Local Attractions

like magic 2 local attractions July 28 2016.jpg

Local Attractions

*A Chris Evans fan fic*

By avenger-nerd-mom

While on a quick weekend getaway, Chris meets a local girl

Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, Rough sex, forced oral sex, penetration, condoms

Word Count: 1186

She almost wishes he’d slow down and let up a bit in order for her to enjoy and savor their sexual escapades a bit more. Everything just seems to be moving so fast, and I wanna remember it all, she thinks as her tits bounce with each thrust he delivers.

On the edge of his hotel bed, one ass cheek practically hanging off, one leg dangling to the floor, the other caught in the crook of his arm , Chris increases his invasions into her welcoming hole. Sounds of their sex fill the air and neither are too concerned if the neighbors will hear them.  It’s early evening and most of the guests are still sight-seeing or out to dinner.

Just as quickly as he charges into her, he pulls out, shifting his position and sticks his covered cock in her face.  “I want you to take it,” he growls, but she also hears the underlying request, as though she has the power to choose.  Who would say no to Captain America?

She wraps her lips around his thick piece, tasting herself on him, a smile forming at the flavored condom they’d joked about purchasing.  The damn thing even smells like strawberries…In disbelief, she shakes her head back and forth, moving him from side to side and adding a gentle hum for his benefit.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” Chris offers seductively as he grips her hair holding her still as he strikes in and out for his own pleasure before letting her free to lick him like a lollipop again.  Pulling him in as deeply as she can she hears his gasp, and reaches to massage his Adonis, running her fingers up through the faint hairs on his lower abs.

Pulling out with a pop, he enjoys the “oh” shape her mouth creates and leans to kiss her harshly, staking a claim before aligning with her center again for penetration.  He pulls in and out, stretching her walls, feeling her velvet grip him tight.  Leaning over her, he takes one of her pretty tits in his mouth, sucking and teasing with his teeth across her nipple, eliciting a gasp of shock from deep in her throat.  His little game continues, teasing her just to the edge before pulling back and rebuilding her need again.

Tiring of his stance, he pistons inside with the force to push her higher up on the bed, bunching the sheets under her as she moves, so he can hover above her.  “I want you to come now,” he orders, looking in her eyes with a giving smile as he sinks deep inside, holding still momentarily for the final expansion she needs to accommodate his size.

Over her, he pulls out slowly, long strokes pushing back in quickly.  “Shit, I like that,” she admits breathlessly, so he continues his skilled movements, a master at work.  Within moments the waves are felt between them as she begins to come.  “I need more,” she whines and he willingly snakes his hand between them and finds her clit, teasing it as the shockwaves grow larger and her sounds, “Oh, Oh, hmmm, just like that,” fill the room.

His cock swells as the feeling rushes through his thighs, adding to the vigor he delivers into her as he comes, filling the vending machine condom with his seed.  “Just like that,” he repeats, chuckling when she grabs his ass, holding him still.

“Don’t move,” she giggles, a visible quake washing over her body as she tells him what to do.  He kisses her forehead, damp with sweat from their summer games. Another wave rolls through her, and she releases him, allowing him to fall to her side.

Face first, head in the down-filled pillow, he throws his arm across her chest, massaging his thumb over her hip.  “That was… unbelievable. Fuckin’ unforgettable,” she sighs.

He turns his face to her, watching as she stares up at the ceiling fan, listening to the children down at the pool, sounds of ice falling into the machine nearby.  A smile grows on his face and she turns to grin at him, a slight blush on her tanned cheeks.  They lay in silence, both not knowing what to say.

The silence is broken moments later when her phone rings.   “Your side, I think,” he says as he gets out of bed and walks to the bathroom to clean up and give her privacy.  He leaves the door open, curiosity getting the better of him once again.

“Hey, baby girl. Yea, I won’t be able to make it tonight after all… Remember the joke this morning about the ‘man of my dreams?’ I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow… Shit, I can’t really talk.  I’m in his hotel room… At the gas station,” she replies. Chris can see her shaking her head, but stretching out like a queen on his bed, proud of herself.  “Yea, I know, right after I talked to you… Right. A GDT,” she giggles.  “I don’t know. If he asks me to stay, I might… Always safe… Ok. Talk to you tomorrow…”

Chris steps back into the room, carrying a hot wet wash cloth for her and a towel, biting back a laugh as she pinches her fingers open and closed, rolling her eyes as she mimics the talking of her friend.  He begins washing over her sticky mound with the cloth.  “Mmmhmm… Yea… Fuck I gotta go.  I promise, first thing tomorrow. Luv ya! Bye!”

She tosses the phone back down on the floor, lifting her hips into his hand as he gently wipes her down, then pats her dry with the second towel.  “What’s a GDT?” he asks.  “Or do I not wanna know?”

She runs her fingertips down his arms, and looks back to him with challenge in her eyes. “That’s a local term we use for God Damn Tourists, like you. A GDT,” she laughs, eying his beautiful naked physique as he stands next to the bed, her eyes slowly moving from tat to tat. Memorizing his beauty.

He chuckles at the acronym.  “So was it ‘like magic?’” he asks, bending to pick something off the floor and she laughs when her Captain America shirt hits her in the face.

She tosses it back to him.  “Everything I dreamed it would be and more.  In fact, where’s the grape one?  I wanna try it next,” she taunts, teasing him about the selection of flavored condoms he got in the vending machine at the gas station where they met earlier that morning.

He steps over to the little table by the window, adjusting the curtain again to ensure no one can see in as they walk by the second floor room overlooking the pool.  “Please don’t think I’m an ass… Take this as a compliment that the sex is so good, I can’t remember a thing,” he chuckles, embarrassment written all over his face.  “But, uh, what’s your name again?”

She throws her head back in laughter as she spins around to sit up on her knees, motioning for him to join her.  “Well, Chris,” indicating she definitely remembers who he is.  “They call me Becca.”

*can be read as a stand alone, but this story is truly a follow-up piece to “Like Magic“*

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Save the Date


Save the Date July 27 2016

Save the Date

an Emery & Chris story

by avenger-nerd-mom

Chris and Emery relax on a hot Georgia night and finalize some plans for the wedding.  Chris is being a tease, so Emery has a reward for good behavior planned out later

Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, Fluff, NSFW, oral sex

Word Count 2798

“So you pick the hottest day of summer to sit down and plan our winter wedding?”

Emery sits the beer on the table in front of him, and moves the ash tray from the railing of the porch, closer to him.  She pulls up her chair, slips off her sandals and rests them on the edge of his chair.  “Babe, I hate to tell you, it’s gonna be even hotter tomorrow and you promised you’d go to my nephew’s ball tournament.”

She giggles when he rolls his eyes and drops his head back, his jaw dropping open in the process. “Oh, my God, I’m gonna die.  They won’t cancel the game in this heat?”

“Ya big Yankee baby! We don’t cancel games on account of heat! And you promised that little boy!”

“I know, I know.   Fine.  Damn, It’s hot as hell here,” he rubs his hand across his beard, scratching his fingertips under his nose, over his mustache. “Ok, ok.  Think cold. Boston. Winter.  Snow.  Why are we getting married in December anyway?” Chris chuckles.

“Because I’ll be on sabbatical and you get time off from filming,” she tiredly explains again. “We can still have time for Disney, our wedding and a honeymoon.”

“Why don’t we get married at Disney?”

“Babe, I’m not getting married at Disney.”  She fans herself with a section of the newspaper left lying on the table, her tone quickly becoming exasperated with his little verbal game.

“But all the weddings I’ve seen from there are beautiful.  It could be a true fairytale wedding.  We got engaged at Disney; we should get married there.”

“I’m not getting married at Disney.”

“Mickey Mouse could walk you down the aisle.”  Chris takes another deep inhale before putting out the cigarette, knowing it’s a habit she only pretends to tolerate.

“You wanna explain that to my father?”  Chris shudders at the thought, and she giggles.  “We are not getting married at Disney.”

“We could-“

“Chris. Listen now.  We. Are. NOT. Getting. Married. At. Disney. “ He smiles at the distinct Southern twang to her voice she attains whenever she’s worked up about something. He likes to do it on purpose just to hear her speak. She continues her explanation, the one he feels like he’s already heard a thousand times.  He just likes hearing her talk about their wedding, still somewhat in awe he actually found a girl who wants to marry him. “We’ve already chosen a date in December that allows us to renew our vows every year there; take an annual anniversary trip there, but we are getting married in Boston.”

He sighs deeply.  “Fine.”

She sees the gleam in his eyes and knows he was messing with her the whole time. “Ass,” she laughs.  “You do know the date, right?”

“Ha, ha. Very funny.  December 10.  I’ll be there in whatever you tell me to wear.  It apparently will not include Disney mouse ears…”

“It most definitely will not.  You narrowed it down to three suits, right?”

“Yes, Ilaria and I took care of that and we have an appointment week after next when you get back from that other conference you have to attend.  That way you both make the final decision together.  I’m just the guy that has to look good in it.  Just think, honey, your own personal suit porn,” He laughs, appealing to her inner fangirl.  “Hey, I got a question: Why are we doing this?  Why don’t we just get a wedding planner?”

