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honkytonk-hangman · 2 years

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Line of Sight

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You're almost certain that Jake Seresin could care less about you, that is, until you're in a tight spot and the one guy you assume will hang you out to dry, instead comes to your rescue.

Warnings: language, creepy club dudes, hangman being a little cold but actually he's just shyyyyyy

Notes: this is for @ussgallifrey who let me bang on about the feelings this man has given me <3 honestly this might turn into a mini-series because i havent even begun to resolve all my emotions about this whole vibe yet

Series Masterlist

“Wait, is that Rooster?” you frown, trying to duck your head to see around the crowd of people at the club bar, your straw falling away from your lips as you do. “And Payback, and–” you cut yourself off, now certain of who and what you were seeing, and turn to look accusingly at your companions. Next to you, Phoenix follows your line of sight, but shrugs, seemingly unbothered about the impromptu appearance of the rest of Dagger Squad. Across from you, Halo winces guiltily, and lowers her brightly coloured cocktail away from her face.

“I may have mentioned our little soiree, and extended the invitation…” she admits, before hurriedly placing down her drink altogether and lifting her hands in a surrendering motion. “Look, in my defence, we’re all friends, and whatever you think about Hangman–”

“–It’s not what I think, Cal! It’s him who clearly doesn’t think much about me!” you stress, a little frustrated that your carefree girls night was now going to end up like all the other weekend nights you’ve had since befriending Dagger.

You loved Dagger, you really really did. They had welcomed you unofficially into the squad with open arms after Phoenix and Bob had adopted you one night at the Hard Deck. You’d been stood up, then dumped unceremoniously, and after crying off all your makeup in the bathroom, you’d been comforted by Nat, who had then introduced you to all her friends, all of whom seemed to dedicate the rest of their night to cheering you up.

It was funny now to think that that was how this all started, but soon enough you were close with all of them. Well, almost all of them.

Hangman had been nice enough that first night, but after that it seemed as though he could care less about your presence at all. He wasn’t ever actively rude or mean to you, not at all, instead it was like you were just perpetually a stranger. Him snarking at you would be a step up, in your opinion. At least then you’d feel like he saw you as a friend, but as it stands now, his tight smiles and quiet chortles felt like a slap in the face compared to the mega-watt grins and regular peacockish behaviour he’d display with his other friends.

You hate yourself a little that it affects you so much. You know it shouldn’t, but you can’t help it. You liked Hangman. Although a little prideful and pricklish, you could see yourself getting along with him quite well, could exchange banter with him nicely, if he’d ever actually give you a chance. It certainly didn’t help that you weren’t immune to the way he looked, perfect in every single sense, smoulderingly hot even when he wasn’t trying. He was exactly your type, right down to a T, including, you suppose, the fact that he didn’t want you at all.

It had been bothering you more and more recently, and where once you would just shrug him off, now you realise, you’ve been actively avoiding hanging out with your friends, just to sidestep the kick in the guts that came every time he fixed you with a level, seemingly emotionless pity-smile. This week would mark one year since the night you’d been dumped and subsequently picked up again, and if you’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, you’d have agreed with Halo that you should have been celebrating with all your friends.

Phoenix easily waves down the boys, and soon enough your tall standing table is filled out with the rest of the team, and you let yourself relax for a moment as you accept several hugs, the longest of which is with Javy, who shakes you a little as he does, before he reaches for your drink and finishes it off in one.

“Happy one year, bay-bay!” he announces cheekily in the face of your protest, and you playfully swat him away. Coyote relents, but leans back just enough, with his mouth open, and you roll your eyes, before plucking the maraschino cherry from your now empty glass and placing it between his teeth.

The display is enough to make you laugh genuinely, and you watch with a far more relaxed and happy grin as Javy pushes back from the table, pointing at you, Phoenix and Halo.

“Another?” he asks, quickly gathering everyone’s orders and announcing the first round was on him as he disappears toward the bar. Unfortunately, that is when you realise his empty spot at the table is stepped into by someone else, and despite yourself, you can’t help but look.

If you hadn't known that he’d only just arrived, you might have fooled yourself into thinking Hangman been here all along, with how natural he looks leaning with one arm against the table, his eyes scanning the club behind you over your head as you take him in.

You refrain from cursing at just how good he looks in civvies. It was rare you’d see him in anything aside from either his flight suit or his tan uniform, and you’re fairly certain the only other time you had was at one of Dagger’s many beach parties, where he’d been barely dressed at all. Now though, Hangman is filling out a pair of dark wash jeans and a silk jade-green button down like nobody's business, his hair for once not slicked back and styled for work, and he has what you can only assume must be several days worth of stubble.

He looks goddamn good, and you almost vibrate all the way across the room because of it.

Bright green eyes suddenly lock on to yours, and you most hope he calls you out for staring, teases you relentlessly, but after a moment, he simply nods at you, and turns inward to the table.

“You look great,” he says simply, and after letting out a quiet sigh, you choose not to let this ruin your night.

“Thanks, so do you,” you reply, maybe a little sadder sounding than you intended. Hangman glances back over at you and your heart skips just a little when he lifts his chin at you.

“Same dress you were wearing the night that asshole dumped you, right?” His voice holds slightly more humorous inflection than usual and you hate yourself a little bit more for living for the crumbs he gives you.

“Yeah. figured it was thematic or whatever. Look at me now, and all that,” you wave a hand, and really try hard not to sound so glum this time, but you’re not sure it works. Hangman cocks his head, and you swear you see a playful glint spark in his eyes just as he opens his mouth, but unfortunately you never get to hear what he has to say, because Javy chooses that moment to reappear, placing down an armful of drinks and beers right between you.

With the reappearance of his friend, Hangman seems to go back to ignoring you, and you go back to pretending that it doesn’t bother you.

—

Five minutes ago you had been dancing wildly and laughing with Rooster and Phoenix, three drinks down and getting your giggle on. Now though, you’d managed to lose both your friends in the crowd, which had been okay at first, you weren’t exactly a wallflower and didn’t mind getting your flirt on with a stranger or two, but now, you were wishing hard that at any moment either Rooster or Phoenix might show back up again and save you.

While you weren’t a wallflower, you also weren’t anywhere near as cock-sure as Halo or Phoenix, you weren’t the type of girl who felt comfortable stamping on a creep’s foot and telling him to fuck off and that you weren’t interested.

Which is exactly what you wanted to do right now.

You were trying to be polite still, for some reason, but the drinks in your system prevent you from really reacting as necessary, even as you attempt to move the hands of the guy you're dancing with back to your hips and away from your ass.

“Hey, look, I’m going to get a drink!” you yell over the music, trying to extract yourself from this guy, but just as your luck would have it, he nods happily and makes to move with you, his hands still trying to feel you up.

You move anyway, hoping that at least you might be able to lose him in the crowd, but your new shadow seems determined to stick with you. You really don’t know at this point how to shake him, and as a last resort, you desperately begin scanning the edges of the crowd for any of your friends, so you can try and make eyes for them to bail you out.

Strangely, all your friends seem to have disappeared from the table you’d left them at, even Rooster and Phoenix are nowhere in sight, but you do catch sight of something familiar toward the bar. For once you don’t dread the sight of Hangman and his expressionless gaze, and for once, you attempt to maintain eye contact with him as he glances almost dismissively over at you.

Maybe it’s the look on your face that causes him to doubletake back at you when he briefly looks away, but whatever it is, you’re glad for it, because the next thing you know, the blond is frowning at you, his eyes flickering between you and your unwanted companion. You watch as he straightens up from leaning against the bar, his face filled with the kind of determination that you had only seen on him during the more heated rounds of pool at the Hard Deck.

You could almost let out a cry of joy when he pushes away from the bar and begins beelining towards you, seemingly making sure that he doesn’t lose sight of you even despite the throng of people that he has to weave in and out of. When he’s only a few metres away, his expression shifts from almost angry, into an easy cocky smile that he’s never directed toward you before. It nearly throws you off step, but even if it had, it wouldn’t have been an issue. In a few short strides, Hangman is in front of you, his arm smoothly slung around your shoulder and he uses it to tug you a few steps into his side, and away from your prior dance partner.

“There you are,” he says sweetly, actually sounding glad to see you for once. In your sheer relief at his rescue, you let your hand fall to his chest, your fingertips gliding over the soft silk of his shirt, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him. You blink up, mouth open to utter a soft thank you, and get ready to excuse yourself from the other man’s company, but a tugging at your hand cuts you off.

“Uh, I thought we were getting a drink,” the other guy interrupts, looking accusingly between you and Hangman. The blond barely even looks at him, an insult you know well, before he’s focused back on you, and arm around your shoulder pulling you even closer into him, and forcing your dance partner to release you.

“I’ll take it from here,” Hangman says to him, though he’s gazing at you, doing a damn convincing job of seeming lovesick. “You thirsty, sweetheart?” he adds as he begins to turn you, lead you away from the scene, and you find yourself embarrassingly speechless, only able to nod at for once being on the receiving end of Hangman’s notorious charm.

“Whatever, just so you know man, she didn’t say she was taken,” you hear from behind you.

“She shouldn’t have to.” Hangman doesn’t even stop moving as he turns his head to shoot back, though his voice is filled with more annoyance than you’ve ever heard from him before. You could almost trick yourself into thinking he was actually mad on your behalf.

