Mr. Evans- Chris Evans AU Chapter Ten
Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader
Warnings: TeacherxStudent relationship. Slightly Underage reader x adult teacher. Explicit language cause of course. Mild fluff. SMUT. Mild smut.
Disclaimers: I don’t condone relationships of this kind this is for entertainment purposes only. Angst.
A/N: omg Mr. E I is almost coming to an end!!😭😭😭
“I want you to make love to me.”
He pauses at this, brow furrowed. A switch, faster than you can comprehend, happens and suddenly the raw look of lust evaporates from his face and he’s pushing you off of him softly.
And what he says next falls over you like a bucket of ice cold water. Shaking you awake, breaking you out of a dream-like state.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I-I can’t. Feel free to sleep in my bedroom, I’ll be sleeping in the guest room.” And before you can so much as react, he’s rushing off, shoulder brushing lightly against yours on his way out and jolting you into awareness.
You’re too shocked to do anything at first. Maybe still lost in the feeling of his touch. Or maybe what could’ve been one of the most incredible experiences of your life. Because God, you knew it would be the most deliciously fulfilling experiences of your life. In your very bones, you fucking knew it would be.
But he can’t. Not even won’t, can’t…
His scent lingers, embracing you and comforting you a bit amidst the loss of his warmth.
You feel cold, empty. Rejected and pushed aside.
Your hands reach out to grab him, but all you get is air. The lust within you, the heat of the moment softly dwindles down, suppressed into your gut once more. Locked up into your chest and now only lightly-throbbing body. Unable to be released and felt and experienced fully. Unable to make you see stars.
The adrenaline pumping through your veins disperses and you suddenly feel like your legs can’t support your body weight. Too heavy. Too shaky. You stumble on your trembling legs and your back hits the wall behind you.
Your eyes flutter shut. You run a hand through your face as the fog clears from your mind.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. You should have never asked him that question!
That night, you make your way to the house’s master bedroom- Mr. Evans’s bedroom.
You don’t need him to confirm to you that it’s his because it’s painfully clear as soon as you walk in, flicking the light on.
A small sad smile slowly tugs at your lips as you take in the room around you. It’s spacious and stays true to the rest of the house’s minimalist style but somehow feels warmer to you. Like home. Maybe it’s because it captures Mr. Evans’s essence so well, you can’t help but immediately feel safe and comforted.
He had three bookshelves filled to the brink with works of literature you’d heard him go on and on about during class.
With a tiny sigh, you drag your heels along and plop onto the soft mattress of his bed, staring deeply at the white wall in front of you.
In there, his scent was everywhere and it didn’t help your heartbreak whatsoever.
Because fuck, your heart was shattered.
He couldn’t go through with it. And now you don’t know if he even planned to from the beginning.
Your head spun with thoughts of what was about to happen but didn’t.
Were you just not pretty enough? Was your inexperience a problem for him? Why couldn’t he just have made you his? Nothing was holding him back, goddamit!
You sigh, more than just a little upset because you had to stay here when all you wanted was to leave with your tail tucked between your legs.
Now that you could think clearly, you realized what you were more than ready to give up. What you were wordlessly begging to give up to him.
Like some fucking bitch in heat.
He probably knew that you were more than willing to give yourself to him and had lost all respect for you and was pushing you-
Okay, Y/n. Chill. I mean, it doesn’t matter either way. You’ll get over the most embarrassing moment of your life eventually.
Yeah, sure, you chide sarcastically.
Wow. Is this really what it’s come to? Having conversations with yourself, Y/n?
You take a deep breath and groan when your dress insistingly itches and you just want to melt into the mattress and not have to think about anything anymore or you’d literally drive yourself nuts.
But that can’t exactly be helped when you don’t know what to do with yourself. This frustrates you endlessly. Y/n Y/l/n always knew what to do with herself. And the fact that you’re frustrated at something so fucking stupid and out-of-character just angers you.
So you furiously get up, throwing your heels onto the cream rug beneath your feet and briskly tugging your dress off, fingers shaking with rage.
You have no idea who you’re more pissed at, truthfully. You or Mr. Evans. I mean, it was partly his fault for making you feel so out of control, for chrissake! You- you couldn’t control yourself when you were around him, which is why you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Which just means you let your emotions control what you do and not your head.
And that’s why you say dumb shit like “I want you to make love to me.” Like, really?! What in the actual fuck were you actually thinking when you said that?!
“Stupid fucking-” you grunt when the dress gets stuck and tug harder.
“You’re gonna break it if you keep pulling on it like that, sweetheart.”
