse named Mo Donegal. Chris knew more than you did, so you decided to go along with what he said. As you made your way through the crowd to your seats, that creeping feeling of insecurity popped up again. This wasn’t your place. You were never the high society type of person. You could barely even walk straight without tripping. But your nerves were settled when you felt Chris’s hands on your waist, making sure that you could navigate through the crowd. Once you both sat down, you saw the look on his face. He knew what was going through your head.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, a hand reaching up to stroke your cheek. “I can tell your mind is racing right now, what’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing.” You said, looking down. He tsked in disapproval, nudging your head up with his thumb so you’d look back in his eyes. “I don’t belong here, Chris.” You said quietly.

His brows furrowed, eyes glancing between yours until he shook his head. “No… (Y/N). Why would you say that? You’re with me. You’re doing great.” He said.

“I have a hole on the bottom of my shirt… everyone is wearing hats… they all look so good and I’m-“ You started but were quickly cut off by the feeling of Chris’s soft lips on yours.

“Stop that. You know you look amazing. And no one will pay attention to your outfit. They’re too busy holding their noses from the smell of the horses they’re making money on.” He teased, hands moving down to your waist. “You look incredible. Wonderful. You’re the most amazing person here. And I mean it.” He said and gave you that soft side smile of his that made you want to melt.

“But Chris-“

“No buts, (Y/N). Now come ‘ere.” He said and shifted slightly, pulling you on his lap. “I don’t want you to think that you don’t belong here. Because I want you here. And I want you to be comfortable with me.” He said, chin resting on your shoulder.

You turned to face him. “I am comfortable with you.” You assured him, reaching up to cup his beard. “But this whole thing is new to me.”

“I’m here to help you navigate it.” He said and winked at you again, kissing you one more time before turning his attention forward towards the racing track as the horses and jockeys lined up in the stalls.

Chris kept his arms wrapped around your waist the whole race, squeezing every now and then when the horse you bet on got closer to the front, eventually winning the race. He hopped up from his set, somehow spinning the two of you around in celebration of the victory. You heard yourself laugh along with him, kissing him gently as he leaned down to your level.

He led you back towards the car with his hands on your shoulders, knowing that the amount of people was probably draining you. When he opened the door for you, you turned back towards him. “Thank you, for today. I had an amazing time.” You said and smiled when he leaned down to kiss you again.

“Anything for you, babe.” He said quietly and kissed your forehead before motioning you to get in the car.

—————————————

A/N: i could’ve made this longer but I really wanted to post it and I’m not sure what else I would add. Also I absolutely love (in general but also writing) Chris being protective and all handsy… does something to me haha. Hope you liked it!

[officerfriendlysblog]

confessions

Steve Rogers X reader

Enemies to Lovers?

Word count: 1,014

angst?, minor smut ( making out)

My Masterlist

Steve Rogers was an extremely merciful man however when it came to missions that was one thing he took very seriously until one day his co worker Y/N L/N began working with him on missions he turned out to be quickly flustered by her beauty but he wanted to stay professional so he put his feelings for her aside for the job and pretend to hate her.

As she made her way to the kitchen, Y/N told Steve, "Hey Steve Fury said he wanted the both of us to go on an undercover mission as a married couple."

“ He couldn't get another female agent to do the mission with me?" Steve Said with a rude tone "He said he wants the both of us to be part of the mission so it can get done quicker I have good fighting skills so stop being a dick Rogers," Y/N responded with a smile on her face She took a sip of water for herself and said, "I don't understand why you hate me so much Rogers, I think we make a great team."

Steve thought to himself, "I actually really like you." Before leaving the kitchen, Steve said, "Well, I think there are better agents out there who can get the job done faster. You’re not as good as you think L/N."

"Why is he such a fucking dick?" She said without holding back to herself

"Since he actually really likes you and is trying to hide his feelings for you.. I just came from a run didn't mean to surprise you" Sam said as he made his way into the kitchen snatching a glass of water. She said to Sam, "he doesn't like me, he doesn't even have respect for me. I'm gonna start being rude back to him. I hate that he thinks he can walk around here being a dick." Sam responds, "You both are so stupid I gotta go tell rogers to man up." Natasha asks as she enters the kitchen, "What are you guys talking about?"

Sam tells Natasha, "Oh nothing just how rogers is pretending to be an asshole to her she doesn't believe that he has feelings for her." Natasha replied , "Y/N , Steve is like in love with you, but he just doesn't know how to show it or admit it."

As she exits the kitchen, Y/N says, "Whatever guys, nice talking to you, I gotta get ready for the mission." Natasha responded, "I don't think either of them have the balls to admit their feelings," when Sam told her, "20 bucks they come back from that mission as a real couple."

She made her way to the car to put her bag of clothes in the car Steve came and went through the mission with her. He said, "I'm going to be Stefan Hudson and you'll be Andrea Hudson. We have to keep an eye out for the neighbors. They have the information we need. The faster we get those papers, the faster I don't have to play your fake husband anymore." Steve said, "How about you shut it rogers. I wouldn't wanna be your wife anyway. I hate this as much as you do." When she said that Steve's heart was aching. Did she really hate this?

“Whatever just play the part right” Steve said as he goes into the car and drives them to the location

-

"Finally we’re here,"

"Remember my names Stefan and Your names Andrea," Steve said as they exited the vehicle. "Hey guys how are you? I see we have new neighbors; do you need help with anything?” a neighbor, inquired.

With a smile, Y/N goes to Steve and takes his hand. "No, we're okay, I think we just gonna stay in tonight and make ourselves at home," she says.

"Well, it's always great to offer," the neighbor says. "What's your guys name?" The neighbor said to Steve, "I’m Stefan and that’s my wife Andrea." Steve said "Well I’ll leave you guys to it my names Ross by the way," before quickly looking Y/N up and down. "nice meeting you but we’re gonna head inside," Y/N said.

Steve did not like Ross. Steve tells Y/N, "I don't really like that guy," and she responds, "me neither." "At least we can both agree on that," Steve tells Y/N.

She asks Steve, "Why do you hate me?" as she looks him in the eye. She sighs and heads upstairs to their shared bedroom after not getting a response. Steve follows her upstairs, saying, "I- I don't hate you, I just pretend to hate you,"

"Why I've never done anything wrong to you,"

"Because I just pretend I don't know what to tell you."

"Stop lying to me, just stop pretending to hate me what is it with you?" She asks Steve, not intending to cause a scene, as she yelled quietly.

“I love you. Okay? Is that what you're looking for?!" Steve asks, "You love me?" She asks as he runs his hand through his hair.

