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kthynes · 3 years

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plaster disaster

pairing: chris evans x fem!reader

request: hello, how are you? idk if you’ve written a pregnant reader x cevans but can you please write a fluff where they’re pregnant for their first child and them making their own belly cast and decorating it 🥰❤️ - anon

-:-

can you please write a fluff where the reader and chris pregnant with their first child and attempting to make a belly cast. idk i’m just imagining them failing and stuff like that 😭🤣 - anon

warnings: fluff, implied smut, bit of swearing. 18+

a/n: this one shot is fulfilling two very similar requests I got. Not my best work but I hope you nonnies (and everyone else) like it! Thanks for requesting :)

Taglist: @patzammit

this sexy gif is not mine - all credit goes to the rightful owner!

"So this is happening." The entire living room area has been gutted. The large oat colored sectional has been moved back to accommodate the mosaic of newsprint that has been laid down. On top of the paper covering and tarp, there's an infinite amount of medical grade plaster along with a large tub of water and some towels for extra coverage because only the lord knows how much money Chris has spent in having true oak wood flooring. There is no way he’s tarnishing them for the sake of his little impromptu arts and crafts exhibition.

To say that it was just another Tuesday afternoon was an unexpected euphemism. There’s a lot going on to say the least and along with Dodger, you've been kept of out of the know. But you have a sneaking suspicion and your husband assures you of that.

"Just trust the process, babe” Chris says while looking at you with an impervious grin that doesn't match your current demise.

You've been a busy momma-to-be, always on your feet, always doing something. Always planning and always thinking a step ahead. But with your last trimester in tow, you don't ever stop to enjoy the small things and this time you're shown that to much of your own guarded appraisal.

Chris being Chris wants you to appreciate the formidable changes and embark the essence of motherhood. He sees it everyday which is why you're firmly planted, ass on a uncomfortable dinning room chair while he divulges in one of his "Pinspos", you know the kind of inspirations you get while Pinterest-ing away on some odd day. This was it. This is his giddying idea that you've let him talk you into mastering even though it could keynote into some sort of disaster — one that you would not let him live down if it were to go awry.

"Okay! I think we're all set here." Chris slowly starts rolling up his sleeves, eyes assessing the spread he has out, while you impatiently shuffled in your seat. The veins in his forearms flex, giving you a mouthwatering sight that comes naturally with your raging pregnancy hormones. He's intentionally doing this to you and apart of you is all for it.

"Mmm." You sigh out loud with frustration, feeling your insides coil as your left foot bounces up and down. Chris’s movements are slow, he’s regressing and in his own head while you become opaquely irritated with him. “Baby I'm freezing my tits off here."

Ten agonizing minutes of you in the hot seat, fashioning an open silk robe, completely exposed from the waist up with your erect nipples out for show. Chris is chuckling to himself while sinisterly snapping on a pair of latex gloves, his irises are agreeably darkening with every second becoming a timed minute.

"Patience mama.” Chris now crouches in front of you, sitting back on the balls of his feet, stirring the plaster mix while you groan exasperatedly to his little rouse.

“Here, how about you get busy." He reaches over and hands you a tub of Vaseline, there is where you look at him funny. "What? We need to lube you up first, I mean how else are we gonna get you out of it sweets?"

"We’re not working with a metal arm here, Chris.” You joke in reference to the Winter Solider fiasco that his good friend and confidant Sebastian Stan has aforementioned a handful of times.

"Same difference.” Chris leans into you and murmurs close to your lips as you pout for a kiss and he obliges with one. "Now do you trust me?”

"Barely.”

“Y/N.” His cerulean eyes meet yours and there’s that exhorting look.

“Fine whatever, cast away my doubts." You roll your eyes playfully while trying to conceal your excitement.

"Good, now sit upright and look pretty, while daddy gets to work." He smothers you with another wet lipped kiss and then gets started. First, he does the honours and lathers your body up with more petroleum jelly, telling you that less is never enough and also because he just wants his hands all over you. Rightfully so.

There’s some sensuality in his course of actions as his large hands take up all the proportions of your swelling body, palming you greedily with no regard. You let out soft, thrumming sighs as he eases your nerves while having you fall into the feeling of his gentle and familiar touch.

There’s no doubt that Chris is loving and admiring the changes that your body has gone through in order to grow and nurture new life. He kisses you tenderly when he tells you that he's excited to be a father. He kisses you again when you whine about the stretch marks and how fat you feel, he tells that you’re his beautiful Hera.

He’s seen you in your fullest capacity and wants nothing but you and the child to be healthy in the end, he’d go to either ends of the earth to make sure of it. He tells you this, your eyes well up a little as he caresses your blooming underbelly and adjusts the towel on your lap.

Chris loved talking to the baby. Everyday is a new conversation, something more is amicably said that has you falling more and more in love with him — if that was even possible.

“Hey little guy, your mama’s crying right now and this time I know it’s because I said the right thing. Can you believe it?” You swat Chris’s arm while sniffling away the tears that sometimes creeps up on you.

Chris continues to take his time with you, making sure to get this right as he stops and briefly follows the instructions penned on one of the mommy blogs he has pulled up on his phone.

After muttering to himself and taking some deep, collective breaths, Chris starts dipping and laying down wet strip after wet strip, finally getting into the jive of things. You both opt for a full torso cast that'll probably be hung up in the nursery at some point. But in the moments to come you both enjoy the collaborative effort along with the musical soundings of Billy Joel that is softly playing in the back.

"Is it cold?" Chris asks while placing another wet strip of plaster over your protruding bellybutton.

