I'M FUCKING DEAD

The Boyfriend Experience

Pairing: Ari Levinson x fem!Reader

Words: ~3.2k

Summary: Ari does you a solid.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (voyeurism (prompt 13), male masturbation, unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk, cream pie, teasing, semi-clothed sex), asshole relatives, fake dating, alcohol consumption, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Just under the wire, but made it with my official entry for @navybrat817’s and @stargazingfangirl18’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!! I love wheel challenges and this was no exception, especially when fake dating popped up, because you know that’s my jam. Happy August b-days to you two lovelies!! I hope your birthday month was amazing and you got all the treats you could want!!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!

You chewed on your lip as you stared at his front door, taking a deep breath before finally lifting your fist and rapping a few times.

“Hi, Y/N.” Oh fuck, you must have interrupted his workout. He was all sweaty and not wearing anything except for some very low slung gym shorts, making you swallow thickly as you tried to not ogle him. “What’s up?”

“Ari, hey. Is this a bad time? I can come back.” When he wasn’t standing there looking like a fucking Michelangelo sculpture.

“No, it’s fine. I was just cooling down.” He stepped aside and gestured for you to come in, grabbing a towel and running it over the back of his neck while you followed after him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I need a favor. Um, my family is throwing a big, super fancy charity thing- tomorrow actually- and I kinda need a date.” There, it was out.

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Safety Captain (1)

lifeguard!Steve Rogers x vacationer!Reader (see series)

Summary: A very sexy man shows up at a very unsexy moment during your vacation.

Warnings for mild language, other guests being as thirsty as Reader, and a vague injury/danger. WC 1945

Written for @bigtreefest's Summer Lovin' 300 follower celebration (I'm very late tho 🥲), using the prompts “it hurts when I ___” “then stop doing that” and pool/resort/hotel. There will be a few small parts to this with eventual smut; this is just the meet-cute sorta.

If you consider drowning a peaceful and relaxing experience, then your trip’s going splendidly.

Water hitting your lungs stings much worse than sunscreen in your eyes, but the shock makes you gasp anyway. Your skin feels pressure everywhere. You don’t know which way is up. The world is bright and blue and shimmering until an arm encircles and yanks you backward by your chest—your bare chest, you realize, since the cups on your bathing suit top flipped when you hit the the pool at such a steep angle.

Once at the surface, a gift and a curse greets you, garbled hum replaced by a solid slap of screaming, the blare of whistles. Light burns, water burns, air burns.

Oh yes, this is going swimmingly.

You struggle to get enough fresh hell anyway, coughing out water, air stinging worse. Your limbs contract to fight the pain, but the wall of muscle behind you is unyielding.

“Out of the way,” a deep voice shouts close to your ear. “Buck, make me some room. Get them back.”

He—whoever he is holding you so firmly and safely—moves you to the shallow end’s stairs with heaving strokes, and just when he releases your body to lift you out of the water, he quickly flicks the front of your suit back into place.

Bless you, kind sir. You’re in love…

…or maybe that’s the hypoxia.

Unceremoniously hauled to solid ground, you continue to sputter.

“It’s alright. I got ya. Breathe for me. That’s good.”

Your sunglasses are gone, so you squint up in his shadow to see nothing but a halo of dripping gold hair. Then your eyes adjust. You see him.

Suddenly, the world is bright and blue and shimmering again, all contained in the stare of your sweet savior.

When he smiles, well, you need even more air to recover.

You’re on your side until he’s sure all the water is out of you, until his hands help you sit up, looky-lous everywhere being herded farther off by two more lifeguards and some resort security.

“The boys…” you rasp out.

“Everyone’s okay,” he rushes, rubbing your back, warm and slick against your wet skin. “You don’t have to talk yet. Take it easy.”

You still feel compelled to explain.

“The—they were teasing him—“ you point to the chubbier kid in your group, the poor thing cowering by your lounge chair headquarters for the morning “—and I tried to stop them.”

“I know, shhh, I saw. Just breathe slowly.”

“Don’t like bullies,” you cough out anyway.

The lifeguard at your side grins from ear to ear, quickly interrupted by a girl shoving your sunglasses in his face.