You jump at the sound of his velvety smooth voice, immediately spinning around to face him.
“W-what?” you sputter, cheeks reddening.
Mr. Evans sighs, closing the door behind him as he walks further in. “Here, just let me help you.”
“Don’t,” you whisper instinctively. “I got it.”
His gorgeous face falls into a sad expression. He steps forward again, hands slightly outstretched. “Sweetheart just let me help-”
He flinches at your outburst and you immediately feel bad. Here he is, lending you his place to stay in and here you are being a resentful, immature, child.
Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to make love to you.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes and tipping your head back. “I just-“
You bite your lip, contemplating whether to tell him or not. Finally, unable to keep your hurt on the down-low much longer, you explode.
“Why couldn’t you go through with it? Is it because of me? A-am I that undesirable?” You feel pathetic for practically whimpering the words out. So desperate to feel like you’re enough for a man like Mr. Evans when you know you’re not.
“Don’t,” he snaps intently, but once he sees your face, softens, exhaling heavily through his nose.
His face crumples and his shoulders sag, and yet his cool blue irises look at you in the eye with such a fierce kind of determination, goosebumps rise in your skin and your very bones heat up with their conviction.
“Don’t you ever think that there’s something wrong with you sweetheart. I just-“ his beautiful eyes flicker to your dress. “Here let me just help you out of that so you can get comfortable and we can talk, okay?”
You silently nod, spinning around as he walks towards you. Your heart races with anticipation for his touch and you fist the fabric of your dress into your hand tightly, scolding yourself for being so drawn to him. So instantly ready to give into him.
“Thank you.” His mumble is low and rough and his warm breath hits the back of your neck so softly, you can’t help but shiver under its feather-light caress.
His fingers are deft but hesitant as they loosen the bow of your dress. You wait for him to speak, heart racing at his proximity.
“I didn’t go through with it because I didn’t want to,” he finally whispers quietly, fingers pushing apart the dress.
At the newly exposed skin, Mr. Evans pauses, breath hitched. Your back is pressed against his firm chest so you can feel him when he shakily breathes out.
“Trust me, sweetheart. All I wanted to do was fuck you against that wall until you couldn’t walk,” he rasps.
You gulp harshly, feeling your cunt already beginning to throb back to life. “Then why didn’t you?”
It was insane how easy it was for him to drive you over the edge. All he had to do was say something like all I wanted to do was fuck you against that wall until you couldn’t walk in that powerful, husky voice of his and you were already more than eager to jump his bones.
His fingers trace delicately over your skin and you have to bite your lip in order to hold back a gasp of pleasure from escaping you. He touched you with such care–like you were a porcelain doll prone to breaking and he was terrified of being the one to ruin you.
If only he knew how much you fucking needed him to ruin you.
“Aside from the obvious? That what we’re doing is so fucking forbidden it’s literally against the law and that going through with what you make me feel could end me?”
He chuckles softly and without a trace of humor as he feels you tense under his touch.
“I already told you; you’re intoxicated, sweetheart. I couldn’t do that to you,” he whispers, fingers undoing more of your laces. “I couldn’t take advantage of you like that,” he whispers keenly and for some reason, you get the sense he means it in more than the present context.
Somehow, you think he means this in a more general sense.
You bite your lip harder, letting your head gently fall onto his shoulder. His eyes peer down at your and you look at him through your lashes innocently.
“Couldn’t you?” You inquire, cautiously pressing your ass to his dick.
He gasps at the sensation, soft pink lips parted in an almost scream.
Your panties soak through at the sight of him so affected by the mere press of your clothed skins.
“Fuck,” he grunts, fingers digging into your back.
You hiss with pleasure, trailing your hands in a deliberately gradual manner, creeping up his thigh higher and higher, inching closer and closer to the part of his body you craved most and craved you most.
“Because,” you purr. “I don’t feel so intoxicated.” You haze flickers it’s his mouth. So soft and tempting. So wet…
You barely recognize the person doing this. This person who’s letting her emotions guide her. Maybe you were still drunk (you were) or maybe you just couldn’t hold back on your feelings anymore. More so not that you knew they were reciprocated.
He bites his lip, eyes screwing shut as you barely graze his clothed cock with your fingertips.
“No,” he exhales through gritted teeth, firmly seizing your hand in his. His eyes look down at yours and you’ve never seen anyone look so delectably tortured in your life.
Your chest tightens with delight and you don’t understand why you like having this power over him so much.
