Love Me Some Knight Steve Rogers!

I love this fluff!!!!

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS | Ch 1

Summary: A snowstorm has canceled all flights and you're stuck alone for Christmas... or are you? Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader Warnings: 18+, This is a pretty fluffy chapter, alcohol consumption, bad language words Author's Note: I've been on the road for work and looking forward to getting home. I'd be a mess if I couldn't... this is going to be a multi-part series, so hang tight! No Beta, mistakes are mine! Thanks @time-for-a-lullaby for giving this a quick read!

Masterlist Thanks for liking, commenting, & reblogging. I do NOT authorize any of my work to be translated or re-shared off of Tumblr (IE: Wattpad, AO3, etc)

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Home For the Holidays

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The notification from your phone was like a punch to the gut. "Canceled." Every flight for the next 72 hours was canceled due to the ridiculous blizzard happening outside. You had tried everything, looking at alternative options. You were, in a word, stuck. Sulking, you headed downstairs to the lobby, extending your stay, picking up a bottle of red wine and a few snacks from the lobby gift shop. If you were going to be here a bit longer, you might as well make the most of it. Your face wore a crestfallen expression all afternoon, your heart aching to see your family and the dread spreading through you that you'd have to make that call no one wants to make during the holidays. "I won't be able to make it home for Christmas." It was a heartbreaking conversation, but your parents understood considering the weather.

Changing into some cozy (yet casual enough to wear in public) loungewear, you pulled on your Uggs and brought your wine and a glass downstairs to the guest lounge area. A few others had similar ideas, hanging out by the fireplace, playing board games, while soft instrumental holiday music played in the background. A coffee/cocoa/tea & s'mores bar had been set up for guests by the lodge staff. Every topping imaginable for the cocoa, Hershey bars galore and the biggest, fluffiest homemade marshmallows cut into squares so they would fit perfectly on the graham crackers. You settled into an oversized chair by the fireplace and wrapped yourself up in a thick blanket that you had grabbed from a basket near the seating area. As you watched a family also stuck at the lodge unwrap gifts by the tree sipping your Cabernet, a tear trickled down your face.

"Not able to be with your family either?" A voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up, quickly wiping the tear away seeing an equally wistful looking Chris Evans sitting with a beer sitting in the other oversized chair, feet propped up on the matching ottoman.

"Yeah," you nodded, curling into yourself a little. "Merry Christmas to us," you offered your glass out in a distanced toast, which he held up his beer in response, "Merry Christmas," he responded as a sympathetic smile passed across his bearded face before the both of you took a sip.

"So what were you doing up here in the middle of nowhere?" Chris asked, attempting to make some small talk.

"Snowboarding trip. Annual tradition for me before I trek home to spend the holidays with my family. A little 'me' time; the slopes, the spa, and fuck all."

Chris laughed at your response. "Really? Didn't peg you for a boarder."

"I'm pretty decent, though the gnarly bruise on my hip right now might try to tell a different story." You laughed, setting your glass on the end table next to you.

"Wow. How bad of a fall caused that? I've got one on my thigh right now - we might have to have a show and tell," Chris grinned, clearly in an attempt lift your spirits before taking another sip of his beer.

"Nothing like trying to stop and a snow drift just says 'fuck you' before dragging you down to the ground," you giggled into your glass, playfully extending your middle finger to emphasize the 'fuck you'.

"Got it," Chris chuckled. "That's happened to me a couple of times before." Chris ran his fingers through his hair, exhaling a breath. "Where ya from?"

“Pennsylvania - you?”

“Boston. How’d we end up in middle of nowhere Colorado?” Chris mused, watching a sparkle slowly creep into your eyes, the more you two talked. In the back of his mind, he knew the two of you desperately needed to feel better about your circumstances. Any laugh he was able to draw from you was helping him feel better as well.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I’m not necessarily complaining,” you polished off your glass. “You having another beer?” You motioned to his bottle.

“If you’re having another glass of wine, I won’t turn down another beer,” he smiled. “Be right back,” Chris stood, dropping his bottle into a recycling bin and slipping out of the room. You sat, your fingers contemplating the mini bottle, enough for one more glass. When he returned a few minutes later he held a six pack, and two fresh mini bottles of the red you were drinking. “Figured you might want another glass… or two?”

Releasing the finger you twisted into your hair, “Thank you.” Chris handed off the bottles and the two of you moved to sit on the sofa. “You want some of this blanket?” dog earring a corner as an invitation.

“Yeah, if you’re OK with it,” he accepted your invite and slipped under the soft fabric with you.

****** A few hours or so later… wine time ******

The two of you laughed back and forth as the booze had significantly lowered your inhibitions. You and Chris were going back and forth over something trivial that had you both howling with laughter. You had snacked on more s’mores than either of you would care to admit. At one point, Chris had dotted a small dollop of whipped cream on your nose and you two were getting progressively closer and cozier under the blanket. You swapped stories about wild holidays of Christmas past with your respective families, and got deep into music tastes, your careers, and more.

Your phone chimed with an alert - midnight. You’d normally be at midnight services with the family - your annual pilgrimage to church (you would consider yourself spiritual, but not deeply religious). Your brain sobered back to reality, the little traditions you were missing.

“You OK?” Chris casually slipped an arm around you, resting it on the back of the couch. You looked around the room and realized that you were alone at this point.

“Yeah…” you paused for a moment before you spoke again. “It’s Christmas.”

“It is…” Chris hummed, checking his watch. “Merry Christmas. I just realized I haven’t even gotten your name.”

“It’s Y/N,” you shyly replied.

“Chris,” he formally introduced himself. “Merry Christmas Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas Chris.” You downed the final sip of wine in your glass. “We might want to call it? The slopes are open at 9:30 - considering I’m still stuck here, might take advantage. Not sure what you’re doing in the morning, would you want to join me?”

“Why not? Better than being cooped up in a hotel room alone,” he smiled, polishing off the last sips of his beer. “Join me for breakfast then we can hit the slopes?”

“Sounds great. 8:30 at the lobby restaurant?”

“Perfect,” Chris stood, extending a hand to help you stand. The two of you cleaned up your beer and wine mess in silence. Folding the blanket, you set it back into the basket and turned off the lights.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” You looked to Chris as the two of you walked to the door.

“Yeah… wait, Y/N, look,” he pointed up, acknowledging the mistletoe hanging over the both of you in the door. You looked up seeing the plant, biting your lip very nervously. You drew in a breath, your eyes returning to meet Chris’. “May I?” Chris sought your permission.

“It’s tradition… sure,” you shyly smiled at him. Chris’ hand gently cupped your cheek, and he leaned in, softly pressing his lips to yours. Fireworks exploded in your belly when he connected, your knees immediately going weak. Your arms wrapped around his neck as Chris drew you close to him with his other arm wrapping around your waist. Your mouths timidly explored the other’s, his tongue swiping across your lip, seeking out your own. A soft moan escaped your throat when his confidence grew and Chris deepened the kiss. Holding on, your fingers carefully ran through his bunny soft buzzcut while his hands respectfully held your waist, occasionally rubbing your back.

You eventually broke away, breathless, unable to meet his gaze, still painfully shy. He felt you curl into yourself a little, and hooked a finger under your chin to meet his gaze again.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Y/N. Merry Christmas.” Chris pecked a kiss to your nose, releasing you and offered his hand to escort you to the elevators.

“Merry Christmas,” you responded. The elevator cab opened, and you stepped inside, a small grin spreading across your lips as you bid him goodnight.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Chris smiled at you as the doors closed, and he called another elevator for himself to get him back to his room.

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you get a request from a mysterious viewer for a private chat…

❃▹or ❃▹

sugar daddy ari meets cute camgirl!reader and she doesn’t know how to act around him.

{18+, dd/lg overtones, daddy kink,minors dni}

A. Levinson has requested a private chat.

The message pops up on your screen the moment you’re about to shut your laptop and call it a night. It’s already past midnight and you’ve just ended a particularly wild livestream. Tonight, you’d done the whole innocent girl act that your subscribers loved so much. You’d asked them to suggest on the live chat all the different ways you could touch yourself. As expected, it had gone over a treat, and you’d done your highest numbers yet thanks to your loving fans.

Speaking of which, your laptop beeps again with another notification:

A. Levinson donated $500.

You recognise the name immediately. Of course, you have no clue what he looks like or who he is. But he’s a new regular on your livestreams. Thousands of people watch you but you recognise the names of those who donate frequently. A. Levinson is one of those people – and his donations are hefty, too. Oh, should you accept? You didn’t really do private chats…

The buzz of another notification snaps you out of your thoughts. Another five hundred dollars. And this time, there’s a message attached.

A. Levinson: I really enjoyed your show tonight. Could I possibly take up your time for just a little bit longer? You can name your price.