“Are you serious? Do you know how detail oriented I can be?  Between my mother and sisters on this end, and your mom, sisters and Tara in Boston, why the hell do we need a planner?”  She taps the notebook in front of her, indicating all the information they need for their impending nuptials are all right there.

“Shit, that’s a lot of chiefs to have to answer to,” he laughs.

She nods her head in agreement.  She quietly exhales, “Hey, I’m making sacrifices too, just to try to make everyone happy.  Just remember what my dad said-”

“‘Yes, dear,’” Chris chimes in.  “Your father is a very smart man.”  He looks at the notes in front of her, reading down the list of names, pulling his shirt away from him as it sticks to his chest in the hot sticky weather.  “Damn, babe! Between all our siblings to be in the wedding party, will there be anyone left to actually watch us get married?”

She laughs. “We’ve talked about this. Can you focus and remember this time?”  she sees the devilish light return to his eyes.   Her voice takes a steely tone.  “Dammit, Evans, if you quit playing around, this could go a lot easier.”

“Can we get to the fucking part of this conversation then?”

She tosses her head back and laughs, using the towel on the table to wipe the trickle of sweat running down between her breasts.  “Yes, dear.  This really won’t take long….”

He claps his hands together enthusiastically.  “Ok, well I’m away from set all of December.  Everyone from Marvel that we plan to invite already has the date on the calendar so they can make it and-“

“FUCK! FUCK.  Fuck, fuck fuck,” Emery exclaims, her eyes wide in horror.


“You! You’ll be working!  You’ll be in Steve mode.  You’ll be solid as a brickhouse, but you’ll be shaved! Oh, god dammit!  How fast can you grow the beard out?”

Chris throws his head back, laughing so hard the chair nearly tips out from under him.  Gasping to catch his breath, he rubs his hands on his thighs, shaking his head.  “Babe.  I promise, even if I have to film a day or two after Thanksgiving, I can have Gifted beard, just like you like, in time for the wedding.”

“Oh, thank God.  I mean, I loved Steve Rogers first, but the man I really love has this amazing beard,” she leans forward to scratch his chin and he turns to kiss the palm of her hand, the bristles tickling at her delicate flesh.

“I can show you in a little bit some amazing things this beard can do?” he offers, kissing her palm again.

“I’m gonna hold you to that, but after we finish this,” she chuckles, trying to ignore the rising heat she feels internally.

A gentle breeze passes through the back yard and the wind chimes play a gentle tune.

“Alright. So I’m on now, huh? Prove to you I pay attention, Ms. Thomas, is that it?”

“If you can pass the test, I’ve got a nice incentive waiting for you,” she giggles.

“Alright then, Scott has been asked to be the best man.  We’ve got Josh, D, Ryan, Parker, Reece- the brother squad- and my friend Brad lined up for the wedding party.  And you, you’ve got Mackinzie as the maid of honor and the bridesmaids are Carly, Shanna, Susan, Tara, Jen and Katie.  Which, by the way, I’ll say again, it’s just a little weird you insisted on Jen in the wedding.  I know you two have known each other a long time, but she writes ‘Evans porn.’ It’s just weird.”

Emery laughs at the blush on his face.  “Honey, you liked her when we met her, and we are close friends.  She’s moved on to another crush now that she says she sees you are truly serious -”

Chris interrupts. “Excuse me, moved on? Which of my Marvel boys do I need to warn?”

Emery chuckles, playfully hitting his arm.  She shakes her head, “I will not betray her confidences… Fangirl oath.  Sorry.  I was a fangirl, and always will be.” She shrugs her shoulders and rolls her eyes.  “A lot of my friends invited to the wedding are gonna be fangirls, but everyone has promised to remain calm.”

“It’s fucked up, but whatever.  Speaking of ‘fucked?’” He inquires with a turn of his head and his famously raised eyebrow.

“Not till we finish the list,” Emery taps the table, trying to get him back on task, the sounds of crickets filling the air as the sun drops behind the tree line.

Chris continues his train of thought, reporting through the list of facts he reviews almost daily.  “We’re all reporting December 10, in the morning at the barn.  But you’ll be the one at the gazebo, cause I can’t see you before.  Separate photography before and family photos and our pictures after. Dinner is some kinda fish, roast and I don’t care,” he rolls his eyes.  “Scott and Josh are taking care of the DJ and we have to have our playlists compiled, when? By the first of September, right?”  He smiles when Emery nods her approval of his recitation.

“Have you thought any more about my request?” she asks tentatively.

Chris shakes his head ‘no.’ “Babe, I would give you the world, but I’m not singing.”

“But I’ve caught you practicing my favorite song, and it’s perfect for a wedding.  Please?”

Reaching to caress the back of her hand, “Kitten, I do have a plan for that song, but I can’t sing in front of all those people.  I just can’t.”

Emery turns her hand, capturing his and raising it to her lips.  His hand smells like him, sweat and cigarettes, and her stomach turns somersaults.  Stupid pheromones.  “Alright, I understand.  I’d like you to think about it more, but I won’t ask again.  I know you’ve got enough stress.”

Ignoring the shitty feeling her comment gives him, he continues down the check list, wanting to get this done.  Just the simple act of her lips on his knuckles has kicked him into overdrive and her tanned legs propped up on the edge of his seat don’t help any.

He continues quickly. “We’ve got a couple of days before the wedding to set up the venue, brunch the day after, and then we leave on our destination honeymoon and I’m still not telling you where that is…  Wanna know why I can’t tell you?”

“Because you haven’t decided yet?” she asks.

“Because I haven’t decided yet,” he chuckles.  “Oh, you think you know me so well.”

“I do, babe, I do.”

“Kitten, you just keep practicing those words.  You need those for the ceremony,” he chuckles, running his fingertips up her calf, watching her begin to squirm.  “That’s your important line that day.  Don’t blow it.  I hate working with amateurs.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.  You forget, as a teacher, I perform every day, on the spot.  With no script.  That probably makes me the seasoned professional.  Someone else writes your words for you.”  She playfully taps his arm, “The vows?”

“Shit, okay, we’re writing our own vows, so I guess those are important too.”

“And if I hear anything sounding like anything you have ever said on screen before, you’re a dead man,” she threatens quietly, with a deadly serious look in her eyes.

“I got this.  I can write my own professions of love to you.”

Chris notices with each rise and fall of her chest that she isn’t wearing a bra under her pale pink tank top. In the heat, sweat pools under her breasts, her shirt clinging in just the right places, tendrils of curls wet against her neck.  He wonders if he’s ever seen her look so beautiful, so natural before.

She snaps her fingers in front of his face, pulling him from his musings.  “No writing it the night before, half drunk.”

“I’ll have you know I have already started making notes,” he laughs.  “Okay, back to the list.   Where was I? Destination honeymoon, then meeting everyone in Orlando and then Christmas.  Am I forgetting anything big right now?”

“No, sweetie, I think you pretty much got it.”  She relaxes know, realizing his forgetfulness through most of their wedding discussions has all been an act, simply to annoy her.  It worked.  She’ll be addressing that with him tomorrow, she thinks to herself.

Proudly, he puffs up his chest, knowing he has been able to recite the wedding details nearly from memory.  “So are we done?”

“One more thing,” she smiles.  “Tara is taking care of the cake.  She wants to know if we want an actual cake or cupcakes?”

“Both?” he chuckles when he sees his answer pleased his future bride.  “Cause isn’t it tradition to keep the top tier of the cake and freeze it and eat it on your first anniversary?  And cupcakes mean we can have all our favorite kinds of cake and everyone can pick and choose what they want, right?”

“Right,” she smiles, making a note on the pad of paper in front of her.  “Oh, speaking of traditions, listen to this and tell me what you think?”

She outlines a plan that had come to her while she was daydreaming during her math conference the week before.  Chris chuckles and agrees he thinks it’s a great plan.  “I’ll get you the phone numbers you need.  I’ll let that be your little project; I can’t wait to hear how that turns out.  You know you’re amazing?”

“What the hell do we need a ton of presents for?  Between us we have like, what?  Three houses and an apartment?” she giggles as he counts on his fingers.  “How many toasters do we need?” she tosses out. “If I get to leave that day with a ring on my finger and your last name, I’m set.  I don’t need anything else.”

The temperature continues to drop as sunset fades to darkness and the breeze cools the sweat along the neckline of Chris’s t-shirt.  “And I get you, so I guess you’re right.  We don’t need anything else.  I love your plan.  It’s beautiful; just like you.”

He rises from her chair and scoops his hands under her to pick her up from her seat.  “Mr. Evans, what are you doing?”

“Going out into the yard to lay in the grass and make love to you under the stars; it’s a private back yard with high fences.  The neighbors won’t know.”

“There’s also ticks and chigggers. You ain’t taking me out and fuckin’ me on the grass,” her accent rings through her words like music to his ears.

“Emery Rose, that may be THE most Southern thing I’ve ever heard you say,” he whispers in her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

“Also spiders,” she teases.