“I can’t,” he murmurs, running a frustrated hand through his hair. His eyes are alight with that same fiery emotion you seemed to bring out on him every time you were together.
That fire you wanted to burn you. That fire you craved to hurt you so good, all you’d want afterward was to feel its flames heating your skin.
“God, you’re fucking beautiful and tempting as hell, sweetheart. All I want to do is feel your warmth wrapped around me. I ache for my name to come from that pretty little mouth in screams. I want to leave you so spent, you won’t even be able to remember your own fucking name by the time I’m done with you.”
Your jaw drops and the pulsating of your pussy only intensifies at his words— so raw and filthy dirty and passionate. The picture he has painted for you is so utterly erotic and untamed that it only makes you crave the feel of having him inside you, stretching you, even more prominent.
“I want you. I want you in every way possible, you have no idea,” he breathes heavily, using his free hand to continue gently taking your dress off.
“But I can’t. I fucking can’t and it kills me that I can’t because for the last few weeks of my miserable life it’s all I can think about. All that fills up my brain is you. On my desk, on your knees on my bed…in my arms afterward. Full. Satisfied. Pressed against me, cuddling me. Holding eachother.” He speaks in curt sentences– as if it’s laborious for him to describe.
Too much and too indifferent to your current situation to describe, almost.
Your chest aches with tortured sweetness and it also swells with an emotion far too overwhelming to describe.
You wanted him. All of him.
He presses a gentle kiss against your shoulder and reluctantly steps back as he undoes the last button.
You immediately yearn for his warmth, your skin exposed to the cool temperature of the house, but you hold onto the front of your dress so you don’t flash him as you turn to look at him.
You freeze when you see his face. It’s unexpectedly unguarded, distant, vulnerable. His brows are furrowed and his lips set in a straight line.
His eyes are devoid of much emotion, but they’re unwavering as they pin your own gaze down.
“If you want the blunt truth; I haven’t made love to anyone in a while, sweetheart. I’ve fucked, but that’s different. I simply don’t feel ready to make love yet,” he admits quietly.
You think about it for a second. He doesn’t want to do it the wrong way with you, you think. But that would imply he wants you for more than fucking and-
He sighs, looking down at his hands, which tremble in the slightest. “Every time I’m around you, it’s like I can’t control myself,” his voice shakes and he licks his lips nervously. His gaze drags right back up to yours. He’s concerned. Scared. “I just don’t want to do something that could end up hurting us both in the future.”
You contemplate this for a while, and nod in understanding, a soft smile on your face. You may not like it, but you understand it. Him. You always do.
“Hey,” you gently take his hand in yours and smile sweetly up at him. “I get it. I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry.” He smirks softly. “Sleep. You can use my clothes if you want to be comfier. They’re in the third drawer to the right.”
You expect him to leave but when you look up at him expectantly, he’s still in the same spot. His eyes are half-hooded, tracing over your exposed back with a silently lustful gaze.
You raise a smug brow at him, your lips quirking into a smirk.
He frowns confusedly at first but his face shifts into an expression of realization. He flushes and it takes everything in you not to burst out in a fit of giggles.
“Oh! Uh- yeah. Sorry. Uhm, sleep well, then sweetheart. I’ll be two rooms over i-if you need a-anything.” He goes to awkwardly shuffle out of his room before you stop him, hand gripping his bicep firmly.
He raises his brow questioningly down at you.
You smile shyly, biting your lip. “Sleep with me?”
He clears his throat, too taken aback for a few seconds to respond right away. “Uh- sweetheart I thought we went over thi-“
You rush to clarify, laughing bemusedly. “No. I mean sleep next to me. No love-making involved.” You hold your hands up in mock-defense. “Promise.”
He runs a hand through his beard. “I don’t know about this sweetheart… I mean, do you really think we can-”
You pout cutely, batting your lashes. “Please? I don’t wanna be alone.”
You really didn’t. Especially in a new place.
He’s very clearly hiding a smile at your antics when he clicks his tongue, acting like he’s seriously considering it. After a minute he sighs half-heartedly. “Fine.”
You beam, spontaneously grabbing his face and planting a kiss on his stubbly cheek without thinking.
He chuckles, shaking his head and delicately tracing his fingers over the spot where you kissed him. “I’ll let you change, then. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.” And then he walks out.
Do you ever just make a set of small decisions that- before you even know it, build up into one huge snowball of an I’m-so-completely-fucked decision?
And these small decisions, they’re – not so big at first. Don’t seem all that dangerous or like they’d build up into a whole avalanche of your worst mishaps falling on top of you and burying you up to your neck.