Well… he didn’t sound creepy. He was most likely an older gentleman, probably lonely with a bunch of wealth and nobody to spend it on – aka, your favourite type of customer. You hover over his name quickly – no profile picture, forty-two years old (practically double your age!), new profile. Yep, it all checked out. You’d been planning on calling it an early night tonight but perhaps you could stretch it out a little longer and give this lonely old soul a bit of an extra show… For the extra cash, of course.

You fix your hair and adjust the lingerie you’ve still got on. You hadn’t stripped nude on tonight’s livestream, and most of your viewers had been too enraptured watching you make yourself cum over and over again to really even notice. Plus, you always chose the best lingerie to wear for your cam-shows. Tonight, you had on a pretty lacy set in the softest, cutest shade of baby pink, with creamy white ribbons and detailing completing the look along with your signature pink pumps. This A. Levinson guy would be in for a treat and a half. You quickly accept his request for a private chat, easily slipping back into the character you play in your shows.

“Hello there,” you feign shyness and smile into the camera how you always do. “What’s your name?”

“Ari,” the stranger responds, his voice sounding like liquid chocolate pouring straight out of your laptop. Damn. He didn’t have his camera on but that was unsurprising – most of your fans were very shy. “I have to admit, I didn’t know if you’d accept my private chat request.”

“Well, how could I not?” You adjust the straps of your bra slowly, “I love my fans, you know.”

He chuckles, “And they sure do love you.” A pause. “You looked breathtaking tonight.”

You’re used to compliments from your fans. Comments ranging from: “you’re gorgeous” to fuck ur so hot xx” to “I wish my girlfriend looked like you” to “you made me cum so hard in my pants baby.” But the way this Ari guy says it… the way he says the word “breathtaking” – all soft, and slow and melodious and confident. Instantly, your heart thrums, leaving you feeling a tad embarrassed.

“Oh… why thank you! That’s super sweet of you to say.” You recover quickly, slipping back into your “innocent girl” character as you smile softly and avert your gaze and do that thing where you rub your arm and pretend to be all shy. It goes over great with all your other fans.

But this fan only chuckles, “You can call me Ari for now, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?!?

You clear your throat, “Were you feeling lonely tonight, Ari?”

“You could say that. I try to tune in to your show whenever I have the time. You were beautiful tonight, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so sweet.” Oh, there was that liquid chocolate voice again – all velvety and smooth and deep! You vaguely wonder what he looks like…

“Thank you, Ari. What was your favourite part?”

And okay, so maybe you’re being a bit boring right now. Usually, on the rare occasion you did agree to a private chat, you’d be a lot more flirtatious. But this man’s voice was almost putting you in a trance, making you have to think your next words so you don’t stumble over them. Gosh, none of your other fans sounded like he did! All calm and self-assured, and…

“I really enjoyed the part when you were using your fingers. You had that lost look in your eye, as though you were on another planet. I thought it was really cute.”

You giggle, shuffling closer to your webcam so he has a good view of your cleavage. The ring-light behind your camera casts a flattering, bright hue over your body, accentuating the way your breasts spill out of your bra and bounce slightly as you move closer. You think you hear a rumble escape his throat, but you can’t be too sure. Either way, you lean into the camera, “You like it when I touch myself?”

“Honey, I don’t think there’s a man in this world who wouldn’t like that.”

Another spark flutters down your spine, and you wonder why his words are making you react like this. You’ve been on the receiving end of a bunch of different compliments from your fans day after day. So… why now? Why tonight? Why him? Why was it different now?

The buzz of your laptop knocks you out of your reverie.

A. Levinson donated $600.

“Do you think you could touch yourself for me again?” He asks, his voice all velvety smooth yet rugged at the same time. And it’s a request that he doesn’t even bother to veil as a question, and for some reason, you feel a jolt down there at his expectant tone. “I would really love to see that pretty look on your face again.”

You giggle nervously before remembering to put on your innocent girl act for the camera. “Touch myself? I dunno… It’s getting kind of late, sir.”

A. Levinson donated $800.

“I told you, please call me Ari for now.”

You don’t know whether you clench from the sheer amount of money he seems to be throwing at you as if it’s nothing, or the delicious hint of authority in his tone. None of your fans were like that – they all acted like you were very much the one on charge, the one with all the power, the one who could log out and end the chat and leave them hanging at any moment. Which you could – so then why was Ari acting like he was the one who held all the power?

And why did you not hate it at all?

Slowly, you slip your hand down your body, making sure to look demure and seductive in front of the camera.

“Play with your lingerie,” he commands, “Play with those cute little white ribbons.”

“Yeah, o-okay,” you breathe, inwardly wondering why the hell you’re not taking control of your own show like how you usually do. Why you’re so okay with letting him take the lead. Nevertheless, you twirl the ribbons of your panties around your fingers, stroking the satin softly as your core begins to pulse in need. But instead of going down to touch your pussy, you keep playing with your lingerie instead, imagining that your hands are not yours, but rather… someone else’s. Someone who’s rough, tough, masculine and rugged… And hell bent on teasing you.

“Use your other hand too,” Ari says, “Squeeze your pretty tits, baby girl. They look so pretty in that pink bra.”

“Th-Thank you, da–” You bite down on your tongue just in time, mortified that you almost let that word slip out. And you think you hear a smirk on the other end of the call, but you’re too preoccupied with listening to Ari to really pay any heed. With one hand still playing with your panties, you squeeze your breast with your other. Your nipple feels hard against your palm, and your eyes momentarily flutter shut as you knead your soft flesh at his orders.

“That’s so good, pretty girl. You look so pretty and cute like that.” Ari compliments. “In fact, your choice of lingerie is one of my favourite parts of your shows. You’re always wearing something cute and girly. It’s very charming, sweetheart.”

Oh, how was he being so calm right now? Usually, your fans got themselves worked up within the first few minutes of your private chats. It didn’t take much to get them to blow their loads and their money too, and the chat would be over in about five minutes. But right now? Right now, it seems you’re the one who’s getting worked up. Quickly, you clear your throat.

“Thanks. This set is one of my favourites.”

“Is that so? Well, you have to promise me you’ll buy yourself a few more sets as adorable as this one.” Ari responds, “Cute and pink and pretty, just like a princess. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you agree, cringing at how dumb you sound. He seems unperturbed, however, and you soon grow preoccupied with touching yourself again. Squeezing your other breast while you make direct eye contact with your camera.

“Good girl. Why don’t you touch your little pussy now? I’m sure she’s starting to feel a bit neglected.” He chuckles, and you marvel at how in control he sounds, how easily the words slip past his tongue. “After all, she’s the star of the show, isn’t she?”

“She is,” you agree softly, blinking at the camera, “She’s very wet.”

“Mm, I’m sure she is, baby girl. Push your panties aside and spread your legs so her daddy can take a look at her.”

You gasp when you hear him refer to himself as that, but he seems so damned unperturbed that you feel you have to act the same. Oh gosh, when had this all taken such a turn? Never before had you taken orders from a fan in a private chat, but it’s like he’s somehow programmed you to listen to him through that velvety voice of his.

You spread your legs like how you’d do on a regular livestream, angling the webcam to get the perfect shot. Your panties are soaked when you push them aside, and you bite your lip as you use two of your fingers to spread your folds. They glisten under the lighting, your wetness trailing down your thighs and staining the rug under you.

“Such a good girl,” Ari rewards you with a compliment. “Such a good little girl with a cute little baby pussy. You should be so proud, princess.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now, do you want daddy to turn his camera on? And don’t worry, it’s alright if you’re too shy and you don’t want me to. You’re just a little girl after all, and I wouldn’t want to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Your heart lurches. Ari? Turn his camera on? Oh, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit curious to see what he looked like! To see the face that matched that insanely chocolatey voice… A nervous thrill ripples through you, but you try your hardest to remain cool.

“Y-Yes,” you manage to get out, hating how you stutter. You never stutter on your own livestreams and chats. Never. You clear your throat, “Yes. Yes, you can turn your camera on.”

A moment later you find yourself staring at a set of deep blue eyes. You blink several times. Now, you see a handsome face. A very handsome face. Bronzed skin, a thick beard. Striking eyes, high cheekbones. A gorgeous, sloped nose. Long brown hair that brushes over his eyes before he pushes it back and out of his face. Oh, he was hot! And fully dressed, too. In an expensive-looking suit with his tie loosened around his neck.

“Oh… wow, Ari… I–” You’re at a loss for words, but thankfully Ari takes the reins.

“Keep touching yourself, sweetheart. Yeah, just like that.” He licks his lips, long lashes fluttering across his cheekbones as he blinks, “And call me daddy, baby. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, daddy, that’s fine.”

“I thought so. Now, why don’t you tell daddy your favourite way of keeping your baby pussy happy.” He murmurs softly, slowly, hypnotically.