Steve walks slowly toward her so that they are face-to-face and says, "Yeah, I love you and I'm sorry I made you think I hated you I just don’t know how to handle my feelings." The small gap between them is making it harder for Steve not to kiss her , so he grabs her face with both hands and kisses her with such passion and love. Y/N grabs Steve’s hair and Steve moans into Y/N's mouth. There is a brief moment of passion and lust. With a grin on her face, Y/N walks away from the kiss and says, "I love you too." “I’m going to make sure I waste no more time and show you how much I love you,” Steve says with a smile Steve quickly kisses Y/N on the neck after lifting her up and placing her on the bed. She can't help but think that Sam and Natasha were right and that Fury would kill them if he found out they’re doing this on the mission but she couldn’t help but feel happy.

[sweetsbfreex]

a special hat

Summary: It’s Fathers Day, and you get Chris a special gift! 

beta’d by @into-a-ship-or-2 (tysm! you make my writing so much better<3)

Warnings: none

Pairings: husband!dad!chris evans x black!reader (does not mean the exception cannot read)

-

Chris and his hats were basically inseparable. 

To start off, they were stored and organized on custom-made shelves. It was one of the things Chris wanted in your current home, so he got it. In a section of your shared closet, every single hat sat on the illuminated-acrylic shelves. 

Through the majority, his reigning favorites were his blue NASA hat to the Marvel-themed caps, his favorite bands, and the variety of Boston hats were all sorted neatly.

He wore a hat everywhere, even at home, unless you begged him to let his perfect hair be displayed. His perfectly styled, soft, and fluffy  hair was something you adored about him. You loved running your hands through it as much as he loved feeling it. 

All of these were prime motives on how you would get your husband the best Father's Day gift. 

-

It’s a Sunday morning in June; Chris’ second Father's Day. Normally, before Lina, the two of you would head over to in his parents’ first thing in the morning to spend Father's Day with his family. While there, he’d collect his gifts from his nieces and nephews and present his gift to his dad. But as of the past two years, the three of you would head there in the evening. 

You and Lina are in the kitchen. She sits on the counter adding chocolate chips into the batter as you stir it in. Chris is wiped out upstairs, sleeping like the dead after working overtime to get the day off with his girls. Not even the kiss you placed on his cheek before you got out of bed stirred him awake. 

You look at Lina. “I’m gonna cook the pancakes, all right, so I’m gonna set you down real quick, okay?”

Lina doesn’t make a fuss. Just nods and responds with an adorable, high-pitched ‘okay’. Her animated nod causes the barrettes at the ends of her two braids to clack together. She looks cute enough to squish in her outfit.

After waking her, you doll her up into a special graphic, blue onesie with a stitched blue tutu, and printed on it: My daddy is bearded, inked, and awesome. There’s a matching Father’s Day themed headband parked on the kitchen bench, instead of her head. Since Lina decided to yank it off every chance she got. 

For giggles, you wear biker shorts and a white tee with the text: if you are not Chris Evans I’m not interested. Knowing it's definitely getting a laugh out of him.

His plate, set on the bed tray, is already packed with three pieces of turkey bacon and pesto eggs; only the pancakes await. Above the plate is his ‘#1 dad mug’ you gifted him last year, that is filled with coffee. 

You griddle the pancakes, naturally turning around every few seconds to make sure Lina is alright. Each time, she’s drawing away on her easel, a bright blue marker clenched in her fist. 

When they’re cooked and divided among three decorative plates. On the highest pancake on Chris’ stack, in your best handwriting you write Happy Father’s Day in thick, chocolate syrup. 

 “They’re finished, do you want to see?” you look down at Lina.

“Yes!” she claps her hands together before raising them towards you. You lift her onto your hip. “Ooh” she coos, pointing to the decorated pancake. 

“Cute, right!” you enthuse, kissing her cheek. “Today is daddy’s day, so we gotta make it extra special.” 

“Dada!” She squeals, it seems that was the only thing she got. 

Once everything is packed onto the bed tray and Lina is on your hip (her head rested against your chest.) You carefully gather everything up and go upstairs. 

-

Upstairs, you convey Lina to play the quiet game while also shushing Dodger, who’s up and excited at the presence of the two of you. Placing the bed tray on the bench at the end of the bed. 

Chris lays on top of the cozy duvet; guessing he overheated. You swear he was a furnace in his past life. 

He’s starfished, limbs out in every direction, except for the hand angled to lay on the opposite peck, causing his bicep to bulge naturally. His mouth forms the perfect, adorable O. 

He’s clad in his favorite sweats; his tattooed, sculptured upper body is unclothed. Standing next to his lying figure you can see Dodger, your name, and Lina’s tattooed on his chest. 

“Wake up, dada,” you instruct Lina in a hushed tone, leaning over Chris’ face. 

Lina knows exactly what to do when her chubby hands clasp her father’s bearded cheeks. Her little head bobs over him for a bit, before she’s blowing raspberries on his cheek.  

His eyes open and he sits up. His frantic manner causes Lina to pull away in a fit of hearty laughter. You assume she’s laughing at his open mouth and raised eyebrows, the shock on his face amusing. 

“Happy Father's Day to you! Happy Father's Day to you…” you sing to the melody of happy birthday, jostling Lina up and down as she claps and hums along. 

The way Chris’ face softened could soften even the coldest hearts. His lips pull into a soft smile and he doesn’t have the words to describe the way joy flares all over his body like fireworks. He feels warm and fuzzy, like in the numerous movies he’s starred in.

He’s watching his two girls sing, well;  one sings the other babbles along, singing to him in honor of Fathers Day. Dodger sticks by his side, licking the side of his face. He couldn’t be any more fortunate. 

“Happy Father's Day to dada—“

“Dada!” Lina interjects, promptly bringing out an infectious laugh from you and Chris. 

“We love you, we do!” You finish it off. 

You can see the corners of Chris’ eyes begin to glisten.

 “Baby, don’t cry” you hum, reaching your free hand to wipe the corners of his eyes. 

His hand reaches up to clutch your arm, “Sorry, I just—- this makes me happy. You guys make me so happy.” 

The crack in his voice causes a tug in your heart. Lina’s too, as she squirms out of your hold, reaching out for her father.  

You place a kiss on his lips before setting Lina in his hold. “I’m happy you’re happy. There’s a bit more though, are you gonna be able to handle it.” He chuckles delightedly at you and nods. 

You keenly watch as he lifts Lina in the air to inspect her outfit, her feet kicking in response. He pauses as he reads the words, then laughs heartily. Lina laughs along too. 

He kisses her cheek twice, “This is amazing!” Chris laughs once more before sitting her in his lap. Her back to his chest as he kisses her head and squishes her cheeks. 

His head lifts up when he notices the loaded tray in your hand. 

“Ta-da!” You present him with his special breakfast. 