He sets her down, complaining quietly about the South in summer, and quickly reclines the oversized patio chaise lounge before lifting her tank top over her arms exposing her beautiful skin to the glow of the moon, lights from the kitchen window back lighting her beautiful body.

wedding planning strip.gif

The smell of cigarette smoke and beer wafts to her nose and she giggles as he lays her down gently, tugging her short shorts off on one swift motion.

“Did I pass the recitation portion of my exam, Miss Thomas?” he whispers gruffly in the dark, kneeling between her spread legs.

A breathy moan escapes her lips as his beard brushes against her thigh, his hands sliding up her legs. “Yea, gold stars,” she giggles, tugging her fingers through his damp, sweaty hair.

He rises momentarily to pull his shirt over his head and she yelps in surprise when the Saint Christopher’s medallion feels cold against her leg.

“Do you think you could help with the oral part of my test?” Chris asks, diving between her legs with no pretense of foreplay.

His tongue slices through her wet divide.  Her scent is amplified by the Georgia heat, musky, yet sweet. He pushes his tongue in her welcoming hole and pulls back slowly, devilishly as she squirms beneath him.

Emery shifts her ass on the cushion, raising her foot onto the edge of the lounge, bringing her waiting pussy closer to his mouth, opening herself wide for his greater enjoyment. She grabs his shoulders, kneading her fingers in his tight muscles, basking in the attentions of his tongue, dipping in and out, his lips stopping occasionally to kiss the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

Her vocals increase when he begins to drill her with two fingers, twisting and teasing as they push and flutter against her inner walls, his tongue still working its magic. “Oh, shit, she whispers when one flick of his wide tongue sweeps over her taint.  “Damn,” she hisses.

He chuckles softly, lost in his thoughts, licking the spot again as she begins to grind against his palm. She comes quickly, a series of moans pushing from her lungs, “Yes, Chris, yes,” she hisses.

His fingers slow their task and he licks her clean, reveling in her taste.

“Catch your breath, babe, cause I need my turn.  I’m gonna-”

“Hey!” a voice yells over the fence.  “No one answered the front door? We brought ice cream! Yoo-hoo!” calls out Emery’s mother.

Emery makes a quick naked dash into the house, laughter following her, leaving Chris to deal with his visible need and his future in -laws.


Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Rescuing Christmas

rescuing Christmas July 24, 2016

Rescuing Christmas

*a Chris Evans fan fiction*

a Chris-mas in July story

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris runs an embarrassing errand on Christmas Eve for his sister

Warnings: Fluff, Language, Adult Situations

Word Count: 1037

I can’t help but laugh at the poor man.  He’s been standing there so long, the snow from his boots has started to melt, and creates a small puddle at his feet.  I walk down the aisle and grab just what I need, praying ‘please don’t be cute.’  I toss it in my cart, and turn to his confused profile.

“Uh, lookin’ a little lost there.  Need some help?” I ask him.

Ah, fuckin’ hell.  When he turns to me, he has the most beautiful blue eyes.  They shine as bright as the blue lights Grandma insists on her Christmas tree every year.  His dark scruff is perfect against his pale skin, and his dirty blonde hair has the appearance of growing out from a much shorter cut, like it won’t quite do what he wants it to do yet.  It’s very endearing and I’m struck by his handsome adorableness; he reminds me of a playful puppy.

“That obvious?” he chuckles.

“Standing in the feminine supply aisle on Christmas Eve? Yea, a little obvious. Unless you’re into giving weird gifts,” I laugh.  His smile in return illuminates the space between us.

“I should get something for my brother, while I’m here,” he mocks.  “No, my sister called and,” he shakes his head in disgust.  “She sent me a picture of what to get and now my phone is dead.”  He looks at me with a sense of dread in his eyes.  “It’s Christmas Eve and she has three kids.  Do you know what hell awaits me- and her husband- if I don’t bring the right thing when I go to dinner?”

I laugh, pulling my phone from my pocket.  This guy is just too cute.  What guy is willing to stop at the pharmacy for his sister and her feminine needs on Christmas Eve?  “Well, it looks like the rest of the evening should go well?”  I indicate the amount of booze he’s loaded into his cart.

“Those are the weird gifts you previously indicated.  White elephant party later tonight.”

“Wicked… So, do you wanna use my phone to call your sister?  I’d hate for your death to be on my hands, what with it being a holiday and all…”  I push my phone to his chest, instantly struck by how solid he is.  He takes it from my hands, smiling gratefully.

“You’re hands are freezing!  Don’t you have gloves?” he asks as he begins to dial her number, pulling his gloves out of his pocket and handing them to me.

“Thanks, yea, I must have left mine on my desk at work,”  I reply, inspecting his haul as he leaves a voicemail for his sister.  I can just picture him and all his frat boy pals from college getting their buzz on.  Honestly, he seems a bit old for that kinda shit on Christmas Eve, but whatever.

“Hey, I’m really sorry to take up your time.  I’m sure you have family to get to….  Do you mind waiting a minute? She might call back.  We never answer unknown numbers,” he offers as a weird explanation.

I look quizzically at him and when the phone rings, he checks to see if it’s her return call before answering.  “Hey Sis, yea, my phone went dead and this nice stranger is letting me use hers….”  He begins to blush and moves away from me and I hide back another giggle when I hear him say quietly, “Yea, she’s cute, but I’m not hitting on a girl I meet in THIS aisle of the store…. No. I don’t know… She could be married…”

I try not to look as he turns back to me and he says into the phone, “Her coat sleeves cover her hand, I can’t tell… Sis, for fuck’s sake, it is Christmas Eve- yea, fine. Ok. I’ll do it.  What damn thing do you need me to get?  They ALL say that…  Well, shit, sis, they all look the same to me. Send another picture of the damn box.”

He walks back over to me and I pretend I didn’t hear the conversation.  “I’m waiting on her to send a picture. Apparently, she doesn’t trust me…. Sooo, this is gonna sound really strange, but,” he sighs, embarrassed, “Carly says if you don’t have plans you’re welcome to come back to the house.  We do this Open House, neighborhood type thing, and it’s a free for all, and-”

He stops when the phone buzzes and a picture flashes on the screen.  He looks closely at the picture and scans the aisle in front of him.  He’s holding the phone, just so, and I can see the picture too.  I grab what he’s searching for and toss it in his cart.  “There.  It’s done,” I tease.  “But you’ll have to load it on the counter yourself.”

He laughs. “I am a man.  I wear pink polos.  I wash dishes.  I can buy feminine products on Christmas Eve.  I can unload my own cart, thank you very much,” he says with a strut as we walk down the aisle.  I finally can’t contain my laughter as he grabs a couple of boxes of condoms without looking and throws them in the cart as well.

“Just what kinda party are you inviting me to?” I laugh, bumping his hip, handing him back his gloves.

“That’s for the white elephant party later…  So dinner?  My ma makes the best manicotti in Boston? I mean, if you need to get home to family, I understand, but…”

Walking to the front of the store to pay, I place my hand on his arm and he stops his nervous walk.  “I’d like to say, yes, but there’s just one problem…”

“Oh, God, please don’t be married,” he whispers, a blush on his face.

I pull back my coat sleeves and hold up both hands, indicating no rings.  “No, not married.  I can’t say yes, because I don’t know your name.”

A slow grin breaks across his face, “Seriously? That’s the only reason?  Oh, okay…  Hi, I’m Chris.”

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Like Magic

Like Magic July 23 2016.jpg

Like Magic

*a Chris Evans fan fic*

by avenger-nerd-mom

Chris overhears an interesting comment at the local gas station

Warnings: None, Fluff, Language

Word Count: 727

Chris holds back his laughter from the one sided conversation he overhears from the next row over. He looks over the top of the aisle and sees the young woman has her headphones in and is taking on the phone.

“I’m telling ya, if you want to get hit on, wear one of your Cap shirts. I swear, happens every time.”

Smirking, Chris stops to listen, shaking his head.

“Like yesterday at the coffee shop, the cute barista flirted with me, and asked for my number… This old guy,  like eight, in front of my apartment building stopped me this morning and we talked about the comics he remembered when he was younger.  And just now when I walked into the gas station… I need to get cat food. Yea, I know. Any way, sure he was too not my type, but I have no make-up and “I don’t give a fuck” hair, and he still stopped to talk to me. The shirt?  It’s like magic, really.”

Chris looks over the food options, realizing the dust on top of the cracker box is not a good sign.

He nearly chokes on his coffee when he hears her next comment.

“Yea. I’m sure his dick is like magic too! Good lord, girl, stop with that talk! I’m in public!”

He shrinks back down and hides behind the box of cereal he was looking at when he realizes she is on her tip toes looking around to see if anyone heard her off color remark.

“Ok, babe, I gotta go too. Don’t let the patients wear you out today… yup. Yea, ok. Sure? If I don’t meet the man of my dreams today while wearing this shirt, we still meeting tonight? Ok. See ya around nine, then.  Bye. Luv you too!”

