#chris evans fic

[chxrryhansen]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁 𝐀𝐔

Pairing; Dark!Club Owner Ari x Shy!Reader

Warnings; dark themes, unbalanced power dynamic, daddy kink, no smut in this part but as usual Minors Please DNI!!

Summary; You knew it was a bad idea showing up to the most notorious club in the city, but it’s your best friend’s birthday and you can’t say no, right? So, what happens when the owner himself, Ari Levinson, spots you at the bar, claiming you as his own from the moment he laid eyes on you.

It’s finally here! The first instalment of my very first series, apologies for no smut but i promise the next part will be very smutty to make up for it 👀 bare in mind this is just the introduction!!! please don’t be afraid to ask questions and remember to reblog and comment💗 i love to hear your guys feedback!

You climb out of the uber, reaching to pull the hem of your dress down as you and your friends stumble towards the club.

You had finally agreed to try out the biggest club in the city, "Cherry Bomb.” Since it was your best friend Sarah's birthday your group decided it was only fair she could choose which clubs you were going to tour for the night. You had been putting it off ever since the opening night a few months ago, the reputation not being something you had particularly wished to be involved with.

All you knew was bad things happened there, and from what you had heard the owners, Ari Levinson and Lloyd Hansen, two brothers in arms, were so cruel and unforgiving that even the richest men in the city dared not to step foot in the place, and those who did shortly regretted it. Their names were known around the streets, the most notorious club owners to exist, 70% of clubs in the city all belonging to them, more money under their belt than the government itself.

An incident a few weeks back had became the talk of the town, according to Sarah a well known patron had gotten a little handsy with one of the clubs dancers and when he was given a warning to back off, he refused. Claiming he spent enough money in the club grounds to do as he pleased, including groping innocent dancers without permission.

Long story short the bouncers ended up forcibly removing the man, cussing and struggling on his way out of course, you know, the usual druken male rage and feeling of entitlement. Seemed like a pretty convenient coincidense that the exact same night the man was found beaten to a bloody pulp in a back alley, his face practically unrecognisible.

It wasn't long before the 'rumour' was quickly snuffed out. They were good at that, making things.. people, dissapear. Almost as if it never happened... as if they never exhisted.

Now that you were standing infront of it, you couldn't deny, it was beautiful. Even from the outside, the bright neon sign glowing in the moonlight, multiple bouncers blocking the large glass stained doors, making sure to check each persons id before unhooking the stanchion, allowing said persons entry. The queue seeming endless.

Lucky for you, your friends had been gifted VIP tickets, you didn't even bother to ask who they got those from, or how. You didn't want to know. You flashed your id at the pretty bouncer, his buzzed hair, large muscles and stern face making it quite obvious as to why he had the job he did.

You bounced your foot as he scanned over your card before opening the barrier and letting you inside. Sarah was quick to grip each of your hands, practically dragging you inside once you began to hesitate, not wanting you to change your mind so soon.

"Come on, babe, let's get those sweet legs moving!" Sarah hollers from ahead, her hand intertwined with your own as the rest of the girls hurried towards a booth.

"I-I don't know if this is a good idea, Sare.." you mumbled, fiddling with your fingers as she tugged you towards your friends and giving you a slight nudge into the cushioned seats, the red velvet material instantly soothing your hot thighs as you sat.

She reached down, holding your cheeks in both hands and facing you towards herself, sliding into the booth next to you "Listen, i know you're worried and if it makes you feel better i promise we can leave and go somewhere else, but just give it a try, please...for me?" she pleaded, giving you her famous puppy dog eyes.

"You know i can't resist that face." you whined as she cheered.

As you slowly got more drunk you began to forget why you didn't want to visit. The atmosphere was astronomical, the whole club being fit for royalty. The girls hooted and hollered as you trotted off towards the bar on your way to buy in a round of drinks. You waited at the bar with your card in hand but as you went to hand it over to the bartender he paused you.

“It’s on the house.” he says while he wipes down the bar with a rag, a smile on his face. He was handsome in all fairness, standing at around 6'2, his bright blonde locks and pretty blue eyes causing you to pause for a moment before giving him a puzzled look, tilting your head sideways.

“Is it a nightly special or something? I didn’t see anything about free drinks on the poster outside…” you begin yet he’s already scuttling off to take another couples order, shooting you a sly smile over his shoulder. Leaving you even more confused than before.

You slowly reach for the tray of shots when you feel a large hand on your shoulder, causing you to spin around in shock, ready to fight off any unwanted men. You pause yet again, having to look up to catch the mans face.

His 6’5 form towers over your much smaller figure, dressed in a dark purple suit and tie, his pearly blues shining in the colourful strobe lights, looking down at you with a slight smirk. His dark beard covered most of his face and his long curtains framed his godly sculpted face. Even with his suit on his arms bulged through the material, his thick biceps almost bigger than your head.

You shortly snapped out of your daze as his leather gloved hand squeezed your arm. “C-Can i help you, sir?” you stammered, worried incase you had been caught gauking.

He laughs “Not even a thankyou, Sweetheart? I thought you’d have better manners than that.” he teases, his rough voice sending shivers down your spine. You stutter as you try to find your words, seeming as they were lodged in the back of your throat.

“I’m kidding, name’s Ari…you gonna’ give me the curtesy of knowing yours or you just gonna’ keep starin’ at me with those pretty eyes?”

“A-Ari as in… Levinson?” you question, swallowing harshly as the nerves quickly built in your stomach.

He shakes his head gently with a smirk "So you know me, huh?"

Your eyes widen at the realisation of who the mystery man is, your arms instantly beginning to shake, your card still in hand. You were never good at dealing with situations such as this one, always being labled as the 'shy girl' of your group. Sarah being the complete opposite. Usually men in this situation would back off, sensing your uncomfortable trembles and leaving you alone, but not Ari. If anything the smirk on his face grew wider at the sense of your fear.

"Steve, why don't you head over to booth two, give the girls their shots." Ari calls out towards the handsome bartender from earlier.

The man, Steve, is at your side in an instant "No prob man, have fun you two." he winks, collecting the glasses and sauntering off with a wink.

Ari shakes his head with a laugh, “Why don’t you come with me.” he leans down to whisper in your ear. The vibration of his vocals in your ears sending shivers down your spine before he struts forwards, holding out his thick palm for you to grab on to, and almost as if your in a trance, you begin to trail behind him without hesitation. Sliding your smaller palm into his own as he led you through the club.

Your nerves never allowed you to talk much, or make your own decisions, that being the reason you followed the stranger without any question asked, which is exactly why Sare was usually always there to do it for you. But, your drunken confidence had allowed you to go to the bar alone, which you were beginning to really regret. Your confidence being blown out of the park as the attractive beast watched you from infront with a careful eye.

Shortly you arried at the unknown destination, trailing nervously behind Ari as he unlocked a large door, which was infact bolted shut. He pushed open the door, looking down at you, edging you to enter, and so you did. Your eyes lit up as they searched the vast room, expensive furnature lining the room, bottles of champagne worth more than your house filling the cupboards above his desk.

Ari pushed the door closed, moving to sit on a cushioned purple chair, his thick thighs spread wide as he removed his gloves, pouring himself, and you, a glass of his finest drink. His cold eyes beckoned you forwards, your legs shaking as you stepped towards him, standing inbetween his spread legs.

He patted his thigh with one hand "Sit." he called out, his voice sweet yet stern.

You looked at him shocked, your lips parting slightly, were you really going to sit on his lap? A man you just met? Who you didn't even know? "I-I don't think i should Mr Levinson." you whispered.

His eyes grew shades darker at your refusal, not even giving you time to debate your decisions he reached out, gripping your waist in his thick palm and pulling you down, sitting you sideways on his lap as you gasp in shock. His other hand pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear as you squirmed under the pressure.

"Pretty girl, next time i ask you to do something, you do it. No questions asked. You understand?" he asked in a low growl.

You swallowed your nerves and nodded gently under his deep gaze, your body trembling.

"Ah ah, words baby."

"Yes, M-Mr Levinson, I-I understand."

Ari groaned underneath his breath, not understanding how lucky he had gotten that a pretty little thing like you would just waltse right in at the perfect moment, almost as if you were made for him. Like a lamb in a lions den. "As much as i love the way you say my name, call me Ari, sweet girl."

Again, you followed his command. "Yes, Ari."

"Good girl." he rumbled, pulling your bottom lip gently inbetween his index and thumb, loving the way you felt on his lap. Your innocence and submissive nature automatically triggering his dominance, his cock growing hard in his slacks as your plump ass squirmed on his knee.

You keened at his praise, a fluttery feeling appearing in your lower half. Of course Ari noticed this, the way your pussy pulsated on his thigh told him all he needed to know.

"You ever been with a man before, sweetheart?" Ari asks while he strokes your hair, not even having to shout due to the soundproof room blocking out the clubs music.

"Um, n-no i haven't, my Grandma wouldn't really approve of that sort of stuff, she said i should wait till m-marriage." you whisper shyly.

Ari blows out a puff of air at your innocence, desperately trying to control himself. All he wants is to ruin you, in every way you can imagine, and more. He smirks, leaning into your shoulder, pressing his nose against your sensitive neck and taking a deep inhale. Groaning softly, your sweet scent driving his instincts wild.

"Your Grandma seems like a very smart lady, little girl. You live with just her, huh?"

"Yeah, i never really knew my m-mom and dad, and my grandpa died shorly after i was born s-so it's pretty much always just been me and her. She does her best to take care of me, taught me everything i know." you speak with a bright smile, Ari notices how your stutter stopped when talking about her, he thought it was sweet, how much you must care about her.

However, the dark side of his mind was quick to take a seat, the realisation that you never had a father figure making his cock impossibly harder. Knowing he could be that for you, and knowing you needed a strong man like him in your life to make all those decisions for you.

"I think i changed my mind, baby. Why don't you call me daddy from now on, mkay?" he spoke softly, yet the edge in his tone still clear.

"D-Daddy?" you muttered, confused as to why he would want you to call him that.

He moaned hearing your sweet voice call him by his new found title. Taking a deep breath, he sighed, choosing not to elaborate on his previous statement. "Good girl. I'm gonna' take care of you from now on, yeah? Anything you need, you come to me. Pass me your phone, sweet girl."

"Oh, i-i don't have a phone.. daddy."

Ari's eyebrows knit together softly "You don't have a phone? Why not?"

You shake your head, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "We uhm, w-we can't really afford that sort of stuff."

"Well that just won't do." he speaks in a teasing tone, tickling your waist making you giggle softly.

Suddenly a loud bang causes you to shoot upright, you quickly dash off Ari's lap, moving to stand away from him, his office door slamming shut as a tall moustached man enters. Your eyes widen in fright, knowing how violent the man standing infront of you truly was. You knew who he was too, Sare had told you plenty of stories about the cruel Lloyd Hansen. You often wondered if he even had a soul.

"Man it's fuckin' packed down there, what the fuck are you doing up here." the man groans, not even noticing you until he turns. He lifts his sunglasses, staring you down, his eyes scanning over your figure, pausing and licking his lips at the soft flesh beneath the cut of your dress, your pretty pink dress having ridden up your thighs.

"Lloyd." Ari bellows, sighing in annoyance at his disruption.

A smirk similar to Ari's appears on the man, Lloyd's, face. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" he speaks in a sultry voice. He begins his descent in your direction and the second gets a little too close, Ari shoots up out of his seat, moving to stand infront of you. A low rumble vibrating through his chest.

Ari stood slightly taller than Lloyd, with broader shoulders and thicker legs, the muscles in his back visible as he stood infront of you, almost as if he was protecting you, a hand wrapped around your hips rubbing his thumb in circular motions over your dress….and of course the most important detail, his luscious full beard compared to Lloyds 90s porn stache. They stared each other down, asserting some sort of dominance over one another… Ari seemingly winning as Lloyd begins to back up.

He lets out a chuckle, lifting his hands in a surrender position, taking a few steps back. "I mean no harm, just wanna' ask the pretty girl for her name, s'all."

You begin to quiver yet again, Lloyd's presence scaring you back into your shell. His dangerous aura sending goosebumps across your trembling figure. "I-I think i sh-should go." you whisper, tugging at the hem of your dress in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves.

"Don't move, sweets. Lloyd. Get the fuck out of here man." Ari bellows.

“I think you’ll find this club is mine just as much as it is yours, big bro. C’mon. Introduce me to the beauty.” he chucked yet again, probably at Ari’s fury. Steam was practically pouring out of his ears at this point. He didn’t even want Lloyd looking at you, nevermind talking to you.

“I mean it Lloyd get the fuck outta’ here man-“

Before he can stop you, you make a quick dash for the door and at the sound of Ari's resistance your legs carry you quicker than you could've ever imagined. Not looking back once as you pull the door open, swiftly shutting the door behind you.

You take a deep, your chest heaving at the stress of the situation, wiping your sweaty hands on your dress and making your descent down the club stairs, shaking your head in confusion and fear, eager to find your friends, craving their comfort and hearing a hushed "You fuckin' asshole." in the distance.

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x you #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans fic #ari levinson fic #chxrrys fics! #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n

[lilacevans]

𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝑖 𝑑𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑠𝑘… 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜?

𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏 ༊*·˚ | take a peak here! •°. *࿐

✧* meet the brothers | meet the uncles | check out the playlist *✧

the concept *✧ ༊*·˚

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ -> gif set one - pete finds out

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ -> gif set two - ari meets with his uncle

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ -> gif set three - the boys are arguing, again

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ -> gif set four - anywhere you want | pete brenner

meet the family *✧ ༊*·˚

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬: 𝐀𝐑𝐈 | 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒 | 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 | 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 | 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄 | 𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐃

*updated daily!

the introduction *✧ ༊*·˚

opening night *✧ ༊*·˚

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ -> pete's place: the regulars

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ -> visitor: ransom drysdale

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ -> pete's place: the staff (coming soon!)

pete's place presents: the drabbles. *✧ ༊*·˚

*minors need not interact. this is a 18+ space.

*this is a dark au, with heavy topics & triggers. happy endings do not happen here.

#chris evans #— lila’s secret project🤎 #chris evans fic #chris evans imagine #pete brenner fic #pete brenner #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen fic #curtis everett #curtis everett fic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #jake jensen fic #jake jensen #ari levinson #ari levinson fic #pete's place #lila writes

[imyourbratzdoll]

y/n has scars on their back/shoulders (battle scars, from going on many missons together.). one day y/n has their back exposed, in a dress. at a private gathering, and lloyd hugs them from behind, kissing down y/n's back. when y/n asks what lloyd is doing, tang replies “no one has ever kissed them before, so I’m doing it now.”

hope you like it, thank you for sending it! I enjoy your requests.

summary - lloyd doesn't like when people make his wife feel insecure about her scars.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

When Y/n and Lloyd Hansen entered the room, it seemed time had stopped. Why wouldn’t it? The couple looked like they were carved by gods, with Y/n wearing an off-white, beige backless dress and Lloyd wearing his signature white pants with the tightest black turtleneck you could get. No man or woman would dare try to make moves on either one, knowing how possessive they were of each other.

After a while of being at this gathering, Y/n walked over to the bar and ordered herself a vodka. Ignoring all the whispers and murmurs about the scars on her back, the woman might be someone you wouldn’t want to cross, but she was insecure like everyone else.

Lloyd glared at the people gossiping about his wife, wishing he could kill them all, but that would be bad for business, and he couldn’t afford to lose all of his money now, not when he plans to have a big family with the woman of his dreams. Instead, he saunters over to Y/n, his arms slithering around her form, and he leans down to place soft kisses against the jagged scars. Lloyd starts with the ones along her shoulders before kissing down to the ones covering her gorgeous back.

Y/n sighs, her hands are resting on his arms that hold her close. “Lloyd, what are you doing? People are talking.” She breathes out, feeling her heart warm at the loving gesture. Her head tilts back, letting her husband continue his mission, knowing he doesn’t mean any harm.

Lloyd pulls back, coming up until his mouth is near her ear and whispers. “No one has ever kissed them before, so I’m doing it now.” His long, rough fingertips run along the scars. “You won't let me when we’re home, even though you got them saving my ass. So I’m showing everyone they can stare and talk all they want.” Lloyd spins you around, staring deep into your eyes, his hand coming up, and he grips your chin. “But in my eyes, you are a goddess and always will be, even with those scars.”

Y/n smiles, grabbing the back of his neck and bringing Lloyd into a passionate kiss. “I love you, handsome.”

“I love you too, pumpkin.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollasks #wndawtchask #imyourbratzdollwork #chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans angst #chris evans blurb #chris evans characters #chris evans drabble #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fandom #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #chris evans one shot #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x fem! reader #chris evans x reader fluff #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chrisevans #christopher robert evans #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen fanfic

[intoanotherworld23]

Good For You

Pairing: Reader x Chris Evans

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, this whole thing is pure smut and sex, there’s female oral, fingering, a smidge of choking, bondage, unprotected sex

Summary: Chris has got you right where he wants you, and all you want to be is a good girl for him

I haven’t posted anything about Chris for a while so enjoy y’all! Let me know what you think in the comments and be sure to reblog, reblog, reblog!! XOXO

Check out my Hall Of Hunks

"Oh god."

The heat between your legs was becoming almost unbearable at this moment. It was like an ache you couldn't get rid of, and it was starting to get to you.

Fingers gripping onto the hand rails behind your head as the silk fabric started to cut into your skin.

Back arching off the bed as your toes became entangled in the cold sheets. It was like you were being tortured, and you loved every minute of it.

Your legs were numb to feeling as they were constantly shaking, and thick hands were gripping your soft flesh.

A wet tongue lapping relentlessly at your raw core. Running circles around your dripping opening like you were his last meal. The sounds of your slickness like music to his ears. He could keep you like this all day, and you knew he would too.

"Mhhhm. More Chris." Whispering just enough for him to hear.

"You want more?" Tongue sucking onto your clit making your cry out.

Diving his tongue right in as his fingers spread your lips apart getting easier access. Nuzzling his face so close his nose was brushing against your clit. His tongue massaging your inner walls as his hands rubbed soothing circles on your outer knees.

Rotating your hips against his face wanting more, but unable to open your mouth and say the words. His tongue literally had you speechless right now.

"Something wrong sweetheart?" His tone condescending as he smirked up at you. "Did you need something?"

Pushing two fingers inside of you admiring how tight you were. Biting your bottom lip so harshly you thought you might draw blood. His fingers felt so delicious inside of you.

Your limbs felt so heavy but relaxed at the same time. Whining down at Chris to go faster, and he responded with a light chuckle.

"Can't wait to fuck that little cunt of yours." He says biting his bottom lip.

His thick fingers continued to slowly thrust and curl inside of you. Waiting for your response as you gasped when he sharply pushed his digits all the way up into your cervix. He was in complete control over you, and had you right where he wanted you.

"Cat got your tongue?" He teased when you weren't responding.

Watching intensely as your mouth hung open, and only little squeaks came out. Kissing up your stomach as he nuzzled your hot skin loving how vulnerable you were for him. Really pulling against your restraints hoping he would untie you.