His eyes wash over the turkey bacon, pesto eggs, his favorite coffee, and he thinks you’re trying to kill him when he sees the heart and the word dad etched into his pancake with powdered sugar. 

“Honey” Chris breathes in appreciation. “Come here” he holds an arm out, waits as you place the tray safely on the bed.

Once you're in his hold, his hand starts from your waist, then snakes up your back. Until it cups the back of your neck gently, his thumb moving in soothing strokes. 

His head lays in the crook of your neck, up until he turns to kiss it. The scruff sends tingles around your body. 

As much as Chris would deny it. He’s been looking forward to this day all week, by dropping hints about his excitement. It’s something he’s wished to celebrate for himself, for so long. And now that he can. He always wants to. 

He genuinely loves being a father –lives for it– just as much as he works to be the best husband to you he can be.

“I love you so much.” 

All the while, your arms wrap around his shoulder, squeezing him at his declaration.

You pull away, “I love you, thank you for being the best dad and husband” you peck him.  

“None of that would be possible without you.” Chris expresses, sincerely. 

“Ugh! You do this every time!” He only smirks, seizing your hand off his shoulder to kiss your palm. 

“Ready to eat?” you ask.  

So the three of you eat, including Dodger. With Chris’ good mood, he allows Lina to give a piece of turkey bacon to Dodger. 

Dodger nips it from her hand gently and slowly, just like he’s been taught. Lina squeals as she kicks her feet in excitement. 

Her cheerful mood doesn’t stay forever when she struggles with her training fork. Her pancake has been cut up by Chris, and she tries at first to get her fork through the soft cake. With the help of her father, she gets a few pieces. 

After a while she deems it a lost cause as she digs in with her fingers. She tilts her head back against her fathers chest, arm up, to offer a piece of her pancake. 

“Dada! Want” 

He takes it and moans over the piece like it’s the best thing on earth. When she offers you, you take it doing exactly as Chris does. 

She sits and chews, and tries to sneak a few to Dodger, which gets her a tender reprimanding from her father.

“I just realized I haven’t read your shirt yet.” 

You watch Chris’ mouth shape as he reads your shirt before he’s laughing like a maniac, one hand grasping his chest. 

“Baby, you are so adorable, you know that?”

His compliment sends heat to you cheeks, as you continue eating.  

When the three of you are done, it’s time for the next and final step of Chris’ second Fathers Day: his gift. 

“Are you finished eating?” You ask a while later, chuckling as Lina sits back against her father, hands on her full belly. “Because it’s time for your gift”

“Honey, you didn’t have to” Chris answers, watching you clean up and wiping Lina’s mouth at the same. 

“Oh please, I know deep down you couldn’t wait to see what we got you” You reply, sitting directly across from your favorite two, arms out with the gift between your hands. 

He takes the gift from your hand, setting the wrapped cube in front of Lina, before securing him to his chest as he bends forward to give you a chaste kiss. Then, sends one to his little girl’s head. 

“Do you want to help?” Chris asks.

Lina doesn’t need to be asked when she sees her father’s ample hands tear into the paper. She gets to work, squeezing the paper between her fists as she giggles. 

Quickly, the black gift box is uncovered. Eagerly he lifts the lid, pulls out the glittered tissue paper, and in the box sits a flat brim cap.

You sit there jumpy, excited to see what he thinks of his gift. It took you two weeks to come up with what you wanted on the hat and another to get it custom made with the design and his favorite fit of hats. 

He raises the baseball cap out. The visor, front half of the crown, and the closure are his favorite shade of blue. While the back half of the crown is white. 

On the front of the hat there’s a black patch, around it is the words in white, Best Dad In The World. With a blue circle in the back of the gold metal that sits in the center. In white, #1 Dad is stitched. 

When he twists the hat around, he sucks in a breath of air at the decoration. 

Lina’s hand print is stamped onto the back, in rainbow ink. At the bottom, today’s date is embroidered in red. 

Your heart breaks at the sight of tears rolling down Chris’ face. He’s a sensitive man, a tremendous softie, but his tears always surprise you.

“Baby…” you're at his side immediately, one hand between his shoulder blades, while the other rests on the cheek farthest from you. 

“You can’t help but top yourself every year, can you?” Chris teases, glazed over, gentle eyes looking at you. 

“Nope” you pop the p, as both your hands wipe his rosy cheek. Before you lightly squeeze his cheeks together, until his lips form a soft duck lip, and place a chaste kiss on them. 

“I think you may have created my all-time favorite hat.”

As it turned out, Chris hadn’t been joking, that hat became his go-to. Whether it was the house, a quick errand, or even later that day at his parents’, he sports it everywhere. 

He shows it off to all his friends and family, boasting about how great his wife is while simultaneously showing off his little girl's adorable handprint. 

The paparazzi love it just as much as you all do. After the news articles that arose the first time he was photographed wearing it. Many gushed about the thoughtful gift. 

-

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

[thefallennightmare]

Hard to Love

After moving to a new town all on her own, Reader would do anything for a stable job and income. Even if that means housekeeping for one of Boston’s eligible bachelors. What she didn’t expect was finding herself falling in love with him and him finding out about the past that she was running from. COMPLETED

ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. SIX. SEVEN. EIGHT. NINE. TEN. ELEVEN. TWELVE. THIRTEEN. FOURTEEN. FIFTEEN. SIXTEEN. SEVENTEEN. EIGHTEEN. NINETEEN. TWENTY. TWENTY ONE-END.

[onsunnyside]

🍓° 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Mafia!Ari Levinson x lovesick!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, sweet soft!reader, she’s a little oblivious. size difference: 6’8!Ari, he’s a total beefy hunk. neighbours au, a little tumble, stripper!reader, brief mentions of mafia business, undeniable daddy energy.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | It was a little ridiculous how in love you were… With a single glance, he could make you melt until you’re a pile strawberry ice cream, tied with a pretty ribbon, and sitting on his doorstep.

𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝗪/𝗖 | 2.45K

𝗔/𝗡 | just a little something I wrote inspired by Melting by Kali Uchis (also where the title is from). this is my first mafia fic but there isn’t much detail since this is a real itty bitty au. as always, all mistakes are my own. [all posts/asks]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Time seems to slow when he jogs by, clad in shorts and a loose tank top with sweat seeping through the grey. His tan skin is covered in a light sheen, making the dozens of tattoos appear darker. From your seat on the porch, they still look like black blobs and lines stretching from his broad shoulders to his hands. 

You’ve never seen them up close, but you have a few ideas of what they might be—a whole page in your diary to be exact. 