You watch as his own hand slips down, and it thrills you to think of what he’s doing, what his camera isn’t showing. Oh, none of your other fans were as handsome as him! Or as put together or as in control! No, Ari’s energy is completely different. So softly dominant that it sends chills up and down your spine as you clamber to obey him.

Suddenly, you remember he’d asked a question.

“My stuffie, I guess.” You answer hypnotically, staring into his blue eyes that look to be so deep, so soulful. Like he was a man who’d seen everyone and everything this world had to offer. A man who’d lived an entire lifetime, a man who was, well, a man in the purest sense of the word. So virile, so mature – someone you could look up to, follow, listen to.

“Your stuffie.” Ari repeats, savouring the word on his tongue, “You stuffie keeps your pussy happy, huh? I think I remember watching one of your livestreams where you did something like that. But I’d like you to show me again, baby. Will you do that for me?”

Luckily, your stuffed teddy bear is only a foot away from you, and you quickly grab it. And it was true, sometimes you’d ride your stuffies during your livestreams. Your fans loved to watch you writhe and moan and lose yourself in the moment, watch you go from cuddling your stuffed toys to humping them and making yourself cum. Clearly, Ari had been a fan of this routine too.

You get into position, placing your teddy bear between your legs, watching how its fur goes damp as soon as it makes contact with your soaking pussy. Biting your lip, you waste no time as you start rocking back and forth tentatively. Ari lets out a rumble of approval, and you see his arm flex as he leans forward.

“That’s so good, baby girl. You like using your little friend to make you feel good?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s one of my most viewed livestreams.”

He smirks, “But you’ll put on a better show for me right now, won’t you?”

“Yeah, daddy…”

Your breathing slowly goes shallow, mind clear of any thoughts except how sexy and manly Ari sounded on this call right now. And it feels so delicious already, your teddy’s fur catching on your throbbing clit, incensing you to grind down harder.

“You have a wishlist, babygirl?”

The question is posed so casually that it somehow almost winds you. Your hips slow down and you look up at your webcam. But Ari narrows his eyes, nodding his head as if commanding you to continue, which you do. God, it was so hot how nonchalant he was being — and yet he sounded so attentive too!

“A wishlist?” You squeak, voice going high-pitched as your hips pick up pace, and you wish it was Ari’s thigh you were grinding on instead of this stuffie. Your body’s doing that thing where it feels empty, craving something bigger, more substantial…

“Yes, sweetie. A wishlist. A list of things you want. Clothes or makeup or anything like that.” He’s pumping his dick now, you can tell with how his hand’s moving. But the rest of him looks so unperturbed and unbothered, as if he’s having a normal conversation and not jacking off with a camgirl while he watches her masturbate with a stuffed teddy.

“I—um—yeah, I do…” you somehow manage to get the words out, but you’re mostly focused on cumming now. Your mind conjures up images of you naked on top of a fully dressed Ari. Him big and powerful, guiding your hips with just one hand, dragging you back and forth on his muscular thigh. Or maybe picking you up and placing you on his bulge, letting you rub your soaking cunt on it while he calls you a good girl in that deep, sexy voice of his…

“Sweetheart? You with me?”

“I, yeah, sorry!” You pant, feeling so close and yet a part of you knows you have to answer him. “I d-do — I have a list but—”

“You’re going to send it to daddy after you cum,” he tells you. “A pretty little girl like you needs her daddy to reward her after she humps her pretty little princess cunt and gets off so nicely just like how I asked you to.”

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. And it’s his words that tip you over the edge. So dirty, yet he talks in such a sweet way! Oh, a man’s never spoken to you like that! So casually talked you through your orgasm, praising you so sweetly and telling you he’d buy you everything on your wish list?! Who was this man??

“Send it to me. Now.”

You’re weak and spent, legs shaking from cumming so hard. But you quickly send him your wish list on private chat. You doubted he’d buy everything on it — all the expensive jewellery, designer clothes, shoes — especially since he’d already showered you with so many cash donations. But you send it to him anyways, and he hums in approval.

“That’s such a good girl. I really enjoyed our chat, baby.”

Your heart sinks. Was this it?

“Why don’t you show daddy your pussy again, baby girl? I want to see how messy it is now.”

Again, you obey. Angling your webcam and opening your legs for him. A part of you imagines him doing it for you, gripping your soft thighs with his calloused, manly hands so he could inspect to his heart’s content. God, he just exuded dominant energy and it was making you lightheaded. Quickly, you spread your sopping folds with your fingers, letting him see everything.

“Fuck, you’re so messy, aren’t you?” Ari murmurs, and you watch him brush his long hair out of his face. His tanned skin glistens slightly, his lips pink and plump and you find yourself just staring at him in awe.

“I-I’m messy…” you repeat, feeling dumb and spaced out after your orgasm.

“Bet you need your daddy to clean up that baby pussy, don’t you?” He licks his lips, pumping himself faster. That’s when his camera lowers slightly, and your breath hitches at the sight of the angry red tip of his dick.

“I… I don’t know… I—”

He chuckles kind of breathlessly, “You’re all dumbed out, huh? That’s alright, sweet girl. Daddy understands.” Again, he runs a hand through his hair, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at you. “I understand that little girls like you get tired easily, especially after playing with your toy so naughtily like how you were just now. That’s why you need your daddy.”

“D-Daddy…” you whimper, incapable of saying anything else except repeating what he’s saying, but you’re able to press your thighs weakly together, as if his words are just too much and you need to get off again despite being so weak.

“You need me, don’t you? To hold you in my lap, clean you up, take care of you, think for you, buy you whatever you want. Lap at your little baby cunt till you cum in my mouth. Am I right?”

Ohfuck. You feel newfound thrill ripple down to your pussy, making you clench at his words.

“I… I don’t.. I just— daddy, I. —“

Ari chuckles breathlessly, and a lock of his hair falls over his forehead, but apart from that he still looks pristine. The complete opposite of fucked out, messy little you.

“You can’t even speak straight, can you, Princess? That’s alright, little girls like you aren’t meant to think or talk anyways. That’s your daddy’s job, that’s why I’m here. All you have to do is look cute and play with your little toy on my lap while daddy does all the thinking for you. Would you like that?”

“Yes!” You cry, feeling needy and vulnerable and still a little bit confused as to how this virtual stranger has reduced you to such a blubbering mess.

“Fuck. Say it, then. Tell me how badly you need me.”

“N-Need daddy,” you blubber, vaguely wondering what your viewers would think if they saw you now. Often, you acted all spaced out and whimpery in your livestreams. But this… oh, this wasn’t acting at all. Ari had well and truly reduced you to a whimpering mess — and you didn’t even know the guy!

“I know you need me,” he croons, “Little girls like you always need their daddy. And I want to take care of you too, sweet baby.”

“Please do!” You cry, “Need you to take care of me so bad! Can’t think, can’t… I can’t…”

You press your thighs together and cum again. And it’s a shock to you, you hadn’t expected to orgasm again so quickly. But you hear Ari groan, and a moment later you watch enraptured as he blows his load, spurts of his thick cum landing on his palm. And you wish so bad you were there in person to clean him up too.

“Both of you are quiet for a minute or so after that. All you can hear is his breathing - rapid at first before it goes steady. You, on the other hand, are beside yourself. Whimpering, crying, breathing hard. You just want him to hold you - and it’s crazy because you don’t even know who he is! Not really, anyways. But he looks so big and strong even on the laptop screen, and you really feel so small in front of his eyes, but in a good way… He had a way with words, so soft and dominant that it made you want him to take care of you, and-

"Thank you, baby girl,” Ari chuckles after a while, “thank you for indulging me.”

You clear your throat, “I…uh… I… okay.”

“You still dumbed out, honey?”

You lower your eyes and nod, feeling all kinds of shy now that you’ve cum twice and your senses are all coming back. Had you really gotten that submissive and vulnerable with a viewer on private chat? Oh gosh…

“Do you need daddy to tell you what to do next?”

You nod, embarrassed at how helpless you feel. Your legs are still shaking from the remnants of your orgasm, ears still buzzing from that smooth, gravelly voice of his as he’d coaxed you through those two orgasms.

“First, I want you to send me that wishlist of yours. Then, I want you to go and take a nice, hot bath to calm yourself down, alright?”

“O-Okay, daddy,” you agree quietly.

“Mm, that’s my good girl. Then, I want you to put on something comfy and tuck yourself into bed. I know little girls like you need your daddy to do that, but for now I need you to do it for yourself. Got that?”

You nod dumbly.

“Daddy needs you to use your words, sweet girl.”

“Yes, I - uh - I’ll take a bath and tuck myself in, daddy.”

“Good girl. But I’ll need you to take pictures as proof you’ve followed my instructions.”