“I found these,” she announces, elated. “I thought it was important since you were so brave, saving someone who fell in.”

You didn’t fall; you were pushed. There’s a difference.

The lifeguard’s smile turns tight, but he gestures for the girl to hand them over to their rightful owner. She continues to stare with huge, bambi eyes.

Politely, he takes them from her and clears of his throat.

“Thank you. Now step back please.”

Her disappointment is palpable before his blue gaze returns to you. As he asks if you’re ready to move, his palm lands on your lower back and stays there supportively.

The best you can do is shift your legs beneath each other and then hiss, “it hurts when I put weight on this leg. I think I twisted my ankle on the way down.”

“Then stop doing that,” he chuckles, swooping to get his arms under you and carry you to your lounger—the right one, immediately, as if he saw the boys fighting but knew exactly where you were before then, too.

The stout little thirteen-year-old who’d been picked on steps up to you with guilty eyes. He’s one of your charges today while the other adults all drink at the swim-up bar.

“I’m sorry they—“

“It’s fine,” you croak.

“—but they wouldn’t stop, and I told them to—“

“Hey, hey,” your lifeguard whispers, deflating the boy’s panic, “she’s gonna be okay. Just a little banged up, but we got the best of the best coming to help.”

Shamefully, the boy’s eyes turn down. “Sorry they called you a ‘bitch.’”

Great. Yeah. That needed to be repeated.

“Don’t worry about it. Can you go grab your cousin and—“ a brief wheeze overtakes you “—the girls and bring everyone back here so I know where you all are? Just a real quick check-in.”

He nods and runs off, almost plowing into a woman heading straight for you.

“Ah, your nurse has arrived.” The handsome, dripping wet man sitting with a hand still on your knee beams. “The best of the best, as promised.”

The older blonde lady purses her lips and rolls her eyes, ticking her head to the side. “Scoot, Steven. Let me have a look.”

He—Steven, apparently—rambles off what happened and what you mentioned hurt, standing out of the blonde’s way, but leaning over her shoulder, hovering while she manipulates your ankle.

“Thank you, darling.” She looks up pointedly. “I’ve got it from here,” she says, turning back to you. “I’m Sarah, dear. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

“I’m Steve,” your lifeguard interjects as he backs away. “Glad you’re alright, Miss…?”

You introduce yourself in return. “Thanks for…um…” You glance down and tug at the front of your swim suit, remembering that this man might have already seen and touched your breasts. “Thank you,” you finish weakly, voice hoarse.

Steve beams again before Sarah swats him away.

While she wraps your ankle and anchors a bag of ice to it, you scan the guard towers to realize all three of the guys on duty are ripped, but Steve is…well, he’s something else.

“God, he’s gorgeous,” you sigh aloud without realizing.

Sarah snorts, muttering, “he gets that a lot.”

You smile, thinking it’s probably no secret that the cute guy gets around. “Bit of a man whore, is he?” you joke.

The nurse looks up at you sternly. “I should hope not! I raised him better than that.”

Shit.

Your face drops, a harsh and painful swallow globs down your throat, and you…just objectified that poor man to his mother who he so sweetly called ‘the best of the best.’

Is drowning totally off the table, or can you revisit that?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—I—I just meant—“

She squeezes your hand, putting you out of your misery.

“It’s fine, dear. He is handsome, and I suppose there’s no harm in looking.” She packs away the last of her gear only to catch Steve’s eye across the pool.

He waves in your direction.

Sarah chuckles but doesn’t wave back. You put a quick hand up and mouth ‘thank you’ even though he probably can’t see that part.

“Well,” the nurse adds, “seems you aren’t the only one looking.”

Having one foot twice the size of the other can work. You can make it work. You’ll just camp out on a beach towel farther up the shore, no problem. The whole party is together today, day three of seven, so the good news is that you aren’t responsible for anyone. Also, your foot is only that size due to bandaging and not because it’s that swollen. Still hurts though.

In addition to a wicked limp, you need a relatively hard surface to sit on or stand up from. You end up on the rim of damp sand, wriggling to get comfortable. You try laying on your side, propped up on a bent arm. You try your stomach. You’re about try your back, reaching for one of the kids’ towels to roll up as a pillow when you notice a group playing volleyball.