Your eyes fall to his muscled legs, firm and thick thighs strain his shorts and just the beginnings of dark ink poke from underneath the fabric. You barely notice the ice cream melting down the cone to your hands, too deep in a daze when tingles blossom from your chest to your toes. A dreamy sigh flows from your lips as the wind flutters through his long brown hair, brushing along his bearded cheeks. 

He turns to you and flashes a bright smile before turning the corner and disappearing down the street. That single glance makes your heart pound ten times faster, and all of your thoughts tangle into one ball of ribbons, varying in colours, prints and lace, but so evidently you. 

If you could, you’d gift him that mess just so he could know how much he affected you without even trying. 

"Oh no!" You quickly wipe your hands from the melting strawberry ice cream but it's useless, the pink stains your white dress and drips down to the ribbon around your ankle. 

It’s almost too symbolic—the pretty pink bleeds all over your ivory clothes, ruining your life just like the fluttering trapped in your rib cage. 

Honestly, it would’ve been easier to hate him, but he was so damn big that you didn’t have any space left in your heart to hate him. 

To say you're in love would be an understatement. In every fantasy and daydream, he's the main focus, your co-star, your lover, your saviour draped in silk button-ups and silver rings. Oh, he's everything you've ever wanted! As if you manifested him when you were a young child and wrote about the perfect boy to sweep you off your feet and make your life a living fairytale—everything you scribbled in glittery pen has come true before your very eyes.

You don’t even mind that he and his biker friends rev their engines at three in the morning, but your roommate doesn’t agree, she’s never agreed. 

The front door slams shut and you stiffen, hurriedly flipping through a random page in a magazine and desperately trying to act like you were not staring at his house next door. 

"Did you do it?"

"Do what?" You ask, voice already on edge. Vibrant red hair comes into your peripherals, as well as a pair of angry green eyes. 

Natasha groans, setting down her bag on the kitchen counter. "You chickened out again? I need my sleep before I lose my mind. I can’t get any if he and his dumbass friends treat this street like a fucking race track!”

“They aren’t even that loud—and I bought you earplugs.” 

“I am not touching those things until those assholes learn how to be decent human beings!” She rolls up her sleeves and grabs your arm, yanking you from the barstool. 

"Wait! What are you doing!" 

Her heels stomp on the hardwood floor, nearly shaking the picture frames on the walls, “I messed up five drinks today, do you know how bad that looks when they’re my recipes?” She huffs, "he's out there right now mowing his lawn and you're gonna talk to him."

You grab onto the nearest thing which happened to be the couch and clutched it for dear life. “No—you do it!”

"He doesn’t listen to me!" She digs her fingers into your sides making you yelp and feebly swat her away, but you just screwed up big time. “Just try, baby, please! For me!”

That’s the last thing you hear as you stumble out the front door, tripping over the damn welcome mat and tumbling down the stairs. It’s only a few steps, but it stings when your back thumps onto the stone walkway, your poor elbows cushioning your fall.  

You barely catch the engine cutting and rushed footsteps before he appears. 

He stands over you with sweat brimming at his hairline, a deeply concerned expression etched onto his face, "awh shit, are you okay?" 

As always, the air goes thin and you’re under that dumb lovesick spell again. The sun glows around his head like a halo, melting you to the bone, and leaving a mess on the stone in the same shades as your love—strawberry ice-cream pink. 

It’s terrible that you don’t know how deluded your tender heart is.

"You're bleeding," he crouches low, gently examining your elbow, "did your roommate push you down the stairs?” 

"No! No, I-I fell.” Obviously! “But I'm okay." You utter, avoiding the peeping redhead through the curtains. Your gaze lands on his long fingers wrapped around your arm. He’s warm, warmer than you thought. Heat radiates off his body and envelops you like an old friend, familiar and calm. 

"Are you?" He inquires unconvinced, "here, let me clean you up." He leaves no room for protests as he helps you up and leads you to his porch. 

After you sit on the couch, he disappears inside the house before emerging with a large white case. He sits next to you and opens the kit on the table.

"That's a lot of stuff." You note, staring at the packed first aid kit. There are various rolls of gauze, different ointments, and bandages, far more things than your tiny plastic box under the sink. 

Judging by his shiny sports car, and his collection of perfectly tailored suits and watches, Ari lived a very different life than you and you’d do anything to know about it. Your naive heart aches for him so badly it almost hurts. 

“It’s better to be safe than sorry. Can I touch you, sweetheart?” 

You watch him tend to your injury with slow and careful movements, his dark brows knitted in concentration. You’ve never been this close to him, the sudden rush of blood almost makes you lightheaded, but his scent brings you back down. The woody cologne floods your nose, followed by a dash of vanilla with underlinings of musky spice.

“What happened to your other dress?” He glances up, eyes shaded under his thick lashes. 

“Oh… It got dirty.” 

He hums, “what a shame.” He delicately presses down the edges of the bandage. “That’s one of my favourites. It always makes my day to see you wearing it.” 

You swallow down a whimper and clench your thighs, seconds away from dropping to your weak knees. Embarrassment fills your chest, tinged with guilt, “I’m sorry, sir.” The words slip out before you could think.

He cracks a small smile, shaking his head, “it’s okay, just be more careful next time, yeah? Can’t have you ruining the little purple one too, that’s my second favourite.”

Dull thumps hammer inside your head, muffling his raspy voice. You nod silently, digging your sock-clad feet into the concrete. 

You take the chance to memorize his tattoos, from the intricate rose by his wrist following the thorn stems up his arm where they entwined with a heavily shaded skull. Thin script is scattered along his skin, you can’t make out the exact words but they’re in swooping cursive, clinging to his flesh like wet chiffon. 

His arms tighten as he cleans up, the muscles shifting under his paper-thin t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination. Every unconscious flex clouds your head, tunnelling your vision until he’s all you can see.  A small whine sounds from your throat and his eyes flicker to yours, blue as can be. 

“I don’t see you leave very often.” You were either inside or sitting on the front porch with a treat and a magazine, or in the backyard tending to that small garden. “Do you work?”

“I… I did, then I got fired.” The wound was still a little fresh. “But it wasn’t my fault, I swear!”

Ari perks up in interest, although he knows plenty about you, this was strikingly new. Aside from your basic profile, he knew about your past as well, including where you grew up, where your parents lived, and how long you’ve been in this city. 

It was only right to know about the two girls living next to his late grandmother’s house. Curtis insisted since Ari wouldn’t let him stay in the old two-storey home, but instead the house down the street.

He came here to be alone and mourn, but that was hard to do with a cute neighbour always staring at him. Yet he stopped caring after you left a small bouquet of hand-picked flowers on his doorstep and an adorable ‘welcome to the neighbourhood!’ note. 