“Fucking slut.” The words are just loud enough for the both of you to hear, and even though you tense up at the accusation, you expect the both of you to keep moving, at least until you’re away from this guy. That doesn’t happen though. Hangman does stop this time, though unlike before, you don’t see a trace of anger on his face. Instead, he takes a step back toward the other man, his arm dropping from your shoulders to wrap snugly around your waist. He smiles wide and full, completely infuriatingly, and you see him size up the creep, look him deliberately up and down before he tips his head and opens his mouth.

“And yet, she’s still not going to fuck you,” he stays smiling, wide and cheshire-like. You feel yourself drop into a pool of complete and utter enamour with him, as at last he pulls you away again, leaving your unwanted partner behind, mouthing dumbly at the killer of a takedown he’d just endured, now totally forgotten by the both of you.

You’re still recovering from the utter annihilation when you finally reach the bar, and at last Hangman lets his hold on you drop, and he comes to stand next to you at the bar. He’s still grinning, though it looks like it's to himself, but it widens ever so slightly when he glances down at you while motioning for the bartender. He orders himself another beer, and the same cocktail Javy had stolen from you earlier before you’re finally able to get your thoughts straight again.

“Thanks for that,” you say, nodding towards the dance floor. Hangman looks almost surprised for a few seconds before he shrugs and pays the waiting barman.

“S’nothing.” he waves you off, but fixes you again with a slight frown moments later. “Are you alright? You looked pretty upset when you were trying to shake him.”

You think this might be the most genuine emotion the man has ever shown you, and you’re too far gone to question why, for now you simply want to bask in it.

“I’m no good at telling guys to piss off. Mostly they get the hint, but sometimes… that’s why I always stick with Phoenix or Halo,” you explain a little bashfully. You know how confrontational Hangman can be, you’d seen it for yourself tonight, so you know he likely sees your lack of assertiveness as some kind of weakness. Maybe that was why he didn’t like you?

Hangman frowns again, deeply this time, and hands you your drink. For a while he doesn't say anything, but it makes you anxious the way he doesn’t stop staring at you even as he takes a good long drink of his beer. After a moment he relaxes somewhat and glances away. You’re hoping maybe he’ll drop it, or maybe some of your friends will come along and spare you whatever comes next, but he doesn’t, and they don’t.

Hangman points back toward the dance floor with his beer hand and fixes you with a hard, intent stare.

“You feel like that again, you come find me, alright? I’ll tell them where they can go,” the blond tells you firmly, making you blink and splutter, but he holds up his hand and waves you off before you can deny him.

“Halo doesn’t always come out with us, and Phoenix and Rooster are currently eating face, so,” he takes half a step toward you and leans lower into your space, almost making you stumble back. “Next time,” he slings his arm across your shoulder again and grins almost maniacally. “Let Hangman sort them out for you.”

For the first time you really feel like perhaps Hangman is warming up to you. No longer were you feeding off the crumbs of attention, now you see the man revel in your sputtering embarrassment, fully teasing you like you’d wish he would for the past year. You were in his sights now, and you feel your whole body trill with satisfaction.

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idesofrevolution · 11 months

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Sweat and Polyester

Siyu Jiang was in love. After moving to the United States from Guangzhou to get his degree in Software Engineering, it was a hard pill to swallow that he was less than stellar at mingling with his peers. Guangzhou was a mega city, easy for him to blend in and mind his own business, busy enough for him to get a contact-high of sorts to feed his need for socialization. New Orleans on the other hand, while not a small town per se, felt tiny and almost claustrophobic to him. Everyone knew eachother, and everyone took the time to chat, go out, have a drink or a blunt, 'fraternize' if you catch my drift... and Siyu quietly observed from a distance, watching the world bustle by.

That is, until he saw Eduardo. In China, he had never felt attracted to men. Perhaps it was the somewhat hostile environment for queer folks, or perhaps it was New Orleans' more laissez-faire attitude about stuff like that, but when the new semester started and he walked into that chemistry class, it was like fireworks erupted from his eyes. Eduardo was on the basketball team, pretty great at it too. He was tall, he was fit, he had those big brown eyes that made Siyu see sideways. When he plopped down in his seat next to Siyu, still in the gym clothes he'd worn to practice an hour or so before and wafting the subtle scent of salty musk from his tattooed body, their eyes met for the first time. A simple smile and a gentle introduction made Siyu's heart flutter, he was laid back and spoke effortlessly with a relaxed and friendly demeanor. Over the first two weeks or so sitting next to him, Eduardo had really helped Siyu feel less alone and less isolated, simply by being kind and taking the time to strike up a conversation with him.

It wasn't long before Siyu was beneath the bleachers in the basketball court, watching a sweaty, jovial Eduardo shoot hoops and practice with the team. It was no secret around campus that Eduardo was bisexual, having streams of girls as well as several teammates going in and out of his dorm room all the time. As mentioned before, the people around there talk, and from what Siyu had overhead, he was a giver and one of the best beds in town. This only added fuel to his fire, as his obsessive love for this sweet, oblivious jock boy grew stronger with each whisper of his name and bounce of the orange ball.

Thus it came to be on that Tuesday evening on a cold November night that Siyu decided to make Eduardo love him. Though, there was a problem. Outside of the obvious signs: him being on the basketball team, him fucking anything that moved, him always have the subtle whiff of reefer about him, and some of the company he'd keep, Siyu really knew nothing of Eduardo's interests. Worse even, the ones he did know about were far outside of his own. Siyu was simply too different of a person to snag his crush's attention. Thus, he focused on who did catch his eye.

Enter Ethan Lafferty. Ethan was everything Siyu wasn't: muscular, tall (even more than the 6'2 Eduardo), confident, cocky even. He was point guard on the team, and Eduardo's best friend. The two couldn't have been more different. Eduardo was sweet, kind, relaxed, a flirt, everyone's favorite guy. Ethan on the other hand, was brash, loud, dumb as a box of rocks, stank of a locker room at high noon, and spent most of his time either banging the entire cheerleading squad on a livestream or downing bottles of Jameson and snorting mountains of cocaine at some hole in the wall bar in the French Quarter. Despite their completely polar personalities, the two were nearly inseparable. It always came off as peculiar that such a stereotypical straight alpha dude bro would be best friends with a queer guy, even if they were teammates.

Siyu began to frequent the duo's hoop sessions, masked in darkness beneath the cavernous space beneath the seats, taking notes on his phone of what he could observe. In his mind, he saw himself as a horny, gay Jane Goodall: observing the hot boys in their natural habitat, and how they interact. Their relationship became clearer over time. Eduardo would be the first to arrive, sitting on the bench and scrolling through his phone until Ethan would burst through the gymnasium door, holding his smelly red shoes and making a loud fuss about whatever girl he'd 'bedded' the night before. The two would sit on the bench, side by side, laughing at Ethan's shitty and demeaning jokes while he threw his arm around Eduardo's neck and ruffled his hair. Even from the clandestine cave he'd hidden away in, he could see Eduardo blush just at Ethan's touch. It was beyond him what a brute like Ethan brought to the table, but Siyu realized whatever it was, Eduardo was into it. If being like that mouthbreathing, smelly dumbass was what would make Eduardo love him, then so be it.

He started to wear a gold chain and earrings, just like Ethan. Sure, the earring was a clip on, and the necklace was cheap plate, but Eduardo quickly complimented him once he'd noticed a few days into it. He started to wear athletic shirts and shorts, some that he'd stolen from the dormitory laundry bin of course, but he'd hoped the effect would sink in. Eduardo didn't take as much of a notice of this, and thus began the diminishing returns of Siyu's efforts. He stopped wearing deodorant, thinking his own pheromones would compete, which they didn't. Not even an acknowledgement. He sketched marker tattoos on his arm, saying he was trying out designs to see what worked. He received a raised eyebrow and silence. The more he tried desperately to impress Eduardo, the less and less it seemed to make a difference. Frankly, he noticed Eduardo pulling away. Their nice little chats before lecture started to disappear, the friendly knuckle bump he would get as they ran into each other in the quad quickly followed suit. The more he tried to be Ethan, telling oddly misogynistic jokes and sipping whiskey from his water bottle in class... the more Eduardo wanted nothing to do with him.

It made no sense to him. He was doing everything right. When Ethan did it on the court, or in the dining hall, or in the library, or even in his dorm room as Siyu had his ear pressed against the door; Eduardo ate it up, his big brown eyes looked at him like he was the most lovely creature on earth. When Siyu tried it, it was met with an awkward glance and a miserable nod. He was losing him. All the work was for naught. It was time to take drastic measures.

Siyu searched high and low through every academic paper he could find in that library to find a way to make someone love him. When that came up with dead ends, he searched how to change your personality, which supplied an equal amount of nothing. Psychology, philosophy, sociology, anthropology, neuroscience, even religion... nothing he found seemed to address his quandary. That's when he dug into the dark corners of the library itself: the occult, cults, mysticism, mythology, demonology... That's when he finally came across it. The key. The knight in shining armor. The solution to his problem.