Must be fun to, like, walk and stuff.

You sigh.

It’s fine. You are lucky enough to be on this trip in the first place, your ticket paid for by all the parents combined (with the agreement you’ll help wrangle the younglings for periods while the moms and dads do adult activities). The ‘job’ is a wildly fair trade since the families only split so far was the pool yesterday.

Is that…is one of the volleyball players waving at you?

You look over your shoulder, but there’s only the rest of your group, splashing and running through the surf. No one is facing you or the game.

As you turn back, starting to raise your hand, you see the golden glow of the player’s hair and think that sure resembles the lifeguard, Steve, from—

The guy waving at you gets hit, hard, by a spiked ball and stumbles back. Some commotion rumbles through the group, but you can’t hear specifics.

Shit, that is definitely Steve, son of Sarah, employee of the pool, jogging toward you. Are your tits covered?

You awkwardly pull yourself upright, shielding your eyes from the partially-overcast, bright sky, and smile.

“Hey,” Steve chirps, “thought that was you.” He is, again, in naught but board shorts and beauty.

“Yup, living the dream.”

He ignores your sarcasm and asks how your ankle feels (“meh”), if it’s messed with your plans so far (“had to bow out of zip lining this morning”), and if he might be welcome to sit with you for a while.

You blink a few times in shock behind dark sunglasses. “Won’t your friends…?”

He shakes his head, hair falling into his face, and drops down to the sand.

“I don’t see why not,” you say after he’s made himself comfortable.

When the littlest girl from your group comes shrieking over, bucket and scoop in her hands, you’re about to apologize for the interruption, but Steve immediately offers to help her build the castle of a lifetime.

He is sure to warn her to be careful around your foot.

This time, when you mouth ‘thank you,’ he sees it and returns another beaming grin.

Alright, perhaps vacation is looking up.

Steve is…very, very good at strategizing the sandcastle. After the first ‘tower’ goes up, the other kids get involved. Before you know it, the parents are all behind you gushing over how good your friend is with them.

"Handsome, too."

"Lots of energy."

"‘Bout your age, isn’t he?"

They aren’t quiet enough to not be heard which is clearly the point once the mother of bucket girl shouts out that Steve should join you all for dinner.

Oh, sweet holy—

“Not sure I wanna dive into your family time, ma’am,” he says politely, encouraging some water be brought up for the moat they’ve just dug.

“Then you should take our lovely girl here out. Show her more of the island.”

You glare daggers at the other woman who just chimed in.

“I can’t walk,” you bite out. “Where am I gonna go?”

Steve clears his throat to get your attention. “They line food trucks over on the west road until late, and…” his lip pinches to the side “…I can carry you.”

One of the dads darkly drawls, “like a fucking princess,” and you hear a sharp slap from his wife in annoyance.

Steve’s gaze remains locked on yours as the parents erupt in obvious innuendo.

“Could be fun,” he admits, only loud enough for you. “How about it? Getting hungry?”

All you manage is a nod before a bucket of water is tossed on Steve, and he chases the culprit down the beach and into the clear blue sea.

You’ll have to wait until the ‘monster’ is vanquished by the ecstatic children jumping to take down the big, strong man you, apparently, have a date with.

[Next Chapter]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: Apologies that this isn't the whole dang thing. With how long everything has been taking me to write, I was afraid it wouldn't even be summer anymore, and if there is even a small chance that posting this will light a fire under me to finish, I am willing to try.

@time-for-a-lullaby , let me at them! You are one of the most down to earth likeable people ever!

Like i said if we can find them, we can toss them over the river on the east side!

okay i know i shouldn’t engage

i know i shouldn’t 

but i really wanna know, because i’m usually a pretty likeable person so if you don’t like me… i feel like it’s a you problem and not a me problem… 

so please tell me hahahaha

to the people who constantly send me hate and tell me that i’m garbage and my ideas are gross and shit and that you hate me…

why? like do you genuinely not like me for a good reason or are you just trolling around hahaha 

like i just want one valid reason why you don’t like me hahaha because i don’t think i’ve done anything for people to genuinely not like me.