Man of her dreams? Chris walks down the aisle as she walks down hers, both headed the same direction. She crosses over to the soda station, and he stops to watch her. She bends to put the cat food down, and rests a loaf of bread on top. The black yoga pants stretch over her curves and the tight Captain America shirt pulls up, exposing a tanned, defined midriff, as she reaches for a Styrofoam cup. She definitely has his attention.  She chats with one of the employees and Chris can tell she is a regular at the shop.

He walks over to the counter, to add another packet of sugar to his coffee. He bumps her arm, and catches a glimpse of her shirt. “Hey, nice shirt,” he starts and turns to smile at her.

“Thanks,” she giggles, “I’m a Cap girl!” Her voice sweet and innocent, different from the tone she used with her friend. She never turns to look at him.

She bends to get the bread and cat food, her hip bumping his crotch, calling him to action. “Sorry,” she calls over her shoulder walking to the register, totally oblivious to who he is or the effect she’s had on him.

He joins her at the register. Waiting patiently to pay, he tries to strike up a conversation with her, not sure why he’s intrigued by her.  She politely answers his questions, but never turns to look at him.  Instead she smiles, watching a young dad helping his excited children pick the fresh donuts they want from the display.  He’s a little surprised she doesn’t recognize his voice.

When it’s her turn to pay, Chris hands over his credit card quickly.  The attendant looks at the two, confused and her eyes widen with recognition. The young woman turns to argue with Chris, beginning with,  “Thanks but I’ve got-” Her words stop, her reaction frozen. She blinks her surprise. Her mouth turns to the shape of “oh,” innocently, before the sound of the word comes out. Chris likes that shape, thinks her mouth could do wonders in that shape.

She blushes and nods her thanks.  “See, Betty!” She addresses the older woman working the counter.  “How many times have you heard me say, ‘If you wanna get hit on, wear a Captain America shirt!?’ I’m telling ya, it’s magic! It works every time!”
Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Word Travels Fast


Word Travels Fast July 22 2016

Word Travels Fast

A Steve Rogers Fan Fiction

By avenger-nerd-mom

Steve prepares to make a more permanent spot for Charlie in his life

Warnings: Fluff, Language, Adult Situations

Word Count 3763

Click here for Safe and Sound


After the server takes the dirty plates away, Steve reaches across the table to take Charlie’s hand, “All right, doll, what’s going on?  You’ve been quiet all night, and you hardly touched your food.”

Charlie looks deeply into the blue eyes of her boyfriend.  She sees the love, concern and exhaustion there and her heart aches.  He’s been gone on a mission since the end of January and she’s missed his beautiful face and his warm body in her bed.  She doesn’t want to do this tonight, but she knows his mind won’t let it go.  “Can we just walk home?  I want to be alone with you,” she explains quietly.

He loves that she calls the Tower home, even though he hasn’t been able to convince her to fully move in with him yet.  Steve pulls cash from his wallet, leaving it on the table.  He scratches at the scruff on his chin, and starts to glare at her.  She sits back down and waits for him to pull her chair out for her.  “That’s not a habit you’ll break me of, so you might as well get used it,” Steve says tiredly.

“Yes sir,” she laughs as she gives him a salute.

She adores the old fashioned manners Steve still displays, but she sometimes has to remember to abide by them.  She feels certain gender roles died the day Rosie the Riveter took control of the war efforts, and society never looked back.   Try explaining that to the man frozen for nearly 70 years…

The couple walks out into the cold night air.  The snow banks line the city’s sidewalks and the couple talk and window shop along the way.  Steve shares stories of winters from his youth and Charlie laughs at the childhood tales he weaves of himself and his friend, Bucky.  Turning a corner, a block from the Tower, the sidewalk isn’t cleared.   Steve grasps Charlie’s elbow to keep her from slipping on a patch of ice. In the process, he takes a tumble and they laugh at the resulting wet spot on his ass.

Steve guides her into Tony’s modern building and they greet the night sentry.  Crossing the lobby Steve catches sight of them together in mirror and does his best to erase the furrowed brow on his face, trying to disguise his concern for his uncharacteristically quiet girlfriend.

The lovers step into the private elevator and Steve requests, “JARVIS? Please set up a privacy block and stop the elevator.”

“Yes, Captain.  Will that be all?”  the sentient computer voice clips in its soft British voice.

“Yes, thank you,” Steve replies.  He leans against the paneled wall, bracing himself for whatever it is Charlie needs to say.  “Okay, we’re alone now.  What?  Because you’re kind of scaring me…”

Charlie takes a deep breath, and slowly exhales.  Steve can sense her apprehension and takes her hands in his.  “Baby, unless you’re breaking up with me, whatever is bugging you, I’ll face it with you.”

“Oh, Steve, no!  I’m not dumping you!”  Charlie smiles, “But yes, I suppose we will face it together…  Honey, I was sick while you were gone-”

“Yea, I remember you said you missed work a day or two, but still felt bad.”  The concern on Steve’s beautifully chiseled face is evident.  “Did you see the doctor like I asked you to?  Is everything ok?  If you’re sick, I’ll take care of you.”

Charlie slowly shakes her head ‘yes.’  “Everything’s fine.  I hope you’ll take care of me!  It’s your fault!”  She giggles, a smile finally spreading across her face.  “Steve, I’m pregnant!”

The color drains from Steve’s face momentarily before his cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.  “What? How?”

“How? Really, babe,” she laughs at him.  “Do I have to explain that too?”

A smile flashes across his face as he pulls Charlie to him.   He takes her beautiful visage into his large, capable hands and kisses her gently.  “I mean, how? We always use protection.”

“We didn’t at Christmas and I guess your super serum sperm was no match for my birth control pills.  What the hell DID you tell Santa you wanted?” she teases.

“We didn’t at Christmas?” Steve asks, slowly recalling details of their intimate moments spent together.

“Broken ornaments, knocking over the tree, whipped cream- ring a bell?”

“Oh… That was you?!”  He teases her, looking her over, spinning her slightly and admiring her ass, tugging on the dark hair that hangs down her back.  “Yea, you are my type-”

“Steve, this is serious,” she admonishes, giggling, pushing against his massive chest.  “What are we going to do?”

He pulls her back to him, catching her hand in his and raising it to his lips for a quick kiss.  “Do? Is that even really a question?!  We’re having a baby! That’s what we’re going to do…” Filled with emotion, Steve’s thoughts are on overdrive and fall from his mouth in a jumble.  “How do you feel?  I can’t tell what you are thinking.  You’re being too serious.   Me? I’m happy; I’m shocked and surprised, but I’m so happy, so filled with love for you and our little Christmas gift.”

To prove his point, he picks her up and spins her around, gently setting her down, and putting his hands on her belly.

Tears of joy silently fall down Charlie’s face.  “I’m so thrilled, sweetheart.  I’ve had a few days to let it sink in.” She smiles as relief washes over her and the worry begins to lift from her face.  But her gut tells her she needs to stay strong and somewhat reserved a few moments longer while she bares all to Steve.  “I’ve just been so worried about you and how you would react.”

“Why? Why would you even wonder that?”  Steve is confused by her words and quickly tries to make sense of them.  He sinks back against the wall of the elevator, a little weak-kneed at the news he is trying to absorb.

“Well, although I know you adore kids, and love when Clint and Laura bring the children to visit, you always say that man and his dreams were left in the ice.” Charlie steps to him, placing her hands on his waist, grasping his shirt between her fingers.  “And you always worry that the serum may have changed you, and…”

Steve cuts her off, kissing her to shush her up.  “Shhh…” he whispers.  “Let’s just be joyous now.  Real life can butt in later.”

“One more thing, and you aren’t going to like this one…”  Charlie’s eyes turn serious and she steps back, folding her arms across her chest.

Steve braces himself.  Charlie’s tone is serious and he pays attention to her body language.  “Okay, what else?”

“The world is a different place than it was.  I don’t want to get married yet, or for you to propose just because of a baby.  I’m with you till the end of the line, but I’m not ready for that.  I don’t even want our friends to know.  It’s still really early, and all kinds of things can happen.” Her stance, with a swift move to place her hands on her curvy hips displays how serious she is about this point.

Steve knows there is no arguing with her about this now, but he slowly shakes his head to show he disagrees. “Hmmm… That’s something we’ll talk about later.  One thing at a time, I guess.”

Steve allows the quiet to still between them so she realizes he is listening to her words, although his opinion differs.  If he had his way he’d “put a ring on it,” as they say these days, first thing in the morning!  He reaches for her hands, pulling them away from her hips and stepping towards her.  “Are you done being serious now? Did you get it all out?” he asks tenderly, the timbre of his voice humming through her.

“I think so,” she breathlessly replies as his hands wrap around her waist.

His lush bottom lip hangs open, signaling his intent, as Steve’s blue eyes darken, looking down at her.  His dark lashes brush his cheek gently, blinking as he leans to kiss her.

His lips taste like the sweet wine he had at dinner, slightly cold from the walk in the winter air.  Charlie presses her lips to his, warming them, meeting him. She finally relaxes, having said what she needed to say, and she falls into his kiss, pressing against his solid chest, her hands searching inside his coat to reach around him.  She rakes her fingertips up his back, feeling him shudder against her, slowly scratching back down his covered plane as the kiss deepens.