Siyu was absent from class that Friday, the only day he'd ever missed in Chemistry. He was far too busy preparing for what was to go down that evening in the gym. From sun up to sun down, he was squirreled away in his dark dorm room, a single light on his desk illuminating the old archaic book. To his left, the culmination of his research, a small spray bottle filled with a strange yellow liquid. His trash bin was filled with empty envelopes from Indonesia, Mozambique, Paraguay, Lesotho, Norway, and Russia. Remnants of a shopping spree of esoteric ingredients so outlined in the ancient texts, all of which were less than simple and far beyond illegal to obtain. Though, to Siyu, it mattered not. This was to be his final act, there were no consequences that would matter after it was all over.

As 7:30 struck, as expected, Eduardo entered the gym, setting his bag onto the shining wooden floor and scrolling through his socials. Siyu crouched in his standard spot in the shadows, watching Eduardo's feet bounce absentmindedly mere inches from him as he waited for his friend. It didn't take long, as Ethan kicked open the door, shouting his typical "Bruh! You're not gonna believe what happened last night." Siyu turned off his ears, uninterested in hearing yet another story about ecstasy, booze, and his weird thing for Charlize Theron's legs. Instead, he took the little plastic cap off the spray bottle, and sat silently beneath Ethan as he put on his stinking shoes. As he sat there, talking about absolutely nothing of substance, Siyu spritzed his feet gently with the concoction. He didn't notice a thing, continuing to chide and play around with Eduardo as Siyu sprayed the back of his legs and shorts, then his shirt and finally the back of his neck through the holes in the bleachers. By the time they got up and began to play their game, Ethan was entirely unaware he was coated with the elixir.

Ethan and Eduardo had a particularly impressive match between them. Eduardo had to keep up with Ethan's frantic energy, which he'd never had a problem with before. Hoop after hoop, he would scream and shout, rubbing it in his friend's laughing face. It was their best hoop sesh yet, fitting it would be their last. Go out on a bang, thought Siyu, as that energy quickly began to deplete. Before long, Ethan had complained about his knee giving out before he could dunk.

"Fuck, bruh. I guess kicking your ass tired me the fuck out!" Eduardo laughed at his friend, pushing his head down as he walked past.

"Your coke is wearing off I bet. I haven't seen you play like that in a long time, man! What the fuck did you take?" Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, a subtle ache beginning to radiate at the base of his skull.

"I didn't take anything, fucktard! I'm just that good, and you needed a reminder." The two laughed like morphine-riddled hyenas, before plopping back down on the bench above Siyu. Their delectable scent washed down atop him like a waterfall of pheromones. "But I may need a minute, huhu."

"Yeah man, take a breather. Wouldn't want you to get too exhausted before tomorrow's game." Eduardo winked as he picked up his bag, saying his goodbye before walking out the side door, leaving Ethan massaging his aching wet feet on the bench. It was time. Siyu slowly made his way out from beneath the bleachers, his cheap shoes squeaking on the court as he approached Ethan.

"What does he see in you?" Siyu strolled over to Ethan, who chuckled to himself as he put his socked foot back into his shoe.

"Ahh fuck, man. What the fuck are you doing here?" Ethan was panting. To him, he had a hard workout. To Siyu, the elixir was working.

"You are awful, Ethan. You're rude, you're crass, you treat others like shit, and you smell. You're a real keeper, aren't you?" Ethan turned to Siyu, his indifferent expression melting away to indignancy. He jumped from his seat, ready to pound this 5 foot nerd into oblivion, until that damned knee gave out again, toppling him back onto the bench.

"Fuck. You better be thankful I'm tapped after that workout, fucker. You should thank me really, you'd be in the ground by now." Siyu stared with absolute apathy, knowing fully well he would not be brutalized by this waning star.

"You're scum, but he would do anything for you. I can't figure out why, trust me I've tried. But you have something going on in that empty brain of yours that he can't get over." Ethan turned and snickered under his breath.

"I know you. You're that little fuckin' cocksucker who's stalking Eddy, aren't you? See-who or whatever your fuckin' name is. Listen, buddy, I'll just tell you. He's not interested, alright? You have nothing he's looking for, so just leave him the fuck alo..." Ethan tried once more to stand, only for his legs to once again give out. "Fuck! What the fuck is going on?" Siyu smirked.

"I know. I'm not what he's looking for, again: I have tried. But you are what he's looking for, and you don't even see it." Siyu walked closer to the sweating jock, dripping from every pore as if he were in the throws of scarlet fever. "I've decided to do something about that, Ethan. You're no good for a guy that's as incredible and lovely and glorious as Eduardo, and I'm going to make sure that whatever it is you have that I don't gets put to good use." Ethan looked down at his legs, growing smaller and frail by the second. It looked as if he were melting, his skin sagging, his muscles deflating, his body just sinking into a puddle of sweat on the floorboards. Whatever slurs he wished he could launch at Siyu were caught in his collapsing throat as he gurgled and bubbled. Siyu watched with a gleeful malice, watching the top competitor sink into a puddle of his own fetid sweat. There was but one single glance of abject rage from Ethan's face before it too had plummeted to the ground, leaving behind his sopping wet clothes and a silent gymnasium. Siyu took a couple of seconds to just breathe and bask in his success. He looked down at the clothes and shoes, wafting his enemy's pungent scent, imbued by the puddle of his own essence he'd become.

Now full of excitement, with a pep in his step, he gathered the dripping clothes and shoes, slipping them into Ethan's gym bag before stealing away into the night. He quickly found himself bolting across the quad, hoping and praying no one saw him with another student's bag in his possession. Bursting into the dormitory, he ran up the stairs to his floor, taking a moment to breathe before he gingerly opened the hall door. Tip toeing ever so quietly down the carpeted hallway, praying at the last minute he wouldn't be caught by a languid R.A. or a drunk neighbor. The universe, it seems, was on his side that evening, as he unlocked his door and slipped in entirely unseen. Collapsing onto his bed, the heavy and damp bag sat next to him, radiating heat from within it's shiny plastic confines. It was time to finish this.

He turned to the bag, slowly unzipping it, allowing the dank, wet air within to rush out into his room. Ethan must have lived out of this bag, as it was filled with basketball shorts, sweatshirts, socks, shoes, blender bottles filled with protein shakes, and of course the lone sweat-soaked joint at the bottom. Siyu began shucking the wayward clothes onto his chair across the room, pleased to know he would have a couple of outfits that would fit him once this was all over. He emptied out the bag until the Ethan-infused clothes were all that was left in the bottom of the bag, swimming in a puddle of musky liquid.

Siyu smirked as he took out each piece, laying them out on the ground one by one. Tee shirt. Shorts. Disgusting jock strap. Ripe socks. Even riper sneakers. Finishing it off with the gold chain and single earring. It was all there. Rushing to his desk, Siyu grabbed the very last component to his plan: two facemasks, one white and one black. These two would be the final inoculation that would keep his changes permanent over time. Two weeks of breathing it in, letting it merge with his own essence, he would ensure that the new Siyu would be around long enough to ensnare his sweetheart. He bent down, picking up the jockstrap and a sock, both still dripping, and wringing out a sizeable amount of the stinking sweat to fall onto each mask. The stage was set, the materials were prepped, and it was time to make himself the perfect soulmate for Eduardo.

He started with the jockstrap. Even post-wringing, it still sat warm and damp, yellowed with the sweat and cum that had long sunk into it's fibers. Putting his two lithe feet into the straps, he nervously pulled up, droplets of the sweat rolling down his hairless legs before it fit loosely on his skinny waist. The change was immediate. There was no momentary ounce of silence and some slow change. No, his groin immediately ballooned out, the pouch quickly filling and pushing out tout against the wet fabric. His ass inflated loudly, the sounds of stretching and creaking rubber marked the expansion of his flat rear into two round and hairy orbs like basketballs on a shelf. Siyu gingerly groped his ass, dripping in sweat from the wiry hairs he'd never before had sprout out of his smooth skin. He cackled loudly, pulling the front strap forward, and peering into his hammock. He was met with a long, uncut python and two egg sized balls wafting out his new masculine cocksmell.

Now entirely intrigued, blinded by a sense of foreign hubris he'd long suppressed, he grabbed the shirt, slipping it over his head in one quick motion. The shirt quickly started to quake, turning from white to black, before his arms dropped like sacks of potatoes. Two firm pecs burst out from beneath the slick fabric, followed by his shoulders widening to twice it's former length. Siyu continued his moans of hedonistic pleasure, while his arms bulked up: firm but lean biceps and forest of hair growing from his forearms down to his wrists, before tattoos sprouted down his tan skin. He held out his hands, raucously laughing as his fingers lengthened, callouses appearing on his sweaty palms, and veins snaking wildly all the way up his arms.

"Interesting." Siyu's insane laughter ceased immediately. His eyes darted around the dark room, searching for the voice which had loudly billowed out of the shadows. "Fuck, bruh I thought I was dead fucking meat back there. But shit, it looks like you fucked up your little recipe didn't you?" Siyu's hands began to slowly clap, not at all under his full control.

"What the fuck? Where are you? How are you here?" His sweaty hand clasped over his mouth, sticking his middle finger into his mouth like gag.