“I will, I will!” You blurt out, wanting to make this virtual stranger proud. Oh, you didn’t even recognise yourself anymore but you didn’t care. Not in the least.

“Thank you, baby. And one last thing.”

“Y-Yes?”

“Would you like to talk to daddy again tomorrow night?”

“Yes! Please, yes!”

“I thought so. Why don’t you give me your number, sweetheart, and I’ll be sure to make that happen.”

THE END.

Honestly wrote this super quickly so it’s probably paced like shit and not that good but YOLO. also i tried something different with the layout heheehehe LMK WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THE FIC PLSSS LOVE YOU GUYS

Your not crying I am!

the boston brute series: pt. 14 - is this enough for you?

The Boston Brute Series: Pt. 14 - Is This Enough For You?

Pairing: NHL!Chris Evans x Athletic Trainer!Reader (female character)

Summary: When you graduated from Northeastern University, you had your sights set on the West Coast. And then you were offered a position with the Boston Bruins Athletic Training Department. And then you met Chris. A 6′3″, ruggedly handsome hockey player dead set on making your life a living hell by pushing every button and getting on every nerve. Despite your obvious disdain for each other and the ‘No Fraternization’ clause in your employee contract, you’re drawn together in a passionate, fiery love affair that seems to burn everything in its wake.

Warnings: Crude language. Lots and lots of angst. Crying. Mention of smut, but nothing like graphic (still 18+ only). Communication issues. Fluff. Brief mention of the reader not eating/losing appetite. Please do not read this series if you are not a fan of asshole Chris or fics with a lot of angst. As always, let me know if I missed anything!

W/C: 7.2k

A/N: you guys. i was not ready for this series to end. the amount of support and love i’ve gotten in the past few months has been mindblowing and while this series is over, i have a lot of great fics coming your way! And a 2 part epilogue for this series coming soon. Thank you so much for following along with this series, i love you guys to the ends of the earth and back. 

Additionally, i would be remiss if i didn’t give a shout out to the two people who have constantly been there to bounce ideas off of and have provided the best support. @blizzspeaks and @tis-thedamn-season. I don’t tell you guys enough, but i love you forever and always ♥️

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All players and scenarios are made up completely. This story does not reflect things that actually happen in the NHL or with its players. Additionally, I talk about Chris’s family in this fic. Again, work of fiction and is no reflection of his parents or grandparents in real life.

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

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time-for-a-lullaby masterlist

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Chris: What are you wearing?

You snorted out a laugh, bringing the crumpled-up tissue in your hand up to wipe your nose. Ever since your move, Chris has the tendency to text you the wrong thing at the wrong time. 

A suggestive text while you were still at work, some sarcastic remark, or a poor excuse of a joke while you were in a meeting. If you were in Boston, the texts would’ve come through while you were home after work, but given the 3 hour time difference, Chris was home for the night while you were still stretching and handing out ice packs to sweaty men. 

Tonight it wasn’t an inappropriate text for your location, per se, you were laying in bed after all. But the tearstained pillowcases and a small mountain of crumpled-up tissues on your bed didn’t exactly have you in the best mood for a ‘what are you wearing’ text.

Your face was puffy, your nose somehow stuffed up and runny at the same time, the reality of being across the country from the only family you’ve ever really had was weighing heavy on your chest tonight and as soon as you got home from the game, you threw on a pair of Chris’s sweats. You set a timer and gave yourself one hour to sulk, cry, and be angry at the world, and then you would suck it up, shower, and call Chris. 

It’d been two weeks since you made your move to Los Angeles and started your job with the LA Kings and Chris kept promising that would get easier, but you weren’t finding that to be the case. 

Keep reading

And so it begins….

out of left field series: pt. 1 - this is bad (chris pov)

Out Of Left Field Series: Part 1 - This Is Bad (Chris POV)

Pairing: MLB!Chris Evans x Best Friend!Reader (female character)

Summary: After 29 years of friendship with Chris, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him. When he finds himself amid a PR nightmare at the same time your ex-boyfriend starts lurking around every corner, you enter into a mutually beneficial, strictly PR relationship to save his career and keep your ex away. But the lines begin to blur and lies get told, both you and Chris realizing you might’ve bitten off more than you can chew. Will you make it out unscathed or will you and Chris be just another PR relationship that ends in heartbreak and humiliation?

A/N: SURPRISE BITCHES. I am one impatient motherfucker and I needed to post it. SO I BEYONCE’D YOU (not that I’m comparing myself to the queen… but you get it). ENJOY THE FIRST PART OF THIS SERIES I’M SO EXCITED!

I would be remiss if i didn’t give a huge mfin shout out to @tis-thedamn-season. Like this fic/series would not be where it is without you. Love you bb.

Warnings: Drugs, language, allusions to smut, reader has an abusive/controlling ex, reader and chris are both 29 years of age (this is what you guys voted on!)

W/C: 6.9k

Out of Left Field Series Masterlist 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All players and scenarios are made up completely. This story does not reflect things that actually happen in the MLB or with its players or with Chris in real life. Additionally, the reader’s family gets introduced in this series and are all OFC made by me. If you don’t like that, please don’t read this series.

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

I no longer have a taglist! Please head over to @time-for-a-library​ and turn on notifications!

He heard your shoes before he saw you.

The harsh clack of your stilettos on the concrete floor sent a wave of relief through his system that was almost immediately washed away and replaced by nerves.

Chris hated disappointing you. He could already picture the resigned look on your face while you crossed your arms and let out a defeated sigh.

Any other time, it probably would’ve bothered him more. But the pounding headache combined with the fact that he was still coming down from a coke-induced high, made it a little hard to focus on anything other than the fact that the room was spinning.

He tried to ground himself, focusing his attention on a scuff that marked the concrete wall across the room instead of the way the room seemed to circle around him despite his ass planted on this extremely uncomfortable mattress.

“He’s in here.”

Chris sat up on the metal ‘bed’, swinging his legs over the side and taking a deep, slow breath. His elbows rested on his knees, face buried in his hands while he waited.

“Thanks, Stu.” The softness of your voice floated through the air, bringing a welcome warmth and familiarity to the chill of his cell.

The sound of your heels got closer, scraping to a stop when you’d reached him.

Keep reading

Ooooooo the sexual tension!!!!

the boston brute - pt. 3 (the first game (Chris POV)

The Boston Brute - Pt. 3 (The First Game - Chris POV)

Pairing: NHL!Chris Evans x Athletic Trainer!Reader (female character)

Summary: When you graduated from Northeastern University, you had your sights set on the West Coast. And then you were offered a position with the Boston Bruins Athletic Training Department. And then you met Chris. A 6′3″, ruggedly handsome hockey player dead set on making your life a living hell by pushing every button and getting on every nerve. Despite your obvious distain for each other and the ‘No Fraternization’ clause in your employee contract, you’re drawn together in a passionate, fiery love affair that seems to burn everything in its wake.

Warnings: Chris is an asshollleeee, language, sexual innuendos, parental death mentioned, Chris gets into a fight, blood mentioned. Toxic ex is mentioned and introduced into the fic. Smut mentioned, (18+ only, minors DNI)

A/N: Can we all just agree to fight Dean? Also, my fics still aren’t showing in the tags, please reblog if you can ❤️

W/C: 7.8k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All players and scenarios are made up completely. This story does not reflect things that actually happen in the NHL or with it’s players.

likes, reblogs, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated! ❤

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time-for-a-lullaby masterlist

JOIN THE TAGLIST HERE (i will not be going through comments or reblogs anymore for tag requests)

The first game of the season.

Chris walked past the line of fans and press, his face remaining impassive and unreadable despite the questions and praise being thrown at him. ‘Welcome To The Jungle’ by Guns n’ Roses blared through his airpods, blocking out most of the noise as he entered the building and made his way to the locker room, his dress shoes sticking slightly to the rubber floor as he walked. T-Minus 3 hours until the face off. 

He walked past your new office, dipping his chin in his version of a greeting when you stepped out. You jumped in surprise, almost running into him when you exited the room. Chris wanted to smile when his greeting was met with an ice-cold glare, satisfied that you were successfully pissed off. He blamed his indifference towards you on your ‘rainbow and sunshine’ personality, trying to rationalize his behavior because no one was really that fucking happy in life. Ever. Something was hiding beneath your happy-go-lucky façade and he was going to break you. 

He’d gotten pretty close, but he wanted to see you unravel, not just throw a couple f-bombs at him. Still, Chris imagined that this side of you wasn’t something Connor was accustomed to. He had been very surprised by your reaction last week when you’d told him to fuck off. Chris thought it was funny. Connor did not. He definitely ripped Chris a new one for how he’d been acting towards you. 

He, of course, tried to defend himself, reciting some of the insults that you’d thrown his way, but Connor didn’t care. Chris knew that he couldn’t exactly play victim here. 