"Such a poor little thing aren't you." Chris coos into your ear. "So desperate to cum."

"Chris." Mewling desperate to grip onto his locks or just something.

Instead of responding he just pulls apart your thighs even more. The slight burn radiating all the way down to your calves. Meanwhile he just stared between your legs licking his lips noticing just how wet and raw you looked.

"Fuck just look at you." Shaking his head in almost disbelief you were all his. "Look so fucking beautiful."

Watching as he lowers one of his hands to grip onto his very erect cock. Stroking himself groaning in pain from how sensitive he was. All he wanted right now was to bury himself deep inside of you.

Even though it was a very simple motion it was still the hottest thing you had ever seen. Grinding your hips into the air wanting him to touch you or something. Of course Chris saw what you were doing and grinned down at you.

"What do you want baby?" Reaching out to grip softly onto your neck with the same hand that gripped his cock just seconds ago.

"Chris." Whining up at him just hoping he would give it to you.

"No no." He shakes his head at you. "My sweet girl I want to hear you say it."

His hand tightening around your neck just slightly. Feeling the pressure of his fingers against your throat. Smoothly running his hand down past your collarbone, and in between your breasts. Feeling just how heavily your were breathing.

Chris was known for pushing you past your comfort zone. He wanted you to always give in to what he wanted when it came to sex. He wanted you and nobody else.

Just to tease you even more he places the tip of his cock at your entrance. Gathering your juices and rubbing it up and down. Twisting your hips to get more, but he just grabbed your hips to keep you still.

"Tell me like the good little girl you are." His tip barely just entering you.

"Please fuck me Chris." Finally able to say the words. "Just fuck me so hard I want your cock so badly."

Smiling down at you as he leaned forward to attach his lips to yours. His mouth moving along yours in such a sensual manner you felt so many sparks of fireworks. Feeling the outline of his cock pressed against your cunt.

Pushing his tongue inside your mouth at the same time he pushed his length inside of you. Swallowing your moans as his hips were pressed into your pelvis. Staying there for just a few seconds so you could adjust. Savoring the moment your walls enclosed around him like little suckers.

"Such a tight delicious pussy for me." He groaned as he pulled out and pushing back in. "Gonna have to fuck you more often sweetheart."

He begins to pound into your cunt with no mercy. The sounds of his hips slapping against yours. Moving the bed and slamming the headboard into the wall. His little grunts echoing in your ear and he moved relentlessly inside of you.

Feeling the fabric rubbing against your skin even harder creating a burning sensation. Typically the pain would have brought tears to your eyes, but right now it was only heightening the pleasure even more intensely.

"Look at me sweet girl." Commanding you noticing your shut eyes. "Look into my eyes as you cum around my cock."

Noticing how his jaw clenched as he grit his teeth staring deep into your eyes. Feeling your cheeks begin to become hot with such an intimate interaction. It was just you and him in this moment, and he wanted you to become lost in each other.

"That's my good girl." He praised you. "Always such a good sweet girl for me."

Wrapping your legs tightly around his waist as you began to feel that intense feeling building inside your stomach. Breasts bouncing back and forth with the motion of his rocking. His eyes looking down at them with lust. Unable to bear it anymore as he attached your left breast into his mouth.

"Oh my god." Crying out throwing your head back.

Chris could tell you were right there with each squeeze around his cock. He wanted to cum at the same time that you did. Holding himself back from spilling his seed inside of you too soon. Sweating so heavily he felt like he would almost pass out.

Lifting his head to look down at where you two are connected. Noticing as each time his cock pulls out a white creamy like substance strings along his length. The image drives him absolutely feral. Moving in and out of you so harshly your afraid he might actually break your body.

Your pathetic whimpers and moans are what keep him motivated. His eyes staying concentrated on your completely blissed out face. Your pupils are so dilated from being high off of each other.

"Cum for me sweetheart." He begs you unable to hold back any longer.  "I'm right there."

One of his hands reached down between you two to rub circles against your bundle of nerves. That was enough to send you spiraling. Your toes curling as your whole body shook with such an intense orgasm. Legs trembling against Chris’s hips as he held onto you.

Spilling his own seed inside of you his cock twitching a couple of times as he drained the last of his fluid. Laying against you feeling absolutely tired but relaxed.

"Was that okay?" He asked timidly as he reached up to untie your sore wrists. Your limbs falling straight down. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No." Responding out of breath eyes fluttering. "No Chris it was perfect."

"Good." He smiled up at you snuggling against your sweaty body his head on your chest. "Cause I'm not done with you yet."

#Chris evans #chris Evans smut #chris Evans oneshot #chris Evans imagines #chris Evans fanfic #chris Evans fanfiction #Chris evans x reader #chris evans fic

[fatecantstopme]

Fake It Til You Make It

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Summary: You’d just broken up with your boyfriend of 2 years after he cheated on you. Chris Evans, your best friend since childhood, suggests pretending to be your boyfriend to get back at your ex. You execute the plan flawlessly, but it has unintended consequences that threaten to change everything.

Warnings: RPF. Cursing. Fluff, angst, SMUT! Oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), dirty talk, over-stimulation.

"There is absolutely no way I'm going to this damn party."

"Aw, come on, (Y/N/N)," Chris chided. "It's Saturday night. What else are you gonna do?"

You sighed. "Sit in my pjs on the couch, watching a serial killer documentary, obviously."

Chris laughed and threw a dish towel at you. "As fantastic as that sounds, you're single now! You have to actually go outside and meet people."

You tossed the towel into the washer and grumbled, "What if I don't want to meet people?"

He rolled his eyes. "If you don't come, then I'll have no one to gossip with."

"As if I'm your only friend."

"You're my best friend, and as such, you have a very special role to fill. It's required."

You groaned, back leaning against the front of the washer. "Chris, I have nothing to wear." He was about to respond, but you continued. "Besides, he'll be there."

Chris's expression changed, anger darkening his features. "Who cares about him? He was never good enough for you anyway."

You crossed your arms over your chest. "You literally introduced us."

He threw up his hands. "Mistakes were made."

"I know it's been a couple months, but it's just...I don't know. I don't wanna see him. Especially if he's with one of the girls he cheated on me with."

"Even if he's there with an entire brothel, you can't let it bother you. You deserve so much more than that."

You sighed. "I know, I know. I just don't wanna go alone."

"You'll be with me!" he insisted.

You laughed. "Not exactly what I meant, Chris."

"Oh. So you'd rather go with some lesser man?" he teased.

"Oh stop," you said with a chuckle. "But seriously, he's gonna be there with a girl and I just don't wanna be the loser ex who shows up without a man on her arm."

"Since when do you care what other people think?"

"I don't...I just--" you sigh. "I wanna make him jealous."

Chris raised his eyebrows. "Well then...I have the perfect plan."

"Oh?"

"We go together."

"Yes, you already said that."

"No, you misunderstand," he said with a quick shake of his head. "You and I go together...make everyone believe we're dating. He'll be out of his mind with jealousy."

Normally you wouldn't have considered his suggestion...the deception just wasn't your style. But your ex had really fucked you over and you couldn't deny that getting back at him was very appealing. Especially using Chris...your ex always thought you and Chris were too close, that something was actually going on between the two of you.

"So we just pretend to be dating to piss him off?" you asked.

Chris nodded.

"Okay," you say. "Against my better judgment, I'm in."

He grinned ear to ear. "I'm brilliant, aren't I?"

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up and help me find something to wear."

He laughed and followed you to your bedroom closet. "There's gotta be something in here you can wear."

Your closet was packed with clothing, but you didn't really see anything that appealed to you. "Nothing looks good."

He rolled his eyes and grabbed a dress off the rack. "How 'bout this one?"

"Too trampy."

"This one?" he asked, pulling out a different dress.

"Too formal."

"Maybe this?"

"Doesn't fit right."

He groaned. "Then why do you have it?"

"Because it's cute and I'll get it altered at some point."

"Women are so weird," he grumbled as he dug through several more dresses before pulling out what he deemed to be the perfect one. "This has to be it."

You cocked your head to the side as you looked at the dress. It was cut just above the knee, jet black, form-fitting, and all around beautiful. Plus it did accentuate all of your assets. "Hmm. That might actually work," you said thoughtfully. "I'll throw it on, you go find shoes that'll go with it."

You walked back into your bedroom to change as Chris dug through your massive shoe collection in an attempt to find the perfect pair.

"Heels, right?" he called.

"Obviously," you yelled back.

"Black?"

"Just pick something sexy, Christopher! We're trying to make someone jealous here."

You heard him laugh and mumble something you couldn't quite make out. You shook your head as you started changing. Chris had been your best friend since you were little kids...you'd known each other so long neither of you actually remembered meeting. Even after he became a famous actor, who he was never changed. He never pulled away from you or made you feel inferior. He never stopped being the person you loved, your best friend in the world, your solid rock. You were more thankful for him than you would ever admit to his face...mostly because he would tease you relentlessly for it for the rest of your lives.

You'd managed to get the dress on, but you needed help with the zipper, so you called for Chris to come help you.

"Whatcha need?"

"Zip this for me?" you asked, turning your back to him.

He froze for a moment, but recovered quickly, thankful you hadn't seen his reaction. He quickly crossed the room and slowly zipped your dress up, trying very hard to not linger against your skin.

"Thanks," you said warmly, completely oblivious to the change in his demeanor. "Did you find a pair of shoes?"

The question brought him back to the present, eyes shifting back towards the closet. "I found two that could work."

You picked one of the pairs of shoes and finished getting ready. Chris needed to change his clothes before heading to the party, so he drove both of you back to his place so you could arrive together. He was quick to change into a laidback black suit with a white button up, top buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. Even you had to admit he looked damn good.

"Ready, buttercup?" he asked teasingly.

"Oh god, please come up with a different pet name."

He slipped his arm through yours and dragged you towards the door. "How 'bout 'snookums'?"

The look on your face told him exactly what you thought about that particular name.

"Okay, okay. Maybe 'peach'?"

"I'm not a fruit, Christopher."

"Oh come on, that one's sweet!"

"Was that a pun?" you teased.

"Wait, I've got it. Sweets?"

You paused for a moment, mulling it over. "That one can stay."

"Brilliant. But fair warning, I'm totally gonna squeeze a "googely bear" in there at least once."

"Isn't that from Monster's Inc.?"

He grinned. "Yup and I have no shame, smoochie poo."

You groaned. "God, you're the worst."

He gave you the biggest shit-eating-grin you'd ever seen. "You love me and you know it."

You laughed. "Yeah, yeah."

Chris opened the car door for you and helped you into the vehicle. As he was walking around to the other side, you thought about what you were about to do. You knew this could end very badly in more ways than one, but for some reason, you were positive it was worth it.

**********

When you arrived at the party, people immediately took notice that the two of you arrived together. Most people made the obvious assumption: you were best friends and both single...so why not just go together?

But some people's gazes lingered longer, whispers passed amongst each other, the gossip mill already flowing.

"Damn they move quickly," you mumbled.

Chris chuckled. "Welcome to Hollywood."

You knew he wasn't wrong. While you weren't famous, you'd been dating a celebrity for the past two years. Plus, Chris was always dragging you to movie premieres and red carpet events, so people knew who you were by association. As such, you were no stranger to the rumors and the gossipmongers.

Chris spoke softly, leaning into you so only you could hear. "How far do you wanna take this?"

"What do you mean?" you whispered back.

"Do I make out with you in a corner or just hold your hand like high schoolers?"

You laughed lightly. "Let's just play it by ear, you weirdo."

He grinned. "So that's a yes to the make out?"

You smacked his arm affectionately.

"I think that's considered domestic abuse."

You were about to respond to his joke, but a deep voice from behind you sent a chill down your spine, silencing you instantly.

"(Y/N), Evans. Surprised to see you here."

You turned around slowly, Chris directly beside you. "Andrew," you said, trying desperately to sound normal.

"Why so surprised?" Chris asked in his best 'fuck off' voice.

"Well, (Y/N) hasn't exactly been a socialite in the last few months. I assumed she wouldn't want to show up to a party like this."

"I'm literally right here, Andrew," you said, annoyed.

"Yes, I see you, (Y/N)," he replied, turning his attention back to Chris. "How'd she coerce you into bringing her?"

Chris looked surprised, but his expression quickly changed to anger. "She's my best friend. She'd never have to coerce me." He turned to you with a smile. "Besides, we're together now, so you'll see us out together a lot more often."

You returned his smile and stood on your tip toes to place a soft kiss to his lips, which he returned in kind.

You could feel the annoyance and anger rolling off your ex in thick waves. "You were fucking him behind my back weren't you? I fucking knew it, you slut," he hissed.

You felt Chris's body tense and knew he was about to take a swing, so you grabbed his arm and did your best to cut the fight off before it started. "No, Andrew. Unlike you, I know how to keep it in my pants."

A couple people had gathered close to the three of you to eavesdrop on your conversation. Several "Ooo"s and an "oh damn" came from the group.

Andrew's jaw tightened and he clearly wanted to say more, but thought better of it when he noticed the group of onlookers quickly enlarging.

Chris, however, wasn't quite finished with the conversation. He leaned forward, face a mask of unreadable emotion, and said firmly, "If you ever call my girl a slut again, I promise you'll regret it."

Even if you hadn't known the man your entire life, you would have known he was deadly serious. Every single one of his words dripped with animosity and his eyes burned with an intensity you had rarely seen. To your surprise, the way he called you his girl had your body reacting in a way you didn't expect.

You gently pulled on Chris's arm, dragging him with you and away from the conversation, no longer wanting to talk to the man you used to love. "Let it go, Chris," you said softly. "He's not worth it."

"You're right," he murmured, eyes still burning like the sun.

You managed to get him to follow you into another room before turning to him to inspect his expression. He was fiercely protective by nature, but you didn't want him to feel like he needed to protect you. You could still feel the remnants of his temper festering beneath his skin, so you gently pressed your hand to his chest, bringing his attention back to you.

"As much as I appreciate you defending my honor, you don't have to," you said gently.

"Of course I do."

You smiled softly. "You and I both know that's not true, but I appreciate it nonetheless. There's no need to hold onto your anger, though."

He realized you were right, your hand pressed firmly against his chest somehow grounding him. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on top of yours, giving it a little squeeze. "You're right," he admitted. "Thanks for keeping me from punching him right in his smug face."

You chuckled. "As much as I would have loved to see that, I figured it wouldn't be good with so many witnesses."

"Smart," he said with a wink. "Now that we've made it clear we're together, I think we'll need to up our acting a bit...ensure he knows how badly he fucked up by losing you."

"And how exactly do you propose we do that?"

He grinned. "I've got some ideas." He grabbed your hand and started to pull you towards the main room of the party. "Step one, we dance."

You groaned as he dragged you onto the dance floor. "You know I can't dance."

"That's not true. You have excellent rhythm. You just need to get out of your head for a second and let the music guide you."

You stared at him in silence, but finally succumbed to his silent pleas. "Fine. You can put the puppy dog eyes away now," you teased.

He shot you another wink. "Works every time."

"I hate you," you grumbled as you allowed him to pull you closer.

"No you don't." He started to move to the music, hands traveling down to sit on your hips.

Your cheeks burned and your body reacted to his touch in a way it hadn't in a long time. You'd thought those feelings were long-since buried, but the way he was looking at you brought everything you'd ever felt for him back with a vengeance.

"You're right, I don't," you whispered.

"I know, baby girl," he said softly. "Now, dance with me."

You tried to ignore the feeling in your stomach when he called you 'baby girl', choosing instead to focus on the beat of the music. Your hips started to move, his hands helping to guide you in time with his own movements.

"See? I told you you could dance."

The song ended and switched to something a lot more sensual and your body immediately froze. "Not to this I can't," you insisted.

Chris laughed and quickly spun you around before pulling you against his chest. "I'll teach you," he murmured against the skin of your shoulder.

You didn't know if it was the song, his voice, or the way his arms wrapped around you, but your body responded to him instantly. Your breath caught in your chest and wetness pooled between your thighs as Chris moved behind you in a shockingly sexual manner. Your normally stiff body loosened up in his grasp, moving to the rhythm he set.

"Perfect," he whispered breathily.

You moved with him, body acting of its own accord. You looked up, gaze landing on Andrew, who stood fuming on the other side of the room.

Chris seemed to notice him at the same time. "You see how angry he is, sweets?" he said softly.

"Mhmm," you hummed.

"Keep staring directly at him, okay? Keep your eyes on him as you move."

You did as he said, eyes never leaving your ex's, even as Chris's hands began to wander, moving around your body in the way only a lover's would. His lips placed soft kisses to your shoulder, neck, and ear, hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

You couldn't help the reaction you had to his touch, it was as if your body was no longer your own. It was obvious to anyone who bothered to pay attention that you were aroused, and Andrew was definitely paying attention. You could see his anger from across the room, but more importantly, you could see jealousy in his eyes.

You'd gotten what you wanted. You'd made him jealous. For some reason, however, you couldn't find it in yourself to care. The plan had succeeded, but it had also had unintended consequences. You didn't give a shit about Andrew...all you wanted was Chris.

The only problem was, Chris was an actor. Every single tiny thing he was doing was an act designed specifically to elicit a reaction from Andrew. He didn't want you, he never had. You'd always known that, so you had always been careful to hide your feelings from him, pushing them down so deep inside of you that you'd almost forgotten they'd existed...almost.

With that painful realization, your brain overpowered your body, allowing you to pull away from Chris. You turned to him without making eye contact and mumbled a quick excuse about having to use the restroom before bolting from the dance floor.

Chris was very surprised by your sudden escape and he quickly chased after you, calling your name.

You found the nearest bathroom and rushed into it, slamming the door behind you with force. Your preoccupied mind neglected to remind you to lock the damn door, so Chris came barging through moments later. His brain, on the other hand, appeared to be functioning just fine as he locked the door behind him.

"Why'd you run off?" he asked gently.

You shook your head, eyes looking anywhere but at him. The bathroom was small...there was nowhere to go, no escape. You were trapped in this tiny room with the man you'd loved your entire life and you suddenly felt like you couldn't breathe. The walls began to move in, within moments they would crush you to death and this pain would be over.

In the same way you knew Chris like the back of your hand, he knew you, so he could see the distress you were in. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly, a reminder that he was there. "(Y/N), you need to breathe."

This wasn't the first panic attack he'd witnessed you have, but it had been several years since you'd had one this bad. "(Y/N/N), breathe for me. Come on," he said again, voice gentle but firm. "In, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4."

He continued breathing and counting as you began to breathe with him, heart rate slowly coming back down, body relaxing, his warm hands grounding you to him.

"That's it. Good." He took another deep breath. "I've got you, (Y/N/N). You're okay."

You took a shaky breath and closed your eyes, the panic subsiding. "I'm sorry," you whispered.

"Hey," he said softly, reaching up to tuck a hair behind your ear. "You don't have to apologize. I just wanna know what caused it."

You didn't want to tell him the truth, so you said the first lie you could think of, "Andrew."

He looked taken aback, almost hurt, by your statement. "Andrew?"

You realized that may have been a big mistake, but it was too late now. "Yeah, I just--it's hard to see him."