"Aww, Siyu. What's wrong, buddy? You didn't wanna get rid of me, did ya? Nahhh. You wanted to BE me." His left hand grasped the shorts, slowly pulling them up his legs while his calves and quads burst out, covered in a thick carpet of black hairs. He shot up in height, easily breaking 6' 3" in seconds. He looked down, the height disorienting him as he gagged himself. "You got your wish, fucker. Kind of, at least. See, you thought you could turn me into a puddle and wear my shit, get all swole and dope as fuck, and what... He'd fall in love with you?" Siyu's eyes widened in terror. "Yeah, fucker I can see it all! I'm in here with you now. I can see how you jacked off to the idea of him plowing your ass after a long game. I can see how you followed him all over fucking town all the time. I can see how you thought some fuckin' magic bullshit would make you like me so you could force him to love you. Gotta say, that's some fucked up shit killing off your crush's best friend so you have no competition." Siyu's body bent over, picking up the socks, before plopping down onto the chair, surrounded by Ethan's clothes.

"See, you think I didn't know Eddy was into me? You think we didn't jack off together in our rooms when we needed a release? You think I wasn't into him too?" The hands slipped on the sopping wet socks, as his feet started soak up Ethan's sweaty essence, quickly followed by the nasty red shoes. As the laces were tied snug, his feet began to crack and swell, his arch growing tall and his toes lengthening out. Tattoos sprawled over the tops of his stinking feet and ankles, as the red fabric quickly turned orange, widening and lengthening even larger than Ethan's, until they were two massive size 15's. "Heheh, he likes feet, just so you know. Right when we get home after a long day, he loves it when I peel off my shoe and shove his face in it." Siyu felt his hand pinch his cheeks, and his middle finger caress his tongue in his mouth. "Thing is, Siyu, I was straight. I only had eyes for pussy, and fuck bruh, I knew how to stick my dick in it. I liked it when he sucked my nasty cock clean, but you know, it was just something between bros, you know?" Siyu slapped his meaty thighs, standing up tall and picking up the white facemask there on the ground. Tears ran down his terrified face as his own hands drew it closer.

"But now that I'm here, now that you and I are one, I think you may be right, dude." Siyu moaned against the hand over his mouth, just before it slipped out and grasped the other side of the mask. "I think we and Eddy are gonna be soulmates." He shrieked as the mask adhered over his nose and chin, and around his ears. Siyu could do nothing as he felt his brows lowering, his greasy hair falling out of his chiseled skull, quickly replaced by a sweaty black fade. His lips pillowed out as his long, meaty tongue licked them as he smirked with his pearly white teeth. Siyu could feel Ethan's consciousness wrap around him, like a tight latex suit compressing him tighter and tighter and tighter, until he visualize Ethan finally penetrating him. He pulled down his shorts and began to pump his greasy dick, while Ethan made himself at home inside of Siyu. Their traits intermingling with eachother- merging everything between them that would have made them distinct, now creating an amalgamation of both. As his balls began to shudder, pre cum dripping from his hooded cockhead, there was no more Ethan, and there was no more Siyu.

The first volley of spunk shot from his dick, memories of fucking gals on the weekends and guys on the weekdays solidified in his mind. Second volley of spunk, a sense of cocky self assurance swelled within him, though washed with a sense of empathy and camaraderie to mellow him out. Third volley of spunk, he was booksmart in his IT classes, but dumb as a box of rocks, choosing to funnel his free time out of class into the team and chilling out with his bros. Fourth volley of spunk, he loved Eduardo. That sweet, adorable, kinky little fuck was the apple of his eye, and he'd do anything for him. Though, he couldn't get too lovey dovey, he knew all too well that being chased and obsessed over was the quickest way to turn him off. He would happily tease, flirt, kiss, suck and fuck him, but he would let Eddy come to him. Fifth and final volley, his identity now centralized and firm: he was Shan Eoyang, a Chinese exchange student on scholarship for basketball. He was cool, he was hot, he was the golden hearted bad boy that made everyone around him go wild. The world was his oyster, and he would be there with his man by his side, and the various others who would worship at their sweaty masculine feet. He opened his eyes, and Shan took his first deep breath, taking in his own scent embedded into his mask.

"Fuuuuuuuck dude, that's good." He slipped his cock back into his dirty jockstrap, knowing all too well that Eddy would be into it when they finally met up. Bringing his fingers to his ears, he came perilously close to prying off his mask, though something in the back of his mind told him it probably wasn't the best idea. He pulled out his phone, not recognizing it whatsoever. It had his boyfriend's face as the screensaver, but it wouldn't take his password or fingerprint. Must be the previous tenant's phone, he thought to himself, as he opened the window and chucked it from the building. He'd run out and get one in the morning before class, as he had a bunch of scholarship money to burn.

---

Eduardo waited outside the basketball court, wondering where Ethan was. It was almost 8, and while he was never particularly adept at being on time, he would have at least texted. He looked down at his phone, scrolling through his Grindr, looking for whoever was available after hoops. Ethan would definitely let him suck him off in the locker room, but meh, that wasn't really going anywhere anyway. Thankfully, Siyu wasn't in class, apparently he'd dropped out from what the professor had said. At minimum he was relieved that the creepy little guy wasn't going to be following him home at night anymore.

Just as he was preparing to call it a night, the door burst open at the end of the hall. He turned to give Ethan a hard time for being so late, but the man before him was not Ethan. He was the tall, dark, and handsome archetype personified. He sauntered over to him with a confident stride, oozing a sense of pride and sexual energy.

"Oh... shit man. You uh, you caught me off guard. I was just waiting for my friend." The man approached Eduardo with smiling eyes behind the black facemask on his chin.

"You're Eddy, right? I'm a new student, just got on the basketball team. Coach says you might be able to show me around the place, if you're down of course? Name's Shan." Shan leaned against the wall, letting his hand rest on his neck, and smirking beneath the fabric as his sharp pit musk wafted at his gorgeous new teammate. Eduardo, happily letting in the stud's scent, lapped it up and shuddered.

"Yeah, man. I'm so down, I'm Eduardo. Friends call me Eddy." Shan leaned in close, their noses now inches from eachother.

"Eddy, then. Sounds like a good time, someone like you would probably be able to show me a lot." Shan winked, and Eddy blushed a bright red, nodding gingerly. "Well shit, how's about we shoot a couple hoops, we go back to my room and we show eachother around, what do you say?" Eduardo looked down, seeing Shan's massive well worn sneakers, which had inched their way to his own until they were firmly touching. Oh shit yeah, this guy was perfect.

"I say fuck yeah, man. Show me what you're made of." Eddy made the move, letting his fingers slowly touch Shan's forearm. Happily received, Shan ruffled his soon-to-be boyfriend's hair, as if it were second nature.

"Oh I'm gonna kick your ass on the court. We'll see what I do with it when we're done." He slapped Eddy's back, tossing his sweaty arm around his shoulder as the two walked into the court. They would be inseparable once again, and yet inseparable for the first time.

#male transformation #body transformation #male possession #original #transformation #musk #body possession #musky #gay transformation #male tf #bisexual transformation #basketball #jockification #clothing tf #college #merging #body merging

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evanchantingpeters · 4 months

Text

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 4)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ In the whirlwind Hollywood world, Evan and Y/N are flipping the script. With a filming delay for Evan’s Tron scenes, ten days become four tantalising months. Taking the leap, Evan proudly introduces Y/N as his girlfriend at the Emmy Awards. As they dazzle at the afterparty, they’re also plotting an escapade. Away from the flashing cameras of paps and the gossiping spectators, they’re stealing away to a secluded beach by the venue for a night of pleasure and fluids...

Warnings ─ Swearing, public sex, sex on the beach, oral (both receiving), vaginal fingering, overstimulation, bondage, mild BDSM, nipple teasing, spanking, dry humping, vaginal sex, woman on top, doggie, extra smutty (per usual, lol)

Read Part 1 here | Read Part 2 here | Read Part 3 here

Word count ─ 5.5K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

You and Adria breeze into her bedroom like the dynamic duo of snack time, armed with a mega-sized bowl of popcorn, a killer cheese platter, and a tray of toasty beverages. Adria’s sporting that cheeky grin, like she’s about to drop the meme of the century, and you can’t help but giggle, knowing the night’s about to get lit.

As you step in, you’re met with a sight straight out of a Pinterest board. There’s this epic mound of duvets and pillows stacked up in the middle of the floor, like a cosy fort waiting to be conquered. And there they are, the squad – Val, Natasha, and Mirka – all huddled together, shuffling the cards like they’re running their own underground casino.

“Alright, girlies…gather up,” Adria hollers, flexing her sparkling engagement ring, and you both flop onto the comfy chaos, laughing. Before long, popcorn is flying like spring rain as you jump into the card game like you were born for this moment. You’re personally slinging drinks, channelling your inner barista at a hipster café, except these are mugs of hot cocoa and herbal tea, not fancy cocktails.

The room is buzzing with energy as the banter bounces back and forth like a ping-pong match, touching on varied topics—from eyebrow tweezers, acne, holiday destinations, and wedding flowers for Adria to immigrant visas, AI, wars, and recycling methods. Mirka’s laugh is loud enough to wake the dead, and Val’s one-liners are so on point they should come with a fire emoji. Natasha, meanwhile, is playing it cool, but you can practically see the competitive flames dancing behind those Insta-filtered eyes every time she slaps down a winning hand.