He wasn’t Mr. Sunshine, and there was a reason they called him the Boston Brute. He was an asshole. Chris was unapologetically blunt, he took what he wanted, and he made no apologies for whoever he fucked over in the process. On and off of the rink. His mother blamed it on hockey. That it was a savage sport that had turned Chris into a man who lacked emotion and empathy. Someone who solved his problems with his fists instead of words. Though this past week, his words proved to be just as lethal.

Keep reading

aXe’s & O(rgasm)’s (2/?)

Pairings: collegehockeyplayer!Curtis ‘The Axe’ Everett x female reader

Warnings: dark themes- TRIGGER WARNING- male violence towards female!reader- semi graphic- blood is mentioned but not described in detail, derogatory language towards female!reader, unrequited love interest, enemies to lovers- kinda, bar scene, talk of blood, unrequited sexual advances (male towards female- groping over the clothes), TRIGGER WARNING- dub con-ish - in the form of threatening reader with forced sexual acts, talk of Curtis using physical aggression, Curtis using physical aggression towards a male, angry Curtis, grumpy Curtis, head strong reader, slight size kink- Curtis is 6’4 and strong- no description for reader but she can also be plus size as Curtis is a big strong guy, explicit language, explicit sexual content- smut, non graphic creepy peeping tom, praise kink (must be 18+)

Please let me know if I missed any warnings!

Word Count: 6.4K

A/N: I had a lot of help with this one- from spitballing, hand holding and beta reading I have @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @sconnie-doesnt-know and a dear friend no longer on tumblr to thank! Not sure what I would do without you 3- this one was a true labor of love and I’m not really sure why Curtis’ storyline fights me at every turn! So, thank you for putting up with my crazy writing process or sending you a draft and then sending you another draft… I fought myself on sending a third draft so I wouldn’t get disowned. Thank you ❤️

All mistakes are my own. Also, if this is trash- I don’t want to know!

The Axe x chickadee: hockey AU

Lucky Charms: hockey AU

The door was heavier than you expected, having to exert more force than anticipated to push into the dank and dimly lit bar.

In all honesty, you'd never been here before, but since your dress- freshly pressed and stain free-showed up on the front desk of the Boys and Girls Club with no sign of Curtis the entire week, here you were... Schydes.

It never dawned on you that Curtis would skip his community service hours for the week. Could he even do that?

But foolishly, you never got Curtis' number and the thought of calling his family's gym made your stomach knot and your skin run cold.

When your anxiety finally got the better of you by midweek, you reluctantly asked your supervisor for Curtis' number. She had been kind enough, not giving you a hard time as she flashed you that all knowing look. But In the end she reminded you gently that she couldn't divulge his personal information without his consent.

So you started with his family's boxing gym after your late shift ended over an hour ago. Curtis' Mom greeted you with a smile when you found her at the front desk. Jane tried to encourage you to come back another day, but you wouldn't listen- and as much as Jane didn't want to admit it- part of her loved you for that.

"Curtis is busy, sweetheart" Jane smiled at you, "he's running errands for his old man."

But something about the way she was avoiding eye contact and busying herself with rearranging membership pamphlets made you think she wasn't telling you the truth.

When you perched yourself on an old dusty loveseat at the front of the gym, smoothing your clean white dress into place and picking up a dog eared magazine, Jane knew that you didn't plan on going anywhere until you saw her son.

Schydes- known to most as "that biker bar across the tracks"- was a place most wouldn't dare to go. Especially not a sweet thing like you. But when Jane let it slip that Curtis was at the bar, you thanked her with a smile you couldn't hide and promptly left.

Getting your first glimpse as you pushed into the bar, you swallowed hard around the lump in your throat, trying to appear confident while your heart hammered wildly in your chest.

The bouncer at the door lazily glanced in your direction, never really carding anyone since the regulars were the biker gang and a handful of old locals that dared frequenting the place.

But when the bouncer noticed you -definitely not a regular in your crisp white dress- his lips curled into a sneer. His gaze racked over you in your sweet little fluttery number- more suited for frolicking in a field of flowers then patron-ing a bar that hadn't been cleaned properly since god-knows-when. This was gonna be fun.

You ignored the bouncer's whistling for the bartender's attention, focusing solely on your mission- to find Curtis. All eyes were on you, the ill-fitting stranger, as you scanned a handful of mean faces glaring back at you. Taking a deep breath, you slowly made your way further into the lion's den- a place you had no business being.

"H-hi... I'm looking for..." you started, but your words trailed off when the bartender took one look at you before turning back to another patron at the bar. The bartender proceeded to ignore you, refusing to give you the time of day but grunting in your direction so his friend could turn and mean mug you.

You weren't wanted here.

"Hi, sugar" a voice crooned in your ear, so close his breath made goose flesh prickle across your skin.

Spinning on your heels you saw the frame of a large man looming over you, his build muscular in his tight short sleeve button up with a vintage looking geometric pattern. He sneered down at you with long stringy hair and glasses too large for his face. His mustache was outdated and porn-industry-esqe and he smelled of something reminiscent of your Grandpa... cloves, maybe?

"You lost, sugar?" the man clicked his tongue against his teeth, letting his gaze drop as he drank in every soft curve of your body with a filthy and audible groan, "you definitely don't belong here..." his voice was deep, tone patronizing and his eyes blazed with something sinister as he took a step towards you. You mirrored his step backwards, chirping when you accidentally bumped into someone behind you.

You gasped when you looked up to see an equally menacing character, a cigarette hanging from his lips. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a deep scar across his face and he was wearing a worn leather jacket. In the dark bar you couldn't quite make out the patch sewn into the chest of his jacket as your heart kicked against your ribcage.

"Who's this?" leather jacket snarled, almost spitting when he talked before looking up at the man standing behind you, "we don't do business at the bar... she can find a dealer on campus... get her the fuck outta here..."

"You hear that, sugar tits" the man with stringy hair laughed, "he doesn't got what you're looking for... but I got all you need right here..." your mouth went dry when he grabbed the bulge in his pants making a vulgar show of his girth.

"I'm not..." you hiccuped, "I'm looking for a friend" you frowned, surprised that you somehow manage to keep from gagging as his vulgarity made your stomach churn.

"A friend?" stringy hair barked a mean laugh as leather jacket glowered down at you. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat while looking around. You noticed that half the bar's customers were still watching you intently.

"Get the fuck outta here" leather jacket grunted, snubbing out his cigarette and turning to walk away.

"M-my friend..." you persisted, "I'm supposed to meet him here... he's ahhhh..." you looked around, desperately searching for Curtis but coming up short.

"I'll be your friend, sugar tits" someone hollered and the bar filled with snickers as a bead of sweat rolled down between your shoulder blades, stick uncomfortably to your dress in the unseasonable heat.

The man with stringy hair took another suffocating step towards you as a wave of nausea lapped at your stomach. Your hand shot up, palm pressed firmly into his chest to keep him at bay when you started feeling a little light headed. Your flight-or-fight response prickling to life.

With your mind racing towards full blown panic, you were pulled back to the present when a sliver of light at the back of bar caught  your eye. You shielded your face, eyes unable to adjust to the bright light before it was gone again, jumping when the back exit slammed shut.

You wheezed out the shaky breath you had been holding, tension bleeding from your shoulders when you that signature knit beanie atop his tall frame rounded the corner. Curtis Everett wearing a flannel and heavy boots, his knuckles were covered in blood.

You watched as Curtis took a handkerchief from the pocket of his black jeans, cleaning his hands up before shoving the scrap back in his pants. He was having a heated conversation with the man next to him who was wearing a leather jacket that matched the scared menace at the bar.

"Curtis" you sang out, relief blooming in your chest as butterflies filling your stomach. Your hand shot up, trying to get Curtis' attention attention, but stringing hair grabbed it, twisting it harshly as you yipped in pain.

"Curtis?" he sneered with a mixture of intrigue and malicious delight. The look he gave you had you suppressing a shudder as he continued squeezing your hand. This man made your skin crawl.

"Let go" your voice suddenly sounded so small.

"Let go" he mocked with a sickening laugh.

"Hey... Axe" stringy hair blew out a sharp whistle, keeping his eyes glued to you as you tried pulling your hand free, his grasp only tightening the longer you struggled. Your breath catching in your throat when you finally heard Curtis speak.

"That's it, Mack" Curtis insisted, flexing and un-flexing his fists, looking down at his hands with a frown, "Coach said I'd be done for tonight..."

Curtis and Mack stopped when they got to the bar top at the opposite end of where you were being held against your will. The bartender poured a shot and slid it across the counter to Curtis, the brute caught it, bringing it to his lips and taking it in one burning gulp before sliding it back and nodding for another.