His tongue slides against her lips and she parts her mouth to let him in, her tongue reaching to tentatively tap his before both retreating.  She swallows and takes a deep breath as his lips hold her top lip gently between his, his nose brushing against hers, before slowly letting go and resting his forehead to hers.

“We should continue this upstairs,” he groans, his warm breath against her face.

Charlie hits the elevator keypad, feeling the steel metal box is worthy of keeping their secret safe for now.  “Whatever you say, Daddy,” she giggles.  The heat in his eyes tells her he likes the new nickname, maybe for all the reasons it implies.  She tucks that thought away for later.

Smiling to herself, she knows Tony will be curious in the morning when he sees it was offline for about 20 minutes.  He’ll be sad to learn it wasn’t as exciting as it was the last time they stopped the elevator but forgot to turn on the privacy block.  She blushes to think that video might still exist and that Tony has probably seen it.


A few days later, the couple has agreed on a few things, although Charlie still holds strong to her idea that she does not want to rush into marriage.  Whenever she catches Steve staring at her wistfully, she speaks clear and firm, “Don’t even think about giving me a ring either.”

Steve has finally been able to convince her to move in with him at the Tower, and they have spent time organizing boxes at her place and deciding what items for her to bring along, keep in storage, or donate to city organizations for the needy.  His apartment in the Tower has enough space for her to keep an office space for her work and crafts, as well as a room for a nursery.

While making breakfast, Steve smiles at the changes coming to his life.  He’ll have to let go of some of the pain he feels that the changes may not come in the traditional order, but he can’t wait to raise this little miracle with Charlie.

He moves to answer the door when he hears a knock.  He chuckles to himself when he looks through the peephole to find Tony standing there with a box of donuts in his hands.  He opens the door for the man who has reluctantly become his friend.  Steve feels a certain level of affection for the man, simply because he was such good friends with his father, Howard, during the war, but Steve knows that Tony would never want to hear that.

“Tony, why the early visit?” Steve and Charlie had a bet as to when Tony would confront them about the elevator shut down.   He wins, because Charlie thought it would be within 48 hours, but it’s been longer.  He’ll have to think on what he wants to claim as his prize for later. He gestures for the dark-haired man to come in and have a seat at the counter.  He pulls out three plates and places them down. Steve points to the coffee pot, and Tony gives him a thumbs up.  Steve moves about, fixing the coffees, and pulls a donut from the box, setting it on the plate, turning his attention back to the bacon he had been cooking.

While Tony puts a chocolate donut on his plate, he replies quietly, “I went out to visit Aunt Peggy yesterday.”

Tony watches closely to see any change in the soldier’s steady demeanor.  He notices the slight pause in his movement, knowing he has struck a nerve.  “I also noticed on the security logs the other morning that your service elevator had some sort of malfunction the other night…  You wanna talk, pal?”

Steve pulls the pan from the hot burner, and turns off the stove top.   Steve had been out to visit Peggy and shared his news with her.  He had waited till the end of the visit, when she had started to drift between the now and the past.  Steve always worries that each visit will be his last, and he wanted Peggy to know he was happy, but not necessarily remember it, knowing she sometimes still lives in their collective past.  He told her about the news Charlie had shared with him in the elevator.  He wipes his hands on the dishtowel and turns to his friend.  “She told you?” he says quietly.

“Yea.  She did.  At first I thought it was just some crazy fantasy she was telling me from her youth.  One of the dreams she had but gave up long ago when you became a Capsicle.”  Steve cringes at this nickname, and Tony shrugs a silent apology and continues.  “But the details were different, and she talked about how, God, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but how handsome you looked in your ‘tight,’” Tony pauses to make air quotes, to show the words are not his own, “jeans and your cowboy boots, and I knew it wasn’t a fantasy or a make believe memory.  She was pretty lucid yesterday…  So, you and Charlie, huh?  I did not see that coming.”

Steve chuckles with melancholy at the reference to the phrase their fallen friend used often.  He just shakes his head yes, and the smile grows on his face.  “Yea, Tony.  I’m going to be a dad.”

Tony raises his coffee cup and says, “Congratulations, Cap.  That’s amazing.”  Tony holds his enthusiasm in check, owing to the calm Steve is keeping, but the excitement Tony has about the thought of a baby in the Tower bubbles under the surface.


Steve looks to the bedroom door.  Charlie is still sleeping, and he doesn’t want her to hear him.  “Thanks, Tony.  But is it really?  I mean, yes, it’s amazing, and I love that woman with all my heart. But I am scared shitless.”  Leaning against the counter, it appears that the weight of his thoughts are crushing him down.  “What if my DNA is all messed up from the serum?  What if our baby is like that baby in that cartoon, the one about superheroes and the baby that bursts into flames?”

“I think only our pal, Johnny Storm, has to worry about that-“ Tony interrupts.

Steve looks at his friend crossly, “Or what if the serum doesn’t hold through the DNA and all the maladies from my youth are passed on to the baby?  That’s scary, and I just don’t know how to handle this.”

Tony sees his friend watching the door to the other room.  “You haven’t talked to her about this?  She doesn’t know you’re scared?”

“She hinted she already knows, but we’ve had so many things to talk about, it’s been low on my list of priorities.  She doesn’t want to get married either, at least not now.”

“Shit, man, does she even know you?”  Tony chuckles.  “You’re king of doing the right thing.  She has to know you’ll rush out to buy a ring.”

“I haven’t had a lot of experience being around pregnant women, but I know Charlie.  If she says no, it’s no.  And I won’t be able to change her mind till she is ready.”

He steps over to the fridge, and reaches behind the cookie jar and pulls down a small recipe box.  He pauses before he shows it to his friend, and again looks to see that the door to the bedroom is still closed.  He sets the box on the counter, and opens it without a word.  His friend peers down, and sees a tiny ring of white gold, in a delicate Edwardian design. Tony marvels that the markings almost look like the eagle found on the SHIELD insignia.  Tony estimates the round solitaire diamond to be about half a carat, and quickly realizes the significance of such a simple ring.  Tony lowers his voice, and says, “It’s your mother’s?  She’s going to love it!”

charlie's ring

“You think so?  Everything old is new again, and she loves classic styles.  It means a lot that the SSR kept all my storage items and passed them on to SHIELD.  It’s like I was meant to give it to a dark-haired beauty…” Steve smiles wistfully.  His super soldier ears pick up movement in the other room, and he quickly replaces the box to its hiding spot as the bedroom door opens.

“Is that bacon?  It stinks,” Charlie says, sleepily.

Tony looks at Steve’s girlfriend with new eyes.  He smiles to see she is wearing what is obviously the top that matches the bottoms Steve is wearing with his gray t-shirt.  And when she reaches up to push the hair out of her eyes, he sneaks a peek at the cute boycut underpants she wears.  She puts on her glasses and sees Tony smiling at her.  She growls at him, and he chuckles.  “I brought donuts?”

“Oh, well, then you’re forgiven.  Word travels fast, huh?”

“Aunt Peg,” Tony explains.  “Congratulations, beautiful!  I’m so excited for you both!”

Rubbing her face, still trying to wake up, Charlie smiles to Tony nodding her acknowledgement before addressing her handsome man.  “Steve, babe, can you put up the bacon please?  It really smells bad.”

She reaches for a donut, and takes a sip of Tony’s coffee.  Tony continues to grin at her, as Steve steps out to the hallway to dispose of the bacon down the trash chute.

“I heard.  How’d you get him to fess up his fears to you?”  Charlie asks, knowing Steve’s deeper feelings for the man sitting across from her.  Despite the age difference created by 70 years in ice, had Steve and Howard followed life’s normal path, Steve feels he would have been Tony’s godfather, and Steve holds Tony in high esteem.

“I don’t know, darling. But it will all be okay,” Tony pats her hand and pushes the donut box towards her for a second one. “How much did you hear?” he asks, worried she might have discovered Steve is secretly hiding an engagement ring in his kitchen.

She grabs a napkin from the basket at the end of the counter and wipes a chocolate smudge from the marble top.  “Just babies bursting into flames or having asthma; why? Did I miss anything good?” she teases.

Tony hides his relief, “No, that about covers it.  Wait till I tell Storm that!  Oh, honey!  I’m really happy for you both!  A baby? In the Tower? Can you believe it?”

Taking another bite of the sinfully good pastry, Charlie’s smile cannot be contained as the two lean across the table conspiratorially.

Steve comes back in and smiles at the two of them sitting at the counter, talking quietly together.  He pours a glass of milk and pushes it across the counter to Charlie, before placing a kiss on the top of her head.  She gives him a quick peck on the lips, turning her nose up at the milk and takes another sip of Tony’s coffee.

Tony smirks at her silent defiance of Steve’s will. “Charlie, I understand you want to keep things quiet a while, but I think you both need to go talk to Bruce.  He’s a doctor.  He’s gone over the old files, and he has more knowledge about the serum than anyone. He would know what tests to run, and what to look for.  I think it could alleviate some stress for both of you,” Tony suggests.