He forgot how good it felt to be sought after, rather than feared and honoured like a living legend. You gave him that sliver of normalcy with your longing loved-up looks and quick dashes inside when he pulled into the driveway. To you, sweet-spirited you, he was an ordinary guy, not someone with a history coloured in hues of red and dripping all over his shoes, smearing the black ink of his future; an eternity tied to his family’s glory that’s now his. 

“This customer was being so mean and I know I should’ve stayed professional but I was havin’ such a bad day already.” Your bottom lip trembles, flashes of that terrible day flickering through your head, “first I slept through my alarm, then I missed the bus, and my make-up broke in my bag a-and everything was all ruined.”

He reaches out, rubbing your knee soothingly. Poor girl, if it was up to him, you’d never be mistreated. “Where did you work?”

“Venom Vixens.” You sniffle, hoping he isn’t the judgemental type, you’ve known too many people who would humiliate you for your chosen career. “I, uh, I wasn’t one of the girls on stage since I was still new but I liked it there. My coworkers were nice, I got free drinks, and…”

“And?”

“I felt,” you look down at your hands, they were so much smaller than his, “I felt pretty. People go there to look and flirt, and I didn’t mind being on the receiving end of it.” 

Ari wouldn’t mind giving you all of that instead. 

He licks his lips, imagining you in a tiny lace set, the sheer fabric clinging to your figure while you swayed around the dimly lit club. A piece of art in the sea of ogling and drooling patrons, blooming beautifully under the flattery. 

“You liked the attention.” 

You giggle, “Yeah, a lot. Sure, some customers were gross and would say nasty things, but others were nice, real nice—they’d tip a lot and compliment me. Most of them were just lonely, they wanted someone to talk to or someone to spoil.” 

You don’t regret accepting their fawning or expensive gifts, hell, most of your jewelry was from your loyal clients. Sparkly things paired with sweet words were a one-way ticket to your good books. 

“How about your boss?” Ari asks, “how did he treat you?”

Venom Vixens wasn’t only a haven for the lonely or where perverts got their fill, but of course, you wouldn’t know that. You’d have a heart attack if you knew of the shady people who walked in and out of those doors, you’ve probably served a few of them, flashed that bright smile and earned yourself a big tip—unknowingly pocketing the filthy, blood-stained money. 

“Mr. Hansen was very friendly, but everything went through him. If we wanted to change a routine, we had to perform it for him first and get his approval. He said it was protocol.” Ari snorts but you don’t catch it, all too distracted with twisting the ring on his middle finger. “He was nice when you were nice to him.”

“So he must’ve always been kind to you. You’re the loveliest girl I’ve ever met.”

You preen under his praise and nod happily, questioning why you were so nervous around him in the first place.

Ari was a flirt—and you loved being flirted with. 

“Mr. Hansen called me his favourite before he fired me. That was over two weeks ago, and Nat said I could take my time but,” you sigh, “I feel like a bother.” 

He wonders if your best friend would still hate him if she knew he was the reason that her cafe was still standing. Without his ruling over the South district, there would be chaos, and that little joint would’ve been ransacked long ago. 

Did he also call for extra protection because you frequented the establishment? Proudly so. 

“Are you still looking for a job?” He takes your distant hum as a yes, “Do you want to work for me?”

Your head snaps up, your sparkling eyes wide in surprise. 

“I’m opening a new club in a few days and I’ve got a spot left for a performer.” He didn’t, but he had no problem giving someone the boot to make room for you. 

Your mouth opens and closes several times, and the thought of Ari owning a club flies straight over your head. You’ve watched him more than your favourite movie but you still didn’t know a damn thing about him, except that he smokes, liked to work out and alternated between a white mustang and a sleek black motorcycle. 

Oh, and sometimes he changes in front of his bedroom window. 

“You’ll be my boss?”

Say the word, and he’ll be much more than that.

He smirks, gripping your jaw and turning you from side to side, blue eyes flickering over your features, “Sure will. I have a feeling this pretty face will be the main attraction every night.”

Your heart swells when his fingers dig into your cheeks. “I-I would, but Nat won’t like that. She kind of hates you… and your friends.” He adds pressure and your lips pucker, “you’re all s-ho loud wit ya’  bikes ‘n engines.”

Ari bites his tongue, it was either the motorcycles or the blood-curdling screams of the poor soul in the basement. He made a mental note to speed up the process of that soundproof room, he couldn’t have you losing sleep over his business. 

“She doesn’t have to know.” He replies, releasing your face in favour of loosely grasping your throat. Your pulse thumps under his fingers, hard and fast, speeding up as he leans closer, “c’mon, don’t you want to be a star? Get all that attention again and make me proud?”

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i just love sweet!readers, they're my faves 🥹 and pairing them with big hunky (secretly soft) men is heaven !! i can't get enough !!!!

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! I love you all very much 😚🫶

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[krirebr]

More Than This 1

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~4.1k

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

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, a very brief conversation about the possibility of abuse, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: And here we go! A huge thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down some of the worldbuilding details and @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and especially telling me how to fix the scene that refused to be fixed. You're both the best!!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

It was uncommon to be called to your stepfather’s office. The high rise on the edge of Studio City had housed the heads of his family since the silent film era, give or take a remodel and expansion or five. You’d only been here a handful of times, mostly left out of the family business. When his assistant opened the door for you, you were surprised to see a small group of people, all in expensive business attire, surrounding your stepdad, Joseph Rogers, at his desk. Even more surprising was the figure standing in the corner, staring out the window – your mother. 

“Mom?” you asked, unable to hide your confusion. She just gave you a tight smile in return and turned her attention to her husband.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you. It’s what he’d called you since you’d first met him as a child and it had always felt patronizing and empty. You were well aware that you were an annoyance he’d been saddled with when he’d married your mother for her late first husband’s connections. Eighteen years later, you wished he’d drop the pretense already. “Please, have a seat,” he gestured to the leather chair in front of his large oak desk. 

You sat down across from him. “What’s going on?” you asked, an uneasy feeling building in your gut.

“Congratulations are in order,” he said, smiling at you. “You’re engaged.”

Years of experience at bullshit industry and society parties had you pasting on a benign smile. This was your fourth, no fifth engagement, the first one dating all the way back to when you were 10. They’d all dissolved for one reason or another, the business arrangements at the heart of them disintegrating too. But looking around the room at all the extra people in attendance, you knew better than to dismiss this outright. You were older now. Many of your friends from school had found themselves married as part of business deals in the last few years. Love matches were uncommon in the circles you frequented. There wasn’t much patience for love when this much money was at stake. But still, just because it was expected, that didn’t make you any more ready for your turn. 

“That’s wonderful,” you said, putting all your effort into keeping your tone even. “May I ask whom I’m engaged to?” 