"Not how it works, kid... coach don't call the shots off the ice... the boss will tell ya when you're done" spat the man Curtis called Mack just as another sharp whistle broke through the stale air.

"Axe..." the stringy haired man called again, "this pretty little thing says she's yours..."

When your captor finally stepped out of the way, relaxing his hold on your hand, Curtis nearing choked on his whiskey. His eyes went wide with emotion for only a fraction of a second before he recovered.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Curtis growled, crossing the room to you and frowning when he noticed stringy hair was still holding your hand. Curtis' eyes flickered around the bar, scanning the big open space as his mind raced.

"So she's not your friend?" stringy hair's lip twitched into a smile that had all the hairs spiking at the back of your neck. His smile quickly quickly dropped to a frown when you finally managed to yank your hand free of his hold.

Curtis felt his chest bloom at your small victory. Fuck... how the hell was he gonna get you out of this?

"No" Curtis glared at you, running his hand through his bread and clearing his throat with a grunt as he surveyed the room again, "she's not my friend..." he shook his head, glancing back at you with a frown.

"Didn't think so... she's not your usual kinda friend..." stringy hair hummed, licking his lips as he not-so-subtly checked you out, "this pretty little dress sure is white, isn't it?" stringy smirked, dancing his long fingers along the thin strap of your dress as you jerked away from his touch with a growl.

"Could be a good time..." stringy shrugged, unabashedly adjusting his growing bulge and licking his lips suggestively. He barked another dark laugh at your clear discomfort.

"Coach" Curtis interjected, his fists balled tightly at his sides as he tried to contain the rage that was building in the pit of his stomach, "forget this desperate cunt... we got get to the next stop..." Curtis' vile words made your breath catch for a moment in your throat.

Curtis' Coach narrowed his eyes at you as he mulled over Curtis' words.

"Desperate cunt?" your voice was shaking when it finally returned.

Just as the words left your mouth a large hand gripped your face, stealing the breath from your lungs as you gasped at the intrusion. Coach's hands pinching harshly at your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

You cried out in shock and pain, hands going instinctively to his thick wrist, but you soon realized struggling only made his grip on you more painful. Your entire body froze in fear, tears burning just behind your eyes.

"Watch that pretty little mouth of yours, sugar tits" stringy snarled, "sluts like you should be seen and not heard."

"Tommy wanted me to throw her out... but I kinda wanna see what's under this pretty little dress of her's..." Coach's grip on your chin tightened as you started struggling again.

"Sh-she's a fucking clingy princess bitch..." Curtis rushed, "gave her a sparing lesson the other day and now I can't get rid of her..." he continued as you shook your face free from stringy hair's grasp, seething.

“So… she wants it… bad?” stringy asked, even in the dim light you could see his pupils dilating as you shuddered with a mixture of disgust and anger.

Your heart was racing, you were seeing red and you swear you felt smoke billowing from your ears.

"Thought about getting my dick wet..." Curtis continued, feigning nonchalance with a tight shrug, "but I heard she gets around... now the cunt won't leave me alone... go home, sweetheart" Curtis snarled the last half at you, his eyes boring into yours with unspoken words.

"Curtis Everett does Jane know you talk to woman that..." but before you could finish white hot pain seared across your face, zipping up your jaw and you heard a ringing in your ear as your world shifted on its axis. Your vision went blurry when your eyes and nose stung with tears.

"Coach" Curtis huffed, taking a step towards you but froze when he recognized that crazy look in his coach's eyes. Coach was practically panting in delight at your pain.

"You keep that whore mouth shut" the man Curtis call coach spat, "you need a dick to wet... I can help you with that... but you don't come around here like some cunt in heat sniffing around where you don't belong... never seen you at MU... must go to that fancy school across town... bitches there thinkin' they should be heard..."

You heard a new round of laughter coming from behind you, even the bartender was leaning over his counter, watching the free show.

"I just..." but you lost your words as humiliated tears broke like a damn spilling down your face. Your hand was on your cheek, the heat radiating as you looked to Curtis, but he wouldn't make eye contact with you.

"You just what, sugar tits?" Coach cooed mockingly, "you can tell me..." he closed the space between you, crowding you in and pressing your back painfully against the bar as you felt the bulge in his pants lay heavy against you.

You could hardly breath, brain going fuzzy as your instinct to fight took over. You brought your knee up swiftly, aiming for his groin but only making slight contact. Coach stringy cursed, stumbling back enough for you to scramble away, tears streaking down your face. But you didn't get far, crying out in pain when a thick hand gripped your arm, yanking you back to him.

"Well that just wasn't very nice" Coach rasped, his eyes burning with anger as his free hand cracked across your face again. This time his ring caught your lip and slip it open.

Your head was spinning as you fought to hold your tears back- getting a sick sense that the bastard would get off on your cries. A metallic taste flooded your senses as you twisted in his painful grasp.

"Coach... stop" Curtis yelled.

"Might have to teach this cunt a lesson..." Coach snarled, ignoring his athlete , "you're real pretty when you cry..." he sneered at you, "bet you'd be even prettier crying on your knees" his large hand moved up your arm, gripping your shoulder and pinching at a pressure point. It dropped you straight to the floor in a heartbeat.

"Shit" you hissed when your bare knees hit the filthy floor, bile twisting in your stomach as your vision started to white out.

"Let's see what else that filthy mouth of yours can do... huh, sugar?" Coach hummed, as you heard the jingling of his belt buckle.

"No" you screeched, panic and adrenaline coursing through your veins as you surged forward.

"What the fuck" Coach yelled in shock and surprise when you lunged at him.

The breath was all but punched from your lungs when Curtis tackled you against the bar top and rushing you out of the establishment as Coach roared, furious and spitting behind him.

You stole a glimpse of the feral man as your big brute pushed you out the front door. You had left a scratch down stringy's face- just under his eye to the corner of his mouth. Your stomach flipped with sickening delight as you heard Coach screaming something about killing you before the door to Schyde's slammed shut. 

"Ouch!" you managed to find your voice once the fresh air hit your lungs, "you're hurting me!"

"Good" Curtis bellowed, speeding up his pace as you almost lost your footing. You stumbled a few times before starting to jog to keep up with him.

Curtis didn't stop until you were a good 6 blocks away- in the direction of the decent part of town. That's when he rounded on you, pulling you into an ally against a whitewashed brick building and looked over his shoulder before speaking again.

"What the fuck were you thinking, y/n?" Curtis spat, nearly shaking with his unspent rage. He snarled when he didn't get an answer, turning opposite you and beginning to pace as energy thrummed through him like a live wire.

There was a long angry silence between you two before he spoke again.

"Are you OK?" he grunted, the anger bleeding slightly from his tone as he walked back towards you, surveying your lip and face before crouching to get a better look at your legs.

You watched him drop to the ground, gingerly inspecting the broken skin at your knees while leaning against the brick wall to catch your breath.

What the hell had Curtis gotten himself involved in?

You leaned over, bracing yourself against the wall before capturing his larger hand in both of yours. He turned to look up at you, his long lashes fluttering at his cheeks as he squinted, ocean blue eyes adjusting to the light from the street lamp.

Your brow furrowed when your thumb ghosted over his knuckles, cracked and dried with blood. Curtis tried to pull his hand away but you held on, narrowing your eyes at him before you spoke.

"What are you doing?" you frowned down at him as he shifted uncomfortably on the ground, his free hand brushing over the back of your calf, making your skin tingle as butterflies bloomed to life in your belly.

"I'm looking at your knees" he shook his hand out of your hold, "you need to clean these... that floor is filthy..."

"Curtis" you ignored his lecture on injury maintenance, "what are you doing there? Does your Mom know?" your last question was whispered- like you were worried, if you spoke any louder, Jane would hear you.

"Does my Ma know what?" he scowled up at you before moving to stand, closing the space between you and bracing his forearm on the brick wall just above your head. You couldn't drag your eyes from his as you felt the heat radiating off his body.

"They looked like..." you started in a hushed tone.

"Don't fucking say it..." he hissed, pushing off the wall and rising to his full height, the frown still etched on his face, "what the fuck were you thinking comin' to Schydes?" his anger was building again, "you trying to get yourself hurt?"

"No" you glared up at him, pushing yourself off the brick wall, but he used one hand to press your shoulder until your back hit the brick with a soft thud.

"You're Mom said..." you started again with a petulant huff.

"My Ma knows better then to send you there...." Curtis cut you off, "no fucking way she sent you there..."

You blew out a stubborn exhale, your heated gaze dropping to the ground as you squirmed against the touch of his hand holding you in place.

"What did she say?" the growl in Curtis' tone almost made your knees go weak.

You looked away, refusing to answer him.

"Y/N..." he warned. 

"She told me to come back tomorrow.... That you were running some errands... I told her I'd wait... and after about an hour she let it slip that you were at Schydes" you yelled, trying to roll out of his hold with no luck.