“Nash, why so quiet?” Mirka teases with a cheeky smile, giving Natasha a playful nudge.

Natasha lowers her head, her fingers bending and flicking nervously over a card. “I know we’re here to celebrate Ad and Tommy tying the knot since it’s only been a week—”

“No need to keep up the act if something’s bugging you, Nash. Speak up,” Adria urges, gently squeezing her friend’s hand.

Natasha lets out a heavy sigh. “About this depersonalisation…derealisation…you name it…thing I mentioned before,” she admits, her voice shaking.

Val stuffs a hefty handful of popcorn into her mouth before chiming in. “What about it?” she inquires nonchalantly.

“About feeling like someone’s cranking up the volume on your own existence,” Natasha mumbles, her gaze flitting anxiously around our circle. “Suddenly, every mundane, everyday sensation feels way too real—the scrape of the toothbrush bristles against your teeth, the movement of your tongue, the flare of your nostrils with each breath…even the blink of your eyes almost echoing in your ears.”

Adria’s eyebrows are drawn together as she rubs her temples and squints her eyes as if trying to wrap her head around the concept. “Your Latina is too stunned to speak with your Yapanese, Nash,” she quips at the confession, though she immediately reconsiders and hastily raises her hand in apology. “Sorry, I don’t know what got into me… Go on—it happened again?” she mutters, a hair tie dangling from her mouth as she wrestles her hair into a messy bun.

“Yea… today morning, actually,” Natasha is quick to respond hoarsely, her voice cracking. “It’s like you’re watching yourself do something, but it doesn’t feel like you, you know? It’s this out-of-body experience, and suddenly, bam! The curtain gets violently ripped back, exposing the raw, unfiltered reality of living, breathing, feeling every damn twist and turn.”

She pauses to draw a sharp breath before carrying on. “And then the ontological Wh- questions start flooding in, like, ‘What am I doing? Who am I, really? Why am I in this room, in this building, in this world, in this endless universe? Where will I go after I die?’ They crash into you like a cosmic truck—the idea of the soul being immortal and stretching on and on and on and on and on into eternity.”

You’re glued in, hanging onto every letter as your friend bares her soul, your gaze stuck to her. Your fingers running through her hair are soothing enough to serve as her lifeline in moments like this. “Sometimes, our minds pull serious pranks on us, Nash,” you begin, your voice laced with sage-like wisdom, “especially when anxiety, an existential crisis, or just some old trauma is thrown in the mix. It’s like a defence mechanism, trying to shield us from emotions that could totally wreck our sanity.”

Natasha blinks rapidly as she shrugs you away, still grappling to make sense of it all. “But why? It hits me outta nowhere…when I least expect it...like, when I’m just chilling…Not even my therapist can solve the riddle.”

You take a moment, as if you’re mulling it over and finding the right words to put it. “Mhm, think of it like a mental reboot,” you explain, your voice like a smooth jazz track as you give her arm comforting rubs. “Your brain’s like ‘Whoa, hold up!’ and creates this buffer zone, making you feel a bit detached and dissociated. It’s like hitting pause to recalibrate and protect itself.”

After a long pause, Natasha sniffles and rubs her eyes, then nods. “Alright, I’ll tuck that away in my brain’s little filing cabinet for now, no biggie. Enough of me cosplaying Courage the Cowardly Dog, freaking out over every little thing. Let’s chat about something else,” she urges, clapping her hands together before taking a giant gulp of hot chocolate and munching on a marshmallow, whipped cream all over her mouth.

Just as the vibe gets brighter, your phone lights up with a WhatsApp notification. You glance down to see a message from Evan, and your heart does a little marathon in your chest—ground breaking reaction, Y/N—as you open it. (Cue the dramatic music!) The text is concise and sweet, but it’s the attachment that sends your head spinning — a VIP invite to the Emmy Awards afterparty, followed by another cute message, reading:

I’d love to have you there with me🥰

Shock paralyses you as a tsunami of questions smashes you. Is he asking you to be his arm candy or is this just a friendly gesture?

Needing a breather to let it all sink in, you pull the classic “gotta use the restroom” move and sneak away to a quiet corner of the house. The phone feels like a brick in your hand as you summon the courage to call Evan, your heart doing backflips just at the thought.

And just like that, he picks up almost instantly. “Hey, Y/N? How’s your sleepover?” His velvety voice—a familiar anchor in the storm of your head—flows through the line with a tinge of concern.

You gulp down a shaky breath, trying to regulate the rapid fluttering you feel in your throat. “Uh, all good... I mean... What’s with the invite?” you blurt out, involuntarily scratching your head and scrunching your nose in confusion. Meanwhile, you pace in the room like a caged tiger.

“I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have with me and is not a blood relation,” he replies confidently, his determination practically oozing through the phone.

His statement hits you like a stampede of elephants in your stomach, robbing you of words as he barrels ahead with more enthusiasm than a kid at Disneyland. “It’ll be a night to remember, I promise.”

As your nerves begin to ease and excitement creeps in, you can’t help but wonder about your role at the event. “Congrats on your nomination, but, uh, may I ask, what exactly am I doing there?” you spill out, rightfully so, trying to sound casual despite the tornado swirling in your mind. “I mean, we’re not exactly best buds like you’re with Jeff, for example.”

But Evan, ever the smooth talker, doesn’t miss a beat. “You’ll be my plus one, my girlfriend,” he utters, his voice soft but resolute, like he’s making a declaration. Your breath hitches in your throat at the word ‘girlfriend,’ your whole body going numb.

You’re biting your lip so hard you’re practically taste-testing them, fists clenched and excitedly pounding against your thigh like it’s a drum solo. Girlfriend? You? At the Emmys? It’s like a scene ripped straight out of a rom-com, and you’re half-convinced you’ve somehow stumbled into an alternate universe.

“Uh, Evan, you do realise this is gonna stir up a whole pot of drama, right?” you slur, your voice barely louder than a mouse’s squeak as you nervously fidget with the hem of your pyjamas. “I mean, your fans are gonna go full FBI on me, crafting voodoo dolls and whatnot out of envy for not picking them. And then, there’s the paparazzi… those guys will do anything for a saucy headline…”

“I totally get your mini freakout, baby, and we can hash it out tomorrow after your stayover…but seriously, why stress?” He’s quick to fire back and rationalise the situation. Despite your semi-meltdown, his voice is calm and steady like he’s discussing the weather. “Just because a bunch of people recognise me from movies or TV doesn’t mean I’ll be sneaking around in a trench coat and shades, dodging public outings with my lover. I’ll do what makes me happy, protecting my relationship along the way, and if that means bringing my girlfriend to an event, then so be it…” He pauses for a minute before adding, “and I want it to be it.”

His words hang in the air, and for a hot second, all you hear is the relentless thud of your heart. You’re not usually one to lose sleep over what others think about you, even your nearest and dearest friends (since the idea of family has been absent throughout your lifetime), but let’s be real, the Evan situation is completely uncharted waters.

Following another deep breath, you finally muster up a response that you’ve been meaning to let out since you got the texts (but your overanalysing would never). “I want it too, Evan.”

There’s a momentary hush, and you swear you can hear him doing a victory dance or something with the sound of rustling clothes in the background. Then, he lets out his signature throaty chuckle that always gets you on your knees. “Awesome! We’re gonna rock this. I’ll stick by your side, and we’ll handle this together, okay?”

You can’t help but grin at his reassurance, mindlessly twirling a lock of hair between your fingers like a schoolgirl, feeling a surge of excitement. “Yes, together. Honoured,” you reply as your heart keeps doing the happy shuffle.

You gotta pinch yourself just to be sure you’re not stuck in some kind of matrix with Evan these past four months. Turns out, his stay in America got extended from the initial ten days thanks to some miraculous schedule reshuffling, and he’ll be shooting his scenes for Tron in Canada later this year. So, more hangout time with him, more dates…and yeah, more fucking. In his head, and apparently in his parents’ minds too—who you’re meeting soon (send help)—you’re practically official.

And here you are now, cruising in the backseat all dolled up for the Emmys in your sparkling cocktail party dress. Evan’s looking smoking hot in his sharp tux and perfectly slick hair, making you feel like you need a paper bag to catch your breath. He’s holding onto your clammy hands like he’s afraid you’ll vanish into thin air (and frankly, you’re starting to believe it). He’s giving you these adorable little kisses like he knows that your lipstick’s gotta stay put.

And to top it all off, you’ve met his stunning and bubbly sister, Michelle, and her husband. Amidst your anxiety-induced brain freeze, and out of all the phrases you could come up with to greet her for the first time, “lady in red” is all you chant to compliment her elegant red gown. Internally screaming and embarrassed, you wish you could facepalm yourself out of this world. No, but why did she serve so bad?

But guess what? She’s a massive Chris De Burgh fan and his titular song, so it’s safe to say you hit the jackpot with your accidental ice-breaker. She’s practically your biggest cheerleader now, cheering you both on as she chauffeurs you to the venue. So wholesome, you can’t even cope with it!

The long car ride quickly morphs into a full-blown party on wheels, complete with blasting tunes and non-stop laughs. Evan’s hair has gotten hella wild lately, so he’s brought his gel along. You help him tame his mane while the chatter, mostly revolving around you, surprisingly chills you out big time. Evan keeps things snug, giving your hand a comforting squeeze or a peck on the forehead every now and then.