“Ransom Drysdale,” Joseph said. “He’s the grandson of Harlan Thrombey, the mystery writer. We’ve been trying to secure the movie rights to his works for years and this should finally cement it. It’s fantastic news for our family and this studio. The joining of our families should create many opportunities for all of us. Ransom is one of the most eligible bachelors in Boston. You should feel very lucky.”

Lucky was the last thing you felt right now, but you kept your face schooled as you ran through your mental Rolodex to try to figure out if you had any social connections to this man. The fact that he lived on the other side of the country made it less likely but not impossible. 

“So,” he continued, sliding a stack of papers across his desk to you, “all you need to do is sign and initial the contract where it’s marked, and we can get started finalizing the details for the wedding next month.”

At that, all your poise disappeared and the smile dropped off your face. “Next month?”

Joseph nodded. “It’s important to strike while the iron is hot with deals like this. So go ahead and sign so that we can all move on to the next stage.”

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. This was happening. This one was real. “Shouldn’t I read it first?” you asked, somewhat desperately.

He shook his head, “No need,” he said, gesturing to the man you recognized as one of the family lawyers standing beside him. “Julian has already gone through it with a fine-toothed comb. All of our interests are well represented. It’s all in legalese anyway. Impossible to understand if you aren’t a lawyer.” He chuckled and many of the people standing around the desk, staring at you, joined him. 

“I just–” you stammered. You didn’t know what to do, but you knew you couldn’t pick up that pen.

Irritation bloomed on your stepfather’s face. “Lydia!” he called. 

Your mother stopped staring out the window and stepped up to your chair. “Honey,” she said gently, putting her hand on your back. “This will be such a good thing. And then we can get to all the fun parts of planning the wedding!” She picked up the pen and held it out to you. You took a moment to look at her. Her features were drawn and her eyes looked exhausted. She’d looked that way as long as you could remember. It did nothing to reassure you. 

You glanced at the door behind you. You knew you weren’t getting out of this room without signing the contract. You took a deep breath and took the pen from your mother. There was nothing else to do. No other choice. You quickly flipped through the papers, initialing where indicated and signing the last page. Your hand was shaking so badly you weren’t sure any of it was legible.

When you turned over the last page, Joseph clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” He took a large binder off the desk and passed it over to you. “We’ve put some information together for you on your new fiance. Ransom will be in town next week to take you to dinner so that the two of you can get to know each other. Now, I’m sure you want to go celebrate, so we won’t keep you any longer.”

At the clear dismissal, you stood up. Many people in the room offered their congratulations and you nodded to them, forcing a strained smile. Then you made your way out on shaky legs, needing to see the one person who might be able to help you process what had just happened.

You’d been six years old when you and your mother had moved into the Rogers mansion. You were terrified, already able to sense Joseph’s indifference towards you. But your comfort during that time, and all the time after, had been his son, Steve. Twelve years old, still reeling from the death of his mother and just as deeply lonely as you, he’d named himself your protector, shielding you from his father’s annoyance and your mother’s sorrow. He guarded you from monsters when you woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and would stare down your bullies on the playground. You were very quickly inseparable. 

When you became engaged the first time when you were ten, sixteen-year-old Steve had taken you out for ice cream, telling you not to worry too much, there was so much time before anything would happen and that everything would be ok. When the arrangement had fallen apart, he’d hugged you and whispered in your ear, “See? I’m always right.”

That was the memory you couldn’t stop thinking about as you let yourself into your stepbrother’s apartment, using the key he’d given you on the day he’d moved in. He wasn’t in his front room, so you moved all the way to the back, to the spare room he used as an art studio. You lightly knocked on the doorframe as you entered, trying not to startle him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at a half-finished painting, but looked over his shoulder as soon as he heard you. There was a warm smile on his face, but it dropped as soon as he took in your expression. “What happened?” he asked as you flopped down onto his couch.

“I think I might be really fucked, Steve,” you said quietly, your hands still shaking. You couldn’t get them to stop.

“What happened?” he asked again, more forcefully this time, as he dragged a chair from the corner of the room so that he could sit right across from you.

“Your dad, he–” You stopped and shook your head. Steve’s face darkened. “I’m engaged,” you said with a helpless shrug.

“Okay,” he said evenly. “That might not be the most dire thing. You’ve been engaged before. Nothing ever comes of it.”

You sighed. “They’ve set a date this time.”

“Oh,” was all he could say at first, surprise on his face. “That’s new.”

“Yeah.” you nodded. “A month from now.”

That had Steve sitting up straight. “The hell?!”

“It’s happening this time. I can feel it.”

“Hey, no,” he said, reaching out to touch your arm. “Let me try to talk some sense into him. Buy you some time. He might listen to me.”

You shook your head. “Everything’s already signed. They made me sign. I don’t think there’s any getting out of it.”

“He give you a name?”

“Ransom Drysdale.”

Before he was able to stop himself, Steve grimaced.

“Fuck,” you muttered, briefly covering your face with your hands.

“No, it’s– I’ve only met him once or twice, ok? I don’t actually know anything about him.”

“But you don’t like him.”

“He’s–” Steve paused, clearly trying to find the words that wouldn’t upset you even more, “a strong personality.” He looked at you carefully. “And he’s older than you. Older than me, even.”

“I know,” you sighed, reaching for your bag and taking out the folder. “They gave me this.”

You handed it to Steve and he paged through it. “This is intense. Do you think they gave him one about you?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. Probably. Can’t imagine it says anything interesting.”  

Steve nodded, seriously. “It’s probably pretty thin. Just the story of that time you completely freaked out when you weren’t allowed to bring Mr. BunBun to school with you.”

You grabbed the pillow next to you and hurled it at him. “You’re such a dick!” you laughed. “I’m very upset!”

He batted the pillow back at you and cackled when it hit you in the chest. “He deserves to know the kind of person he’s marrying. The kind who throws a five-alarm tantrum when she’s separated from her stuffed bunny.”

“I was eight, asshole!” You laughed again but then your brain caught on something Steve had said. “Holy shit, he’s marrying me. I’m getting married. I don’t know anything about him. He could be anyone. You don’t even like him! He could hurt me and–” 

“Hey, no!” Steve interrupted quickly. “I might not know much, but I know that. He won’t do that. I’m sure of it. And if he ever even tried, I’d be there so fast. They’d never find his body.”

“Will he be kind to me?” you asked quietly. He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him. “Be honest with me. Please.”

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” you said, trying so hard not to cry, “I guess at least now we know exactly how your dad feels about me.”

Steve closed his eyes and quietly said your name. When he opened them, there was a resolved look on his face that was painfully familiar. His ‘I’m going to fix this’ face. He was intractable when he got like this. He set his jaw. “I’m going to talk to Dad.”