Chris looked crestfallen. "You still love him, don't you." It was a statement, not a question.

In truth, you didn't love him. Perhaps you never really had, but that didn't matter now. What mattered is whether or not you were going to choose to break your own heart. "Chris, I--"

"Never mind," he said, cutting you off. "I don't wanna know." He spun around and unlocked the door, storming out before you could say another word.

"Chris, wait," you called as you chased after him.

He moved through the crowd quickly, cutting through the throngs of people like he was parting the red sea. He moved so fast that you actually stopped and took off your heels so you could run to catch up with him.

He made it outside before you finally caught up. "Chris, wait! Please!"

He stopped and turned towards you. You caught a glimpse of a mixture of anger and pain etched onto his face for just a split second before an emotionless mask slid into place, his acting instincts taking over. "What, (Y/N)?"

The coldness in his voice stopped you in your tracks. It was almost enough to make you stay silent, maybe even walk away, but you'd made a decision in that bathroom and you'd be damned if you backed out now. "You didn't let me finish."

"Finish?"

"Answering your question."

He couldn't help the look of intrigue that crossed his face even if he'd wanted to. "Go on, then."

"When we were in high school, I--I made a decision--a choice--to protect myself."

"How is this an answer to my question?"

"Would you just shut up and listen to me?" you snapped.

Surprise lit up his handsome face, along with the ghost of a smirk. He always loved it when you stood up for yourself, even if it was against him. "Okay, I'll be quiet."

"Thank you," you exhaled slowly. "I wanted to protect myself from pain, or heartache, or whatever you wanna call it. I pushed every emotion, every feeling, so deep down inside of me that, for a time, I forgot they were there. It was safer that way. I could go on pretending, and we could go on being best friends. It was worth the pain."

You could see the confusion on his face, and realized you needed to be more straightforward. Before you could, he interjected again. "I don't understand. What were you pretending?"

You closed your eyes for a moment, picturing the girl you were at 16 when you realized you were in love with your best friend. You knew it had been the right choice for you at the time, but it hadn't been easy. You opened your eyes again, gaze falling on that same man, now all grown up. You couldn't help the tears that welled in your eyes nor the ache that blossomed in your chest, the years of bottling up your emotions finally taking its toll.

"I pretended I didn't love you, and I've been pretending ever since."

Whatever he thought you were going to say, it sure as hell wasn't that. His jaw went slack and his eyes widened, body completely frozen in place. He recovered quickly, but the shock of your words was still evident on his face. "You--you love me?"

You nodded. "Since I was old enough to understand the concept."

He ran his hand through his hair. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

You were surprised by the annoyance in his voice. "Well, I--I umm...I didn't want to lose you."

He looked exasperated. "(Y/N), you're telling me we could have been together for years, but you didn't want to tell me how you felt because you thought I would leave you?"

You were stunned silent, so he kept going.

"I've had to watch you date so many men that weren't good enough for you--for years--because I thought you didn't feel the way I do. You never once let on that you wanted more--not once."

"So..." you began, trying to find the right words. "Are you saying that you love me too?"

Chris seemed to realize what he'd essentially just admitted, and immediately calmed down, eyes softening significantly. "Yeah, sweets. I've loved you my entire life."

For a moment, the world stood still. The two of you stood there in silence, staring at each other, the shock of your admissions still sinking in.

Then, just as quickly, you both came alive, bodies coming together, lips colliding in a passionate, searing kiss that would live on in your memories forever.

When you separated, breathless, your brain finally caught up with what was happening. You held onto his neck, almost afraid to let go.

As if he sensed what you were thinking, he pulled you even closer. "I'm not going anywhere, baby."

You looked up at him, eyes swimming with emotion that matched his own. "Will you take me home?"

"That depends...whose home are we going to?"

"We?" you asked in a teasing tone. "Isn't that a little presumptuous of you?"

"We just admitted we've been in love with each other since we were kids. I'm pretty sure that means we have a solid 15 years of missed sex to make up for."

You laughed lightly. "As crass as that was, I actually agree with you." You pulled him down for another kiss. "Your place is nicer than mine."

He grinned. "You've got it sweets."

He practically dragged you back to his car, body in overdrive, the need for you so overwhelming he could barely think. Your own desire was so intense you were quite certain you were going to die if he didn't touch you immediately.

Your friendship had always been an open one...which meant both of you had shared your fantasies (most of them, anyway), as well as your sexual escapades. You both knew what the other person liked...so you were both confident the sex you were about to have was going to be mind-blowing...and boy, were you right.

**********

"Chris!" you gasped loudly.

The man in question simply moaned in response, not moving from his position between your thighs, tongue and fingers assaulting your pussy in the most pleasurable way possible.

Your fingers dug into his thick locks, tugging slightly as the pleasure continued to build within you. You weren't surprised by his skill, but you were surprised at how he played your body like an instrument he'd been playing all his life. Every touch, every movement, every sound, sent waves of passionate fire flying through your veins.

When you came for the second time, you tugged at his hair with more force, body squirming from sensitivity. "Too much," you whispered.

Chris finally relented, lifting his head up to look at you, grin etched on his handsome face. His beard was coated with your slick and he licked his lips with a moan. "Sorry, baby. You just taste so damn good."

You laughed lightly, breathing still heavy from the intensity of your orgasms. "If you're a good boy, I'll let you taste me again later," you teased.

Chris laughed and crawled up your body, pressing his lips to yours in an adoring kiss. Whether he intended to or not, as he leaned forward his cock pressed against the entrance to your core, eliciting a gasp from each of you.

"Fuck," Chris groaned. "Baby, I don't think I can wait much longer."

You reached up and pushed his hair back, the tousled locks having fallen onto his forehead. "Who said anything about waiting?"

His lips fell against your neck as he started to push into you. You gasped at the feeling, his large cock already stretching you more than you'd ever been stretched. Your nails dug into his shoulders and he groaned against your skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know it hurts."

"It's fine," you murmured. "Please don't stop."

He raised his head to look into your eyes, worried that you didn't mean it. When he saw no reservations and nothing but lust, he continued to press into you, moving a little more quickly this time.

Once he was fully seated within you, he gave you a moment to acclimate to his size. You swore you could feel him everywhere, every part of your body was completely filled with him. The sensation quickly turned to a burning need and you begged him to fuck you.

"Anything for you, baby girl," he murmured as he began to move.

If his neighbors hadn't already been awoken by the sounds of your moans, they would be now. You'd never felt so good in your life, the way his body meshed with yours was as if they'd been created for this specific purpose.

"That's it, baby. Let me hear those pretty moans."

"Chris--it--it feels so good," you moaned loudly.

He moaned as your pussy clenched around him. "Fuck, sweets. This sweet little pussy was made for me. So tight and warm."

He leaned back, tilting your hips up to give himself a better angle. He began hitting your g-spot with each thrust, and you cried out in pleasure, fingers digging into his biceps. "Chris!"

He placed his hand on your lower belly and pressed gently. "You feel that baby? You feel how deep inside you I am?"

You whimpered in response, voice reduced to nothing but sounds.

"Aww, is my sweet girl too cock drunk to talk?" He began circling your clit with his thumb as he taunted you. "Pretty little thing turned dumb by a big cock."

"Please," you begged, not sure what you were begging for exactly.

Chris smiled, movements never faltering. "Yeah baby? What you begging for?"

You didn't respond--couldn't--whimpering moans and heavy pants all you could manage.

"I know what you need, sweets," he whispered, thumb speeding up against your clit, keeping time with the rhythm of his hips. "You need to come, don't you?"

You nodded vigorously and you dug your nails more deeply into his biceps.

He groaned at the sensation, his own orgasm mere moments away. "Then come for me, pretty girl. Soak my cock."

As if all your body was waiting for was his command, you came with a cry of his name. Your hips jerked up, body spasming beneath him as he helped you ride out your high.

Your pussy was pulsating, clenching and releasing his cock rapidly, quickly pulling him towards the edge. "Fuck, baby, I'm close," he gasped.

He was thrusting more quickly now, chasing his high. He wanted to fill you up, needed it more than he'd ever needed anything.

You knew him better than you knew yourself, so you knew exactly what he needed to get him over the edge. "Chris," you murmured. "I need you to fill me up." You clenched your pussy as tightly as you could to punctuate your words.

Chris came with a shout, hips jerking wildly as he spilled inside of you. "(Y/N)," he gasped, hips faltering, and slowly coming to a stop as he pulled out of you, collapsing beside you with a groan.

"Holy shit," he whispered.

You laughed loudly. "My thoughts exactly."

He grinned. "I always could read your mind."

You turned your head to look at him, taking in his love drunk appearance. Somehow, he was even sexier like this, completely fucked out and satiated. You could have stared at him for hours.

"You're staring. It's kinda creepy," he teased.

You laughed. "Oh shut up. It's not my fault you're so pretty."

He groaned. "Did you just call me pretty?"

"I did and I will not take it back."

He rolled on top of you, covering your body with his. "You better take it back," he warned.

"Or what?" you challenged.

He didn't say a word, choosing instead to kiss your neck, mouth sucking and biting at your most sensitive spot. He knew exactly what it would do to you and he wasn't disappointed.

"Chris," you whispered.

He grinned against your skin, ignoring your warning tone. "Are you gonna take it back?"

"Nope."

He moved with the speed and agility of a panther, settling between your legs before you could even register what was happening. His lips were mere inches from your core, his hot breath making your body shiver.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving you one last chance to take it back."

"And if I don't?"

He grinned like a Cheshire cat. "If you don't, then I'll make you come until you cry. The choice is yours."

Your eyes widened in surprise, and maybe a little bit of desire. You weighed your options, but you were too damn stubborn to take it back. "Try me," you challenged again.

"Oh, baby...you're gonna regret that."

He dove into your pussy with the hunger of a wild animal, completely unleashed, unable to stop himself from enjoying your delicious taste. He didn't stop until he saw tears sliding down your pretty face, and even then, he made you give him one more orgasm.

Once he was done with your 'punishment', he carried you to the shower where he gently washed you before taking you back to his bed and laying you down beneath the covers.

He crawled in beside you and pulled you close, lips pressing soft kisses to any skin he could see.

"Thanks for tonight," you said softly.

"For what?"

"Ya know...for everything."

He understood what you were trying to say, a small smile playing on his lips. "I love you, (Y/N)," he whispered.

Those four words said so much more than just 'I love you'. There were promises, hopes, and dreams all wrapped up in a beautiful bow. There were years of things left unsaid, feelings and emotions hidden beneath the surface. And of course, there was the true meaning of the word 'love', a word neither of you had really understood before this moment.

"I love you too, Chris," you whispered back, your own words laced with the promise of tomorrow and forever.

#chris evans x reader #chris evans x reader smut #chris evans smut #rpf fic #chris evans fic #chris evans x best friend!reader #chris evans RPF

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [5]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why. 

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 3,761

A/N: i cannot wait to see what you all think of this latest development! please drop by my ask with thoughts or comments, and as always, thanks everyone for your patience! ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics​

To your absolute horror, Lloyd doesn’t stop. You’re dizzy, both from the realization and the even, steady grind of his hips. It’s terribly familiar, the way he touches you—like it’s not the first time. Your stomach rolls as an anguished wail tears from your lips at the thought, because it’s the same one you’ve been shoving down, burying underneath every single other thing you can think of, because it couldn’t be true. Ransom wouldn’t do that you, he wouldn’t—

But he has.

Lloyd clucks his tongue at you, and reaches forward to cup your face. “You can scream, Princess.” He grins. “I know you can’t keep quiet anyway.” His words turn your stomach. Your arms, previously paralyzed at your sides, come up to push frantically at his face and chest as you curse. 

“Get the fuck off me, Lloyd!” You scream, but he doesn’t move—doesn’t even falter as he continues to rut into your shamefully wet cunt. He doesn’t budge, like your blows don’t even hurt. It makes you even more panicked, your eyes growing wide as you sob. Frantically, you scream for your husband, your voice swallowed by the crashing surf. 

“Ransom—! Ran—” Lloyd silences you with a kiss, swallowing your fear as he presses his lips to yours. Your shock allows him entry, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you squirm beneath him. Lloyd catches your arms easily, forcing them back against the rock behind you.

“What’s the worst part, Princess?” He asks mockingly, his amused chuckle puffing against your lips. “That it’s me? Or that you liked it? That you always liked it?” You don’t want it to be true, shaking your head as you stare at him with tear-filled eyes. He nods in response, as slow and deliberate as his thrusts. Your stomach churns with the combination of this forbidden knowledge and the unwanted pleasure that creeps up your spine. 

He knows your body, that much is obvious. You don’t know how you didn’t see it before, a hundred thousand puzzle pieces falling perfectly into place as your life crumbles around them. Lloyd holds you like Ransom, kisses you like Ransom—

Or does Ransom kiss you like Lloyd?

He plays your body perfectly, like you’re an instrument he’s already  mastered.  Even as your head swims, the thick weight of his cock drawing pleasure from you even as you fight against it. You can hear it, how wet you are, how much your traitorous body is enjoying Lloyd. It’s maddening, the way you clench and quake beneath him, struggling ineffectually against pleasure you don’t want. He transfers both your wrists to one hand, using the other to cup your chin. 

“It’s really not as bad as you think,” he coos, dragging his thumb through your tears. He kisses you again, painfully softly. “I know what you like.” Lloyd’s fingers taste like the sea as he draws them across your trembling lips. “I know what you hate.” He traces circles around your puffy nipples, before painting stripes of salt-water down your belly. He spreads your lips wider with two fingers and draws those same circles around your clit. 

“I hate you!” You grit through clenched teeth, through your furious, shameful tears. Lloyd clucks his tongue, before leaning down to nose at the skin of your throat. 

“No you don’t, Princess. You love Ransom—so you love me. We’re the same, baby-doll.” He leans up, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t you get that yet?” You don’t want it to be true, it can’t be, they’re so different—but even as you think it, you know he’s not lying. You’re reeling, the stretch-burn, the raw pleasure of him inside you, the knowledge that he’s been there before—

You wail as you cum, staring unseeingly at the sky. Lloyd doesn’t even give you the courtesy of slowing down, instead fucking you steadily through it with his cock and fingers buried in your cunt. He carries you, unwilling, from one height to the next, twitching and pleading. When he finally pulls his fingers from your soaked folds, he sucks them clean. 

“Love you so much, Princess,” he groans, rocking his hips steadily into yours as you mewl miserably. “I can wait for you to know you love me too.” His fingers press the skin of your hips like Ransom’s. Lloyd sucks your bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth with a growl. He holds you still while he empties into you. As he pants against your mouth, he grins. 

“Feels good not to have to pretend.” 

“Get off me.” You hiss at him, glaring at him with red-rimmed eyes. This time, he listens. He pulls out of you with an appreciative hum, stopping briefly to admire the slick, sticky mess he’s made. You pull your swimsuit down roughly, tugging your shirt tightly around yourself like a shield while you grab your now soaked shorts from the water, and begin to struggle into them. 

“Let me—”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You shriek, jumping further backwards into the surf. You slip on the rocks, barely remaining upright as you scramble away. “Y-you don’t touch me!” You brandish a slick rock in your hand as threateningly as you can. “I—I’m going to tell Ransom, an-and—”

The look he gives you is almost pitying. “Oh Princess. Go on and tell him.” He nods at you with a sick smile. “Tell me what he says.” Lloyd holds his hands up as you retreat, giving him as wide a berth as you an as you circle back to shore. He doesn’t follow you, watching as you stumble across the sand.  You head into the trees and underbrush ringing the beach, fleeing your brother-in-law’s gaze. You know the general direction of the hotel, and you head that way, opting not to go back to the party. 

The party. Your stomach turns as you think of it now, Linda’s words holding fresh meaning now. Did she know? Did Ransom? The entire idea was so ludicrous you could scarcely believe it was really happening—but it was. It had. The evidence of Lloyd’s transgression was smeared between your salt-stained thighs. You want to vomit, and so you do, leaning against a tree as you heave into the sand. 

“Sweetheart?” 

You look up, your eyes wild. It’s Ransom—or Lloyd. You don’t know, now, torn between wanting to rush into his arms, or turn and run. You simply stare at him distrustfully, mirroring his step forward with one back, maintaining the distance between you with careful precision. 

“Baby, what’s wrong? You just wandered off, and—”

“Are you Lloyd?” You ask sharply, swallowing the desire to respond to his concern. You can’t trust your own eyes now, not anymore, and you don’t want to get close enough to verify. 

Ransom stares at you confusedly. 

“No? Why would you ask me that? Did something happen?” He takes another step closer, his arms outstretched placatingly. There’s true worry on his face as he takes in your wretched state, your open shirt and wet shorts, dirty feet and missing shoes. “Baby, did something happen?” He asks again, slower and more deliberate. You want to believe him, this man wearing your husband’s wedding ring, staring at you with the same eyes as the man you’d run away from. 

“Tell me something about the fountain.” 

“The what?” 

“The fountain!” You shrill hoarsely. “The fountain, from—”

“The one in the village,” Ransom finishes. “With the messed up tiles.” 

This time, you can’t stop yourself from rushing into his arms, sobbing. 

“I—Lloyd, he—” The words won’t come out between your hiccoughing sobs, and you settle for burying your face in his chest as Ransom wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly, pressing you to his body as you wail. The truth sticks in your throat like taffy as you tangle your fingers in his shirt, tears soaking into the expensive fabric. 

“It’s okay, Sweetheart.” His voice is soothing. “I’m here. I got you, okay? I got you.” He doesn’t rush you, waiting until the tears slow to press a kiss into your hair. “You don’t have to talk right now. Let’s get you back to the room, okay?”

Ransom practically carries you through the underbrush, emerging near the  long stairwell up from the beach. Your family—and his—are still down at the party, but you barely spare them a glance as you stagger up the sandy concrete steps. Before long, the ringing in your ears blocks out the music anyway, and all you can think about is Lloyd’s response to your threat. 

Go on and tell him. Tell me what he says.  

Lloyd is nowhere to be seen as you enter the villa, and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You didn’t even realize you’d been watching for him, waiting for him to appear like he always did—but he doesn’t. You’re relieved as Ransom leads you back into the bedroom and closes the door behind you. For a moment, you’re not sure what to do with yourself, standing blankly by the door while Ransom watches you helplessly. 

“Sweetheart… can you tell me?” He asks, resting his hands on your shoulders. You flinch at his touch instead of leaning into it, and pain flashes briefly across your face. Somehow, you are hesitant to name the shape of the monster that haunts you even now, like Lloyd had cursed your jaw to stick. With difficulty, your force it open. 

“He—he pretended… he was you. And… we… I didn’t know, Ran, I didn’t know it wasn’t you,” you babble, tears forming in your red, glassy eyes. You’re expecting to see his face crease with disgust at the part you won’t say out loud, but it doesn’t. Ransom’s silent, his face scrunching first with disappointment and then anger. You can tell he’s looking for an outlet, and he settles on routine. 

“Did you take your vitamins, Sweetheart?” He replies, a worried hand on your belly. “Does anything… hurt?” You shake your head. 