At some point, you throw the ball at their court, and the couple starts dishing out stories about themselves; how they met at some random house party, bonding over their affinity for 90s hip-hop. Before you know it, Michelle is diving into hilarious childhood tales about Evan and their brother, Andrew. Like that time Evan attempted to build a treehouse but ended up face-planting into a mud pit, or when they all suited up as superheroes and terrorised the neighbourhood. And of course, there’s Evan’s legendary Sour Patch Kids and PlayStation commercials, complete with their wild backstories.

It’s an absolute blast, and you’re soaking up every juicy detail. With Evan right by you, throwing in his own anecdotes (like the deer mounting tradition with his friends every Christmas in the suburbs, which throws everyone for a loop because not much happens in Missouri), the whole vibe is elevated. You can’t help but laugh and feel all warm and fuzzy inside, realising you’re not just meeting his family—you’re becoming a part of it.

“Feeling okay, baby girl?” Evan whispers, leaving a tender smooch on your neck, his lips like a feather along your needy skin.

You shiver at the touch, a jolt of electricity surging through you. Nodding, you try to wrangle the rave party inside you, but it’s like herding cats.

He rests his head on the seat, facing you, the plush cushion cradling his head in comfort. “You’re sooo beautiful and hot, Y/N,” he mouths, subtly shaking his head as if he can’t believe his luck. “I wish I could kiss and use my fingers on you the way I want,” he blabs quietly, leaning in closer, his face nestled in the crook of your neck.

“Jail time for both of us if you pull that move here…Security,” you giggle softly, and you feel him join you with his shoulders bouncing with laughter.

“I just want you to know how I feel right now, Y/N” he sighs, looking up at you again, his bottom lip rolling over his top one in his precious puppy-eyed pout.

“Evan crying in horny,” you tease in a sultry murmur, sneaking a glance up front to make sure the couple didn’t catch wind of your banter. With a sly grin, you adjust your strapless gown, adding a touch of allure to your playful attitude.

He shoots back with a playful finger-wag in your face, accompanied by a series of rapid “ts-ts-ts” sounds, as if he’s scolding you with his own audio of strong disapproval. “Evan crying in crazy about you,” he corrects, kissing your hand, his irresistibly handsome dark eyes peering into your soul from below.

Tell me you’re a die-hard, hopeless fangirl without telling me you’re a die-hard, hopeless fangirl. Despite Evan’s nudges, you choose to stealthily station in the corner, letting him slay the red carpet. It’s his night, his moment to shine, and you’re his hype woman.

With each flash of his charming smile—sometimes lowkey and tight-lipped, other times broad and toothy—you’re a flurry of activity, your phone’s storage maxing out with snapshots and videos faster than you can say “Blow Evan”. And when he pulls out that signature eye squint and eyebrow raise at the paparazzi’s obnoxious cues, you’re melting faster than ice cream in July.

His face card never freaking declines.

As you both waltz into the party ball, it’s like you’re attracting the night’s energy, twirling around you like a confetti vortex. Your shimmering dress catches the disco lights, transforming you into a walking glitter bomb. With just the right amount of makeup and your natural long hair cascading freely, you’re primed to own the dance floor.

You spot Niecy Nash, radiant in her black velvet off-the-shoulder gown, exuding vibes like she just won the lottery. Oh wait, she did—Supporting Actress in a Limited Series or TV Movie for Dahmer. She high-fives the four of you and fits you all into a hug tighter than a Victorian corset.

Evan introduces you to everyone from the Dahmer crew and other celebrities with the same wide grin, pride, and thrill of a kid who’s just aced a test. His hand remains glued to you throughout the night, caressing along your upper body and often inching towards your ass, as if he’s marking his territory. Possessive much? Yes, but you’re not complaining; you find it fascinating and such a turn-on, especially knowing how naturally affectionate and kind he is. You feel safe in his presence, your bodies are like magnets—drawn together by some transcendent gravitational pull. His grip is firm, but he looks at you with all the heart-eyed emojis in the world, fully smitten.

Poses? Oh, you all nail them like seasoned supermodels on the runway. It’s the typical hand-on-hip, the coy glance over the shoulder, and the patented “I just won an Emmy, bow down, peasants” pose—check, check, and check. And of course, there’s Evan with his props (pipe, avant-garde sunglasses, and black tie), covered in your lipstick marks as he’s photographed with you. The ladies, led by Jessica—Niecy’s wife—even bust out a new dance move right on the spot, celebrating Niecy’s win.

But it’s not just Niecy and Jessica stealing the spotlight tonight. You find yourself mingling with Pedro Pascal, who’s looking dapper as ever in his suit, and Kieran Culkin, who’s cracking jokes faster than the champagne is flowing. You’re laughing so hard, you almost forget you’re rubbing elbows with Hollywood royalty.

As the hours drift by like sand through an hourglass, Evan’s sister and her husband say their goodbyes, inviting you both over for dinner next week. Spotting the opportunity for a minute alone, you and Evan snag in a corner booth, swaying to the loud music beats with your earplugs, kissing in between giggles, clinking glasses, eyes locked, smiles broad.

Close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, Evan nuzzles his nose against yours, his eyes burning into yours. His brows furrow in a silent plea, his chest swelling with anticipation as his hands delicately cup your face.

Before you can even form a coherent thought, he’s already sealing your lips with his, his tongue slowly sliding into your mouth with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

“Do you kn—?” you attempt to articulate, but he’s not having any of it; he’s a changed man in need to do unholy things with you. He silences you with another passionate kiss, a soft, desperate moan escaping his lips along the process.

“Evan,” you manage to murmur into his lips as he subtly sucks your bottom lip.

“Yes, baby,” he hushes, his lips curling into a coy smile as his grip tightens around you.

You loop your arms around his neck, tilting your head with a mischievous grin as you stare deep into his eyes. “I wanna UNO card reverse you.”

His eyebrow quirks up in amusement, his grin turning devilish. “UNO, what? Is this sexual? Subs, please,” he taunts, giving your butt cheeks a playful squeeze, totally unbothered by any nosy onlookers. In your defence, you’re not the only guests caught in a steamy make-out sesh at close vicinity, so why not have a little fun?

“My innocent, millennial baby,” you exclaim, squishing his adorable face with a giggle. “I’m saying, now that most of the press’ gone, how about we find a comfy spot by the beach where we can be alone?” you suggest, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper as you trace circles on his chest with your fingertips. “There, I’ll shower you with kisses,” you continue, and your wetness worsens as you imagine him fucking your mouth, “and finally, I’ll suck your dick until you’re gasping for air and bust in my mouth.”

His eyes darken with desire as you unravel your plan, a low groan slipping off his lips. “Sounds like heaven. Say no more.”

The distant thump of music and the soft glow of fairy lights fades as you and Evan bolt away from the bustling venue, his hand clasped firmly in yours as the adrenaline of the escape courses through your veins. With a shared glance and a mischievous grin, you dart through the shadows like a pair of rebels on the run, laughter fizzing up like a effervescent multivitamin.

Finally reaching the secluded shoreline, you both collapse onto the soft and warm sand — a delicious contrast to the cool breeze that envelops you like a fuzzy blanket. With a cheeky smile, you straddle his lap and sense him already rubbing his rock-hard boner against your pulsating cunt.

His hands find your hips, pulling you closer as he gazes up at you with smouldering intensity. With a low squeal, you lock eyes with him, teasingly licking his bottom lip before sensually sliding your tongue over his upper lip, his pupils following your every move.

With a hungry growl, he captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, his hands roaming over your body with a feverish, almost primal, urgency. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a seductive, almost angelic, silver sheen on the rippling water and his chiselled abs as you loosen his bow tie and unbutton his shirt.

He squeezes your thighs gently, eliciting a soft whimper from you as he begins to explore beneath the hem of your dress. His eyes are immediately drawn to your cleavage, and you feel his heart rate accelerating. You squirm underneath his touch as he starts to trace figure eights on your puffy clit, making it increasingly difficult to focus on stroking his stiff length.

His thumb brushes against the sensitive skin just above the edge of your panties, sending a tremor across your body. “Gosh, you smell so divine...like strawberries,” he huffs, his voice low and husky as he dips his tongue in your mouth, as if he’s planning to bottle your scent up and promote it as the official elixir of happiness. “As sweet as you fucking taste.”

His fingers slip beneath your panties, stroking your bare flesh with deliberate intent. “You’re already so wet for me. Can’t wait for your little pussy to take my cock?” You nod, and your mewls intensify barely muffled by his blazer as you press against his shoulder.

He grins, knowing very well that you’re struggling with your impending screams of pleasure. “Just thinking about how amazing it’s gonna feel when you fuck me,” you manage to coo, your voice thick with lust, and he lowers your strapless dress in a single move, his hands massaging your tits in no time and with expert skill. Meanwhile, he attacks your neck with open-mouthed kisses, his hot breath igniting a wildfire of sensations in you.

Your tits nestle on his chest — the feeling of his naked skin against your hardened nipples only worsens the pool between your thighs. Gathering your strength to strike back, your hand glides to the buckle of his belt, a wicked glint in your eye as you make your move. “But first, imagine my lips wrapped around your dick…” you breathe suggestively into his ear, trailing kisses down his collarbone.