This chapter @time-for-a-lullaby has all the feelings! You hit it out of the park! Or technically made a goal with this chapter!!!

the boston brute series: pt. 7 (maleficent)

The Boston Brute Series: Pt. 7 - Maleficent

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. Somewhat toxic relationship/situation. Lots of Angst, neglect from the previous part is mentioned in this one, too. (18+, please. Minors will be blocked.) Mentions of violence. I did write something about the reader not eating very well due to stress. 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!

A/N: I finished this like 2 minutes ago lmao please expect grammatical errors also, shout out to @blizzspeaks​ and @tis-thedamn-season​ for letting me bounce ideas off of you constantly hahaha i love and appreciate you more than you know!

W/C: 7.7k

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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time-for-a-lullaby masterlist

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Monday:

It’s been 2 weeks. 

2 weeks since you walked out of Chris’s hotel room, his soft plea echoed through your mind constantly. For 14 days, you’ve heard Chris in your head telling you not to give up on him. You weren’t sleeping well, your appetite was nonexistent. You were taking this harder than your breakup with Dean. 

Thankfully, 2 weeks is also the recommended recovery time for concussions. So while you were traveling with the team for the majority of the 14 days, Chris was home and recovering and you didn’t have to face him every single day. 

Unfortunately, Connor was traveling with the team after being cleared to play. So every day, you were asked with a sad smile how you were feeling and what he could do to help. While you did appreciate it on some level, it was also starting to drive you crazy. 

Which is exactly what got you to where you were now. 

You’d gotten home late last night and promised yourself that the second you landed in Boston, you wouldn’t let Chris bring you down anymore. 

So here you were at 6:30 on a Monday morning, standing in front of your full-length mirror in workout clothes, getting ready to go on a run. It was the first week in October, so you paired your workout leggings with a Bruins dri-fit quarter zip to keep warm, then threw on a pair of tennis shoes, grabbed your phone and AirPods, and headed downstairs. 

Running has always been your favorite way to clear your head. After your break up with Dean, you ran 3 days a week for almost a year. Rain, sleet, snow, heat, or freezing cold. Concentrating on not passing out while you gasp for breath did a pretty good job at distracting you from your thoughts of asshole men who didn’t deserve you. 

You trotted down the stairs, rolling your eyes when you saw Connor standing in the kitchen shirtless. “Jesus, do you live here now?” 

He smirked, standing up from his bent-over position in the fridge and drinking OJ straight out of the container. 

“Gah! Connor!” You walked over and snatched the carton from him. “You’re disgusting.” 

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the boston brute series drabble: promise?

The Boston Brute Series Drabble: Promise?

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:  Language, I think. Some fluff. Nothing too crazy!

W/C: 724

A/N: just a little something something as i write part 14! not the best thing i’ve ever written but that’s life hahaha

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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You rolled over to face Chris, the sheets of his bed, cold against your bare skin. “That’s the first time you ever saw me?!” Your mouth dropped open while Chris chuckled, his arm sneaking under you to pull you closer. 

He shrugged. “I mean, are you really that surprised? You guys were together for like… ever.” 

Chris had just revealed to you that the first time he’d ever laid eyes on you, was an Instagram post from fucking Dean. And you knew precisely what post he was talking about. 

Dean had just won the Stanley Cup and it was his turn to have the cup for the day. All he wanted to do was take a picture of you on his lap while he ate Lucky Charms out of the bowl. You fought him on it for hours because you had also just found out that he’d cheated on you. 

Your bag was packed. You were going to leave. But he begged and begged until your resolve finally cracked and you agreed to one picture because at this point, taking the damn picture would probably get you away from him faster. 

He claimed his mother wanted it, but you should’ve known that wasn’t the case. His mother couldn’t stand you. You didn’t come from money, so in her eyes, you weren’t fit for her son. 

But you sat on his lap and plastered on a fake smile and let the picture be taken. 

20 minutes later while Dean shotgunned beers in the backyard with his douchebag friends, you were loading your bags into Marlowe’s car and never looked back. 

Thank god.

