Situations with Chris Evans (and characters)!
[ CHRISEVANSXFEM!READER SMUT/FLUFF ]
* mild language and explicit depictions of sexuality (other trigger warnings stated at the beginning of the chapter). 18+ or else...
requests are [open but no guaran...
A/N: if you saw me simping over buzzcut evans, no you did not Summary: Chris has a hard day of filming. Luckily, his pretty girl is waiting for him in his trailer. 1.0k words Warnings: smoot, cunnilingus (for the ladies🥰), idk it's kinda soft NOT SOFT I TAKE IT BACK ITS LIKE ROUGH FINGERING
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He didn't think this shitstorm could get any worse, until he remembers having to trudge back to his empty trailer once the scene is over. He wills himself to keep his eyes open for long enough to grab a coffee and at least make it to the door.
You set If It Bleeds down at the squeak of a hinge, propping yourself up onto your elbows to watch Chris shuffle into the trailer with a defeated sigh.
"I take it filming didn't go so well?" And his baby blue tee is almost tainted a soft brown under the tidal of steaming coffee. But that doesn't matter anymore when he whips around, jaw half-slack and eyebrows cricked up at the sound of your honeyed voice.
"Oh, baby," he coos, coffee long forgotten where it resides on a rickety tray table. He's lost on the curve of your spine in just a bra and cotton underwear as you beckon him towards you with a curling index finger, enticing him to the point of crumbling to his knees at your feet. His palm clasps tight over your thigh, pressing it taut against the clammy leather of the couch.
"When did you get here?" His lips meet your pillowy thigh as he hooks a hand in the crook of your knee. You rear back as his scruff tickles your delicate skin, coaxing a melodic giggle from the column of your throat.
"About thirty minutes ago."
"So you saw—"
"Mhm, with Michelle," you whisper, pushing the slouching strands of hair from his forehead when he shuts his eyes and rests his cheek on your thigh.
"They wrote it in, I—"
"I know, Chris," and he lets a deep sigh arouse curious goosebumps over your skin, "don't worry, it's just acting." A hum pours past his lips as he leaves feather soft kisses over and over to your supple epidermis until you think you might bruise. He takes a breath in, spine drawing rigid as a taut string before his palms push your thighs open against the couch so he can shuffle closer, eyes wide as saucers and blinking up at you as he dips down to catch the waistband of your boy shorts between his teeth.
A ragged fistful of his hair is all he needs to pull the garment from your body and watch you squirm under his ever-piercing stare.
"Princess," he whispers, swift kisses pressed haphazardly to the crease between your thigh and your core. "You've been waitin' so patiently, huh, sweetheart?" He shoves his middle fingers past your lips, looking up through his lashes and tugging his bottom lip between his pearl pure teeth. His hand spreads over your navel as you trail your fingertips up the vein of his wrist and to the junction where your mouth wraps around his thick fingers. "There you go," he mumbles.
You gasp, chest heaving when his tongue flattens wet against your cunt, licking up at your clit when he drops his palm just beneath his chin to slip into you.
"Jesus, you're fuckin' dripping," he groans, breath hot and heavy against the slick of your pussy. And you are. Over his fingers and cheek with a vulgar slurp. His jaw unhinges when his fingers curl, ushering the prettiest moans from your throat. His teeth clamp shut, scraping harsh at your clit, sending your back into a ragged arch how his fingertips beckon rough against your sweet spot.
"Chris," you whine, and he chuckles, undulating from deep within his chest and rolling over your skin.
"Yeah? You like when I bury my fingers in you? God, you take 'em so well, don't you, honey? Yeah." He nods from between your legs, fingers pumping with a vicious squelch that keeps his jeans tight in the crotch area. Sitting back on his haunches, he watches the way you wrap tight around his fingers and coat them until they catch the light.
A click of his tongue and he's prying your legs wide when they fasten around his forearm. "Come on, sweetheart, keep 'em spread for me," he coos, diving back between your thighs and letting his palm roam to your bra, pulling your breast out of the cup to feel over your pert nipple with a grin.
And you whine because his fingertips are rough they way the pinch and roll, but he keeps it up because you clench—flutter around his fingers and he can only dream of how you'd feel bouncing on his cock. God, the sounds you'd make for him.
Then you squirm and his attention snaps to your hand curling around his knuckles as you choke out a sigh, brows knit together when you let your head lull back against the wall. A rough squeeze of your breast and you're all but cumming into his palm. He leans in, tip of his tongue flicking up-down at your clit as his fingers curl, shaking like your legs on the balls of your feet.
"You take my fingers so well, princess. How 'bout you let go for me, huh, baby? Just wanna make you feel good," he whispers, lips swollen and pink and the sight is enough to leave a wet spot on your panties. Soaked all the way through.
And he grins like a madman when you draw your knees together, but his pace is unrelenting until he stops at the unraveling of the pinching coil of your belly. A moan dripping with melted sugar to fill his ears with cotton and cloud his mind for a lifetime. He keeps his fingers sheathed inside you when your thighs drift wide again, shoulders relaxing with the slump of your spine, but you're still around him like a vice. You're utterly and thoroughly fucked, hair stuck sweaty to your temples as you take uneven breaths in, and he thinks he'll use just his mouth next time.