“N-no.” Ransom turns to the dresser, grabbing the bottles and shaking out your pills one by one. You take them, shuffling into the suite’s bathroom. You  a cup cool water from the faucet and bring it to your lips, swallowing them down with a grimace. 

“Let’s get you a bath, Baby.”

You nod wordlessly.

Ransom helps you get undressed, and you watch his jaw tic at Lloyd’s drying cum on your thighs. He fills the whirlpool tub with hot water, and you shift uncomfortably from foot to foot as you watch him. When it’s full, he helps you into it before splashing into the water himself. He sits on the back side of the tub with you between his knees, reaching down to hold you as you sink into the water. 

You lean back against your husband, fresh tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. I want to wake up now. There’s little you wouldn’t give to open your eyes and find yourself on the beach, this terrible nightmare broken. But when you do open your eyes, you’re still in the bathroom, your husband’s hands rubbing soothing circles into your skin as you wash away the evidence of his brother’s sin. 

“Oh Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I… I don’t know what to say.” He strokes your hair as he speaks to you softly, gently, like he’s soothing an animal. “Lloyd’s a lot of things. Impatient, being chiefest among them.” You freeze, the air seeming to flow right out of your lungs—out of the whole room. The dripping of the faucet is as loud as thunder. 

“W-what?”

“I didn’t want you to find out like this, Sweetheart, believe me.” You wrench yourself away from him, water sloshing over the sides of the tub as you stare at your husband in disbelief. It feels like reality is crumbling to nothing as you  watch, bleached into dust by the brightness of his sad smile. It’s all you can see. 

“N-no, no no no no—” He reaches for you, and you slap his had away, tripping as you scramble out of the tub. “You knew.” You moan, bile rising in your throat as you wrap a towel around yourself. “You—you always knew.” Ransom rises from the lip of the tub and steps out onto the tile. You want to vomit, but there’s nothing left to bring up as you dry-heave into the sink. 

“Sweetheart, I need you to calm down, this stress isn’t good for the baby.”

“The baby—” You let out a despairing little laugh. “How long, Ransom?” You ask him hoarsely. “How long have you been letting this happen?” Finally, your husband has the decency to look ashamed. 

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!” You scream, pounding a fist against the counter. “Yes it fucking matters!”

“I think before New Years, last year.” 

“A—a year?” You choke out the words as you clutch your belly with a shaking hand. The baby—you don’t even know if it’s Ransom’s. You feel dirty, despite having bathed. Deeper than your skin, like something inside is tainted, rotten. You want to crawl out of it, leave it behind like a shell. Perhaps then you might be able to draw enough air into your tight lungs to be able to do more than sputter your husband’s words back at him in abject disbelief. 

You don’t want to relive the last year and a half but you can’t help it, flipping through the moments like flash cards as you try to pinpoint every transgression, every lie. For every possible memory that feels wrong, there are dozens of blank spaces, empty places where recollection should be. Your husband had poked his finger through the thin saran wrap of your memories, and you hadn’t even realized it was happening. 

Ransom reaches forward to rest a hand on your back and you shove him so hard he stumbles, your eyes wild. 

“Don’t touch me. You—you will never touch me again.” You hiss, the words ragged. Ransom scowls at you as you storm out of the bathroom, the towel still clutched against your heaving chest. You can barely hear anything over the sound of your own ragged breathing and the thundering of your heart. They’d been switching off for over a year, and you hadn’t even noticed. Sickness and shame twine in your gut as you snatch the clothes in the closet off their hangers, throwing them into your open suitcase without bothering to fold them.

“Sweetheart, don’t be rash. The baby—”

“Will not even know your name.” You don’t look at Ransom—you can’t. You feel like you don’t even know him, and you can’t help but wonder if you ever did. He’d known—hell, maybe he’d even participated in Lloyd’s sick games. The man you’d thought you married would never have stood for that. You grit your teeth as Ransom scoffs amusedly behind you. 

“You’re just going to pack your suitcase and go, is that it?” There’s a cruel edge to his voice you don’t recognize—it makes him sound like Lloyd. “Baby I’m just trying to give you what you want.” You glare at him over your shoulder before returning to packing, refusing to even entertain the discussion. You push past him to get to the dresser, pulling out the rest of your things. 

“You’re not thinking clearly, and I think if you really stopped and gave it some thought, you’d realize you’re making a mistake.” 

“Oh, I’m the one making the mistake?” You can’t help but turn to spit venom over your shoulder. “You and your brother took turns on me like a fucking carnival ride, but I’m making a mistake?”

“You wanted a big family, a stable family. One nobody could touch—”

“You’re sick.” You swallow against the bitter acid in your throat. “How can you try to make this okay? I—I never want to see you again. Ever. I—I really, truly mean that.” The needle inside you continues to swing between rage and abject horror as you dress yourself, practically shoving your limbs into the most convenient pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Your head buzzes with the turmoil of it all, practically full to bursting. Your passport is still in the bedside table, and you make sure you grab it, shoving it into your pocket before throwing open the bedroom door. 

It’s hard to breathe around the ache in your chest as you drag your heavy suitcase down the hallway, trying to ignore the sound of your husband behind you. You’re bordering on hysteria, frantic tears and snot running down your face as you flee your husband’s placating words. That’s probably the most maddening part of it—how he continues to parse out the words slowly, patiently, like he’s waiting for you to realize how sensible he’s being. You’re about ten seconds away from clapping your hands over your ears like a child, so you don’t have to hear him anymore

“Sweetheart, let’s talk about this.” Ransom calls after you. You stagger against the wall as your knees tremble, but you force yourself through it. Your heart is beating wildly, your palms clammy as you look back at your husband. You don’t expect to see him smiling. “You’re not being rational, baby.” 

You don’t even know how to respond. The only words that seem to come to mind are insults, curses; the violent ills you’re currently wishing on your husband and his family. You can’t listen to him—it’s only going to make you more enraged. You already feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest, as you gulp down ragged breaths, your vision swimming. You rest a hand against the kitchen island, your whole body throbbing hotly with your pulse. 

“Shut the fuck up, Ransom,” you pant. “You can’t spin this.” 

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He ignores your acid glare, leaning forward to curl a lock of your hair around his finger. You push him away, but the movement is clumsy, your hand swinging bonelessly at the end of your arm. “You know how persuasive I can be.”

“You’re really just like him.” It slips out before you can stop it as you shake your head in astonishment. 

“Oh what, you just figure that out?” Ransom’s voice is mockingly soft. “It took you long enough.”

You slap him. 

The sound of it is loud and sharp, and Ransom’s head actually turns with the force of it, your husband stumbling back a few steps. It was his surprise that had allowed it—you and Ransom had never struck each other, not counting the playful smacks he delivered in the bedroom. For a moment he stays like that, frozen, before slowly turning to look at you. Your wedding ring had split his lip, and you watch as he draws his thumb across it smearing the bright line of crimson across his mouth. 

“You’re starting to piss me off, Sweetheart.” His hand clamps so tightly around your wrist that it hurts, and you yelp, pushing uselessly at his chest. Ransom had never been violent with you, never even given you reason to suspect he would raise a hand to you, but as he bends you over the kitchen island, you feel fear. Your husband twists your arms behind your back, ignoring your pained whimper when he squeezes too tight. 

This—this isn’t happening. It’s not. My family is here, my, my father—

You wail, the sound muffled by the marble countertop and your tears, salt and snot running onto the counter beneath your cheek. 

“Just let me go, Ransom—”

“Oh Baby we are way past that.” The kiss he presses into your hair makes nausea churn in your belly, and you let out another sob. “I put a ring on that—where’s your finger, baby, let me see—ah! There it is.” Ransom holds your hand up, his fingers digging into the meat of your palm. “On that finger,” he continues, tapping the diamond with his fingernail. “Till death do us part, Sweetheart, that’s what we said. That’s what you promised me—and Lloyd.” 

 “You’re crazy—” The words stick in your throat as your vision tunnels. I feel sick. You do, your stomach churning as your heartbeat thunders in your ringing ears. 

“Wha-you do’t me?” The words are like bubblegum in your mouth as your husband chuckles softly. 

“You didn’t really think those were all vitamins, did you?” Your eyes widen with horror as you begin to struggle again, flailing your uncoordinated limbs as you try to force Ransom off of you. “Now don’t worry, it’s nothing that could hurt the baby,” he says reassuringly, as if that is your only cause for concern. 

“Noo,” you moan, wriggling feebly beneath him as you feel yourself recede further and further into your body. “Don’ wannit.”

“I know, Sweetheart. But what you want isn’t good for the family,” he says, stroking a gentle finger over the curve of your cheek. “You want to run, too run from what we’re trying to build with you. For you,” Ransom releases you as the sound of nearby voices reach your buzzing ears. “I’m not going to let that happen.” 

He steps away from you as Nathalie bursts through the door, holding a champagne bottle by the neck as she dances to music blaring from her phone speakers. 

“There you are, chica, we were looking—mom! Dad! She’s in here! I thought you—are you okay?” She sets the bottle down on the small table to the right of the sliding door. She rushes over to you, looping one limp arm around your shoulders as concern sets into the lines of her face. “Jesus, I—Ransom! What’s wrong with her?!”

Your husband appears in your tunnel-vision, carding a worried hand through his hair. 

“Thank fucking Christ, Nathalie—I was just going to text you. I think she’s having a reaction to something, I don’t know—” 

“Nn-Nat don-bel—eev ‘m,” your warning slurs together into an unintelligible soup as your head lolls. Nathalie tries to stand you up against the counter, and dimly you are aware of her calling for your parents, her voice muffled like she’s talking underwater. 

Lloyd—or is it Ransom?—lays you down on the countertop, his grinning face looming over you as your vision narrows down to a pinprick, the concern in his voice at complete odds with the grin on his face.

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.”

to be continued…

next chapter

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#chris evans #chris evans fic #cevans fandom #cevans fic #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom x y/n #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen imagine #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen x you #doppelganger fic #boxofbonesfic #darkfic #dark!fic #dark au

[venusstorm]

a request where chris evans fucks his girlfriend ,reader inside his trailer

Imagine you’re his makeup artist too. Just picture the amount of sneaky bullshit the two of you would get up to inside of his trailer. 

Shake the Trailer

Pairing: Chris Evans x makeup artist!Reader

Warnings: 18+, sex, grinding, humping, praise-kink, light degradation, creampie, spit kink

w/c: 963

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

"Stop staring at me like that," you mumble, eyes locked on painting Chris' black ink tattoos with creamy foundation. 

"Like what?" He pouts. You don't even have to look up to know he's poking out his lip, that infamous puppy dog face of his fighting to reel you in. 

You're on your tippy toes, stretching to reach the top of his tall stature and Chris was loving every second of it. You looked so adorable with your furrowed eyebrows, tongue peeking from between your lips as you blended the beige foundation into his skin perfectly. 

"Let's take a break," he murmurs, eyes trailing down your figure. 

"Tapes start rolling in forty, Chris. We don't have time for breaks." 

"But, angel..." He grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

"But, nothing. And can you stop moving? It's already hard enough to reach you as is."

He releases a heavy sigh of defeat, his hand retreating to his side reluctantly. "I can sit if you'd like."

You smile, "thank you." 

You follow Chris to the loveseat in the back of his trailer, gathering your supplies and dropping them back onto the floor. He plops down on the couch, watching eagerly as you tower over him, oblivious to the way he was soaking up your presence. 

Fuck. You were just so perfect. His sweet little makeup artist and girlfriend bundled into one. Could you blame him for being insatiable? The moment your hands grazed his skin he could feel his cock stir, fighting the urge to shove you against the wall and make the entire trailer shake. 

Without warning, he pulls you into his lap, his hands gripping your waist as your legs fall to his sides. "Better?" He asks, his voice deep with yearning. 

You shake your head in disbelief, fighting off the wide smile blooming on your face. "Just keep your hands to yourself, Evans."

Chris nods, the smirk on his face replaced by an expression of seriousness. "Of course. Wouldn't want my pretty baby to lose focus."

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

"Angel, please," Chris grunts. His head is thrown back, lips parted as you grind into his lap. 

"No touching, remember?" You tease mockingly. 

His hands clenched into fists, your soft moans taunting him devilishly. "C'mon, sweet girl. Let me feel you, please, baby." 

You whine as his hips thrust into you vigorously, his clothed length poking underneath your skirt.

"I can't ruin the makeup, sweetheart," you counter, running your hands through his locks and pulling him towards your lips playfully.

"Screw the fucking makeup. You can redo it, C'mon, baby. Wanna feel your pretty walls, fuck. Makin' me so hard. Gonna fuck you so deep."

His cock is leaking beneath you, his spend sticking to his boxers. Chris ruts into you harder, his blue eyes glaring at you with need.

"Let me fill you up, angel. Dump all my cum into that tight cunt. I know you love being all messy, sweetheart. Cum dripping down your legs while I fuck my seed right back into you.”

You hold onto the sides of the couch for balance, the cushions hardly supporting you. You began to envision his burly arms wrapping around you, his arms trapping you against his warm skin. He always liked how small you were against him, your body in his full control. 

"We shouldn't even be doing this, we're working," you mumble, voice hazy as you felt his cock hit your folds. 

"Stop acting as if you care," he murmurs. "Just let me have you, angel. Cum all over my cock until you're fucking shattered."

You watch his eyes roll backward, his hands slipping underneath his boxers to jerk off. He strokes his cock quickly, his eyes struggling to stay focused on your movements.

More spend drips down his shaft, the wet spot growing larger until you can feel it against your thighs. "Oh, sweet girl, M'gonna cum, fuck M'gonna cum."

You elevate yourself, giving him room to slip his boxers off completely. His cock pops free, his tip glaring red and dripping. Quickly you push your panties to the side, guiding his member into your entrance and sinking onto his cock with ease.

Chris helplessly thrusts into you, moaning loudly as you grab his hands and place them around your waist. You muffle his noises with a kiss, saliva dripping down your chin as he cries out your name. 

Ropes of cum shoot inside of you, his movements never faltering. He fucks you through his orgasm, eyes rolled back and arms hugging you against him. He fucks you like a doll, using your cunt as his own personal fuckhole.

He always liked to hold you close, possessively gripping your waist, shoving your face into his chest.

"All. Fucking. Mine." He bounces you on his cock frantically, his seed seeping from your hole and messily covering his lap. Fuck, he was so thick, breaching your hole and stretching it wide without care. 

With one hand he holds you tightly, the other he cups your face, fingers slipping between your lips for you to suck on as he fucks his seed back into your tight channel.

You groan as he spreads your mouth open wider, a string of saliva dangling from his tongue and landing on yours before he embraces you in another kiss. 

Your body begins to convulse from the action, your moans growing louder as you grip onto his shoulders for leverage. 

"I've got you, sweet girl," Chris murmurs, his hands caressing your head into his neck. "I've always got you."

Your legs twitch as you squirt against him, liquid coating his groin and seeping downwards. Chris basks in your breathy moans, staring in awe as your lips part.

“Feel so good, angel,” Chris moans weakly. And before he realizes, he’s breaking down with you. His second orgasm meshes with your own until you're left clawing at his back. He shouts from the pain, his grip on you tightening as he empties his balls into you. 

He doesn't bother pulling out, instead, he thrusts himself deeper, resting you on his cock so he could kiss your sweet lips.

“Look.” His eyes trail down to his chest, amusement glimmering in his eyes. “Perfectly intact.”

#chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x girlfriend!reader #chris evans x woc!reader #chris evans fic #chris evans fics

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

time to go home

Pairing: Mob!Andy Barber x female!reader

Summary: You thought you'd slipped out of his grasp but you should have known better than to underestimate Andy Barber.

Warnings: petnames (honey), dark!Andy, threats of violence, controlling behaviour. This blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Author's note: It's rare I go a bit dark but this was very fun to write and I am not above writing more (word count: 659)

"You look beautiful, honey."

Your blood runs cold at the sound of his voice. The deep baritone causes goosebumps to rise across your skin and a shiver to run down your spine.

You had been so careful. You changed your name. You moved state. You waited. You waited years before letting yourself live again. Before letting yourself believe you were safe, that he would never find you.

You'd been wrong.

His name is nothing but a whisper on your lips as you urge yourself not to cry.

You hear the door shut softly the lock clicking into place as your heart sinks.

"I told you I'd find you."

His voice is closer now and you know better than to turn around. You can feel your muscles tensing with every painful second that passes as you wait for him to come closer to you.

This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. In thirty minutes you were supposed to be walking down the aisle to start the rest of your life with the man you loved.

"You don't love him, honey. Not like you love me."

You spin around on instinct, forgetting exactly who you are dealing with as you prepare to give him a piece of your mind.

"How dare-"

He cuts you off with a laugh and a tight grip on your jaw.

"How dare I?" he laughs, but there's no humour there. Pulling you closer until you're against his chest, wincing as his fingers dig into your cheeks. "How dare you, honey. I've got to say you didn't make it easy. How long has it been exactly?"

You don't answer. Putting all your energy into keeping your tears at bay as you look into the cold eyes of the man you once loved, the man you now feared.

If you had known what Andy was, you would have never let yourself fall into his trap. But, hindsight was a wonderful thing.

Andy was charming, doting, protective and handsome. He was everything a girl dreamed of. He treated you like a queen, you wanted for nothing.

But there were two sides to every coin.

For as charming as Andy was he was just as manipulative. For as doting, he could be just as cold and indifferent. For as protective, he was even more possessive.

You knew Andy was a powerful man from the moment you met him but you had no idea just how much power and influence he possessed.

He made you dependent on him, had you let go from your job, and cut off from your family and friends. You became isolated. He was your only source of comfort and he never let you forget it.

"That's not what love is, Andy," you whisper, no longer able to keep your tears at bay.

The dark look in his eye should scare you but you've seen it enough times. Accustomed to what it means and you know you're not getting out of this this time.

"Just please don't hurt him," you whimper. Thinking about your fiance waiting for you at the end of the aisle.

Andy shushes you gently, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks, "Oh honey, you're really not in a position to be making demands."

Your eyes widen as a sob tears out of your throat.

Sighing, Andy rolls his eyes at your tears, clearly bored by your attachment to a man who isn't him.

"Fine, I'll let him live," Andy concedes, one hand slipping down to wrap around your throat.

You choke on a sob as his hand tightens enough to convey his next warning.

"But if you ever try and leave me again, I will put a bullet between the eyes of everyone you care about. Do you understand?"

You nod weakly, a new wave of tears spilling down your cheeks.

"Good girl," he purrs, placing a soft kiss against your lips and sealing your fate, "let's go home."

This was fun!! I wouldn't mind writing more if any one has any thoughts... thank you for reading, as always comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ✨💜

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fic #dark andy barber #chris evans fic

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

in relation to this post, could we get some super nasty breeding kink sex when he comes home from a mission? i imagine him just feral and needing you so bad all rough and the nastiest words coming from him

Conception*

a/n: there’s no link or anything but I’m assuming you’re talking about the steve edit i posted LOLLLL

summary: Steve comes home from a high risk mission and decides he doesn’t want to wait any longer

warnings: smut, lil bit of angst, breeding kink, rough sex, dirty talk, creampie ofc, needy Steve, aftercare

word count: 2.6k

~

YN hums softly along to Video Games by Lana Del Ray, a look of concentration adorning her face as she puts the finishing touches on the dinner she’s prepared. She’s expecting Steve home sometime tomorrow morning so she fills a tupperware container full of half the delicious meal she made.