He bobs his head to the side, his teeth clamping down on his bottom lip in a futile attempt to stifle his reactions as you gradually unzip his trousers to liberate the beast hidden behind the layers of fabric.

Just as you fumble around his bulge, your lips never leaving his, a flash of car headlights jolts you. “Evan, someone might catch us,” you gasp, panicking as you shrink into a ball on top of him, frantically adjusting your dress in any which way.

He shoots a quick glance over his shoulder, instinctively pulling you closer to him—his arms a sanctuary of safety. “Chances are slim to none of anyone finding us here, especially at this hour, but…” he trails off, scooping you up his arms in one swift motion. “I don’t want my girl feeling anxious,” he adds as he wades into the cool water, the waves licking gently at his calves. He leads you to a large rock, sheltered from any potential prying eyes.

Gently setting you down in the shallows, you both burst into laughter, splashing around like carefree youth, the water lapping at your skin like an affectionate caress. With each wave that rolls over your feet, the heat between you only escalates.

Pulling his head towards yours for a kiss, you hear him groan, and it instantly sends a shot of arousal through you. Palming and teasing his clothed, overstimulated crotch, you shove your tongue in his mouth, tangling with his and repeatedly sucking on its tip—soon turning the vanilla smooch into a heated, messy kiss that drives you both nuts.

Your mouth dances over the rapid pulse on his neck that’s pumping all the more quicker against your lips. “Someone seemed a tad jealous tonight,” your voice deep with desire yet your gaze holds an lustful mischief he can’t resist. You refrain from dropping any names, curious to see if he’ll take the bait.

“No, I wasn’t, Y/N. I’m not the controlling type of boyfriend who’s gonna stalk your every move like a creepo,” he defends with a furrow forming on his brow before his hands smooth over your ass and deliver a sharp yet affectionate smack. “I know you’re all mine, my girl… my dirty little slut when I want you to be,” the syllables come out strained like he’s on the brink of losing control.

Bingo—he falls right into your playful trap. You fix at him with an intense gaze, a triumphant grin already spreading across your face. “I never said it was you, poor, naïve baby of mine,” you chirp, puckering your lips as you punctuate each word with gentle, harmless slaps and pinches to his cheek.

He shoots you a glare when you burst out laughing, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Oh, you wanna play dirty, then? I’ll show you dirty, and you’ll be sorry,” he fights back. You feel his fingers sliding along your soaked slit, applying tantalising pressure on your sore clit.

Closing your eyes, you fight the urge to indulge in your orgasm, humming, “I won’t” as you nibble on his lower lip to tone down your little sobs of delight.

“Oh, yeah? You won’t?” he exclaims, and his touch becomes immediately rougher. His fingers plunge, twirl, and scissor in and out of you with increasing fervour. Your moans crescendo to a feverish pitch, drowning out his ragged breaths. You don’t even realise he’s muttering curses under his breath as he fingers you relentlessly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Evan,” you cry out the mantra as the familiar, tingly feeling at the pit of my stomach tips you over the edge of your high.

And just like that, he withdraws his fingers from your throbbing core. His gaze flickers downwards at his hand—now all drenched and glistening with your cum—as he cups your chin, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Take back what you just said,” he demands, his voice tinged with desire.

“I won’t. You robbed me of my orgasm,” your protest, arms crossed over your chest in mock offence.

Tilting his head, he gives you a goofy smile, his eyes focused on your mouth as his fingers trace your pouted lips.

A mischievous smirk curls up the corners of your lips as you take his thumb in your mouth, sucking it seductively. “But I have a big heart, so I forgive you,” you mutter, releasing his thumb with a tantalising pop before kneeling down in front of his bulge. Your lips glisten with the precum from his boxers as you eagerly wet them, ready for what’s to come.

Before he can even register your moves, his head drops, jaw slackening until all twenty-eight of his teeth are on full display in a crooked, pearly smile.

Your tongue glides down the length of his cock, taking him deeper until your lips are hugging snugly around the base. He can’t quite keep up with your fervent pace, his throat constricting as a chorus of desperate groans escape him. “F-fuckkk,” he stutters, his voice rising to a whimper, “Feels so good, baby. So goddamn good.”

His rosy lips can’t stop their blabbering, mind shrinking into a blissful void, where the only thing of significance is your talented mouth working its magic between his legs. As your tongue flicks and swirls, he buckles his legs out, his soft touch on your head tightening, fisting up your strands almost aggressively.

Your nails drag lightly down his thighs, your shoulders rising as you splutter around him, choking on the way he fills you whole while you deep-throat him.

“Got the prettiest eyes. So-so fucking gorgeous,” he rasps, gazing back down at you with a mix of awe and adoration, his pupils blown in a battling mess of love and lust as your eyes find him.

“D-don’t stop, please, please,” he gasps, a sudden thrust of his hips causing your teeth to slightly pierce against his sensitive flesh that keeps forcing itself down your throat.

Yet, his cries are cut short by a final, guttural moan that draws itself out long and conclusive. You watch as his body locks up and his Adam’s apple bounces like crazy, his muscles as solid as the rock he leans against.

His eyes glaze over all blank before they roll back, his long lashes casting a shadow against his flushed face. With your cheeks hollowed, you bob your head slowly, letting him plummet through the tides of euphoria.

The impulse to milk him dry of absolutely everything he has to give consumes you, but you rein it to get your revenge, so you stop. He stares down at you with eyes wide open, his breath uneven. You can’t decipher his expression as you stand back up and land mere inches from his face.

Although you’re at your full height, he still towers over you, and you swallow nervously when he scoffs.

“You think you can slide away with that one so easily, huh?” he mumbles in a low, stern tone, his breaths coming in wheezy puffs. Running a hand from your jaw down to your chest, he gropes your boobs, biting his lip as he does.

You rest over the edge of the rock, your smirk and raised brow are what you hope to be indicators of your ‘playing cool’ demeanour despite your misconduct.

“I might be head over heels for you,” he pauses, letting out a soft groan as his fingertips brush the slimy product of your arousal on the inside of your thigh.

You settle back onto the sandy surface of the water before the rock, murmuring, “Aham?” and biting your lip, your mocking gaze fixed on him.

“But…” he continues, halting only to clear his throat as if to regain his composure. “...it irks me when you blow me so damn well and then deny me the finish.”

“Awh… how dare I, baby Evan, right?” you scowl at him playfully, puckering your lips again in feigned shock. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You feel his erection against your lower stomach as he stretches out over you to grab his floating bow tie. “I’m gonna edge you until you’re crying and begging me to let you cum. Easy peasy.”

“I’d never beg for you–” You don’t even get to complete your sentence, and his lips collide into yours in a raw, animalistic force that takes you by surprise. You already fold (Question is: when are you not folding for Evan Peters?), even knowing you’re just getting started.

“You were warned,” he retorts, his voice a deep, commanding growl. Each word carries a weighty timbre, as if it’s coming from the depths of his chest. He ties your wrists above your head, securing them to a small stone jutting from the main rock, leaving you completely at his mercy with no wriggle room.

His lips leave a blazing path of kisses over your cleavage down to your stomach, his hot breath tingling your skin. Spreading your legs, he hovers over you with a sly grin.

You feel his quivery breath on your inner thighs as he plants tender pecks and playful nips, teasingly close to your folds. Arching your back, your dripping pussy convulses in anticipation. He giggles at your reaction, his stare fixed on you. Without warning, his tongue starts lapping up your juices, and you squeal in pleasure.

He can’t help but groan at your taste, his cock twitching in his trousers as he shifts up, his mouth latching onto your clit, sucking and nibbling.

“Fuck!” you gasp, your hands threading into his hair. You hold his face between your legs, and you can practically sense his smirk against your flesh as electricity sparks through you.

When he starts whirling your clit with his tongue, his growls vibrating through your core, you lose your shit. You feel like coming right away as he stimulates your most sensitive spot, but he draws back. “Beg,” he commands through gritted teeth.

“Never,” you shoot back out of breath, and that’s when he dives in headfirst. His lips suck on your clit even harder while his tongue ruthlessly slides along your slit, leaving you crying out but not yet caving.

You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms, as you squirm under his touch. But he only tightens his grip on your thigh, devouring you like he’s famished.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he chuckles, momentarily backing away to catch his breath. His tongue then alternates between tracing patterns on your pulsing nub and flicking it with his tip. Your fingers scrape at his scalp as ecstasy builds higher and higher the faster he fucks into you.

He’s so invested in pleasuring you, his tongue twisting and twirling along your gummy, slopping walls. No one has ever volunteered to lick you up, let alone enjoy it themselves and make you see stars so effortlessly. You always had to ask for it like it’s a task, and all your pussy has only known is just some spit, a cursory touch down there just to moisture the area, and all in they went.

Evan’s nose lightly nuzzles against your clit as his tongue does wonders on your sobbing, red cunt, leaving your mind all foggy. You bite down on your hand to contain your moans, but they only get higher, and you accept your fate that you won’t last long.

Not wanting to let up, he merely grunts against you, sending seismic waves through your body that cause your pussy to pulsate around his mouth.