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Charlie acquiesces, “On one condition. Steve, you gotta let me have my morning coffee.  Without it, I’ll hurt someone, and that could be bad mixed with pregnancy hormones.  And besides, if it wasn’t for my morning visits to the coffee shop, we never would have met.  This baby comes from coffee.  It’s already in her blood.”

“Her, is it?” Steve asks playfully, as Tony just hands over his coffee cup to the beautiful pregnant woman.

“Call it a mother’s intuition,” she smiles hopefully.

Watching the two love birds, Tony silently prays things work out for them.  Loving a superhero isn’t easy.  He should know.  He clears his throat, as the two move closer to one another, almost forgetting he’s present.  “Well, if it’s okay with you two, why don’t you both get dressed, or don’t.  Charlie, I think you look quite lovely just the way you are,” he wiggles his eyebrow at her lasciviously and she giggles.  Steve steps in front of her protectively to block Tony’s view and Tony flips him off.  “I’ll go give Bruce a heads up, so he can have old files on the serum ready?”

Steve nods his approval, “Yes, Tony, but don’t tell anyone else.  I know you are horrible with secrets, and you like to tease, but this is serious stuff.”

“Can I tell Pepper?”

Steve and Charlie exchange a look.  She has always felt an instant friendship with the classy blonde woman who exerts so much control over Tony.  She knows that if Pepper is in on the secret, she will better be able to keep Tony in line.  Charlie shakes her head, “Yes, of course.  We can’t ask you to keep secrets from Pepper.”

Tony stands to leave, and steps forward to kiss the top of Charlie’s head.  “I’m happy for you, kid.  You’re going to be a great mom.  And this one here?” He motions his head towards Steve, “You’ll have to make an honest man of him some day.  You can’t keep defiling him in elevators and under the Christmas tree, and not marry the guy.”

He chuckles from the looks on their faces, grabs the last chocolate donut and leaves.


a special thanks to my friend, Kaiti, for being my beta for my Steve and Charlie stories!

Author’s Note: December 2016  I have several rough drafts for upcoming installments of this story.  I’ll keep you updated with it’s progress!

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom


Pay Up

pay up.jpg

Pay Up

An Emery & Chris story

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris and Emery kill time in the airport

Warnings: Fluff, Adult Conversations, Language

Word Count: 1266

Chris bounces his leg, bumping up against Emery’s. She looks down at his jittery movements and then catches his attention.  Calmly she says, “Babe. You fly all the time. Why do you let it get to you?” She places her hand firmly on his thigh to control his wiggling.

He grasps her fingers tightly and holds her hand to the inside of his leg. “I’m okay, really.  I just wanna get outta this place and get home.  I hate LA in summer.”

The couple is finishing up a quick stay in LA where Chris attended a few Marvel meetings in preparation for filming this fall. Emery smiles when she realizes he called Savannah “home.” They’ve spent their summer on the go between Boston and Savannah, visiting family and attending weddings of their friends’. This upcoming week is when they’ve planned time for just the two of them, and to get serious about wedding planning.

“Distract me. What are you reading?”  he leans his head on her shoulder and looks down at her tablet.

She holds the screen so he can better see what she’s looking at. “Let’s add it up! It’ll be fun!” She exclaims, showing him the meme someone sent her on Facebook.

pay up.jpg

“Our definition of ‘fun’ is entirely different. To me that just looks like an argument waiting to happen,” he chuckles, nuzzling against her neck.

Emery looks around the terminal cautiously.  She’s still not used to the idea that paparazzi could be anywhere in LA, waiting to capture them on film.  She still enjoys some anonymity, so she pulls her ball cap down tighter, just in case.  “Come on; we can tell stories about the values we ‘earned.’”

Chris sighs.  “Ok, fine.  You add yours up and tell me your stories, then I’ll tell you mine.”  He sits up straight and stretches out his legs, tugging on his jeans before crossing his feet at his ankles.

Emery shifts sideways in her seat to face him and wraps her arms around her knees, holding her tablet to see the list again.  “Oh, no, it doesn’t work that way!  I’d give you my number and then you’d come up with an out, and never actually tell me yours.”  She looks up at the terminal monitor watching for updated information about their flight.  “How about…” she pauses thoughtfully, “… you choose one from the list and we both give our answer?”

She reaches down into her carry on bag and pulls out a pen and a post-it, creating two columns on the sheet to keep track of their scores.

“I still think this is a bad idea… Ok, fine…” Chris huffs, and looks at the meme with interest.  “Ok. ‘Kissed someone of the same sex?’ Fifteen dollars.”

Emery laughs at the expression on his face when she writes the number in her column.  “Don’t look so shocked!  I think most women in our age group have that drunken night in college experience.  Her name was Lena and we were in sorority together, and it was nice, but not life changing or anything,” she giggles.

Chris feigns shock.  “Oh, my God!  Who are you?  I have no idea who I’m marrying,” he teases, pretending to fall over when she playfully punches him in the arm.  “Hey, what are you doing?”

She pauses the pen mid-way through her scribble.  “I know yours is a zero, you’ve already told me.  And I told you about Lena before?  See?  It was so exciting, you’d already forgotten.”

“Ah, but you haven’t? Are you still in contact with her?” he jokes, laughing at the expression on her face.  “Should I be worried?”

“Ugh.  She’s got like four kids and a drunk for a husband.  I bet she wishes I was interested!”  She eyes the growing crowd in the terminal again, before choosing her selection from the list next.  “How about ‘stole something’ for $20?”

Rubbing his beard in thought, Chris contemplates his answer.  “Oh, God. I don’t know.  I mean, I’m sure as a kid I stole a candy bar or something.  And I guess I was always taking shit from Scott, just to piss him off.  Yeah, put me down for $20.”

She writes the number twenty in the column for each of them.  She blushes slightly, admitting, “I started the shoplifting phase when I was about fourteen.  A couple of lipsticks at the drugstore, but never anything over five dollars.  Oh, and I had the worst nightmares about it!  Really, I made myself sick.  After about a month, I just couldn’t do it.  My friend, Sharon, she ended up getting arrested for it.  It was horrible.”

Emery seems lost in thought, a slight shudder wracking her tiny body.  Chris moves closer to comfort her, quietly consoling her.  “Hey, like you said, it was a phase. A long time ago, babe.”  He rubs her shoulder and they continue through the list, laughing and sharing stories.

After a few minutes, they are interrupted by the announcement that their flight has been delayed by an hour and a half.  Chris sinks back into his chair and groans.  “Shit, I thought we’d be boarding by now and we wouldn’t finish this list.  Let me see that damn thing.” He takes the tablet from her hand, and views the image again.  “Ah, hell.  For me, it’s easier to figure out what the total should be and then subtract shit out, rather than add it up,” he laughs.

Shaking her head, Emery laughs with him.  “Ok, yes, you’ve been a good sport, I think we know most of these stories anyway.  Figure out your total then, while I do mine…”  Emery quickly begins to add up the numbers in her head and he stares at her in disbelief as she announces “Two hundred eighty-five!”

“You figured that in your head? That quick?”

“Oh, honey, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” She lovingly pats his cheek.  “Need me to take care of those scary numbers for you?” She laughs, teasing him in a baby voice.  “What do I need to take out?”

He skims over the list again, “Uh, looks like just the fifteen… Unless you think anal and oral should count as double? If so, then we need to add.”

Emery blushes, covering her hand over his mouth.  “Shh!! Not so loud! Someone will hear you!” she admonishes him before squealing. “Eeww!  Did you just lick me?” She laughs, rubbing her palm across his shoulder.  “That is so gross!”

Chris doubles over in laughter.  “That’s your punishment for that silly game, kitten.”  He catches his breath and settles back in his seat, pulling her close to him.  “You know, when we get home, there are a few things on that list we could work on adding up for you?”  He raises his eyebrow at her with the look he knows she can’t resist.  “Says here you’d get another thirty bucks?”

As soon as the words fall from his lips, before she even has time to react, he laughs, “Aw, babe. Shit, that sounded better in my head!  You know I didn’t mean it like that…” He blushes and hides his face in embarrassment.

She giggles and slides next to him, whispering in his ear, “I should hope my ass is worth more than thirty dollars to you!”

Her warm breath in his ear has its intended effect on him and he wishes to get her home and alone soon.  Smoothly he replies low against her throat as he leans in for a kiss, “It’s a nice ass, babe, a priceless work of art.”