"She told you to come back and like the little brat you are... you didn't listen?" Curtis hissed through gritted teeth as he dropped his hold from your shoulder, raking his fingers through his beard, "you know she's probably worried sick about you?"

"I was trying to thank you for getting my dress back to me, you dick..." you snarled, moving to push off the brick wall, but his hand met you half way again, pressing you back, halting any forward progress you were making.

"Why would your Mom care about where I go?" you huffed.

"Cause you don't belong there" he snapped, taking his handkerchief from his back pocket, finding a clean corner and gingerly taking your chin in his hand to wipe at your cut lip.

"Neither do you!" you snapped, wincing away from his touch.

"You don't go there" he snarled, shoving his handkerchief in his pants, "you hear me?"

You narrowed your gaze at him, trying like hell not to break first, but your eyes suddenly filled with tears as all the awful things he said rushed back to you. You blinked away, but your glossy eyes twinkled in the street light- giving you away.

Curtis' demeanor softened for a second, reaching to cup your jaw in his palm as the pad of his thumb brushed over your cheek. You jolted away, wincing when you felt pain radiate from where you had been slapped. Your skin feeling hot and swollen.

Curtis' jaw ticked with a hiss as his hand came up slamming the brick -just above your head- with the meat of his closed fist.

"I could kill him" he snarled. But his eyes immediately went soft again when they met yours.

He leaned into you, his body wash or cologne smelling woodsy and making you dizzy with desire. Then Curtis did something completely unexpected- brushing his lips feather light over your swollen cheek. You gasped when his eyes locked with yours, parted mouths inches apart as you shared the same breath, panting at a standstill.

"You're driving me crazy, chickadee" his whispered, the pet name making you swoon.

"I just... can't stop thinking of you and your pretty dresses... wanna be buried so deep inside you" his groaned confession making you gasp as his eyes screwed shut.

And that's when you lost all common sense, wrapping your arms around his neck and crashing your lips into him.

Curtis lifted you clear off the concrete, your back hitting the brick as the air was punched from your lungs with a soft groan. He gripped the back of your thighs, urging you to wrap your legs around his narrow waist while he swallowed your pretty moans. You felt your cunt clench around nothing, your panties well on their way to ruin.

"You did so good back there, baby" Curtis hummed against your lips, "so fucking good...

And then, as quickly as it had started, Curtis broke the kiss, untangling your legs from around him and dropped you gently, but abruptly, back to the ground.

"We gotta go... I gotta get you home... where's your place?" he asked, "just promise me you won't go back to Schydes" his exhale was heavy, "you got it?"

"What? I'm not going anywhere with you" you huffed, fire burning in your eyes.

Curtis' chest was heaving as his blown eyes glowered down at you. The sexual whiplash making you dizzy.

"God... I swear I don't fucking understand you, Curtis..." you panted, equal parts lust and frustration, "just....fuck... leave me alone" you hissed, shoving your hands into the unmoving wall of muscle that was his chest.

You swear you saw his lip curl slightly at the corner before his jaw clicked. He took a possessive step forward, caging you against the wall and digging his hand into your hip. A growl rumbled low in his chest and the fire in his eyes nearly melted your panties on the spot.

An electrically charged silence hung in the air, his gaze dropping to your lips as he licked his, leaning in to trace his nose just behind your ear as the fingers at your hip danced under your dress and over your panties. You gasped when his calloused fingertips expertly found your clit, rubbing circles into the ruined fabric.

"Curtis" you whimpered, "please..." your entire body was trembling when he took your wrists in his hand, spinning you around and pinning them against the wall above your head. It all happened so fast - the feel of Curtis' beard scratching over the back of your neck when he asked you if this was what you wanted.

You nodded, managing to moan a please when he made you use your words as he slipped your ruined panties down your legs and off your body. He stuffed the ruined scrap of fabric in his back pocket for safe keeping.

Curtis toed your shoes apart with his large dark leather boots as he used his free hand to work his belt and pants open, pulling his hard length out and stroking it a few times before running the weeping thick head up the back of your bare leg.

You shivered when you felt his pre cum hot against your bare skin as he trailed his heavy length up your body.

Curtis dropped your wrists, his large hands moving to your soft curves to angle your ass up the way he liked it. You moaned, pressing a palm against the rough brick wall as you rucked your dress up to your waist for him. Curtis groaned when he got a good view of the curve of your ass.

"So wet for me, chickadee" he whispered, lewdly pulling your cheeks apart and humming with appreciation when the dim streetlight made the slick glitter up the cut of you.

"Please, Curtis" you whined, clawing at the brick as you shivered.

"You want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?" he goaded, running the tip of him through your folds, "I'll take care of you... I'll always take care of you..."

Reaching behind you, you frantically grabbed for him, trying to ground yourself as he caught at your entrance, slowly sinking every hot inch of his length into you with a groan.

"Fuck, chickadee... ya feel like heaven... " he groaned, "but you're gonna bring hellfire down on me" he dropped his forehead to the back of your crown with a shudder when he bottomed out.

You moaned, tucking your arms against the brick and resting your face on your forearm as you watched him. Curtis looked god-like in the moonlight as his eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones- giving you a moment to adjust to the stretch of his thick length.

You shimmied your feet farther apart with a whimper, dropping the angle of your hips and swallowing more of him before he pulled out, dragging every veiny inch slowly through your folds before slamming back into you with a grunt.

Curtis held you by the curve of your hips as he pounded feverishly into you, only picking up his feral pace when he ripped your first trembling orgasm from you.

"Please, Curtis..." you sobbed, your thighs shaking as he wrapped an arm just under your bouncing breasts, pulling your back against his front as he fucked up into your squelching hole.

"Doing so good for me, chickadee" he grunted, your walls fluttering around him as you felt pressure building, embarrassingly quick, deep in your belly.

"Fuck... give me another, pretty girl" he groaned, his palm slamming against the wall to keep you both upright, "touch yourself for me" he instructed.

Your soft fingers immediately found your clit, dipping to gather slick where he was pressed to the hilt, almost coming again when you felt his cock moving inside you.

"You like that?" he grunted with a smug smile, "so fucking good for me, baby" his hips began to falter when your fingers circled your bundle of nerves, his name a whisper on your lips.

"So fucking tight" he groaned, "sing for me, chickadee... such a good fucking girl" stilling his hips on one final deep thrust, his cock twitched, hot and heavy.

Curtis took hold of your jaw, turning you back to him and capturing your lips in a searing kiss that had you tipping over the edge again, pleasure coursing through your veins as he swallowed your pretty song.

You hummed blissfully, floating back down to Earth as an aftershock zipped down your spine and curled your toes. You whimpered when Curtis pulled out, pressing a kiss to your dewy crown as he moved to tuck his cock back into his pants.

"Curtis?" you whispered, turning into him and wrapping your fist around his still throbbing length. He groaned when you pulled him into a slow and searing kiss, taking your time to explore his mouth as your fist pumped slowly over the length of his cock.

"Christ... just like that, baby" Curtis grunted, his chest heaving as his forehead pressed to yours, "fuck..." he groaned bucking his hips into your soft hand just as his phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Goddamnit" he snarled, pulling away from you to take out his phone. He frowned down at the screen before shoving the phone back in his pocket, unanswered.

"I gotta get you home" he blew out a frustrated exhale while tucking himself gently back into his pants with a hiss.

"Do you have to go?" you asked, voice soft as you smoothed your dress back into place, feeling too shy to ask him for your panties, "stay with me..." you reached for his chest but he caught your wrist in his hand.

"I can't" his clipped words and signature frown made your heart sink. The soft glimpses of Curtis that managed to sneak past his usual grumpy exterior weren't enough. You wanted more.

"Why did you say that stuff about me?" your snarled, feeling self conscious again and childishly ready to pick a fight.

"What stuff?" he asked, feeding his belt back through the loop in his pants before glaring up at you.

"All that awful stuff... to your... coach?" your voice warbled with emotion.

"Had to get him off your scent" Curtis said matter-of-factly, "my coach isn't a good guy... an' he's involved with a lotta bad shit."

"He's fucking horrible" you confirmed, "but what you said..." you felt tears prickle at the corners of your eyes again, "it was... awful, Curtis" your words became angry and watery.

"I didn't mean it" he went to reach for your arm, but you swatted him away, taking a step back.

"Yeah, right..." you snapped, the panicked feelings of being used making your stomach knot.

"Chickadee... I swear... I had to get you outta there... I had to protect you..." his tone was soft but insistent.

"And how exactly did your dick protect me?" the strangled rage sob bubbled up your throat as Curtis' eyes went wide, "you used me..."

"What?" his brows furrowed under his beanie, before he yanked the cap from his head, running his hands through his short hair, "god, chickadee" his voice broke, "you don't really think that... do you?"