Her stomach grumbles in hunger as soon as she gets a whiff of the potatoes, steamed vegetables, and steak bites, her mouth practically watering in anticipation. Once she’s plated the other half for herself, she makes her way to the couch and sits down to enjoy.

A small smile forms on her face and she does a little happy dance as she quickly turns on her favorite show and digs in. She manages to finish almost the whole plate and sits it on the coffee table in front of her, pulling her legs up onto the couch to relax as she finishes up another episode.

When it’s over she finally forces herself up off the couch and to the kitchen to clean up the dishes she’s messed up, turning on some more music to keep her focused. Just as she’s finishing up, she hears the sound of her front door being opened and ultimately slammed shut. She apprehensively makes her way to the entrance of the kitchen and peeks her head out, relieved to see Steve standing in the living room, still in his uniform.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she chuckles, stepping into the room with him. Only then does she realize he’s literally panting as if he’d ran here from his mission, and she frowns as she begins to ask him what’s wrong.

Before she can even blink he’s got her pinned against their living room wall, his lips on hers. It takes her a moment but then she’s kissing him back with the same amount of aggression he gave her, and then he’s lifting her up until their hips are touching, immediately grinding against her.

The material of his suit is causing great friction, the fact that she’s wearing nothing but a pair of flimsy panties helping as well. They’re moaning into each other’s mouths, as they grind against one another, desperate to get off as quickly as possible.

They’re both lost in the bliss of their bodies on one another until Steve pulls away abruptly. “No,” he shakes his head. “Can’t take you right here, it’s not right. Have to go to the bed,” he says, but it’s more to himself than her, and she’s obliging and turning to leave. Until he grabs her arm and pulls her back to him, hoisting her up to his waist and pressing his lips to hers again. His hands move down to grip her ass cheeks as he begins the trek to their room, and he somehow manages to successfully tear the panties off of her with one hand, letting them fall to the floor as he walks.

As they finally make their way into the neat bedroom, he tosses YN onto the bed and she sees the literally feral look in his eyes, not concerned but curious as to what’s got him this way. Before she can ask him, he’s on her again, his hand reaching forward to palm her breasts, but she needs to make sure his head is in the right place before they move forward.

He’s a bit shocked when she rejects him, making him snap out of whatever daze he’d been in. “Steve. What’s going on with you?” she questions, a look of confusion on her face as she tries to think of what’s made him this way.

He looks at her for a beat as he reads her face, trying to figure out what the best way is to say this. A quick battle in his mind leads to him just coming right out and saying it. “I wanna have a baby,” he blurts, and YN’s eyes widen a fraction before going back to normal. For a moment it’s just silence, and he’s worried he’s done something wrong.

“Are you…sure about this?” she questions, choosing her words wisely. “I thought you weren’t ready,” she finishes. Her eyes wander over his face as she makes sure there’s nothing off with his demeanour, and sure enough, it’s the Steve she knows. But that doesn’t quell her confusion.

Steve is slightly offended by her question, his mood shifting just a bit. “What do you mean am I sure? Why else would I say this?” he scoffs, moving off of her to sit next to her. She sits up when he does, now a bit upset at his tone.

“Steve, just last month you told me you weren’t ready. You can’t be mad at me for wanting to be sure,” she reasons. Steve is confused for a moment until it all clicks.

~

One month earlier

YN and Steve both finally have a free day, deciding to spend it together. Instead of staying home, though, they opt for a day out on the town, hitting some shops and even stopping at a nearby bakery. In quiet bakery, they sit and indulge in their pastries and coffee as they make conversation about anything under the sun, until the sound of small cries catch their attention.

They both whip their heads over to the source and see a little baby boy no more than a few months old crying, and after a few moments of investigation they realize he’s dropped his binky out of the stroller. YN hops up and grabs it for the overwhelmed mother, tapping her on the shoulder as she’d been trying to console her son.

The woman is a little startled by YN’s presence but her eyes soften as she realizes what she’s holding, thanking YN for returning the binky back to her. “No problem, I couldn’t just leave it down there while you tried to find it or figure out where it was,” she explains, smiling softly. From there, the woman and YN go into a small conversation about her son, and YN’s heart just melts at how fondly the mother, whose name she found out was Harper, spoke of her son Jacob.

The two finish up their conversation with an exchange of numbers, and YN heads back to Steve with a pep in her step, sitting down with a smile. Almost immediately she goes into how cute Jacob was and everything she and the mother had talked about. In the midst of her rambling, she hadn’t noticed Steve had gotten quiet until now.

“I can’t wait to be a mom someday! Can you imagine a little me or a little you running around one day?” she asked, still smiling brightly. The smile was quickly wiped from her face when Steve didn’t answer her, but stood up and announced he was ready to go home. Her frown deepens at that, and she quietly gathers her things and they start the trek home, walking in silence beside one another as YN keeps herself from breaking down on the middle of the sidewalk.

They arrive home after what felt like an eternity to her, and she speeds to the bathroom and closes the door behind her, turning on the shower before letting herself begin to cry. She thought she’d been discreet with her sobs, but not long after she hears the bathroom door open and she silences herself. Through the foggy glass of the shower she can see Steve begin to strip down before he’s climbing in with her. Her back is to him but he already knows what’s happening so he turns her to him and pulls her into his chest.

The sobs start up again immediately, now with no restraint as she doesn’t need to hide from him anymore. He’s soothing her silently, rubbing his hand up and down her back and hasn’t stopped scolding himself for the way he reacted. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers once her cries quiet to small sniffles.

She shakes her head against him and he frowns, leaning back to get a good look at her face as she begins to speak. “No, I’m sorry,” she starts, and he’s about to say something but she stops him. “I jumped the gun, I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you so early. I know we’ve only been married for two months and-,” she’s cut off by the feeling of his lips on hers, silencing her rambling.

“Baby,” he whispers, even more guilty now that she feels it’s her fault. “Stop that right now. This is not your fault, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did,” he firmly tells her, making sure she doesn’t believe she’s at fault. “You did nothing wrong. It’s just…I think I need a little bit more time. My life is so crazy and I want to be invested fully,” he explains.

“I should have expressed that, and I want you to know that as soon as I am ready you will be the first to know,” he finishes.

“I know and I’m sorry. We definitely need more time with just us,” she responds, her worries not completely leaving but staying in the back of her mind for the time being.

~

Now

“The mission I was just on…we were outnumbered,” he starts, taking her hands in his. “We almost died. And all I could think about as we were fighting as you. How you were here waiting for me to come home. I thought about coming home to you and our kids, the way I know you’d love them the way you love me, and I don’t want to die without getting to experience that with you,” he explains, and she’s listening intently as she takes in his words

“It’s just… I don’t want you to regret this later. I’d rather not be pregnant or a mother alone or have you resent me because I rushed you into this,” she explains to him, expressing her worries.

He was a little hurt by her words but he understands where she’s coming from, frowning as he sees the tears falling from her eyes. Reaching up he thumbs them away before speaking again. “I know, baby. And I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. I would never,” he starts, pausing to think over his next words.

“I’ve taken a break from saving the world for a bit. They’ve got it under control,” he smiles, pulling her in again as she cries harder at his revelation. “All I could think about while I was in there was us and our family, how happy we could be together. There’s nothing I want more,” he finishes, his little speech making her heart melt.

She scans his face for any sign of regret and when she finds none, she’s all in. He can see her eyes change almost immediately, and she’s taking her shirt off before throwing it somewhere in the room. “Well if you’re ready, why don’t we get to it?” she questions, and there’s no hesitation. He’s up and stripping so fast she has no time to comprehend it. The moment he’s naked he finally looks up at her to see her with her legs spread, a hand in between them.

Thinking back on that day now, he can’t believe he even thought like that. All he can imagine now is the fact that he’s about to get his own personal slice of heaven, manhandling YN until she’s on her hands and knees in front of him. To provide himself with even more access to his favourite place he just reaches forward and pushes on her back until her face is buried in the duvet.

Seeing her all dripping and clenching around nothing sends the last bit of his restraint practically bleeding from his body as he takes his cock in his hand and strokes it a few times. YN wants to look back and see what he’s doing but she knows better, staying where he’s placed her.

“Can’t believe this is all for me,” he chokes, rubbing his thumb over the leaking, throbbing tip of himself. It’s only a few more seconds of his filthy moans and grumbling under his breath about how beautiful she looks before she’s inhaling sharply at the feeling of him parting her lips with his thumb and spitting filthily right where she needs him, her weepy hole clenching around nothing in anticipation.

“Please,” she begs, and Steve, never being one to deny her when she looks and sounds so pretty for him, obliges almost instantly. Not even a seconds later he’s gently gripping the base of his aching cock and parts her lips with the head, running it through to lubricate himself before he’s got the tip nudged at her entrance.

The sound it makes when he finally sinks himself into her is nothing short of obscene, a wet squelching sound accompanying the both of their moans of relief. He can barely contain himself when he immediately begins to thrust in and out of her, his body seemingly moving on its own to take what they both need.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to see you pregnant,” he grunts, his thrusts getting harder as his thoughts get dirtier. “Gonna keep you so full of my cum at all times to make sure it sticks. God, I can imagine it now. How beautiful you’ll look round and full of our kids,” he continues, and the way he used it in plural form doesn’t get lost on YN, her loud moans of pleasure being muffled slightly by the sheets.

Steve, always being one to want to hear what he’s doing to her, reaches forward and grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls her up until he can hear her loud and clear. He can feel her legs start to shake and give out beneath her but he’s holding all of her weight up, fucking her as if his life depends on it, and to him it does. “You like the sound of that?” he asks, not slowing his punishing pace.

She can barely nod with the grip he has on her hair but she manages to, choking out a plea for him to do exactly that. “You wanna be so full of my cum at all times that you’re leaking down your legs, exhausted from how many times I work you on my cock?” he grits out through clenched teeth, trying to stave off his impending orgasm in an attempt to wait for hers.

No more words can leave her lips, just cries and sobs of pleasure as he’s drills so deep inside of her she can barely breathe. I mean he has to be puncturing her lungs at this point. Her orgasm is coming and it’s coming fast, but of course she can’t warn Steve, speechless. He knows her inside and out, though, and doesn’t need a warning to know what’s coming. (double pun is crazy)

“I know, don’t have to tell me. I can feel how tight you’re squeezing my cock. Go on, soak me, show me how much you want to be full of me and I’ll do just that,” he demands, and YN, always the obedient one, cums instantaneously. Her orgasm makes his hips stutter immediately as she locks down on him so tight, her body so tense that he can’t move. He lets go of her hair in a split decision, and he’s glad he did. He uses that same hand to reach around and rub at her clit quickly, making her tense up even tighter before relaxing entirely as she squirts all over the bed sheets below them, Steve praising her throughout the entire time.

Her orgasm sends him flying over the edge with a loud swear, his hips flush against hers as he floods her with his warm cum. It seems like it lasts for forever, his balls seeming to get fuller the more he cums. When he’s finally drained of all he has he stays buried inside of her for warmth for a while before he’s pulling out slowly and just sitting there and watching his cum start to drip from her.

He helps her fully lie down on her stomach before he’s getting off the bed, shushing her whines of protest. “Just gonna get you cleaned up, gonna be right back,” he coos, running a hand on her back to ground her a bit more so he can leave. She gives him a weak nod and then he’s hurrying out of the room to get a wet washcloth for her.

The process of cleaning her up is a bit rough with how sensitive she is but he makes it work, cleaning her up quickly and throughly before cleaning himself. He then helps her to the bathroom to pee, her body very weak but he knows she needs to do so.

When she’s all done they end up going into the guest room and sleeping there instead of sleeping on their soaked bed, Steve making a mental note to clean up first thing in the morning, he’s way too exhausted right now. When in the room, he helps her get all comfortable and tucked in before turning off the light and climbing in as well, pulling her into his embrace. The both of them start to doze immediately, and within a few minutes they’re both out, soft snores filling the room.

~

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[writing-for-marvel]

Don’t Get Sad, Get Even

Boyfriend’s Roommate!Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader

Summary: After finding out your boyfriend is cheating on you, you decide to get back at him by sleeping with the one person he was always insecure about throughout your relationship, his roommate.

Prompt: For making me believe that you could be faithful to me - Rihanna, Take a Bow

Warnings: strictly 18+, cheating & revenge sex, use of toys (dildo & vibrator), masturbation, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: this is my entry for my darling friend @flordeamatista’s Loveeeeeee Song Writing Challenge. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

You can’t deny that the sight of your boyfriend stumbling upstairs, lips locked with some young, college chick, fumbling to unhook her bra, makes your heart drop below your stomach.

You knew, even from the outset of your relationship, that Bryce wasn’t going to be the guy you walked down an aisle and pledged ‘I do’ to, but he had, at least initially, been attentive and put in the effort to make you feel beautiful. Your chest aches at the thought that it only took a couple drinks and a pretty girl seductively sucking on a straw, for him to break the four month long commitment you made to each other.

That he didn’t have the decency to break up with you before not so subtly sliping away from a party he himself dragged you to, to fuck some stranger a mere wall away from where he left you minutes earlier with the promise to fix you both a drink.

With your head held high, despite the slight sting behind your eyes and a lump forming in your throat, you stand and stalk out of the house, tuning out the disparaging whispers of his friends as you leave.

Fuck him for not being able to recognise your worth, and fuck settling for his unsatisfying, vanilla, one minute performances he was no doubt be subjecting that luckless college girl to right now.

If he’s going to fuck whoever he wanted, you’re going do the same. And you’ll start with the person Bryce was the most insecure about during your relationship - his roommate.

* * *

Ari enters his shared apartment and notices the sound of the shower running, which is odd considering he distinctly remembered his roommate telling him he’d have the place to himself this Saturday night.

Knowing Bryce could in fact be dumb enough to forget to turn the water off before heading out, Ari begrudgingly goes to do it for him, only to realise that it isn’t Bryce’s shower that’s running.

Surely he couldn’t have been stupid enough to do it himself? Cursing the insanely high water bill they were sure to get this month, Ari rushes to turn the shower off in his own private bathroom.

Once he storms in and his brain has time to realise what he’s actually witnessing, he’s already harder than a rock.

“Hey Ari.” You say so casually, almost devilishly, even though you’re completely naked and masturbating in his bathroom. You’ve left the door to the small shower open, giving Ari a perfect view of you riding a dildo stuck to the floor, steamy water flowing down your back and dripping onto the tiled floor from your ass. And by the faint buzzing sound reverberating off the tiled walls, he’s also fairly certain you’re using a vibrator. The thought makes him even more painfully hard.

“Ugh Sunshine, you do know this is my shower, don’t you?” Your heart flutters at his nickname for you. You suspect he only playfully called you that because of how it upset Bryce each time the moniker left his lips, but it still manages to slip out when it’s just the two of you and he’s found you in this downright pornographic scene.

“Yeah, I know. It's just… I saw Bryce cheating on me tonight and I thought fuck it, I always thought you were really hot.” Ari takes a prudent step closer to the shower, swearing under his breath as he watches the thick dildo disappearing into your pussy with each twerk of your hips. “I wanted to see if you could fuck me better than he can.”

“You think there’s even a contest?” Ari asks rhetorically as he adjusts himself in his shorts, desperate for any type of friction to ease his painful throbbing need. “I’ve heard how unsatisfied he’s left you through these very walls.”

“Guess you’ll just have to prove it to me then.” This time Ari wastes no time in accepting your challenge. Turning off the running water, his large hands pick you up from the shower floor and squeeze your ass as you wrap your legs around his waist.

He kisses you with urgency and need, swiping his tongue into your mouth as if his life depends upon it, but the ardent kiss is over far too quickly as in three long strides Ari’s already at the foot of his bed, laying you down and pulling his shirt over his head.

You’re practically drooling watching him undress, his broad shoulders, strong arms and toned abs could fool anyone into thinking he was a god carved from stone. And when he finally strips himself of his shorts and underwear, you actually salivate at the sight of his deliciously large dick already hard and ready for you.

“Fuck, you’re so much bigger than Bryce.” Your brain is practically malfunctioning at the view of the naked, burly man in front of you and these words are all you can think to say.

“This is what you’ve been missing out on, Sunshine.” Ari comments with a smirk.

He kisses you again, with the same intensity as before, but now he takes his time to explore your mouth, his hands desperate to feel every inch of you, every beautiful swell and dip, every exquisite curve he gets to claim for the night.

“Turn around for me, I wanna see that ass.” You do as he commands, face and chest to his bed, arching your back with your ass in the air, giving him prime view of exactly what he wants. You grab your vibrator, switch it on your preferred setting and hold it at the angle you’ve come to know with experience gives you the most pleasure, humming in satisfaction when you find just the right spot. “Fuck, you’re so sexy when you use that toy.”

You feel him teasingly drag the head of his dick through your folds, coating himself in your arousal, which in turn makes you wetter.

“Shit, that’s a pretty pussy. So wet for me. You’ve been thinking about fucking me for a while, haven’t you?”

You breathlessly admit you have during the beat where he pauses and lines himself up with your entrance. A chorus of moans echoes through the room as he pushes into you for the first time. He fills you up agonisingly slowly, but his bruising grip on your hips prevents you from pushing back into him. The burn of your walls stretching to accommodate him dissipates once he’s fully sheathed within you and all you can think about is how completely and utterly full you feel.

“Holy shit, you’re so tight.” Ari gives himself a moment to savour the sensation of how your soft walls grip him and seemingly pull him further into you before he begins to move, quickening his pace with every new thrust.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Fill me up so deep, Ari.” The combination of the vibrator continuously stimulating your clit and the feel of Ari’s every inch driving in and out of you already has your toes curling.

“Say my name again baby, let the neighbours know who’s fucking you so good.” You do as he requests, chanting his name with every plunge of his cock.

His bed creaks with each rocking movement, the sound of the headboard thumping into the wall rhythmically fills the room along with your moaning and the salacious sound of skin slapping skin.

“Shit, right there, Ari. Don’t fucking stop!” You think perhaps there should be a part of you that’s embarrassed at how quickly you’re finding your release, but with how neglected and needy Bryce has left you, you’re utterly desperate to feel that pent up tension snap like a rubber band.

“That’s it, pretty girl, cum for me, wanna feel you squeezing my cock.” Ari can feel how close you are, your velvety walls fluttering around him, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. With one strong thrust, your long awaited release washes through you like a wave. Every cell in your body floods with pleasure, blinding your vision and losing control of all motor function, causing you to let go of the vibrator.

As if Ari can sense the future, he’s ready when you go slack, taking the toy from your limp hand and maintaining the perfect pressure on your clit, never breaking rhythm with his thrusts, prolonging your orgasm to the point where you’re desperately mewling for him to stop and tugging at his sheets to escape the tsunami of overwhelming pleasure.