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom


GW Seattle Chapter 6: Massage Oil — TheWife101’s Smut Blog

Characters: Chris Evans the Actor, OFC Erica, OFC Michaela (Mike), Summary: Chris leaves Erica to sleep while him and Mike spend some time in the gym. Their after workout activities include some things she’s been hinting at and wanting for a while. Rating: Explicit 18+ NSFW Warnings: Shower Sex, Erotic Massage, Teasing, Begging, Anal Play, […]

via GW Seattle Chapter 6: Massage Oil — TheWife101’s Smut Blog

Dancing Lessons

Dancing Lessons July 15 2016

Dance Lessons

*a Sunshine and Chris story*

Chris and plus-sized OFC “Sunshine”

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris watches on as his plus-sized girlfriend “Sunshine” packs her bags for a trip to Boston, and music leads to dancing

Warnings: Language, NSFW, provocative dancing, aggressive oral sex, plus size insecurities, adult situations, intercourse

Word Count 3089

Click here for other Sunshine stories…

“Are you finished packing?” I ask incredulously, feeling like a madwoman throwing things in my suitcase.

Chris lays on my bed, ankles crossed, wiggling his feet back and forth. Looking up from his phone, he says, “I just need my backpack. I have stuff back home in Boston.”

“Must be nice,” I say, pulling two sundresses, my favorite summer staple, from my closet.

“Good god, how many sundresses do you have?” he chuckles.  He laughs harder as I  rub my middle finger across my lips.  His playfulness tugs at my heartstrings.

“I hate making sure all my soaps and lotions are just three ounces.  It’s a pain in the ass.”

When Chris just stares at me quietly I realize our flight experiences have been vastly different.  “You just throw everything in a bag and check your luggage, don’t you?”

“Well, yea,” he laughs, “depending on where I’m going.  Don’t you?”

“Hell, no.  That costs too much extra!”

“This trip doesn’t cost you extra so take whatever you want.  Take a whole suitcase full of your favorite shoes for all I care.  Besides, we’re flying private.”

Pulling out some of my favorite bra and panty sets, I toss them to him and he fingers the lace before throwing them in the bag.  “Private? What? Why?” What the fuck would he do that for?

Wiggling uncomfortably now, a blush rides over Chris’s handsome face.

Dropping my voice, resting my hand on his tight denim-clad thigh, I inquire, “Christopher, what are you not telling me?”

“Well, I just hate the cramped feeling when I fly. I never have enough leg room,” he complains, stretching his legs out but avoiding looking at me.

“Christopher, you did not!  I can fly commercial, it’s not a big deal, really.”  I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, in jean shorts and a fashionably tattered t-shirt.  Me.  He’s worried about me being comfortable. “My fat ass can fit in the seat, you know!”

“It’s a beautiful ass, and I know you can.  I just wanted us both to be comfortable; to enjoy our first travel trip together, quietly and alone,” he says with resign.

Shaking my head at him, I complain, “Babe, that’s too expensive, I’m fine with whatever airline you choose.”

“Sunshine, you know money is no problem.  You may not know this, but I recently fired my interior designer. I got money to burn,” he chuckles. I smile at his nickname for me, loving that he says I bring warmth and happiness into his life.

I swat at his leg, knowing he won’t change his plan, and turn to pull a matching pajama set out of the drawer.  A thought comes to me and I quickly say it out loud.  “A private plane, hmmm?  We could have some fun with that, now couldn’t we?”

“Are you talking about the mile high kinda fun?” he asks, his attention back on me and not his phone.  His smile beams when I shake my head yes.  “I like the way you think, babe,” he says with a grin.

He whistles when I bend over to pull a few t-shirts from a lower drawer and I shake my “beautiful” ass for him, slowly rising up in a silly dance move.  He chuckles and the sound warms my heart.  I love being so relaxed and goofy around him.

“You know we’re only staying a few days?”

Speech momentarily leaves me as I’m aware of his thoughtless movements.  The wiggle of his legs is adorable, and something I’ve become accustomed to watching him do in various manners during meetings on his house design, or times we watched movies if I stayed late after working.  But the way he absently raises his t-shirt to scratch his belly, twirling his fingers in his own hairs, catching a glimpse of the Bardsley tat?  It’s too damn much…

“You’re really cute, you know that?”  I smile and he pauses mid scratch to look at me, smiling too.  He blinks away the compliment slowly with his boyish charm and my heart melts.  He pulls his t-shirt back down and continues scrolling on his phone.  I still can’t believe he wants to take me home to Boston.  We haven’t even been dating that long.  “I know we’re only staying a few days, but we’re staying at your mom’s house.  I need clothes and I want to have a choice.  Now, if you were taking me to a beach somewhere, I’d just throw in some shorts and t-shirts, a few swimsuits and we’d be done.”

“Got any bikinis? I’d like that,” he replies with a smirk, looking up at me.  “Siri, search ‘beach vacation destinations.’”

Laughing, I roll the t-shirts and add them to my suitcase.   He’s fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right? “Really, honey?  A bikini?”

Chris puts his phone down and rolls around on the bed, rising up on his knees, sitting near the head board.  He rests his hands on his thick thighs, and for a brief moment, I lose all thought.  The way his arms are placed, in the lamplight, I can see the tiny hairs on his arms and his freckles.  “Fuck yea! I’d die to see that perfect peach- shaped ass in one.”

I stare at him, somewhat in shock.  He stares back and the determination on his face shows he’s having none of this bout of insecurity.

“We’ll go shopping; find you something in a classic style like you wear. Very 1950s, my own pin-up girl?”

I move to the bed and lean into him, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.  “Sweet man; thank you.”  Holy shit, I think this man is totally blinded by love and I totally fall harder for him because of it.  “I’m not as confident as you think I am, but I hide it well.  You know that by now.  But I love that idea!”

“Baby, you are beautiful to me.  Lovely face, sweet smile, legs that go on for days, ass and tits.  I love the way you look.  I can’t say it to you enough to get it into your head.”  He gently tugs my hair, massaging my scalp as I kneel on the bed next to him.  “If you don’t show off at the beach, how is the fourteen-year-old hiding under her size three X t-shirt ever gonna learn to be comfortable in her own body?  You have style and class, and you can be a great role model for someone else.”

His face glows with the praise he is lavishing on me and my heart weakens.  This man, with his cute smirk and wiggly legs, is all I’ve ever wanted.

“God, you’re amazing.  How are you even real?”  I question him, rising and crossing the room to finish packing.

He just smiles, shrugging his shoulders at the rhetorical question and continues, “Aren’t you about finished? What secret features does this room have?” Curiously, he looks around my small retreat.

I clap my hands and the lights dim.  He leans back in laughter at such a stereotypical “dude” feature to my room.  A quiet command in Spanish and music begins to play from the speakers hidden behind the headboard, the sounds of “American Woman” by Lenny Kravitz filling the room.

“Perfect!  I love it!” he chuckles, moving to place the suitcase on the floor, a light twinkle in his eye as he turns back to me.  “Those were some good moves a few minutes ago.  Why don’t you show me what you got?”  He gently rocks to the smooth seductive beat.

“What? Dance? Me?’ I ask, terrified he’s being serious.

“A striptease,” he taunts me.

“Oh, God, Christopher, I may have confidence, but I have no rhythm,” I inform him, shaking my head and backing away from him, throwing a sweatshirt onto the pile of clothes in the suitcase by the bed.

“Aw, Sunshine, it’s easy, just sway your hips a little bit like this.”  I watch as he begins to advance towards me in his tight jeans and ab hugging t-shirt, moving in time to the music. Raising his hands above his head, he snaps his fingers with the beat.  The look in his eye, purely predatory.  I shake my head and giggle.  “Lose yourself in the music…  When you dance, dance for you, like I’m not even here.”

Reaching me, he brings his arms over and behind my head, pulling me close to him without touching me, continuing to bounce to the music.  His hips sway side to side, and with each third beat of the song, he thrusts forward against my thighs.  With each tap, I can feel him growing harder beneath his restrictive clothing. Watching from the corner of my eyes, the muscles in his arms flex and release and the sound of his snapping fingers echo in my ears. “Fuck,” I whisper.  He raises his eyebrows and grunts, matching the song forever now burned in my brain.

He drags his fingertips down the back of my arms, sending shivers along my spine as goosebumps form, and takes my hands.  His hips still sway against me in their hypnotizing pattern…  Entwining our fingers, Chris raises our hands slowly out to my sides.  He pulls me to him and my full breasts push against his solid chest, my nipples growing hard under the friction. He brings my arms behind his head and slides his strong hands to my face, drawing me to him for a forceful kiss before roughly massaging his hands down to my hips, my flesh rolling under his grip.  With his hands planted firmly on my curved waistline, my arms wrapped around his neck, Chris guides me to grind against him with the beat of the music.  His eyes are darkened with lust and never leave mine.

ass grab 2

I’m hot and my mouth feels dry; I flick my tongue out to wet my lips and swallow slowly.  I’ve never been seduced like this before and I’m heady with his attentions.   My breath catches and my eyes close as I move against him, lost in him and the music.  “Open your eyes,” he growls, pushing me into the dresser, never missing a beat of the song.  His hands run up my sides and he squeezes my full tits, his thumbs brushing against my aching peaks.  Still connected at the waist, he leans away from me and quickly moves his arms behind his head, grabbing at the neckline of his shirt and pulling it over his head, rolling his torso back up against me as he drops it on the floor.

“Your turn,” he moans against my neck, biting roughly as the song fades out, leaving me with a quick, wet kiss against my hot skin as he shimmies in time to the music back over to rest on the edge of the bed.