"Lukewarm but manageable." You huff as you're feeling some discomfort. You're leaning back against pillow that has been propped up behind you as Chris works his way around, giving you assuring kisses and making you giggle while letting parts of the mould settle against the glossy exterior of your primed skin.

"Ooof, seems like bubba is excited." You feel a sudden kick and Chris smiles broadly as his finger ringing out excess plaster mix from a strip he was holding up. Dodger with his snout aimed high, barks loudly while standing far, far away from the mess, as disciplined by his stern dog father.

“She ain’t talking about you Dodge.” Chris tells his mixed bulldog and that’s when you remember he’s also referred to as bubba as well.

“Sorry Dodge, baby brain!” You giggle as the dog gives you a sideways look.

“He’s going to be one jealous pupper in the coming months.” Chris exhales at the thought. “You might want to be cautious of that.”

“I guess we’ll have to cross that bridge when we get there huh?” You state, letting him paint another strip across the widest part of your belly.

It takes about 2 hours to complete the task with of course some silliness and breaks in between. After you’re done there’s that dreadful waiting and drying process to factor in, all of which comes with more impatience and time.

You begin to take small, calming breathes as Chris stands up to examine his doings. He’s covered and splattered with plaster mix, some speckled in his dark brown hair, the rest is smeared on the tip of his nose, jaw and the corner of his mouth. My cute little Michelangelo.

“Wow hon, you look—“ He eyes you while pulling off his gloves and letting his hands breathe for a bit.

“Nearly mummified? Calcified?” Chris chokes at first until he nearly descends into his own grave with laughter. “Desiccated?”

“Oh cah’mon that’s not it! You look ethereal, like a stone touched, Greek goddess remember?” He reminds you with his janky little iPhone 6 that snaps away at your half sprawled out state. You stick your tongue out at him and warn him not to get your bottom half, clad in nothing but granny panties.

After some moments, the timer on his phone goes off, startling the fun out the both of you. Dodger barks again, he hates disruptive noise but also loved sounding his own alarm, being a commander in chief.

“Alright, alright, let’s get this bad boy off ya.” Chris impersonates his best Matthew McConaughey while tossing his phone aside and rubbing his palms together.

You ran your hand over the now fully dried topcoat, feeling every bit of hard plastered surface. You lightly knock on it for good measure and then shrug at your partner with some affirmation.

“Seems dry to me.” You say even though being unsure has never been sure fire tone to set especially in times like this.

“Amazing, here let me do the honours.” Chris says as he situates himself in front of you, his hands are doing a double dry check, they’re copping a feel from the hardened mounds that make up your breasts down to the crusty overlay over your belly. He seems to be accepting of the fact that you’re fully wizened now so he takes the liberty of finding raised edges that he can sneak his fingers in and grasp onto. But he’s having little to no luck as he tugs on the frayed bits that flake but don’t budge.

You suck in a deep breath knowing that the difficulty of getting this cast off of you was similar to removing a toilet plunger that’s been stuck to the wall. Not nearly impossible but challenging at most.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you okay?” Chris says while trying to delicately pick and tug at the mould. He gets a firm hold of your chest area first and tries to pull, the plaster doesn’t move if anything it feels like he’s yanking at your skin.

“Ow, ow, ow is this supposed to be painful?” You cry while holding onto the top half of your bare chest. Chris’s eyes slightly widen as things aren’t going according to plan.

“Uhhh not quite. Okay, um, hold on, let me see what sweetbabymamalama445 has to say. I’m sure there’s a way out of this.” You’re kidding me? It’s clearly concerting to Chris as he thumbs through his phone, looking for a remedial option.

“Ugh so much for being lubed up.” You moan with your head titled back.

“Nothing.” He says, narrowly focused on his phone.

“Nothing?” You squeak. “So what? Are we supposed to call the Boston Fire Department and have them crack me open like piñata?” This is where you were being figuratively sarcastic, your best add on trait that Chris doesn’t always receptively respond to.

“I, er, wouldn’t know what to tell you.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly pinching his eyes shut. “But that doesn’t seem like a terrible idea either...”

“Christopher Robert Evans, you are getting this thing off of me. Right now. No one else.” You threaten him because if there’s a will then there is a motherfucking way.

“You know what, let’s not panic okay? There might be a few wet spots underneath so how about we wait it out and then try again later?” Chris leans in to give you a chaste kiss that relieves your senses. You sigh as a sign of defeat, letting your face crumple up like a soured child. “Don’t do that bunny.”

“It’s getting real hot in here.” You complain.

“Good get all nice and sweaty, that way it’ll slide right off of ya.” Chris starts to clean up, leaving you to hook and wedge your thumbs under the lifting part the plaster, finally popping off the top half and freeing your breasts.

“Mmmm.” You quiver and hum.

“Look at that.” He chants as you’re finally able to breathe and feel the coolness touch your balmy skin. Chris stops what he’s doing to slowly reach over and pry off the rest, helping you along the way.

“Oh thank the lord!” You feel the tightness alleviate as Chris jiggles off the bottom of the cast that is somewhat tucked under your belly.

“What a big pound beauty!” Chris finally holds up the end product and turns it around for you to properly see the full cast of your body. “All it needs is some decoupage and then voila, it’s Instagramable!”

This has become a pre-birthing lesson as you slouch into your form and wrap around the robe that only does its best to cover your breasts. You give yourself a few seconds to wallow as Chris gets back to cleaning up.

“Well thanks baby for doing all this.” You express your sincerest gratitude. “Nearly dodged a plaster disaster there.”

“You got that right.”

#chris evans fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans

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