Keep reading

I am so excited about this new story by Cait!

out of left field - series masterlist

Out of Left Field

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 in the midst of 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: This series will more than likely have smut, 18+ only please! I’m so excited for you guys to read this series, I just had to make the masterlist! Also, yes, you read it right haha. There is a week gap between Part 3 and 4. We are closing on our house and beginning our move, so I wanted to give myself time in case I happen to fall behind on writing! 

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. 

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!

Part 1 - This Is Bad (Monday, August 1)

Part 2 - I Can’t Do This Without You (Monday, August 8)

Part 3 - Target Practice (Monday, August 15)

Part 4 - Stu (Monday, August 29) 

Part 5 - Now or Never (Monday, September 5)

Part 6 - Jealousy Looks Good On You (Monday, September 12)

(there will be more parts, this is just what I have completed and titled) 

Long awaited chapter 8 does not disappoint!

Although I wonder about the other parts of where the story would of taken us!

the boston brute series: pt. 8 (baby steps, DUAL POV)

The Boston Brute Series: Pt. 8 - Baby Steps (DUAL 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 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. Somewhat toxic relationship/situation. Lots of Angst, neglect from the previous part is joked about being Chris and reader. If you can’t handle that, please do not read. (18+, please. Minors will be blocked.)  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!

A/N: I finished this like 2 minutes ago lmao please expect grammatical errors also, shout out to @blizzspeaks​ and @tis-thedamn-season​ for letting me bounce ideas off of you constantly hahaha i love and appreciate you more than you know!

W/C: 7.1k

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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time-for-a-lullaby masterlist

I no longer have a taglist. Give this page a follow and turn on your notifications!

“Hey, you.” You smiled softly as Chris walked through your office door, pushing it shut behind him. His hair was damp from his shower, styled back and out of his face with the exception of one strand that fell down the center of his forehead, curling slightly. 

He let his duffle bag hit the floor with a thud. “Hey.” He responded, mirroring the same nervous smile. Your eyes moved slowly around his face, memorizing his features. His smile was your favorite. Chris had only blessed you with an actual, genuine smile a couple of times and now that you guys have decided to give your relationship a shot, you longed to see it more. 

“Need stretched?” You inquired, standing from your desk and raising your eyebrow playfully. He didn’t. You knew that he was just coming to say bye and walk you to your car. It’d only been 3 days since you guys started officially dating and you were loving that you’d kind of already fallen into a routine.

Chris shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind having your hands on me.” 

“Ha.” You rolled your eyes, walking around your desk and leaning your butt against the edge. He sauntered towards you, stopping just before he reached you. 

“Everyone else cleared out.” 

Your smile widened at the obvious statement. This was Chris you were dealing with, after all. “I figured.” Even on days when he just had practice, he was still the last one out of the locker room. It made you giddy inside thinking that you were part of the reason for that now. 

He closed the distance between you, reaching up to cup your cheek. “How was your day, princess?”

Leaning into his hand slightly, your eyes met his as you thought back to the first time he’d called you that. You couldn’t stand it. Now, it makes your heart skip a beat. “Uneventful. Yours?” 

“Uneventful,” Chris responded quietly, his eyes dropping to your lips for a second before meeting your gaze again. 

It was obvious that he wanted to kiss you, but Chris had been very adamant about following your baby steps rule. Annoyingly so. 

Keep reading

Cait you have done it again!

out of left field series: pt. 3 - target practice

Out Of Left Field Series: Part 3 - Target Practice

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: I refuse to post a part without thanking @tis-thedamn-season​ for being the amazing human that she is. That’s all.

Warnings: Drugs, language, reader has an abusive/controlling ex, reader and chris are both 29 years of age (this is what you guys voted on!). Let me know if I miss anything :)

W/C: 6.6k

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 OC’s 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!

“No. Nope. Absolutely not.” You shook your head, pocketing your phone while you stared at Chris. 

Today was supposed to be uneventful. Uneventful-ish. After the last two days… you needed uneventful. Apparently, Chris didn’t get the memo.

The tension you were carrying from the upcoming announcement of your relationship knotted every muscle in your back from the base of your spine into your neck and the massage you got this morning did nothing but give you an hour without your phone. 