"No" you snapped, "I... I don't know... why did we even do that?” your voice cracked, "I'm so fucking stupid" you snarled to yourself, "you don't even like me" you sniffled, your shoulders rolling in as you made yourself smaller.

"It's not like that, y/n... not with you..." he ran a hand over his beard as your vision went blurry, blinking back tears that were threatening to spill.

"Bullshit" you snapped, "why isn't it like that with me? I've seen the types of girls that come asking for you at the Boys and Girls Club... Why'm I not good enough?" you spat, feeling the bitter taste of jealousy rise up your throat.

"I never said that..." he corrected you, "I... we can't..." he blew out a heavy exhale, frowning at you.

"Well we just did” you snarled, "so what now?"

"Chickadee... this would never work" he tried to reason with you.

"You shoulda thought about that before you put my panties in your back pocket" you snapped, wiping an angry tear from your cheek as you turned, stomping past him and attempting to leave.

When you rounded the corner of the alley back onto the sidewalk you ran straight into a slight man with beady eyes in a leather jacket- the same jackets from the bar and you swear you recognized those beady eyes sneering at you from a corner booth back at Schydes.

You chirped in surprise, taking a step backwards and running into Curtis who had been hot on your heels.

"Little Bobby?... what the fuck are you doing here?" Curtis snarled, gripping your arm as he pulled you back into his chest.

"Stepping into a lover's quarrel apparently" he smirked from you to Curtis, "Mack needs you" Bobby hissed.

"Yeah, I got it... I just gotta take her home" Curtis sniffed, trying to seem indifferent.

"Looks like you were doing a little more than takin' her home" the smirk Bobby gave you made your stomach retch.

"You fucking perv" Curtis growled, sweeping you behind him as he took an intimidating step towards the man.

"Watch yourself, Axe" the smaller man snarled, lifting his jacket to reveal the shiny butt of a handgun tucked in his waistband.

You whined against Curtis' side as he held his hands up in a non threatening manner, letting Bobby know he understood.

"Just lemme take her home, Bobby" Curtis tried to reason with the man, "an' I'll be right back."

"Why don't you let me take her home" Bobby sneered suggestively.

"You're not gonna fucking touch her..." Curtis roared as you clung to his flannel.

"What do ya think the boss will have to say about this?" Bobby's menacing gaze flickered to you, trembling at Curtis' side, "Axe's pretty little bitch from that good school, right? What's that I heard him call you, when you were singing so pretty? Chickadee?

You squeaked, face flushing with embarrassment as you buried your face further into Curtis' side, refusing to acknowledge the man as Curtis' rage burned white hot.

"Fuck off, Bobby..." Curtis snarled, "Ain't nobody there gonna give a shit... I get my work done..."

"Maybe not" Bobby shrugged indifferently, "but I think Sky's gonna care..."

You felt Curtis' entire body tense for only a second before a snarl ripped though his chest and he lunged at the man, knocking him out in one punch. The man tumbled to the ground, out cold.

After Curtis dragged Little Bobby’s unconscious body into the alley you both hurried back to your place, taking a few random turns until Curtis was satisfied that you weren't being followed by anyone else.

"Am I in danger?" you finally had the nerve to ask once your apartment door was locked and double bolted.

"Nah" Curtis brushed it off until his gaze met yours and he blew out a deep sigh, "I don't think so... Couch definitely doesn't like you" he frowned.

"Feeling's mutual" you tutted and Curtis couldn't fight the small smile that tugged at his lips.

"If you could lay low for a few days... that'd be good..." he sighed, running his hand over his beard.

Curtis made his way to the tiny kitchen of your shoebox one bedroom apartment, opening your freezer and finding a freezer burned bag of vegetables in the back. He grabbed the hand towel hanging from your oven and wrapped it around the block of frozen vegetables.

"How's your face?" he asked, concern laced in his frown as he assessed your injury.

You chirped when he place the ice gently against the offending cheek. Hissing when the ice melted the heat still radiating from your skin.

"Lay low?" you asked, "what the hell does that even mean? And what did you get yourself into?" you huffed, "what college hockey player also moonlights as a mobster? I feel like I'm in a bad gangster movie" you babbled as Curtis' lip curled up into a smirk.

"What?" you huffed, not finding any of this amusing.

"My Ma warned me about you..." his laugh was affectionate as he shook his head, smiling at you.

"Warned you about me?" you squeaked, "about me?" your laugh was dry, "she shoulda warned me about you..." you scowled up at him, gasping when he closed the space between you and took your lips by surprise. The makeshift ice pack dropping to the floor with a thunk.

Curtis' expert lips didn't break the kiss as his large calloused hands roamed down your sides, kneading every curve he came across as he walked you backwards, further into your apartment. But just as he was pressing you back into the dimly lit hallway that lead to your bedroom his phone buzzed to life from his pocket.

He didn't break the kiss until he had fished the phone from his pants, looking at the screen briefly before rolling his eyes and answering the call.

"Yeah?" he grunted into the phone, turning and walking back down the hallway as he left you there in the dark.

You hesitated -for a moment- to follow him, unable to make out the person's voice on the other end of the call.

"Who called you?" Curtis insisted. There was a pause as he listened intently.

"No... it was Little Bobby" he snarled the man's name, blowing out a frustrated sigh, "does it matter?" Curtis asked harshly, turning back around and finding you standing behind him in your living room. He frowned as he started pacing the small space.

"No... Sky wasn't there" Curtis swore.

Who was this Sky?

"It doesn't matter..." he insisted with another sigh, "no, it doesn't... I knocked him out, he probably won't even remember it..."

Curtis paused to listen again.

"Nah... that's all you need to know... Mack isn't going to care" he tried to reason, "no" he huffed, "cause... we weren't exactly dancing, Ma..."Curtis blurted.

"Oh, my god... Curtis!" you yipped, burying your face in your hands as you sank to your couch, completely mortified.

The hockey dividers were made by the lovely and talented @firefly-graphics ❤️

As always, thank you for all the love and support. Please check out my archive blog where I only post new fics @drabblewithfrannybarnesfics ❤️

I love this series!!!! 18+ only ☺️

SNEAK PEEK - I've Had Better (Chapter 6)

Whole chapter dropping tomorrow!

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... That's it. That's the sneak peek!

the boston brute series: part 9 (baby steps be damned)

The Boston Brute Series: Pt. 9 - Baby Steps Be Damned

Pairing: NHL!Chris Evans x Athletic Trainer!Reader (female character)

Summary: When you graduated from Northeastern University, you had your sights set on the West Coast. And then you were offered a position with the Boston Bruins Athletic Training Department. And then you met Chris. A 6′3″, ruggedly handsome hockey player dead set on making your life a living hell by pushing every button and getting on every nerve. Despite your obvious disdain for each other and the ‘No Fraternization’ clause in your employee contract, you’re drawn together in a passionate, fiery love affair that seems to burn everything in its wake.

Warnings:  Crude language. Chris is an asshole. Neglect from the previous part is joked about being Chris and reader. If you can’t handle that, please do not read. SMUT (fingering, oral - fem receiving. 18+, please. Minors will be blocked.) This part actually has fluff, too! Please do not read this series if you are not a fan of asshole Chris or fics with a lot of angst. As always, let me know if I missed anything!

W/C: 6.6k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All players and scenarios are made up completely. This story does not reflect things that actually happen in the NHL or with its players. Additionally, I talk about Chris’s family in this fic. Again, work of fiction and is no reflection of his parents or grandparents in real life.

likes, reblogs, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated! ❤

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Sitting on your designated stool in the corner, your leg bounced rapidly as the game played out in front of you. It was the 3rd period, tied at 2 with the LA Kings.

You have loved hockey for a long time, but even when you were with Dean, the games still didn’t feel this intense. It was so obvious that Chris loved what he did and his love for the game had you hooked. It also didn’t hurt that he looked so damn good while he was doing it. The way that he moved on the ice was mesmerizing, especially because you knew what each of those muscles looked like when they were bare and flexed.

Luckily, no one had gotten injured or needed anything from you today, so you were able to focus on what was happening and it was getting close to going into overtime. There were only 7 minutes left in the game and of course, Chris picked a fight.

You cringed as the other player’s fist swung towards Chris’s face, a hard punch landing on his cheek before he started firing back. This was the one thing you hated. Obviously, they let the players fight for a reason, but it always seemed to be Chris throwing the punches and you hated it.

They hit the ground hard and the crowd rose to their feet, fists pounding against the plexiglass. Chris was pulled off of the other player, whatever they were yelling at each other was drowned out by the roar of the crowd as he was escorted quickly to one of the penalty boxes. He turned to sit on the bench and your rolled your eyes. His cheek was bleeding.

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