Like hugging the student you’d been having a weird attraction to from the moment you laid eyes on her to help her through a panic attack. Or kissing her afterward. Or maybe you showed up to a teenage party where literally anyone could recognize you to save her from a possible-rape because she called you drunk…and kissed her afterward. Or perhaps you’re so nice you offer her a place to stay for the night– your home.
It’s innocent enough, but in the back of your mind, you know that it won’t end innocently. Or well, for that matter. Because you’re so attracted to her you literally can’t focus on anything else.
The thing is, I can’t call all these things mistakes. Mistakes aren’t purposeful, they don’t happen when you have all the information you could possibly need on the outcomes of your actions.
Y/n Y/l/n was not a mistake to me.
I knew exactly what would happen if I brought her over to my house. Hell, I knew what would happen if I continued being in the same goddam room as her.
It was this thing with us– you just knew. No words needed. In the back of your mind, you just knew.
I tried to ignore that voice most of the time…because most of the time it said things that gave me false hope for something that could never happen.
Things like, we would end up together because that’s just how right it felt.
But I knew, the rational part of me knew, that that could never happen. It never would.
And yet- that little voice- it insisted. It was especially strong when it was just her and me.
Because she brought something out of me that I didn’t even know existed. Something that had been dead for a while and was now suddenly revived. A much more primitive instinct within me.
To protect her, to hold her, to want her like I’ve never wanted anything else in my life.
And when something is instinct, it’s in your nature. And your nature is a part of you and I guess that meant she was…a part of me now.
I didn’t know what that meant, exactly. All I knew was that I was fucked.
She only proves me right though, when she comes down the stairs, clad in only my old Led Zeppelin band tee. The shirt was too big for her, falling softly against her milky thighs, hugging her gorgeous curves as she timidly walked towards me.
I wanted to chuckle at how adorably tiny she was in comparison to me. God, I just wanted to protect her from the ugly world we lived in. My chest clenches with an emotion yet unfamiliar to me. I didn’t know how to describe it, all I knew was that I suddenly had a sudden urge to hold her in my arms and never let go. To have her as close to me as possible for as long as possible.
This urge is overwhelming enough to make me have to shove my hands in my pockets.
Her make up was softly smudged and her hair was messy but framed her delicate face so perfectly and made her look so sexy, I could feel the breath get knocked straight out of my lungs.
She was perfect and it literally stumped me every time I saw her just how much.
God, I was so gross for feeling like this. For wanting to make her mine like this. And yet, I’d never felt so right and alive in my life.
Never felt so much that I could touch the sky with pure ecstasy.
“Mr. Evans?” her angelic voice interrupted my guilt-ridden thoughts.
“Yeah, sweetheart?” I smiled softly down at her.
She bites her lip and I can feel myself regret not taking her on the goddam wall as I feel my dick get hard again.
She hesitates to ask the question, and I see her pretty eyes flicker over my face— trying to read me —before she sighs.
“I just-“ she licks her lips. “Are we crazy? For this, I mean. Are we absolutely insane?”
I think about it. Yes. Yes we are. But I’m not letting her know I think that.
“No,” I respond, keeping a straight face.
She raises an unconvinced brow, studying me closely. “Really?”
She knows me so well, it’s actually a bit scary.
I smirk. “No, yeah. We’re definitely insane,” I nod vigorously.
She snorts and quickly thereafter falls into a fit of giggles. “Yeah.” She smiles sweetly up at me and my insides melt.
I feel like a teenager all over again. Nervous, insecure, and completely whipped.
We stare at eachother for a long while.
I smile softly down at her. “Let’s head to bed, sweetheart.”
I don’t know why, but something about that makes my heart skip a beat. Maybe because it implies the bed is ours instead of just mine. Maybe because for one night I’ll get to feel her inviting warmth close to me.
Or maybe because just for tonight I choose to ignore how completely wrong it is to want her warmth.
Either way, I can’t suppress the excitement I have brewing within me despite knowing that no matter how good it feels right now— it’s just a matter of time before chaos reigns all around us and our perfect, forbidden little world comes crashing down.
Because even if it’s just for tonight I get to pretend I’ll have her like this forever.
I know, I know. There was no smut in this and I keep holding back on giving it to you.
But that’s because when it happens -and it WILL happen- you’re gonna spontaneously combust from wherever you’re watching.
(A visual for your viewing pleasure):
@doritoevansxwinterschildren
@sarcasticalphaofthelooserspack
@Neverforget-whereyoubelong
And of course my lovely forevers!