You were supposed to head into the office after your massage, get a few hours of work done, come home and enjoy a nice glass of expensive wine while the news of your new relationship dropped. 

But instead, you’ve been working off of your phone all day, weaving in and out of sweaty men carrying boxes through your apartment, the plans for your relationship announcement have changed at least 7 times, and now here stood Chris. 

His Red Sox hat was turned backward, sweat stains forming a perfect ‘V’ down his chest, the thin material clinging to his heaving chest and showing just a peek of the tattoos and chain he had underneath.

Keep reading

the boston brute series: pt. 11 - good boyfriend moment (dual pov)

The Boston Brute Series: Pt. 11 - Good Boyfriend Moment (Dual 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 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. Reader being insecure about looks, bringing up past issues with ex-boyfriends. SMUT (fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, babes), lots of dirty talk. 18+, please. Minors will be blocked.) Lot’s of fluff and soft Chris. 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: 6.4k

A/N:  fucking. swoon. SWOON. that is all.

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 POV

Chris: Are you trying to kill me?

He sent the text with a smile on his face, watching you as you stood at the bar, your elbows propped up and your chin resting on your hands. You were so fucking cute. 

You were a lot of things. Funny. Sexy. Charismatic. Sarcastic. But the one he loved the most, was cute. You were so fucking cute. 

Your legs were crossed at the ankles, ass sticking out just enough like you knew he would be watching. He hated that he couldn’t be affectionate with you in public. After all of these years of never wanting to be affectionate with anyone he’s ”dated”, he craved that level of intimacy with you and it drove him crazy that he couldn’t have it. 

He spent plenty of time making up for it in other ways and was honestly surprised that you weren’t tired of constantly feeling his hands all over your body, but Chris couldn’t stop himself. He was the moth to your flame. 

He had resisted the pull he felt to you at first, thinking it was just physical attraction and nothing more. For the entire 40 years that he has been on this planet, Chris never believed in soulmates or everyone having just one person that was made for him, but after you… He knew he’d been wrong. 

You were his soulmate. In every way shape and form, you were meant for him. He could feel it. 

He found himself wanting to say ‘I love you’ more and more often, but it just never felt perfect. The timing never seemed right. Chris had thought about saving it for when he took you home to Sudbury, but that was a little under a month away and it felt silly. If he knew, he knew. Why wait? 

But then he looked up at you again, watching as you pulled your phone from your pocket and read the message he’d sent to you, a slow grin spreading across your face. You were perfect. Therefore saying ‘I love you’ also needed to be in the perfect place. 

Your eyes found his, shaking your head slightly before you typed back a message.  

You: I’m literally wearing a turtleneck and jeans.

Chris: Don’t act like you don’t know what you look like in those jeans.

Chris: Put your drink on my tab.

Tonight, despite coming off of a loss last night, the team was out at their usual spot blowing off some steam in the VIP lounge at The Grand. He hadn’t originally planned on going, but then Connor invited Marlowe and Marlowe invited you, and you were not going to some bar with a bunch of drunk idiots without Chris around. 

It wasn’t an insecurity thing, it was a protectiveness thing. His mind kept going back to the night that he’d taken the 3 of you to your house and how Lance almost dragged you out of here. He didn’t want to imagine what might’ve unfolded had he not been watching… Chris forced himself to stop thinking about it because Dean wasn’t here. Lance wasn’t here. Only you. And you were his. 

Even though Layne insisted that no one would actually rat on the two of you if you were caught, Chris didn’t want to risk it. So for the past hour, you’ve been stealing playful glances and teasing smiles, both of you anxious to get back to Chris’s apartment. 

You: Don’t have to tell me twice, Mr. Sixty-Five Grand. 

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OMG! Cait I don’t think we can all wait you need to release the next chapters!

Can we get like... one line of smut sneak peek? Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

OOOF JUST ONE LINE

HOW ABOUT 2?

SMUT(ish) UNDER THE CUT

You gasped softly when he placed a kiss to the mound of your pussy, shivering when you felt his warm breath against your sensitive skin.

“Mia figa,” (my pussy) he mumbled, his large hands gripping the insides of your thighs.