“Can I pick the song?” I choke the words trying to buy time as I take in my surroundings, mesmerized by his physique and his daring prowess as a dancer.

He shakes his head ‘no.’ “Whatever’s next…”

I glare at him, praying shuffle is good to me.  I hide my relief as “Good for You” by Selena Gomez begins, the light of dusk filtering in, shades of purples and oranges from the sunset reflected on the white walls.  I take a deep breath and draw myself up as tall as I can, wrapping my confident persona around me like a blanket.  Fuck this; I’ll show him.

I match his instruction, swaying my hips to the music, circling in a seductive figure eight. Running my hands up my sides, I cup my breasts and run my fingers under my hair.  I lift it up, shaking it out, quietly singing the line, “do my hair up real nice,” not trusting my own voice. “Syncopate my skin to your heart beating,” I pat above my full breasts, mimicking our beating hearts. The last golden rays of sunlight beat across his chest and I’m distracted by his beauty.  Even across the room, I can see his eyes are still dark and his erection threatens to break through his pants.  I close my eyes and turn my back to him, following the beat of the song.  He can watch me in the mirror over the dresser, but my figure blocks out his reflection.

Raising my arms above my head, I snap my fingers like in the song; just like he had moments before.   The sway of my hips are involuntary now, I don’t have to think about their motion.  I take a deep sigh, running my hands down the valley between my breasts, reaching my waist. My fingertips graze the exposed skin caused by my movements and I’m aware of my peaked interest in the sex to come. Dropping my hands to unbutton my cut off shorts, I slide them slowly down my legs, pausing momentarily under the curvature of my ass, allowing him time to admire.  I gently step out of them and kick them aside, resting my hands on the edge of the dresser and slowly roll my body back up to the musical rhythm beating inside me.  The sharp intake of his breath can be heard above the music and my pounding heart.

As I turn to him, singing “how proud I am to be yours,” I pull the edge of my t-shirt up over my head and lock eyes with his, black with desire, his hands fisted on his knees, the veins in his muscular arms prominent from the strain he holds as he watches me.   I slide the shirt gently down my arms and toss it on top of my pants.  Dancing for my man in my green lace underwear and watching him disintegrate before me brings me to a higher sensuality than I’ve ever known.  Chris’s chest rises and falls with his quick breaths and his jaw clenches.  The predatory watch has returned to him and he is ready to attack.  Rubbing my hands over my full figure, my confidence grows as the lust on his face shines in the dimming daylight.   I lose myself in my movements, just as he directed, and I smile as he undoes his belt buckle, unable to restrain himself any longer, slowly pulling it from the loops of his lung slung jeans.

My hands glide lower, leaning forward slightly, and run smoothly down my thighs. He licks his plump bottom lip as my fingers trace the edge of my panties and he tugs open his button-fly.  I dance across the room towards him and move his hands away.  “Baby let me be good to you,” I sing, the heat in my eyes matching his as I place my hands on his thighs, kneading them under my fingers, continuing to sway to the music.  Pushing forward, my breasts graze his chiseled chest, my lacey ass on display for him in the mirror, as my lips hover next to his, “Let me show you how proud I am to be yours.”

Dropping to an open crouch between his legs, my tits brush against his covered cock, straining to be freed.  Green lace wedges between my folds and becomes wet with my proof.  As I free him from his Calvins, his purple head throbs, begging to be placed in my mouth.  I lick the tip, savoring the salty precum before wrapping my tongue around him and pulling him into my heated hole.  He hisses and I can feel the muscles in his legs tighten.  I give him an extra pump with my hand for good measure as my other hand trails along my inner thigh, heightening my own desire. He moans his approval, watching down on me as I pull him in deeper. His lightly calloused hands roughly wind through my hair and with one hand, he forces me further down his firm shaft.  Holding me in place, as the song ends and faintly moves to another, he rises his tapered hips from the bed and rams into my throat.  He pulls back, short of gagging me and advances again, thrusting a few times before letting me lose.

He pulls me up to a standing position, rising himself.  Standing nearly nose to nose, he wildly fucks me with his eyes while he quickly removes his jeans. Sweeping me into his robust arms, he throws me to the center of the bed. “Fuckin’ love that, baby,” I say as he pulls my ankles back to him, telling me to roll over.

“I know,” he growls, “and I love this,” he says as he grasps my underwear on each side of my stout hips and pulls it down. I slide back onto my knees and lift my feet as he yanks off the offending material.  His hands caress over my full back side as he pushes me forward to rest on my elbows, ass up in the air on the edge of the bed just for him.  Wait for it… I know it’s coming.  There it is!  I smile to myself as Chris’s lips meet my ass cheek, kissing the tat of a four-leaf clover, circled by the words ‘You got LUCKY!’  His tongue lingering for just a moment of sweetness. He grunts as the condom settles into place and with no other pretense, he slides in between my wet, waiting pink lips.

“Yes, baby, fuck me,” I beg.  “I need you.”

His forceful push moves me across the bed, and he reaches to pull my thighs back towards him as my tits drag across the bed.  The expensive linens are rough against my delicate tips and I relish the slight tinge of pain.  “So fuckin tight; I am lucky,” he moans. He sinks in until my ass is pressed against his thighs. My walls stretch around him, warm and welcoming, gently squeezing his sex.

“I wanna hear that moan you make when something feels good,” he confesses as he pushes in again.

I abide to his request and don’t hold back my sounds any longer. Sorry, bitchy neighbor. Be jealous I’m getting some. And it’s so damn good…  My thoughts fade out as Christopher continues his powerful thrusts, bringing us closer to our end.  He reciprocates the same noises as our bodies move together as one, knocking the damn decorator pillows to the floor.

“I really fuckin’ hate those things,” he grumbles against my ear with one final drive, pushing to his completion before rolling me over to continue our fun.

Click here for “Bringing Sunshine to Boston”

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Morning Fix


Morning Fix

*a Chris Evans ficlet*

by avenger-nerd-mom

Warnings: None, Fluff

Word Count 672

“Excuse me, miss?” the cute guy on the sidewalk gets my attention.

My heart skips a beat when I see it’s the same guy I’ve flirted with at the convenience store on the corner nearly every day for the last two weeks since I moved to the neighborhood.  He always has something funny to say as he reaches over my arm for a straw or a napkin as we try to beat the rush hour crowd.

“What’s up, cutie?” It’s the most playful thing I can think of but sounds awkward to my ears and I instantly wish I could take it back.  “I’m running late.”

He blushes and tries to hide a little grin, the smile reaching to his bright blue eyes.  He steps away from the store front window and hands me the 32 ounce Styrofoam cup I crave each morning.

“I noticed,” he says with a crooked grin.  “I thought I could help you out?”

I pause for a moment, looking at him,  holding the soda I desperately want, and the door to the store. I hear my mother’s childhood advice about not taking candy from strangers ring in my ears.  She never said anything about sodas… and I need it like a druggie needs crack.

“It’s like you fix it? A combination of the two mixed together?”

I look into his beautiful face.  He’s too beautiful to be a serial killer and right now he wants to give me what I need.  I blush at thoughts of wanting to give him something in return.

His head dips bashfully as I reach to take the offered cup, as if he could read my mind.  I take a long sip from the straw, the icy cold burning my throat as it goes down. My eyes closing as I intake its calming powers over me.  I blink them open and he has stepped closer on the busy sidewalk, protecting me from passersby. “Thank you,” I sigh, taking another sip.

“Which way are you walking?” he asks,  taking a sip of his coffee with a hint of hazelnut creamer and the two sugars I see him add when he thinks I’m not watching.

“Up and then over to South?”

“Mind if I walk with you this morning?” he asks, a boyish charm and an energetic bounce present in his mannerisms as he prepares to move.

I giggle at his easy movements.  “Sure, I guess. It’s not out of the way for your destination?” I ask, curious about him and his schedule, knowing I see him here in the mornings for his coffee,  but not when I get my fix on the evening walk home.  Not that I have an addiction or anything…

We walk to the corner, clutching our cups to our chests to avoid getting them jostled from our hands in the advancing crowd.

He looks down at me as we wait for the light, a playful gleam in his eye.  He winks at me and replies, “Wherever you are going is my destination today.  Their coffee is crap. I’ve only been stopping in each morning to try to get you to talk to me.”

The light changes and the crowd pushes forward.  I’m stunned by his words, momentarily frozen.  Like a pebble in a stream, the crowd parts around me. Realizing I’m not by his side, he turns and holds out his free hand,  “Come on! You don’t wanna be late!”

I take a few long strides to catch up.  Safely reaching the other side, there is a pause in the crowd and I stop to take another drink of the cool drink.  No one’s ever paid attention to the way I mix my soda… I shake the cup, giving it a slight swirl in my hand before taking another sip. “I think I can be late today.  What’s your name?”

He holds his hand to me, this time for an introductory handshake and I take it. His large hand covers mine, warm and soft.  “I’m Chris.”


Material is an original creation by avenger-nerd-mom, July 2016