“Best pussy I’ve ever felt. I bet Bryce doesn’t fuck you this good.” Ari says as he lazily pulls out of you, wiping stray, sweaty strands of hair from his eyes as he lays beside you on his bed, gently tapping his thighs as his indication he wants you to get on top.

“Not even close.” You say breathlessly with a smirk, a little insecure about how your legs wobble as you straddle him, though Ari doesn’t seem fazed by it. In fact, he looks overjoyed watching you look down at him, a hint of endearment swirling in his lust blown pupils you hadn’t been expecting to notice.

Ari lets out a rumbling moan as you sink down onto him, his hands instinctively finding your hips as he helps you through the motions of grinding down on his dick.

“Work it pretty girl, yeah, just like that. Use me, use this fat cock, it’s all yours.” Once you have worked up a rhythm Ari removes his hands from your sides, appreciating the sight of your pussy swallowing his shaft whole, before his itching fingers caress your breasts, rolling your nipples into stiffened peaks. “You’re so beautiful riding me like this. Look at these tits, they’re fucking perfect.”

“Oh God, I’m close, Ari.”

“Me too, Sunshine.” You barely hear Ari’s words as his strong arms engulf you, flipping you into his mattress. His heavy body presses you even further into the memory foam which is permanently infused with his intoxicating musky scent, trapping you so you have no choice but to take everything he’s giving you.

His long hair falls into his eyes, but it doesn’t stop him from making adoring eye contact. Did his eyes always soften when they gazed at you? Or are you only noticing it now that you are so much closer than you have ever been before?

You loved the angel he hit inside you while you were riding him, but it’s nothing compared to the mesmerising drag of his cock in this position, his hips rolling fervently into yours as his hands interlock with yours above your head and his lips suck on the sensitive skin of your neck.

The sex feels much more intimate than you were expecting when you essentially broke into his apartment to provocatively display yourself, wishing he’d be interested enough in an easy lay to give you one climax for the night. You’re not complaining though, you always did had a soft spot for Ari, and Bryce was rightfully jealous of the effortless connection you share.

“Oh fuck, Ari! Please, you're gonna make me cum!” You cry, his pistoning movements becoming more erratic as he chases both of your highs, his pelvis grinding against your clit repeatedly with each thrust.

“Cum with me, pretty girl.” Ari growls into your ear, your admission only spurring him on. The coil in the pit of your stomach winding tighter with each stroke of his tip against the spongy spot inside you that makes your legs shake uncontrollably and blinding stars burn behind your eyes. The same spot Bryce was never able to find, yet Ari sought out so easily.

Euphoria takes over you for the second time with a strained cry of his name, ecstasy shivers down your spine and out to the endings of every nerve in your body. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud of pure bliss as Ari captures your moans in an ardent kiss.

Your soft walls squeeze him deliciously and contrast to the sharp sting of your nails raking down his back. It’s enough to push him over the edge with you.

“Holy shit, I’m cumming!” Ari announces before a deep, husky grunt rumbles from his chest. The muscles in his abdomen tense as he spills his large load deep inside you with a drawn out groan.

When Ari finally pulls out, he takes a moment to appreciate the sight of your mixed releases dripping from your core, before he dashes into his bathroom to fetch a warm, damp cloth to clean you up. You flinch at the sensation, your body oversensitive after the two mind blowing orgasms he pulled from you, but your heart soars at the thought in his gesture.

Once he’s done, Ari’s sweaty form lays down beside you, pulling you into him, gently kissing down your neck and over your shoulder. A shiver runs down your spine at how much tenderness each small kiss is filled with.

“You know, I’ve kinda had a thing for you ever since Bryce introduced us, but I’ve never been that guy who makes a move on someone else’s girl.” You flip over so you’re looking at him, his eyes search yours for a sign that he is more than a convenient one night stand and this meant more than just getting revenge on his dickhead roommate.

“Well, I’m no longer Bryce’s girl…” You point out, which is met with a smile.

“No, you’re mine now.”

* * *

Before going another round, one where Ari vows to finally taste you, you suggest grabbing some bottled water to keep hydrated. You’ll need to replenish your fluids if he plans on having his way with you the entire night and into the morning.

When you open the bedroom door, you see a familiar figure lounging on the couch.

“Oh, hey Bryce.” You say nonchalantly, feigning ignorance that you knew he lived here, though it is a welcome surprise to see him home so early from the party where he would have heard every sinful detail of your genuine climax with Ari minutes before, something he had never experienced in your four months together.

He simply stares at you, mouth agape and eyes wide in disbelief as you casually walk over to the kitchen au naturel. You make sure to sway your hips seductively as you return to Ari’s bedroom, giving him a view of exactly what he’s missing out on.

#em writes #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #Loveeeeeee Song Writing Challenge #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson fanfic #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fic #chris evans #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans fic #chris evans characters #fanfiction

[chxrryhansen]

Steve with a MASSIVE breeding kink mmmmffffgggg…. 🤤

- 🌸

hi baby🥺 i’m so sorry that it took me this long to get to your ask, steve is such a family man so this always makes me go wild.

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

“oh fuckkk”

you moaned as steve continued to thrust inside of you, hitting your cervix and bottoming out with each thrust.

“yeah, you like that? you like it when daddy fucks this slutty hole?” he taunted from above, his blond locks sticking to his forehead in concentration, angling his hips just right, hitting your g spot.

“love it daddy, so so much, you fuck me s’ good.” you whined, hips writhing on his thick length.

he let out a deep groan as your cunt clenched around him, “such a good little whore for daddy, always letting me fill you up with my fat cock.. maybe it’s about time you let me fill that pretty pussy with somethn’ else, hmm?”

you threw your head back in ecstasy at the thought of how good his cum filling you up would feel, letting out a high pitch, almost pornographic moan.

“fuck. you love idea of that, huh baby? it’s okay, daddy’s gonna’ fuck this slutty cunt til’ my cums leakin’ down your legs for days. can’t wait to see your tummy grow n’ watch you mother my children.” he growled, his arm wrapping around your throat, squeezing harshly, forcing you to look up at him.

the room echoed with the sound of skin clapping, his hips pummelling against your ass, sure to leave bruises from the brutal force of his thrusts.

“please can i cum, daddy? wanna’ cum s’ bad.” you managed to choke out against his harsh grip.

“such a greedy girl, go ahead baby, soak daddy’s cock.”

you let out a scream as you came, the knot in your stomach finally letting loose, your cream forming a white ring around the base of steve’s shaft.

“shittt. look at the mess you made, sweet girl. creaming all over daddy’s cock like a fuckin’ whore. squeezin’ me like a fuckin’ vice, fuck. you’re gonna’ make me cum. gonna’ breed this pussy so good, get your belly all swollen n’ full of my kids.” he breathed, his abs tightening as his load came shooting out, ropes of hot, sticky, cum filling your cunt to the brim. still continuing to cum as it began leaking out of your pussy and down your thighs.

he always did stay true to his word.

#🌸anon #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #steve rogers fic #chris evans fic #cevans prompt

[lilacevans]

𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝑖 𝑑𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑠𝑘… 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜?

— lila’s secret project🤎

#chris evans #chris evans edit #chris evans gifs #chris evans fic #lila's gif sets #lila's gifs #pete brenner #lloyd hansen #curtis everett #jake jensen #steve rogers #ari levinson #— lila’s secret project🤎 #chris evans smut #arranged series #lloyd hansen fic #pete brenner fic #curtis everett fic #lloyd hansen imagine #chris evans imagine

[imyourbratzdoll]

Chris evans is fascinated at a sweet and shy reader! who works as his makeup artist. He wants to make her his! smut

hi! thank you for sending this, sorry it took so long. I hope you like it

part 2 here

summary - chris has a crush on his make-up artist and decides to finally make a move.

warning - smut, slight fluff.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine and the divider is by @newlips

I greet Y/N as I walk into the make-up trailer, watching her cheeks turn pink as I give her one of my charming smiles, “I got you a coffee and some pastries.” I hand them over to her, and she looks down at her feet, hiding her cute smile. Placing my fingers under her chin and lifting her head, her eyes go wide, and I notice her trying to rub her thighs together subtly.

Gesturing to the treats I bought her, she slowly takes them out of my hands. “Thank you”, her soft voice reaches my ears, “your welcome, sweetheart.” I head over to my chair, sitting down and getting comfy. My legs spread open as I do this, causing the bulge in my jeans to become more visible. Watching Y/N through the mirror as I take a sip of my coffee, I notice she’s more skittish. As she walks over to me, her eyes meet mine through the mirror as she takes a sip of her coffee.

A small moan escapes her, causing me to hold back a groan. “This is good, thank you.” She ducks her head again as her cheeks turn a bright pink again. She reaches for the make-up that she set up for me. My eyes land on her ass, and they quickly close as I can feel myself become hard. She moves closer, holding some stuff in her hands, “I’m just going to prep your face, okay?” I nod, allowing her to continue. As Y/N places the primer on my face, my hand rests on her hip.

I feel her stutter a bit. Her skin feels so warm against my hand. “So, how has your day been?” I must’ve startled her because she jumped at the sound of my voice, “I-it was good, Mr Evans, how about yours?” I open my eyes and look at her, watching as she diverts her eyes every so often, cheeks pink. “Mines better now that I’ve seen you,” I give her a cheeky smile as her gaze snaps to mine. I notice she struggles a bit with reaching certain areas of my face. One thing I do love about her is how tiny she is compared to me.

“Here, sweetheart.” I guide her in between my legs, “better?” Y/N nods. My cheeks turn pink when I feel her warmth, and both hands rest on either side of her hips. “Hmm, actually”, I lift her and place her onto my lap, “this should work.” Her eyes widen at the move I made, and I give her a soft smile. “B-but… Mr Evans… this is inappropriate” The innocent look on her face is getting me so fucking hard, I just want to rip off her clothes and pound into her, but I can’t scare her off so early on.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Call me Chris, and it’s not inappropriate, darling. I’m just helping you. Don’t you want my help?” I notice her eyes drift down to my open shirt. The outfit is for my character, Ari. Before she looks back up, going all shy again as she makes eye contact with me. “Y-yes, Chris… Thank you for helping me.” I smile, cock straining against my pants at her obedience and the feeling of her throbbing against me.

As she starts to continue my make-up, my hands squeeze her hips, subtly rubbing her against my bulge. My cock throbs as she lets out small moans, too sweet to say anything. “Sweetheart, do you mind if I unzip my jeans? They’re a bit too tight, and it’s uncomfortable.” Her eyes stare into mine, completely wide. I have to hold back from devouring her as I feel her throb against me. She slowly shakes her head. I smile, reaching down and unzipping my jeans. She doesn’t see me taking my cock out and laying it against my stomach before pulling her back up and onto me. She lets out a shy gasp as she feels my warm cock throbbing against her pussy. Staring up at her, I slowly move her hips against me, feeling my cock in between her pussy, nudging her clit through her knickers.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You don’t know what you do to me, I swear. You’re the reason I fuck up my lines so much, I come in every day- fuck- to see you, and you’re so sweet and so shy that you overlook my advances.” I slowly start to thrust against her, hitting her clit just right. “You going to let me inside, sweetheart? You going to be mine?” Y/N nods rapidly. Whines and huffs leave her mouth, placing her hands on my chest, tangling her fingers into the hairs.

I groan as she pulls, “fuck it,” I move her knickers to the side before sliding my cock through her entrance. Feeling the tightness of her walls hugging me, I rest my forehead against her chest. I take a deep breath as I feel my soul leave my body. I grip her hips and bounce Y/N, using her as my fleshlight. 

I feel her nails dig into my skin, moans leaving her lips as I thrust up into her, walls tightening every time I hit her sweet spot. I reach down and rub her clit. “You’re such a good girl. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” My voice is deep and raspy as I try to hold the beast inside of me back. “Yes, yes. So good, I’m you’re good girl- Imma good girl” My balls tighten as I hear her fucked out voice. I lean back and look at her face.

Her eyes crossed, mouth hung open slightly. I slowly slip a finger inside her cunt alongside my cock and watch Y/N cry out, and I slowly take it out while still making her bounce on top of me. Before placing my finger inside of her mouth, nearly cumming when she wraps her lips around it and sucks. Something snaps inside of me. I stand, holding her against me as I go to the make-up table. Sitting her on top of it, I hold her down and start to thrust hard and fast.

I place a hand over her mouth, stopping those pretty little noises from escaping. Pounding into her tiny cunt, watching how well she takes me. I feel my end approaching fast as she tightens around my cock, and her back arches, feeling her juices coat me as she reaches her end. I groan loudly, thrusting harder, deeper and faster, not stopping even when she tries to back away. I feel I’m about to burst. I lean over and devour her lips with my own. My cock twitches before I release my cum deep inside her.

“You did so good, sweetheart.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#chris evans x female reader #anons welcome #imyourbratzdollasks #chris evans #anon reply #chris evans fanfiction #anonymous #thanks anon! #chris evans x reader #imyourbratzdollwork #thanks for the ask! #chris evans characters #chris evans drabble #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines #chris evans one shot #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans angst #chris evans blurb #chris evans character #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fandom #chris evans series #chris evans x fem! reader

[biteofcherry]

Shiny Trinket

Heart of Ruby Masterlist

part of Ruby Garden series

Dom!Ari Levinson x submissive female reader

summary: Don't ever think that your Dom doesn't take your opinions into consideration. Ari's about to thoroughly review your small suggestion about the Ruby Garden club's interior.

warnings: Dom/sub dynamics; bdsm; Dom!Ari Levinson; power imbalance; safe, sane and consensual; established relationship; mild bondage; use of sex toys; explicit s**ual content; very light objectification;

word count: 3.6k

In response to the pleading I wrote something with Dom!Ari to start the weekend. So grab a drink, don't drink it while reading, but hydrate afterwards as aftercare is important even for readers 😂

Head resting on Ari's shoulder, you mindlessly play with the button of his partly-open shirt as your gaze trails across the space. Soft timbre of Ari's voice as your Dom talks to another member is soothing enough that you let your thoughts simply wander.

Dark tones on the walls, which at first sight may look like simple black paint, are in fact a velvety wallpaper encrusted with decorative swirls. BDSM equipment in red leather and old-wood styled designs is mixed with black, French-style furniture; like the curved dresser which drawers are filled with small fun implements, from nipple clamps to gags.

Ornamental iron hanging from the ceilings in various spots around the club serves as rafters to which poor bottoms can be cuffed. The chandeliers, most in red or reddish-gold, a decorative echo of old French districts.

No wonder Ari feels here so at ease. Not only because he owns the place, but because he made it a much kinkier, lush reflection of the New Orleans, which used to be his home. 

You like the quite luxurious feel of the Ruby Garden, with the enticing shades of black and titular red, wood and upholstery that sometimes make you fantasize about past century brothels or private clubs where kink started to bloom amongst bohemian passions.

But there's something missing. At least according to your eye.

"It could use some sparkles," you mutter under your breath, not fully aware you said it out loud.

Ari's legs beneath you jerk up slightly, nudging you as he tilts his head and glances at you.

"Hmm? What were you saying, mon Chérie?" He asks.

Ari never loses his focus on you, even if he's engaged in a conversation with someone else, his instincts are always zeroed in on you.

It's endearing, but sometimes also scary. Especially in moments when you'd rather not have your Dom sense you're about to get into trouble.

"Nothing important," you shrug. "Just that something shiny could be added to the club's interior."

"What?" Ari arches a single brow, now fully looking at you.

"Hey, I find the club very chic and stylish," you playfully tug on the collar of Ari's shirt, "but even with the addition of red it's still mostly masculine. A few shiny trinkets here or there could level it up."

Okay, so maybe you like sparkling things a bit.

Maybe a lot.

Maybe the vanity at your place is stacked with four jewelry boxes that beside your usually worn jewelry contain lots of broken strings of colorful beads, which you didn't have a heart to throw away because they were so pretty and shiny.

"Shiny decorations?" At first Ari looks at you as if you lost your mind, but his eyes slowly darken as he deliberates on something.

You tilt yourself back warily, as much as Ari's heavy arm securing your back allows. You don't trust that look on his face, when his features harden and evil kind of mischief ignites in his blue eyes.

When he gives you that look, it usually means you're about to suffer his wicked ways.

"I think I have to seriously consider such a proposition." Ari hums, tracing his fingertips down your arm.

He gently takes your fingers in his and lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles like a gentleman. Reminding you of the movie vampires you once compared him to, saying he had that southern charm blinding his victim into compliance so that he could rip her apart and leave her body in the bayou.

Ari had laughed then; rich and genuine amusement that carried through his apartment and made your heart flutter in happiness.

Then he'd tied you to a reupholstered Bergere chair and wrecked you to a point that you prayed for being dumped dead in the bayou.

So now that he's dropping into his charming deception again, your heart jumps in reasonable fear. And your pussy clenches.

"Stand up for me, Chérie." He helps you up on your feet, moving along with you, until he's towering over you.

"Remove your clothing, please." Though he's polite, you know it wasn't a request, but an order.

One you don't have much trouble complying, despite there always being that first wave of embarrassment when you undressed fully in the club, since there were always curious eyes around you.

"Wrists, please."

It's an instinct, to place your hand in Ari's grip without hesitation. Even if you're wary of his creative type of evil, you trust him deeply.

Ari's leather cuffs are already in place, always put on before you enter the club floor. Now he links them together, binding your hands. Then he lifts your arms above your head.

Your eyes follow the line of Ari's arms as he stretches them - one hand holding your bound wrists, while the other reaches for a chain hanging from the rafters above.

Uh-oh.

He chains you in place, pulling you up 'till you're balancing on the balls of your feet.

Ari tenderly runs his fingertips along your arms and down your sides, reminding you of his presence and care, despite having just thrown you off balance.

"A second, if you please." He smiles at you, but it's not really reassuring. Not at the moment when you see the wicked hunger gleaming in his eyes.

Ari sways you gently, chuckling when you squeak as your feet slide across the floor.

He moves past you, walking a few steps away. You can hear amused huffs coming from the few people who are around, including the Master with whom Ari was speaking before.

You try focusing on the sounds of what your Dom may be preparing, but the mixture of the club's noises drowns out the quiet slide of a drawer being pulled open.

Ari doesn't take long, but enough for you to start stewing in images running wild.

There's always an element of surprise (to not say shock) when being with Ari. No matter how many details you talk over before starting some scenes, your Master always twists it up and makes your head spin.

He stands in front of you again, steadying your body with a hand on your hip. He lets his gaze roam over you; slowly, so that you feel the burning attention rousing each part of your body.

"I'm always open to suggestions," he says, squeezing your flesh, "so I'll happily consider the option of adding more sparkling elements to the interior."

"But I'd rather keep with the color scheme, okay?" He asks you, as if he was really talking about simple interior design.

You know he's not. You can practically see the cogs in his devious mind twirling rapidly, creating a plan of your demise to the tune of his evil laugh.

You swallow nervously, nodding your head hesitantly.

Then Ari takes something out of his pocket and your eyes widen.

