#chris evens

[skj-weebmam]

Look at him!!!

So fine

[biggest-cock]

"My babies!!"

ie: a few thirty to fifty year old men on TV

[juicecupcakes11]

me when watching edits of a celeb crush thats twice my age

[ystark]

It's hard enough to find a good man to treat you like a queen and fuck you like a slut, but do you know what's even harder?

Finding TWO good men to treat you like a queen and fuck you like a slut.

They're also fictional.

[jayce-snipes]

Kill Him, Love Me Part One: The Message

Horror story involving Steve and the other Avengers with a male reader (Request).

AN: Woaw, my very first request, hope you enjoy. This is only part one, but I hope it sets up the style of the story fairly well!! This will probably be the last time I upload this series for a while, as I will only have access to my phone for two weeks, but feel free to request headcannons, and I can probably do those.

Synopsis: You and Steve have a perfect life, until you receive letters from someone telling you to break up with Steve or else the rest of the Avengers will suffer.

TW: I wasn't sure how gory you wanted it, so I did a basic description of a gunshot wound, the next parts will probably be gorier, but we're starting off light.

WC: 1.7k

You loved Steve, and he loved you; that much was obvious. He was always telling you, but more than that, you could see it. The way his eyes lit up when he noticed you in a room, the contented sighs that he would let out when he was kissing you or holding you, and the acts of service he did. You had been together for three years, the best three years of your life. Your relationship with Steve was perfect until it wasn't. 

It was early morning, you were lying on your bed, just boxers and a tank top on, with Steve next to you. He was reading a book, and you were scrolling on your phone. It was peaceful, the sun was shining just right, so Steve's already golden hair seemed to glow. You look at him with a contented sigh before looking back at your phone. After mindlessly scrolling for a few moments, you get a call. There is no caller ID, so you hang up, you ignore it, spam calls happen to everyone. Then you get a text Don’t ignore me bitch, pick up the phone. It's the same number as before. Your breath hitches in your throat; this has to be more than a spam call. The phone rings again, this time you get up and walk to the bathroom, closing the door before you pick up. The caller on the other side breaths heavily before speaking, “You don’t deserve this life…you don't deserve him.” You frown. The voice sounds female, so an obsessed fan, maybe. It wouldn't be surprising as your and Steve's relationship wasn't exactly private, and despite it being the 21st century, homophobes still exist. “Who is this?” You ask, frowning as you try in vain to recognize the number. *beep* The line goes dead, weird, but not enough to bother you. You exit the bathroom to see Steve's concerned face.

“You okay? You left suddenly…” He says, trailing off, looking you over as if he could magically determine what was wrong. “Yeah ‘m fine…” You say, looking at him with a sheepish smile, “Just a call from a weird fan, you know how it is”. He did know how it was; being America's golden boy had its perks, but people often took it too far. Telling him that they won't tell if he cheated on you, sending obscene letters detailing what they would do to him given the chance, mostly he just threw out the mail and ignored the texts, reassuring you with a kiss that he loved you. 

The two of you were now sitting in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in front of both of you while eating breakfast, eggs, with toast. You were making pleasant conversation with Steve, recounting a weird dream he had about being attacked by geese, when suddenly the doorbell rang. You assumed it was a package, but before you could get up to grab it, Steve was already on the way. You waited for him to return, taking lazy sips from your coffee cup. He returns with a letter, “it's for you babe,” he says placing the envelope in front of you with a kiss to your temple, you smile as you open the envelope, it had no return address or sender, a plain white envelope with your name on it Y/N, it felt wrong. You scanned over the words, your stomach dropping as you read the short message: One letter, one call, one chance to end it all. Break up with what you do not deserve, or else. You clench the letter, slightly wrinkling the paper in your fist. “What does it say…” Steve asked gently, reaching for the letter. You handed it over to him, “It's from the same person as before…” you say. Normally, these didn't affect you, but this one, it felt so malicious, you honestly felt scared. 

“This is disturbing…” he says, narrowing his eyes at the letter. “How did they get our address, and why would they want you to leave me?” he continues. It was almost cute how oblivious he was. Why wouldn't they want you to break up with him? He was so out of your league it was laughable, but instead you just said “I don’t know” and brought your dishes to the sink. “Try not to think about it” He said wrapping his arms around your waist as you stood at the sink.” I love you, my amazing, handsome, perfect boyfriend. Nothing is ever going to change that,” he kisses the top of your head as you lean back into him, smiling. “Let's get ready for work, it's getting late.” He says, looking at his watch over your shoulder. He takes his hand, guiding you to the bedroom. 

You arrive at the Avengers Tower. You both worked there; you were an Avenger, but you worked in the background. You mainly did stealth missions where you went undercover to gain intel, your face wasn't well known in the public, which was fine by you, you didn't want the attention anyway. The two of you headed to the mission briefing room. Fury, as well as the others, were sitting in their regular chairs. Tony and Clint were bickering about something stupid. Natasha watched on with thinly veiled annoyance. Thor was attempting to look serious, which failed when he noticed you and Steve come in, and Bucky was watching the two of you, a slight smile on his face. “Brother Steve and Brother Y/N, you have arrived!" Thor's voice boomed, the noise signaling to Tony and Clint to quiet down. “Welcome, take a seat,” Fury said coolly. The two of you sat down in your respective seats, you next to Clint, and Steve next to Bucky. Your back was to the window, and you were across from Tony. “Now, you all know, why we’re we are here to discuss the next mission…” Fury began to drone on about what was going to happen and to whom. You honestly didn't know why the team did this, I mean, you all got a digital copy of the mission brief anyway.