You shook your head. “Steve.” Your stepfather was just as intractable as his son. This would only result in a shouting match that wouldn’t go anywhere.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said resolutely.

All you could do was say “OK,” with a wan smile, knowing it was a lie. You lay down on the couch and curled up on your side. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

“Of course not. Lola good on her own for a while?”

You nodded. Your little dog was probably asleep in her kennel. “Yeah, for a while.”

“Do you mind if I keep working on this?” he asked, gesturing to his painting.

“I like watching you paint,” you said, trying to find comfort in the familiarity of something you’d done since you were small.

He stood up and turned back to his easel, and you did your best to focus on watching him paint and not think about how, if this went through, you’d have to move to Boston and you wouldn’t get to have this time with your brother anymore.

As expected, Steve’s talk with Joseph yielded no results when it came to your future. The only thing it seemed to have any effect on was their own relationship, Steve announcing to you that he was no longer speaking to his father the next time you saw him. You hadn’t expected anything else.

For your part, you spent the next week vacillating between going overboard preparing for your first meeting with Ransom—pouring over your folder on him, making salon appointments, shopping for a dress that would make the right impression—and pretending your problems didn’t exist. As such, the day of the dinner still snuck up on you. You were a nervous wreck. 

The plan was for him to pick you up at your apartment, but an hour before he was supposed to arrive, you got a text from an unfamiliar number telling you to meet him at the restaurant instead. 

So now you sat at the table, alone, in a new dress with your hair done. You’d arrived ten minutes early, and he was now 20 minutes late. You took a deep breath, staring at the empty seat across from you. He would show up. He had to. 

Another ten minutes passed and, as you waived off the server for a third time, you let yourself consider what it would mean if your future husband had stood you up. You should go. It’d be pathetic to stay. And even if he did show up after you’d gone, it’d make a point. Show you had a backbone. You should definitely go.

Just as your hand began to inch toward your handbag on the table, the hostess came through, leading a tall, handsome man to your table. She stopped beside you and then ducked away. The man looked at you critically. He said your name like a question and, when you nodded, he sat down. He didn’t introduce himself, but he could only be Ransom. 

He was dressed nicely in an expensive sweater and slacks, but much more casually than you were and looking around the restaurant than most of the other people there, too. And when he sat down, you could see the places in his sweater where it was threadbare or torn. You tried very hard to not take it as a sign of how he felt about this dinner, felt about you.

You cleared your throat to say something, you weren’t entirely sure what when he glanced at your glass of water. “You don’t drink?”

“No, I do,” you said, but when he smirked you realized how that sounded. “I can,” you amended, but that sounded odd too. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it. I was just waiting for you.”

He snorted. “Well, aren’t you polite?”  His tone made it feel like the worst thing you could possibly be. He flagged down the server and ordered a glass of the Macallan 18, then huffed impatiently while you asked questions about their wine selection. You didn’t know how he could be half an hour late and make you feel bad for taking your time ordering. 

Once you’d finally made your choice and the server left, you tried not to squirm as he gave you a once-over with his eyes. You felt disappointing without really knowing why. You tried to shrug off the feeling, but then Ransom said, “How old even are you?” with scorn in his voice.

You cleared your throat. “Twenty-four,” you tried to say with confidence.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

You did your best not to shrink in on yourself. Maybe he was just nervous too. It was a weird situation. But, “Didn’t they tell you about me?”

He snorted again and rolled his eyes. “Gave me a whole binder. I never opened it.”

You looked down at your empty place setting, embarrassed. You’d studied every inch of what they’d given you, hoping to show him how seriously you were taking this and he couldn’t care less. “Oh,” was all you were able to say. 

He grinned a little meanly. “You got one too, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve memorized facts about me that you were ready to rattle off to impress me.”

“No,” you growled out. You weren’t going to let him make you feel small just for trying to show interest in the person you were going to have to spend the rest of your life with.

He swiped one hand over his mouth and chin. “My god,” he muttered, “this whole thing is fucking ridiculous.”

The waitress came back and set down your drinks. Ransom immediately took a large gulp of his scotch. You itched to do the same, but you suddenly felt like proving a point. Even if you weren’t entirely sure what that point was. 

You were ready to order, but Ransom hadn’t glanced at his menu yet. Just as you were about to ask for a few more minutes, he said, “Go ahead and bring me another one of these right away,” and gestured with his drink in dismissal. She nodded and left.

Fuck it, you let yourself take a large drink of your wine. “Do you know what you’re going to have?” you asked, nodding to his menu.

He shook his head. “I have dinner plans after this.”

Heat shot through your whole body. “I thought these were the dinner plans.”

He rolled his eyes again. “Getting a head start on the nagging?” he asked, dryly. “Wow, it’s like we’re already married.”

You opened your mouth to do something, you weren’t sure what. Everything in your mind had gone white. But once again, Ransom beat you to it. “Alright, let’s get this done. You’re moving into my house. Fine. But I already have everything we need, so I expect you to pack light. I don’t need your shit cluttering up everything.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know how to have a conversation with him. Someone who left no room for you and seemed not to care at all about anything you had to say. And then there was the voice in your head that kept shouting about how incredibly important this dinner was to the rest of your life. And now it wasn’t even dinner. So when you opened your mouth to speak, what came out was, “I have a dog.”

He stared at you for a moment, seemingly surprised that you’d spoken at all. “What? No. Absolutely not. You’ll have to get rid of it. I hate dogs.”

You didn’t even bother to try to think through the static in your head. “She’s coming with me. I don’t care what else happens, I’m fucking bringing my dog.”

Ransom just narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a moment, then, “Fine. Just keep it away from me. And if it destroys my house, you’re getting rid of it. I’m serious.”  

“She won’t,” you said, as sure of that as anything. “She’s a good girl.”

“Whatever,” he said, as the server returned with his second drink. He slid his empty glass to the end of the table, then said, “The bill,” without looking at her. As she took his empty away, he continued to you, “I don’t know why you want to deal with a dog and a baby, but…” he shrugged.

You just blinked at him, trying to catch up with the massive leap he’d just taken. “Baby? What? Who said anything about a baby?”

He laughed, loudly. “Oh my god, they didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” you asked, harshly, panic starting to build up in your chest. 

“Of course, they fucking left that to me. There’s a clause in the contract,” he said, “requiring you to get pregnant with my child within the first year.”

You stared over his shoulder, you couldn't look him in the eye, horrified and speechless. You couldn’t breathe. How were you supposed to breathe?

“You seriously didn’t read your own marriage contract?” The judgment in his tone had you shrinking in on yourself. You couldn’t help it.

“They didn’t give me any time,” you said, quietly. “They just made me sign it.”