The chain that dangles on his finger isn't long. It has three red, crystal hearts placed evenly across it. And a pair of biting as fuck nipple clamps - each on one end.

"Oh no, no, no, no!" You shake your head, scrambling away as far as your chain allows, which isn't far.

Ari sighs.

He takes one step to the side. Then lands a slap on your ass so solid, that the crack of it echoes through the club and the painful sting makes you jump forward with a shriek.

Rough fingers squeeze your chin harshly when Ari faces you again. his eyes hold a reprimand that's a hair away from punishment.

"Nipple clamps are not on your hard limits list." He reminds you. "Or has that changed?"

"N-no, Sir," you want to cast your eyes down, but with the way Ari's holding your chin you're forced to withstand the eye contact.

"Do you perhaps need to safeword?"

Though his voice is a low graze of displeasure, you know it's at your antics, because Ari is always - absolutely always - serious about consent and safewords.

"No, Sir," you don't hesitate in your answer, even though you know it's sealing your fate.

"Are you in the yellow range? Do we need to pause and talk?"

He would. Immediately. If you hinted at actual discomfort beyond what you could take for your Master.

But you were nowhere near that stage. You were simply fussy and maybe the tiniest bit bratty, which meant you were getting yourself in even more trouble.

"No, Sir," you grumble in defeat.

"Ah, so you're being whiny just for the sake of it?" Ari releases your chin, but his fingers curl instead around the back of your neck as he steps so close to you that his clothes graze your naked skin.

"I don't like nipple clamps!" You blurt out, unable to stop the petulance from spilling.

"Tough." Ari shrugs. "Because I like putting them on you."

"I like how you squeak when I attach them," he murmurs, running his fingertips under the swell of your breasts. "How you pant as you breathe through the pain for me."

"I love how wet you get from them," he pinches your nipples, at the same time capturing your lips in a kiss.

Your yip melts on Ari's tongue, dispersing into a moan the longer he holds your nipples between his fingers.

You'd tell him it's not the clamps themselves that do it to you, but the fact Ari makes you suffer them. Also because his voice, warm and raspy, is like prelude to sex itself and you would get wet and needy from his talk alone.

But any coherent thought leaves your brain when Ari's mouth descends down your neck and onto your breasts. He cups each in his big hands, squeezing. Then his mouth is on one of your nipples, sucking and tormenting it into a stiff point.

He lavishes the other tit with the same voracious attention, tugging on the stiffened peak with his teeth, before releasing it.

Straightening up, Ari holds your gaze as he rubs your poor, tortured nipples with his fingers, wiping away excess of his own saliva, so that the clamps would hold on better.

And then he's attaching the first one; impish glee lighting up his eyes at your hiss.

By the time he secures the other clamp, adjusting the tightness, you're trying to steady your ragged breath and not close your thighs, because your folds are getting puffy and wet.

"See? Shiny." Ari mocks you, flicking one of the crystal hearts hanging from the thin chain attaching both clamps.

The impact, however minimal, tugs on your nipples, sending another zap straight to your core.

"But I think, if we're going for a proper shiny ornament to decorate my club-" Ari's mouth curves in a smirk as he reaches into his pocket once again- "it needs to be opulent."

He lifts his hand up and the first thing that you see is a red crystal heart between his fingers.

Ari turns his palm up and a wave of heat washes over you. A butt plug. Very reasonable in size, but it doesn't change the fact you're still squirmy and shy when your Dom initiates anal play.

You almost caused him a laughing hiccup when you tried to talk your way out of it, by blurting out it's unhygienic.

In moments like that, when you knew Ari was going to push against your resistance, you considered moving everything into a hard limit list. Though Ari had the skill to use kissing alone as a damn torment.

You curse under your breath when Ari moves to stand behind you and kicks your feet wider apart. You catch a small audience glancing your way, quickly shifting your own gaze to the floor.

There's a snick of a bottle being open and then Ari's finger slides between your buttcheeks, smearing a dollop of lube around your rim.

The plug is coated in lube as well, easing its way inside.

Your breath quickens, a whimper spilling on your lips when Ari pushes the toy in.

"Push back, Chérie. That's it," he encourages you.

While his voice is soft and the hand steadying your hip is reassuring, the pressure against your tightest hole is merciless.

“There you go,” Ari forces the whole thing in, tracing the heart-shaped securing end with his finger. “So pretty and sparkly.” 

He pats your ass lightly, rounding you again. A glint of recognition in his eyes tells you that he's acutely aware that you’re settling into every sensation, every part of the scene that’s unfolding. 

Ari knows your body is throbbing with growing need, that you’re focusing on the feeling of your nipples being crushed and your ass being stretched; as well on the helplessness of being bound and naked in front of him. In front of other people, too. And he knows being at his mercy (while also deeply certain of remaining in his care) tops your arousal. 

Your gaze is a little dazed already as you look up at him, a blissed sigh leaving your lips when Ari’s touch marks your body.

He’s tracing lines along your sides, moving closer to caress your back and then up your arms. He draws patterns with his fingertips, then squeezes your ass with both hands. 

Breath hitches in your lungs as Ari crouches down, his hot breath tickling your belly while his large hands grip your thighs. 

For a long moment nothing happens, just Ari keeping his mouth an inch from your wet core as he slides his hands up and down your legs, each time moving them a little higher, a little further between your thighs. 

When his tongue flicks against your clit, your whole body jerks with sensation. The chain clinks, your feet scrambling against the floor, and the heart-shaped weights on the nipple clamps tug harsher. 

“Shh,” Ari coos, wrapping his arms around your thighs to help you steady. 

He works wicked eights on your swelling nub, his tongue putting spells that drive you surely to the edge, but keep away from finishing your torment. 

When he pulls back, you have half a mind to glare at him. The fact he doesn’t immediately retaliate with a swat to your clit only increases your worry. Turns you on even more, as well. 

Ari reaches into his pocket once again. It takes your glazed eyes a few seconds to make out the glint of the implement within his palm. Similar to a minimalistic, curved brooch, with a single red, crystal heart. 

“Oh God, Sir.” You nearly weep, tugging on the chain binding your hands. “Please no, Sir, please, please.”

Ari doesn’t show an ounce of irritation this time, he’s too smug about drawing reactions from your body. Though you are certain that the clit clamp he has prepared for you is for his own amusement, not your own pleasure.  

“Color?” He simply asks, referring to the traffic color system that’s the classic and most basic form of stating your state when in a bdsm scene.

You whine again, because you can’t lie to him and because you’re not even distressed. 

“Green,” you admit, pouting.

You try tilting your ass back, moving your sensitive parts away from the wicked Master with his stupid implements of evil. A smack on the back of your thigh has you yelping and scooting back forward. You earn another slap for glaring. 

“FuckjesusohgodSirfuck-” you babble, eyes screwing shut as Ari pinches your puffy folds together and clamps them.

Your engorged clit is fully exposed in the tear-shaped hole, its sides squeezing it only a tad lighter than the torture devices do your nipples. The heart shaped crystal falls right atop your exposed clit and you know it will bump it with every move. 

Sucking in a breath, you press your lips together and still your body. If you won’t move a single muscle then it will be alright. 

Moderately alright, since you’re suffering already, but better than the-

Your mouth falls open on a cry and your whole body jolts when Ari pats your clit with an open hand. 

Your core burns, walls fluttering rapidly. Your ass clenches too, which in turn leads to a dirty reminder that it's stretched around a plug. Movement causes the chain between nipple clamps to sway, tugging on your abused peaks. 

The heat inside you grows, blood rushing through you and buzzing in your head. 

Lips parted, as moan after moan trickles out, you fall deeper into sensations spreading through your body. Your mind gets a little cloudy, shutting out everything that isn’t connected to your body.

Ari’s touch becomes a beacon, drawing your attention to wherever he points. Light strokes of his hands, instead of soothing your body, escalate the madness. His mouth joins the torment, kisses and bites overloading your senses. 

You keen loudly when he brushes the back of his hand against your trapped, swollen folds. You don’t even register the hum of delight from your audience when Ari taps the crystal over your clit and it bounces, making you cry out.

“Who would’ve thought that a shiny trinket is so whiny?” Ari mocks.

You, amusing him further, whine again, your head lolling forward. 

Ari’s fingers push between your lips, coarse pads rubbing against your tongue. He drives two, then three, almost to the back of your throat. Then withdraws them, a string of saliva stretching between your mouth and his fingers. 

He brings his wet fingers to your clit again, circling it oh so slowly, then flicking the crystal over and over again. 

He gives you short reprieve, enough for the pulsing in your clit to marginally subside. Enough that when he finally takes the damn clamp off, you don’t come immediately from the sheer return of blood to your sensitive parts.

You’re nearly panting and doing your best to keep your legs spread, because if you closed your thighs an inch, it surely would be a stimulation enough you’d orgasm.

Which, actually, is tempting as hell…

You don’t get to try it, however. Ari is pushing between your thighs; pants undone and cock sheathed. 

He grips one of your legs below the knee and pulls it up, wrapping it around his hip. Bending his legs slightly, Ari guides the head of his cock into your pussy. Standing still for a moment, he moves his now free hand to grip your ass and then plunges in one, swift stroke.

The stretch is maddening enough to have you push up on your tiptoes, but Ari drives in to the hilt, sinking himself so deeply that your oversensitive clit crushes into his pelvis.

You come with a scream, body convulsing in pleasure so high it’s almost painful. 

Ari holds you through it, a vein in his neck pulsing as he forces himself to stay still and not fuck into the clenching heat of your cunt. 

When you slump forward, head resting in the crook of Ari’s neck, he teases loud enough for your hazy brain to register and for your audience to hear:

“So much trouble with shiny trinkets. You poke it and it immediately breaks apart.” 

Your incoherent mewl against his neck makes Ari huff a laugh. 

He kisses your shoulder softly then starts moving. He keeps the few first thrusts slow, finding the best angle for his own pleasure. Then steadily increases the pace and the force. 

You start responding, as each push jolts your body and the embers of arousal ignite into flames again. The clamps on your nipples are still attached, pulling on your peaks with each roll of Ari’s hips. His hand on your ass angles, long digits resting atop the crystal of the anal plug and tapping it repeatedly. 

“Oh! Ohh!” Your head tilts back, cheek squishing into your outstretched arm. 

Ari tugs on the butt plug, cock driving into you harder. Among the fizz in your head, you can hear faint jingling - of the chains on the rafter, of the chain swaying between your tits, of the buckle in Ari’s belt. 

There’s also the pitiful babble coming from your own mouth: begging and prayers, all at once. 

Ari’s grunts elicit a special type of pleasure, a certain fulfillment at knowing your Dom is satisfied. That you give him this pleasure. For a submissive like you it’s a gratification greater than your own orgasm. 

Though you sure love the shattering climax that Ari rips from you when he rams into your pussy at a particular angle.

The squeeze of your walls topples him over soon after you. The feelings of his cock twitching inside you makes you sigh in contentment. It always does, whether he finishes in one of your holes, or in your hand. 

You don’t fully register the tenderly spoken “I’ve got you, mon amour,” when Ari slides out of you a few heartbeats later. 

It’s the rush of blood returning to your nipples after he takes off the clamps, that shakes you out of daze. The zap of pain surges to your core in a twisted ripple. 

Ari rubs your nipples gently, easing the ache. Kisses each tip. 

He eases out the plug from your hole, then gathers all the toys into a small zip-lock bag to take it cleaning later. One strong arm around your middle, Ari uses his other hand to unchain you. There’s no stumbling as you sink boneless into his arms, Ari's an expert in catching and holding you. 

With your head resting against Ari’s chest when he sits down on a small sofa, after wrapping you in a soft blanket, you focus on the pounding of his heart beneath your ear and don’t hear the passing comment of one of the Masters about it being a fun idea to have someone be made into a trinket once a week. 

Ari doesn’t mind this type of recurring decoration at the club. 

As for the kind of shiny trinkets you liked, Ari decides on buying you a few sun catchers to hang in the windows, so you could chase the shards of rainbow scattered on the floor and walls.   

#Ari Levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #dom!Ari Levinson #dom!Ari Levinson x reader #Ari Levinson imagine #ruby garden #heart of ruby #ruby garden series #chris evans imagine #chris evans fic #ari levinson fic

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Mother Nature-Week | Chris Evans

Pairing -> Actor!Boyfriend!Chris Evans x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary -> You have your period while Chris is at work but when he finds out he makes sure to come home to bring you foot and comfort you.

Warnings -> (T) period cramps, one time talking about throwing up, a lot of fluff

Wordcount -> 1.5k

Request -> HAPPY NEW YEAR!! 🥳 Loved the new Andy image! 🥰 I’m in love with your writing, do you by chance have any fic with Chris or his character about where the reader starts her period and has bad cramps or something 👉🏼👈🏼 Mother Nature sent me a gift last night for new years and I’m dying need some Chris or Andy comfort or anyone lol !! Not even sure if you take requests but just wondering 💭 Have a good day 🌈✨😂

A/N -> Thank you and happy new year for you too. First of all thank you so much for those kind words, they really mean a lot to me. And I’m glad you love my work. I hope you’re oke and I hope the oneshot helps you a bit. Second, I take requests, yes so here we are. Sorry for mistakes, misunderstanding phrases, it’s so late but I wanted to finish this one before I sleep. So enjoy it ans thanks for your request.💕

Masterlist | Chris Evans Masterlist

You’re lying in bed, your hands around your stomach, trying to comfort yourself while worse cramps make your day shitty. It’s the second January of the new year, and Mother Nature thought you really needed your period again; otherwise, the start of the new year wouldn't be as great as yet, right?

Your arms wrapped around your body don't really help; they don't warm you, and they don’t stop those cramps. Sometimes you’re not sure if your body hates you or if you just need Chris with you, and your body shows you because when he isn’t there, your cramps are worse. Or his talented hands are just good when they hold your belly warm and his fingers draw small circles on your skin.

Chris is at work filming his new movie, and you’re at home with bad cramps. That’s definitely not the way you wanted to spend the day. You have nothing against being in bed for half of the day and cuddling with your boyfriend, but being in bed with cramps and your period but without your boyfriend? You can definitely imagine better plans for the day.

Something like a cold shiver along your spine while your whole body feels like you’re sweating lets you groan. You don’t care about sweating anymore; taking a shower isn’t included in the plan for today when Chris isn’t at home. Everything feels like it’s spinning, and if you try to stand for a while, you will probably fall down because your legs feel like jelly.

You don’t really have time to think about it all because your cramps are way too hurtful to focus on something else. The worst about the cramps and your period? You got them today, which means you will have them for another four to six days. So you can already plan the next few days in bed with a lot of cramps in your stomach and even more food you want to eat.

You have your blanket wrapped around you. Just your nose and your eyes looking out of it, and you feel like a burrito. Something you wouldn’t say no to yet when someone offered you a burrito. Before you can think about more food, you feel your phone buzzing. Somewhere underneath you. But you’re not really sure where it is, and you actually don’t really want to move right now.

With your one hand, you try to find your phone; maybe it's Chris who calls you, and you don’t want to ignore him. He could bring you some food, so you should definitely not ignore him. It doesn’t take long - maybe four or five times, rolling from one side to the other, touching every inch you can reach - before you roll back and try to find your phone on the other side.

You don’t know how it came to that place, but you found it under your left thigh. The blanket was between them, and you needed a moment to figure out how to reach it without unwrapping yourself. But you managed it, and you can finally pick up the call. It’s Chris, like you thought, and with a small smile, you roll to the side to place your phone so you don’t have to hold it in your hand the whole time.

“Hey, princess,” he says, smiling into the camera. “Still in bed, huh?” Chris jokes, and you nod.

When you just nodded, he immediately knew something was wrong, and his expression changed from a happy one to a worried one. You want to tell him that nothing is wrong, but it wouldn’t be true, and you also don’t want him to worry about you. Your period is something you have every month, but he is always worried when you have it because you don't feel well. And Chris hates to see you when you’re not as euphoric and happy as usual, especially when he isn’t there to comfort you and bring you as much food as you want.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asks, and you mumble something, but he doesn’t really understand it.

“Cramps,” you repeat.

“Mother nature?” Chris asks, and you nod.

He always calls it that because when he said it the first time, you felt way more comfortable. And especially when he is at work and everyone can listen, it feels more like a secret sentence the two of you use, and not everyone immediately knows what’s wrong. You’re not ashamed of having it, but you feel way more comfortable, and Chris does everything to make sure you feel good and loved.

“I will be back in thirty minutes; what do you need?” he asks, and you chuckle but shake your head.

“You need to work; I’ll be fine,” you tell him, but you know he is too stubborn, so he will be home in thirty minutes, and he doesn’t care if you say yes or no.

Of course you want to have him at home and cuddle with you, but you also know he has to do his job. He always told you he was just a call away, and right now you don’t want to discuss it with him; you want him with you, holding you close against him.

And when the next cramp in your stomach is worse than the others and you hiss softly, he is sure he won’t let you be alone at home. He will be there in thirty minutes with your food, and then he will comfort you until you feel better.

“Chocolate, burrito, sandwich with cheese and one with chicken, and a cucumber, please." You tell him the things you would like to eat, and he laughs softly, but before he hangs up, he stops.

“Ice cream and cookies, right?”

“Yes, those things too, please,” you say, and then he hangs up to finally come home.

It doesn’t take thirty minutes until Chris is home. He immediately comes into your shared bedroom and finds you still wrapped in your blanket.

“I’m home,” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

He lets his fingers slide through your hair before he leans down and kisses the top of your head softly. You’re watching a movie where he plays the main character, and when he hears his own voice, he looks at the television and laughs.

“It’s still weird to hear my own voice on the television. I bought you something, princess,” Chris says, sitting up to reach for a little bag, which he places between your legs.

You sit up and lean your back against the headboard. Then you try to reach the bag, but your boyfriend is faster and pulls it closer to him.

“Wait, you get what I have, but let me give it to you,” he says, laughing, and you groan.

Chris looks into the bag before he gives you the chocolate, the sandwiches, and the cucumber. You take it all and place it in your lap. While he was giving you the things, you opened the chocolate, and half of it was already in your belly when he looked at you in amusement.

“Oke, you didn't tell me what kind of burrito you like, so I have two,” he tells you, and his smile gets bigger.

When he lifts something else out of the bag, you chuckle. Chris holds a little stuffie, which looks like a burrito, in his hand. He hands it to you before he looks for the other burritos to give them to you as well.

“Thank you so much,” you say, cuddling with the stuffie while Chris places the bag on the side and walks around the bed to let himself fall down next to you.

“Always for you, my love,” he says, kissing your cheek softly while grabbing a burrito for himself.

The two of you eat and talk a bit about his day on set. Your cramps aren’t really better, and Chris notices it because he slides his hand under the blanket and grips your waist to help you lay down. Then his one hand glides over your stomach, and he draws small circles on it.

“When I need to throw up, it’s your fault. I just ate a few minutes ago,” you mumble, but he shrugs and moves a bit closer.

He places his arm around your shoulders while the other scratches and warms your stomach. You feel your body relaxing, and within ten minutes the cramps are getting better, and you feel yourself slowly falling asleep in the arms of the man you love the most.