You pretend to focus, nodding along with the rest of the team, when suddenly, a dot. Right in the middle of Tony's forehead, your eyes narrowed, he noticed and opened his mouth to speak “what do I have something on my fa-” His teasing words were cut off when a bullet pierced his skull, the blood splattered getting onto the faces of Natasha and Bruce next to him. “Oh God.” You say covering your mouth. Nobody screamed, but the reaction was instantaneous. Fury called the emergency protocol with the tower shutting down. The curtains, now replaced with metal, covered the window. Tony's corpse slumped in his chair, his eyes were open, the ghost of his last words, directed at you, on his lips. The bullet hole was clean, and the pink, red, and white of his skull and brains greeted you. You had seen it all before, but this was different. Tony was a dear friend, you felt the bile rising, this wasn't the same as a nameless agent you needed to take out, this felt solid, the loss ripping through your chest instantly. You didn’t cry, but your whole body shuddered, like you had been shot instead. The rest of the team fared no better, Natasha attempting to calm Bruce, as he was looking a little green, Fury barking orders into the phone, no doubt trying to handle this. Thor and Bucky were looking at you; however, Steve had come to your side, attempting to say something to you. Your ears were ringing, the words drowned out by high-pitched buzzing. 

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and your heart dropped. You pull it out, your hands shaking, and it takes several attempts to unlock it. You read the message One down, five to go, are you going to make me kill you all to get what I want. You know what you need to do; you can stop it now, don’t play dumb. You swallow down the puke threatening to flood the table, you silently hand the phone to Steve, watching his face pale and his expression drop. The remaining team, including Fury, looks at the message, then at each other, and finally at you and Steve. “We are so fucked…” You mutter, attempting to avoid the dead gaze of Tony as you look around. His eyes, once full of life, were starting to cloud over. Then the guilt. It was your fault; you considered breaking up with Steve on the spot, texting back and telling whoever was doing this to stop, that they had done enough damage. He rested his hand on your shoulder, however, “don't look at him, look at me,” he muttered, “we will get through this”. you didn't feel better, but you did feel a little safer. Fury’s men arrived carrying Tony out of the room, a solemn moment. The fear of the team was palpable in the room.  “Now.” Fury said, “We all need to sit tight and not do anything stupid.” You frowned deeply after hearing the plan. You were all going to sit here like sitting ducks and wait for this killer to attempt again, then track them down based on the texts and calls they seemed to send. The team argued, clearly this was a professional, and no one was too keen on sitting around. You got another text Tic toc bitch, times running out, you curse under your breath placing the phone on the table, then a call. The room falls silent, tension clear, you hesitate to answer, so Clint, frustrated, does it for you. “Dumb bitch doesn't want to quit while he's ahead, so let's dance bitch, see you soon Stevie, you'll love me even if I'm covered in the blood of your teammates.” the voice pauses seemingly realizing something “And Y/N don't forget, this is all your fault, I’m going to have fun killing you last, see you soon!” The voice hung up, your thoughts were racing, who next, why me, should I just give up? You did know what to do, and you felt utterly trapped.

requested by: @vibrantsavagerydoom

[the-illemonate]

I love how confused Bucky sounded when he said “Plan?” because the two people he has worked closest with in his life were just winging it (pun intended) the entire time

[societyfolklore]

Blame the Weather

Title:  Blame the Weather

Pairing: Nick Grant x Female Reader (Cos Push doesn't get enough love)

Warnings: Explicit Content, Minors DNI, 18+

A/N: This piece is part of the Sexy September Scribbles challenge, hosted by myself and @soelstress Sep 26th: So wet, you must’ve been waiting for this.

The room was stifling, no air moving, sweat slicking every inch of your skin as Nick dragged you into his lap. His mouth was on yours before you could breathe, teeth and tongue, kissing like he wanted to bite. His hands shoved up your skirt, rough and careless, like he didn’t give a fuck if the fabric tore.

His fingers slipped between your thighs, sliding through your folds too easily, coming back slick and shining in the dim light. His grin went crooked, cocky, as he pressed the mess against your clit, rubbing until you gasped.

“So wet,” he rasped, breath hot and dirty against your mouth. “You must’ve been waiting for this.”

You laughed, though it came out shaky, your hips jerking against his hand. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s a hundred degrees in here, I’m dripping everywhere.”

Nick’s smirk twitched darker, meaner. For a heartbeat you thought maybe you’d poked too hard, but then he growled low in his chest and shoved two fingers inside, rough enough to make you yelp.

“Yeah?” he muttered, curling them deep, knuckles grinding your walls as your back arched. “We’ll see you blame the heat when you’re gushing all over my cock. When I split you open and fuck you until you forget what your name is.”

You didn’t even get to spit a comeback before he was pushing into you raw, dragging your wetness down his length and bottoming out with a groan. The stretch was brutal, your sass breaking into a helpless moan. His forehead pressed to yours, both of you slick with sweat, his stubble scraping your cheek.

“Still think it’s the weather?” he grit out, hips snapping, each thrust punching deeper. “Or are you ready to admit you’ve been dying for me take you?”

“Shut up…” you whined, rolling your hips back, the wet slap of your bodies echoing through the stifling room.

[mindless-existence1]

when I say I like Chris Even in the Marvel universe and they thought I meant Steve Rogers