“And you always do what you’re told, don’t you? Yeah, you look like a good girl.” He said it the same way he’d called you polite when he’d first sat down with you. Like it made you weak. Stupid. You’d never thought so before, but now you wondered if he was right.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He chuckled humorlessly. “We agree on that,” he said. “This whole thing is fucked.”

At some point, without your notice, the server had returned with Ransom’s card and the receipt. He signed it quickly, then stood up. “Listen, now, at least, we can go back to our parents, tell them we met, chatted, got to know each other. Everything is hunky dory. And then do whatever we want for the next three weeks. Right now, I’m going to try to salvage my night. You go do,” he gestured vaguely at you, “whatever you need to do. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

And then he was gone and you were alone.

You sat in the back seat of the car on the way back to your apartment, running over every moment of your evening. You kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you, talked to you. A baby. You were supposed to have a baby with him. A child that you’d have to raise. By yourself, judging by how invested in all this he seemed to be. Forty, fifty years of him looking at you like that, talking to you like that. And a baby. You leaned forward and asked the driver to take you to your parents’ house instead. 

Once you arrived, you said you needed to speak to your stepfather urgently and were shown to his study. You stood in the middle of the room, too anxious to sit down, and waited. Everyone was making you wait tonight. 

Several minutes later, Joseph finally came in. “We weren’t expecting you tonight,” he said. “How did it go?”

You ignored his question, which you guessed was an answer in itself. “Please don’t make me do this,” you pleaded. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, disappointed, and moved over to his bar, pouring himself two fingers of decanted whiskey. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was. It was awful. He’s– I can’t do this. Please, please don’t make me.” Your voice broke, but you couldn’t be embarrassed about it, not when you were staring down an entire lifetime with him. 

“Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. You’ll be fine. This is important. To all of us.”

“It’s not nerves!” You were close to shouting, suddenly. “You weren’t there. You don’t know. There have to be other families we need things from. It doesn’t have to be this family, does it? It doesn’t have to be right now. Please, please, anything else. I’m begging you, don’t make me marry him, have a child with him.”

He chuckled lightly. “Oh, that’s what this is about. It won’t feel as scary once the baby is here. You’ll make an excellent mother.”

You just stared at him, agape. He wasn’t listening to anything you had to say. “How could you not tell me that was part of the contract? I deserved to know. I wouldn’t have signed!”

His face hardened at that. “You were naive to not expect it. Of course, children are part of this. I admit that the timing is a little fast, but Harlan insisted.”

“Joseph, please listen to me. I can’t. I can’t. Please. If you care about me at all, you won’t make me do this.”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s done. Everything’s signed. You signed. Now,” he said and took a drink, “it’s getting late. It’s high time you went home. Hopefully, you’ll be able to calm yourself down there.” And then he left the room, ignoring you as your whole world fell apart.

As you left, you passed your mother in the hall. Neither of you said anything.

When you got home, Steve was waiting for you, having already let himself in, holding Lola in one arm. “How did it go?” he asked seriously. You shook your head and finally let the tears fall. He pulled you into his arms, smushing you against your dog, and gently guided you into your home.

Part Two

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[supercap2319]

It's my birthday. So I wanted to ask for one of those NSFW imagines that you do...

Steve Rogers surprising y/n on his birthday (the newest member of the team) by letting him eat his cake (his ass).

Y/N's birthday wish had come true about six weeks before his actual birthday was due. It was like something out of a movie where the main character lands their dream job, or in Y/N's case, his dream team.

Ever since the Avengers first appeared together to save the world, Y/N wanted to be a part of the team. He studied hard in school, played sports, and even the occasional computer classes, but what got him the job was the powers he developed. The power to control the very weather all at his fingertips. Nick Fury was impressed, and after a trial run, Y/N was officially the newest member of the Avengers.

Everyone was welcoming. Sure, Tony liked to pick on Y/N because he was the rookie of the team, Steve, aka Captain America, always had his back. Y/N couldn't help but fall for the Captain. He was so nice and kind. He showed Y/N the ropes on missions, and he never lost his patience with Y/N. Even when the situation called for it.

Y/N and Steve were an inseparable team after the first few weeks. Steve would teach Y/N everything he knew from battle techniques to planning and strategizing. In return, Y/N had shown Steve how to work a phone and the internet. What memes were and social media. That's probably how Steve found out it was Y/N's birthday.

The young Avenger didn't want to make a spectacle of his birthday, so he didn't bother telling anyone about it. Y/N figured he could spend a quiet Friday night alone with some Netflix. He was wrong.

Y/N enters his room to find Steve waiting for him on his bed with a small smirk on his face. He wore a blue bathroom and fuzzy red slippers. This was so different from the "old man clothes" as Tony liked to call them that Steve usually wore. His blue eyes were shining with a hidden mischief. "Hey, Y/N."

"Hey, Cap. What's up? How did you get into my room?"

"J.A.R.V.I.S. let me in. Hope that's fine with you?"

"Of course. Did you need something?" Y/N asked, eyebrows raised at Steve's attire.

Steve stood up and walked towards him. Y/N frowns and gulps as Steve gets closer until he can see the flecks of black in baby blue eyes. His lips are pink and plump. So full and shining with some sort of coat. Probably, lip bomb. "It occurred to me that today was your birthday today, and you didn't tell anyone. Why?" Steve looks at Y/N.

Y/N blushed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I didn't want to make a big deal about it."

"You should. We're a team now. We celebrate everyone's birthday together. But we can tell the others tomorrow. For now, I have a cake for you." Steve smiled, but he was also blushing very hard, which made him look even more adorable and innocent than he usually did.

"You baked me a cake? You didn't have to do that."

"It's a different kind of cake. And I need you to frost it for me. I can't reach back there."

Before Y/N could ask what that meant, Steve dropped his robe and revealed he was wearing a patriotic thong. Captain America turned around, and the floss of the fabric was so tight around Steve bare ass crack and made his white boy cheeks even bigger than they were and believe Y/N, he's seen Steve in his suit. He knew those glutes would be big.

"Steve, what are you doing?" Y/N blushed, but he couldn’t deny he's actually fantasized Steve doing this just for him. Showing him America's ass.

"I told you. I want you to frost my cake with your tongue. Maybe you'll give me your frosting?" Steve pulled the thong to the side of his cheeks and exposed his pinkish hole. It winked at him. "Please, Y/N?"

Y/N looks shocked. Was Steve really giving him his ass for his birthday? He must be dreaming, right? He pinched himself. He wasn't. This was real, and so was Steve. Steve wanted it. The pinnacle of American dreams was right in front of him, shaking his tight ass.

The young Avenger walked towards Steve and bent him forward against the bed as Y/N spread those golden boy ass cheeks and began to lick Captain America's ass like a dying man.