Chris looks at you, making sure to see every changing expression on your face. But when you almost fall asleep in his arms, he smiles at you, knowing he found the best way to get rid of your cramps and make your period less bad. He kisses your hair softly, then your cheek, and then he looks for his blanket to wrap around the two of you.

Your boyfriend will make it clear to his colleagues that he can’t come to work when you’re not feeling well. He wants to make sure to be there and cuddle in bed with you all day until your periods are better and you’re feeling much better.

“I love you, princess,” he mumbles and chuckles when you mumble a sleepy ‘I love you too' while you hold the burrito with one of your hands and his thigh with your other while you smile softly.

Taglist: @nicoline1998enilocin | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @kandis-mom | @km-ffluv | @identity2212 | @lunaalovesyouu | @bucky-barnes-lover | @felicitylemon | @bookishtheaterlover7 | @rogersbarber | @lives-in-midgard

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[boxofbonesfic]

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [6]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why. 

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 3,776

A/N: whew. okay. we’re back, we’re updating, and we’re getting back on track. i think the motivation behind the madness is becoming a little clearer. or at least, more clear. i hope you all enjoy, and as always, comments and especially reblogs are always appreciated. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics​

It’s your wedding day, again. 

  You remember the soft white satin of your dress like it was yesterday—only it’s today, isn’t it? How can something happen again if it hasn’t happened yet? You look down at your hands, where the lacy sleeves of your wedding dress loop gracefully around your thumbs—your nails are picked raw and bleeding. You look back up at the mirror, and your own distraught face stares back at you. 

  I don’t want to get married. 

  No, that isn’t right—this is a good day, a happy day, why don’t you want it anymore? There is knowledge that dances just out of touch as you stare fuzzily at the mirror in your bridal suite. Something is wrong, but you don’t remember what it is. The mirror fragments, each component folding away as the world tilts on it’s axis, wood flooring becoming red carpet strewn with rose petals. 

  You stand at the altar, the priest beaming at you. 

  You will take him won’t you? As husband, husband and wife—Ransom splits in two like a cell, and both of them hold your hands so tight the bones creak and hurt and—

  “I love you, Princess, Sweetheart, Darling, Mine—” One voice, two mouths, one person, two bodies. You don’t realize they’re pulling until you tear, splitting right down the middle  like you’re made of tissue paper. too. Pulling you to bloody pieces as they repeat oaths of husbandly devotion. 

  My wife.

  MY  WIFE.

  You wake up in darkness, your heart pounding in your chest. It disorients you, and you blink, expecting the cloud to clear from your eyes but it doesn’t. Immediately your hand goes to your stomach, and your frantic heartbeat calms just a fraction as you rest a hand on the gentle swell. The thoughts in your head are still an anxious jumble. Ransom, Lloyd, the party—

  God, the party. 

  Your stomach churns as you recall Lloyd’s cruel smile. 

  Tell him. Tell me what he says. 

  You clap a hand to your mouth as an anguished sob threatens to escape. Ransom, Lloyd… where had they taken you? You frantically feel your way to the edge of the bed, your feet slipping a little on the cool tile as you stand. 

  “H-hello?” You call out into the darkness, but there’s no response. Trembling, you begin taking short, halting steps forward, your hands outstretched. “P-please, someone—fuck!” You curse loudly as your foot catches the edge of something, a table, a chair, you can’t tell. “Answer me!” 

  No one does. 

  You wander forward blindly until you reach a wall, and, feeling along it, you feel plaster turn to glass. You gasp, frantically dragging your hands along the surface until feel something—a switch. You flick it up, and there’s a sound like whirring gears. The lights don’t come on, but something else happens instead: the blackout shades on the other side of the thick pane of glass begin to lift, light creeping in underneath the edge. It’s blinding at first, spots dancing in your eyes as you throw a hand up to shield them, but after a moment, they adjust. 

  You see… a beach. 

  An empty beach. 

  The clear blue water comes straight up to the window like an aquarium. There are no people on the pristine, white sand—no one to hear you as you frantically beat your palm against the glass. Frantically, you turn around to take stock of the room, grabbing for a nearby chair. You knock over the little coffee table in the sitting area next to you, but you don’t care. It takes all your strength to heft it above your head, screaming as you slam it into the glass—

  But nothing happens. It connects with a dull thud, the treated wood splintering as it cracks. The window is unharmed, barely even scratched. An anguished wail tears from your chest as you throw everything within reach that you can lift, beating everything into splinters until you’re left panting and sobbing in the wreckage. 

  “Sweetheart you know that really isn’t good for the baby.” You whirl around frantically, grabbing for the leg of a chair you’d broken into kindling against the indestructible-fucking-window, brandishing it threateningly. You hadn’t even heard the sound of a door opening—in fact, as you stare, wide-eyed around the room, trying to pin down his point of entry, you can’t seem to find a door at all in the lavishly decorated suite. 

  “Fuck you!” You snarl at him, your lip curling. “Let—let me out of here!” Ransom clucks his tongue at you like you’re an errant child.

  “You’re a smart girl, Love. You know I’m not going to do that.” 

  “You can’t fucking keep me in here—” Ransom shakes his head. 

  “I can, Sweetheart. And I’m going to. We’re going to.” He casts a disparaging look down at the ruined chairs and table by your feet. “Lloyd did tell me not to put the good stuff in first—I underestimated your temper.” The casual remark makes you want to swing your makeshift bat at his head. “He designed it for you, you know. I thought we could just lock you in the basement, but now that I see it, I think this is better.” 

  “You’re a monster.” You’re crying, hard, hysterical sobs that leave your throat raw and aching. He actually has the gall to look hurt by your insult, his face crumpling as his mouth presses into a thin, angry line. 

  “A monster that loves you. That would do anything to protect you—even from yourself.” Your body seizes with fear as he crosses the room in a few easy strides, gripping your shoulders with furious hands. You whine as he squeezes, pressing harder and harder until you drop the scrap of wood you’re holding. You don’t know this Ransom, this maniacal, cruel man wearing your husband’s face, your husband’s ring. 

  “Do you remember what it was like when we got together?” He asks. Ransom shakes you a little, like he’s trying to jog your memory. “Living at home with your parents, helping them with every single bill because you were terrified your sister was going to graduate high-school on the streets—”

  “So what?” You spit back. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” 

  “I gave you everything.” For the first time you see the same possessive madness in his eyes you’d seen in Lloyd’s. “And you think you can just walk away? Take from me until you’ve gotten your fill? That’s not how this works, Sweetheart.” He releases you and you stumble away, clutching yourself. He straightens his shirt, smoothing back the errant hairs that have fallen into his face. 

  “We’re going to give you such a good life, Sweetheart. You just have to trust us.” 

  “I will never trust you again.” You growl the words at him like a threat. “I hate you.” And then, inexplicably, he’s your Ransom again, his blue eyes soft as he looks at you, like he knows something you haven’t yet come to accept. Like an adult admonishing a child for fears they’ll soon leave behind as they grow to accept the way things are—the way they always will be. 

  “You won’t always.” His eyes flick down to the destruction you’ve wrought, and he clucks his tongue. “Maybe I’ll talk to Lloyd about bringing in some new furniture for you, if you’re good.” Ransom’s handsome mouth curves up into an amused smile. “Maybe something a little heavier.” He kicks at a piece of the table, before making his way back over to the other side of the room. A door the same color as the wall opens at his touch. 

“Lunch in an hour.” 

—

   True to his word Ransom returns with Lloyd in tow, a tray held in his large hands. You’d waited for this moment with a dark sort of anticipation, and for a brief moment, their stunned, angry expressions as the door panel slides open fill you with a sense of profound pride.

   You’d done your level best to destroy everything that wasn’t nailed down,  methodically and systematically taking apart everything you could get your hand on. Even the mattress lies ruined, feathers and wood splinters littering the torn cover. Though the mirror had refused to break—and indeed proved too heavy for you to lift—you feel a smug satisfaction in seeing what you had been able to accomplish with jagged pieces of plywood.  

  Fuck you. 

  Lloyd steps in first, squatting down to inspect a piece of the smashed coffee table. 

  “I told you we shouldn’t have put this stuff in here first. Empty room, Ransom. You always have to start with an empty room.” His eyes flick up to yours, and he smiles softly—affectionately. “Hi, Princess.”

  “Go to hell, Lloyd.” Ransom steps fully into your room then, shutting the door gently behind him before setting the tray on the windowsill. He sighs. 

  “I know it was stupid to hope your attitude had improved in an hour, but stranger things have happened.” He glances back at the tray. “You should eat something, Love. It’s been four days of—” His words become a static drone as the panic begins to set in. Four days? I’ve been out for four days? The questions fill your head almost faster than you can process them. Where are you? Your parents, your sister? What happened? 

  “What is this? What is this fucking place?” 

  The pride in Ransom’s eyes makes you want to vomit. “We made it for you. Just for you. It took—how long, Lloyd?” 

  “A year, give or take.” He rubs his fingers along the growing stubble on his upper lip. “And then finding staff…” He pauses. “The hotel, or just the Room?” The way Lloyd says room makes it sound singular, important. You cannot help but gape at them

  “You’re sick—both of you. Y-you—what you did to me—” You shake your head. “A-all of this.” You gesture at the room around you. “For what?” Lloyd threads his fingers together, and you can hear the soft metal click of his rings tapping against each other as he does. 

  “I know you’re not deaf, Princess. It’s for you.” 

  Cold trickles down your spine. You’ve been doing it ever since you woke up, running through each moment in the past four, five and cataloguing each one you couldn’t make make sense. You’re doing it again now,  thumbing back through the index cards of your memories and finding empty slots. Thanksgivings, Christmases, Easters—Ransom had told you it had been a year, but you can’t trust that, you can’t believe him, not after everything.

  “My family won’t let you do this sick fucking shit, you know that.” You spit. “They’re not going to let you kidnap me—”

  “How much is Nathalie’s school, Sweetheart?” Ransom asks, cocking his head. “Per year.”

  “What?” The question throws you off, the freight train of words in your throat piling up messily on your tongue. “What are you—”

  “How much is her tuition?” He repeats it slowly like you’re having trouble understanding him. You bare your teeth at Ransom as you grimace. 

  “I don’t know. She has a scholarship. What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

  “It’s $63,000.” Ransom gives you the figure so matter-of-factly it’s like he rehearsed it. “Per year.” Your stomach sinks, like your body knows before your head. “What, you didn’t know? No one ever reads the paperwork, do they, Lloyd?” He glances at his brother over his shoulder. “What’s it say on the checks? T. H. B. Inc., doesn’t it?” He licks his lips. “The T stands for Thrombey, Sweetheart.” 

  You almost want to laugh for the insanity of it all—you even try, but no sound escapes your tight, dry throat. Lloyd nods. 

  “Same as the ones your father gets. Funny how his company’s picked up these last few years, isn’t it?” 

  Your fists clench and unclench as you sit there on the floor, staring up at them. There’s nothing left to destroy, nothing left to break except the two of them—and you already know how that ends. Instead, you’re forced to sit there, hot rage coiling in your chest as the realization dawns cold and cutting—

  Your family is already bought and paid for, even if they don’t know it. 

  “I never asked you for this.” You spit, nails biting into the meat of your palms as you press angry fists against the cool tile. “I didn’t ask you for fucking any of this!” 

  “I promised to make a home for you, didn’t I, Sweetheart?” He squats down in front of you, his hand out like he wants you to take it. “A good husband provides.” It isn’t supposed to feel like being cut into a thousand pieces to hear his wedding vows regurgitated like this. His gaze drops to the ring still on your finger. You hadn’t noticed it until he did, and as he watches, you rip it from your finger with a violent twist, and throw it at him. He actually looks upset at this, a hint of his earlier rage passing over his features like a cloud. 

  You hate the way it makes your gut wrench because you want him to fucking hurt. It’s like your body hasn’t realized yet just who he is—who they are, and it makes you even angrier. You turn away, loose nightgown bunching under your thighs as you turn to face the wall instead. 

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Not until you eat something.” You aren’t sure if it’s Ransom that speaks, or Lloyd. You press your eyes shut and bite your lips to shutter the angry, frustrated wail that threatens to leap from your throat. “That’s not good for the baby.” 

  Good for the baby.

  Good for the baby.

  Good for the fucking baby.

  You want to hate it now; the child growing inside of you, even if only to spite the men standing behind you. But you cannot bring yourself to—and you hate that too. 

  Shame is not a new feeling, not for you, but it feels new today as you pick apart the plain chicken salad sandwich they had brought for you. Assume it’s drugged. You hate yourself as you tear off chunks with stiff fingers, forcing your mouth open and swallowing it down with a grimace. Assume everything is drugged. When you’re finished, you drag the back of your hand across your mouth roughly, tossing the tray at Lloyd’s feet. 

  He doesn’t pick it up. 

  “Good girl.” You shiver. It’s involuntary, and you know he sees it, the way his mouth twitches with the urge to lift into the smug smile you know so well. “Your wish is our command, Princess.”

  Ransom bends to pick up the ring wordlessly, and follows his brother out of your room. 

  —

  They don’t come back that night.

  You watch the sky outside the glass wall of your prison turn dark, and then brighten again with stars as you sit huddled against it, hugging your knees to your chest. You’re exhausted, but you can’t sleep. Your body won’t let you, jerking you back to wakefulness as soon as your eyelids start to droop. The thoughts won’t stop coming either, cycling through on a loop you can’t seem to stop. 

  I wonder what Nat’s doing. 

  I wonder if they’re worried about me.

  I wonder what Ransom told them.

  You want to pinpoint the time your life went off the rails but you can’t, you don’t know it. College, perhaps? 

  When you’d met Ransom? Lloyd?

  You drag yourself away from the window after a few hours of staring bleakly out at the empty beach. It feels like too much to hope for that someone would happen by, not with the lengths they had clearly taken to secure you. The comforter bleeds feathers as you drag it to the floor beside the bed, wedging yourself between it and the wall. You know you aren’t safe—you’ve little control over that—but the solid press of concrete behind you makes you feel more secure. 

  It’s what allows you to finally fall asleep, though it is not restful. It feels like you wake every few minutes at every imagined sound, jolting back to consciousness and scanning the still empty room before quickly passing out again. You half expect Lloyd and Ransom to be back, waiting for you to open your eyes but when you finally do, you are still blessedly alone, but for the fresh tray in front of the door. 

  You wait for a few minutes, just to see if they emerge from your peripheral vision, the places in the room you can’t see from your vantage point—but they don’t. Everything is as it was before, the destruction from your earlier rampage still strewn across the floor. It feels surreal. Slowly, you pick your way across the debris and grasp the tray in your trembling hands. You don’t want to eat it, not really, but your stomach clenches and rumbles at the sight of food as you peek beneath the tray cover. 

  It isn’t anything special—another sandwich, a bag of chips, and a bottle of water. You check beneath the styrofoam plate just to be sure, there’s no note, no nothing, and you cannot help but wonder when they’ll be back. They’re messing with your head, you know they are—and you hate that it’s working. You’re rattled, upset, anxious—just how they want you. 

  The urge comes again to pick up the largest piece of anything you can find and smash it against the window until it breaks. 

  We made it for you.

  Your stomach churns with disgust even as you take a greedy bite out of your sandwich. How hadn’t you seen yourself and your family waltzing right into the palms of their hands? How hadn’t you noticed? Lloyd had always been overly interested, overly gracious, even after you’d rejected him, and started dating his brother. You’re reminded of Linda’s curt smile and her slickly delivered barb. You tore them apart without even thinking about it. And Lloyd’s admission…

  It was more than a little crush.

  You don’t know how to reconcile the madness simmering behind your husbands eyes with the man who’d held your hands and said his vows. As he’d griped your wrists, staring into your eyes with his own fever-bright, you could barely recognize him. 

  You clean your plate, washing it down with the water before casting another look around the room. It’s blank, empty beyond the few pieces of furniture you hadn’t been able to destroy. No books, no television—nothing. You search the walls near the door panel, looking for something, anything that might make it open, but you find little. The smooth white keyboard does not respond when you push your thumb against the rubbery buttons, and the seam is so narrow you can barely wedge your fingernails into it to try and pry it open. 

  For hours you walk the perimeter of the room, running your hands along the walls, feeling no breaks in the smooth, cool surface. You have to get out of here—but you don’t even know where here is. How far you are from the resort, if you’re even on the same island. As the room darkens, you realize you’ve been pacing for hours like a caged animal, and neither Ransom nor Lloyd has come to check on you all day. Somehow, the thought fill you with apprehension. Not knowing when they might appear is unnerving, and you suspect they mean it to be. 

  You thread your fingers through your hair, tugging on it as you watch the sun sink into the sea, a panicked, claustrophobic feeling rising in your chest until you realize you aren’t breathing. You can’t stay here like this, you can’t—

  Before you realize it you’re running for the door, beating your fists wildly against the panel. 

  “Let me out! Let me the fuck out of here!” Your frenzied wailing rings in your own ears. It’s like you’re numb to the pain as you swing with all your might. You’re aware-even if only dimly—of the fact that your fists will be sore and aching later, bruised and beat to a pulp but you don’t care. Not if it gets you out—not if it gets you away from them. 

  “Ransom! Ransom let me out! You can’t fucking keep me here! You can’t!” 

  Nothing happens. The door doesn’t budge, and there is no answer to your increasingly panicked demands. You scream for hours. Until you’re hoarse, and your trembling fists ache to raise above your shoulders. Still, you bang your open palms against the panel as your firm insistence becomes a stream of nonsense pleas. 

  “Please, please don’t do this, if you l-loved me y-you wouldn’t do this!” Tears and snot run down your face as you collapse to your knees, exhausted. “Please.” You mumble, curling in on yourself in front of the door. The tears come again, and you don’t even try to stop them, sobbing open-mouthed on the cold tile, your hands fisting in your nightgown. 

  “Please.” 

  You lay there until the room goes dark. 

  —

  “I hate seeing her like this.” The cameras are good—too good. He can see the pain on your face too clearly, hear the betrayal in your voice just a bit too well through the speakers. 

  “You think I like it?” Lloyd asks irritatedly, and Ransom sighs. “She’ll even out soon. If not, you can up the mood stabilizer. She’s cleared for it until the second trimester.” Ransom knows his brother, knows that’s his version of comforting reassurance. “Besides, you’re the one that decided to play keep-away.” 

  Ransom looks at the camera again, at your softly moving shoulders. He’s both thankful and irritated at the hair covering your pretty face—but at least it blocks the sight of your tears. As he watches, you shudder—like you’re still crying, even in your sleep. 

  “I know. We have to make her grateful. For us.” He says, still looking at the screen. And he does. He understands the necessity of it—it was his plan, almost more than Lloyd’s. “I still hate it.” 

  “I don’t anticipate she’ll keep it up more than a week. Two, tops.” For the most part, Ransom has seldom ever found himself envious of his twin, but now he felt his lip curl with irritated jealousy at Lloyd’s confidence. “Don’t worry little brother,” he grins. “Our Princess will love us again.” He turns back to the cameras. “I’m sure of it.” 

To be continued…

next chapter

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