“Evan,” you choke out, tears streaming down your eyes from how amazing he makes you feel. You circle your hips against his face, whining when he pulls his tongue out of you but squealing when he slams two long fingers deep inside, hitting right at your g-spot.

“Say it,” he hisses against your swollen cunt, his eyes on you. Your hips jolt up, the water becoming all foamy as you splash around, thighs shaking as he licks and fingers you through your orgasm.

“Okay… ahh… okay, f-fuck…” you stammer. “Let me cum p-please… I…I… ahh… I need to please.”

And right there, when you feel drained of dignity, he jams his tongue back inside. He performs a swirling dance, coupled with clit-sucking, that makes you lose your mind, your legs growing wobbly.

“That’s my girl…” he coos. “So fucking pretty for me. Such pretty fucking sounds.”

Your earth-shattering orgasm hits you like an earthquake, and you cry out his name loudly. Your vision blurs as you fight for breath. You’re always so gorgeous when you come for him— splayed out on display, legs spread, pussy leaking, tits flowing as your chest heaves, body coated in a shimmering of sweat. The look of sheer pleasure in your darkened eyes is a sight he’ll never tire of.

He slows his tongue, gently blowing warm air on the sides of your vulva, easing you through the aftershocks of your release. It’s exactly what you need right now to calm down, to be honest. He slips his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his lips, a greedy look in your eyes as you watch him suck his fingers clean. He nearly makes a show of it, groaning before letting them pop from his mouth.

“I was so right about the sweet taste,” he praises, “almost wondering what I should do with you next.” He smirks crookedly at the way you instantly pout, letting out a soft whine, “what, baby?”

“Need you,” you sigh, smiling lazily at him.

“Yeah?” his hand comes back between your legs, palming at your throbbing cunt. “Need what? My fingers again?” His index delves back in, but only for one thrust, your pussy fluttering around his finger as it stretches you out, “My mouth? Or something else?”

“Your cock, please!”

He chuckles, reaching up to free you from the confines of his bow tie. You react instantly and lash out at him, plunging deeper into the water, the world above suddenly muted and serene. Underwater, you open your eyes, catching a blurry glimpse of Evan’s sly grin before he propels himself towards you with strong, graceful strokes.

You feel a gush of enthusiasm as he grabs you from the waist, drawing you close. The warmth of his body goes against the cool water, sending a tremor down your spine. With a quick, smooth motion, Evan leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate sub-aquatic kiss.

The sensation is electric. Surrounded by a bubble ring, your bodies entwine as you lose yourselves in each other, the salty water mingling with the sweet heat of the kiss. His hands explore your back, touching the curves of your body in well-executed strokes that make your heart go into override.

You both swim to the surface, gasping for air but not letting go of each other. The crispy evening air clashes sharply with your heated bodies. He breaks the kiss, a teasing spark in his eyes. “So, you accept defeat?” he murmurs huskily, wiping droplets from your plump lips with a mischievous smile.

You giggle, playfully pushing him back with a splash but maintaining the hold you have on him. “Never,” you reply, eyes daring him. He responds with a deep, hearty laugh that rumbles through you before he dives back underwater.

Emerging right in front you with a wide grin, he kisses you harder, hands framing your face, his tongue dancing with yours in a fiery connection. His fingers trace your jawline before tangling in your hair, gently tugging you closer. Your pulse races, and every nerve in your body seems to come alive with his touch.

“Okay, maybe I’ll accept a little defeat on one condition…” you hesitate, smiling bashfully as you run your hands through his hair.

Reciprocating the smile, he sweeps a wet strand of hair away from your face. “What is it? What do you need?" he asks, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Tell me, Y/N...I know you want it. Don’t be shy.”

You give him another playful nudge, rolling your eyes. “My condition’s that you go full force tonight, and fuck me hard.”

His eye pupils dilate with desire, a crooked smirk forming. “Oh, rest assured I plan to,” he affirms, his voice dripping with anticipation. “Consider it a done deal my dear,” he adds, sealing the “agreement” with one last, lingering kiss.

As you both stroll back to the place Evan recently rented near the venue, the salty night swim still clings on your skin. Your laughter mingles with the gentle chirping of crickets in the distance. Semi-damp from the ocean, the night breeze brings goosebumps.

Evan’s hand is warm and reassuring as he guides you inside. The place is spacious and welcoming, dimly lit with soft, ambient lighting that casts a romantic haze over everything. The furniture is arranged for comfort and intimacy—plush cushions adorn a deep sofa, inviting you to sink in. A rich throw blanket adds warmth. Nearby, a rustic coffee table holds curios and books, complementing the room’s cosy feel.

Tasteful artwork and subtle floral arrangements enhance the tranquil atmosphere, making it the perfect backdrop for a night of both erotic intimacy for cuddles or foreplay and the we-fuck-like-rabbits kind of sex.

He locks the door behind you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re still dripping,” he teases, wiggling his brows with a mischievous grin even though he can clearly tell you’re almost dry.

“I think we should get out of these soaked clothes before we catch a cold,” he advises, tossing the keys in a bowl and peeling off his black blazer. “Then, it’s straight upstairs, hopping into the bed together. Instead of a tea and a blanket, how about we turn up the heat by banging till the crack of dawn?”

Your laughter fills the hallway at his suggestion as you unzip your gown, deliberately pausing halfway to glance back at him cheekily, your clutch bag still in your hands. He’s practically drooling like a cartoon dog, eyeing you. “Yeah, no kidding,” you quip, flashing him a wicked grin.

His gaze follows your every move, drinking in the sight of you, a coy smirk playing on his lips as he rolls up his shirt sleeves. You hold his gaze, daring him to look as you indulge in an impromptu striptease, each movement more sensual than the last.

He draws closer, his belt hanging loose, his shirt already halfway undone, showcasing the taut muscles of his chest. “Let me give you a hand,” he mumbles, deftly gliding the zipper down the curve of your ass.

His fingers travel along your lower back and hipbones, guiding you to turn and face him. Pulling you closer, he plants a trail of kisses from your collarbone to the gentle swell of your breasts.

“You’re not playing fair,” you whisper, your voice low and teasing. “But I love it.”

“Fair is boring and overrated,” he retorts with a smirk, and your breath hitches as his robust hands cup your bare tits, his tongue assaulting your mouth in ways that soak your panties. His hands roam over your body, tracing every contour as if memorising your shape and texture.

The air is charged, dense with unspoken desires. “Y/N,” his lips brush against yours, his hot and laboured breath fanning your face. He hoists you up onto a nearby surface, his bulge pressing against your heat. “I want all of you so badly, I’m not gonna get you pregnant,” he vows, and you both giggle.

For context, you’ve mutually been dealing with some serious baby fever lately and already had the talk—hence the inside joke lightening the mood.

His eyes lock onto yours as he helps you out of your gown, letting it pool at your feet before landing on the floor. He swallows hard at the sight of you in just your underwear. Holding his stare, his tongue gets all tangled with yours, his fingers shifting to stroke the hard nub of your clit. Broken sobs escape your mouth as your hips start to move in sync with the onslaught of his hand, turning you into a writhing, mewling mess.

Just as you feel yourself slipping off the furniture, Evan quickly and safely moves you both to a nearby kitchen chair, positioning you on top of him. Taking control, you roughen the kiss, fully removing his shirt and rubbing your wet centre against his overstimulated, erected member.

In this moment, time stands still, and you lose yourself in the intoxicating bliss of each other’s presence. It’s not just physical; it’s a meeting of minds, a fusion of hearts.

He grips your hips, matching your grinding rhythm as you feel him harden and twitch beneath you.

“Fuck you’ve got me all wrapped around your little finger,” he growls, his cock almost weeping against your cunt, begging to be paid attention to.

Suddenly, his phone springs to life on the hallway, buzzing insistently, its screen lighting up like a beacon of disruption in the dim room.

“Leave it,” he groans against your neck, evidently prioritising pleasure over duty. The sound is jarring, opposing the tender whispers and the heated panting that filled the space just moments before.

“Take it, Evan. It might be an emergency,” you prompt, climbing off him while his hands linger on your butt.

With an exasperated huff, he rolls his eyes as you reach for the device. “It’s my mum,” he grumbles. His thumb hovers over the screen for a moment as if debating whether to answer or decline.

“Just take it,” you persist, and he clicks his tongue, picking it up with a heavy sigh.

“Hey, mum?”

With a playful peck, signalling your intention to slip away, you mouth, “Give my regards.”

He smirks slyly and gives your ass a playful smack before you gracefully slither toward the staircase. He watches you ascend with a bitten lip, torn between you and the conversation, only half-listening to his mom. As you reach the midpoint of the stairs, you pause to remove your panties, flicking towards him with a swift flourish.

With reflexes rivalling those of a wild animal, he snatches them mid-air, his gaze never wavering from yours. Bringing the panties to his nose, he inhales your essence encapsulated within the fabric, a fond smile gracing his lips. Pretending as if you’re no longer around, he theatrically sneaks the underwear in his pocket, giving you a playful wink at the end of his act to reveal his true intentions.

“Yes, mum, the ceremony was spectacular,” he reports, his voice strained with distraction. “No, I didn’t win this time around, but it’s all good. No hard feelings. It was nice to hang out with Michelle and others at the party.”

A brief pause ensues before he adds, “Yeah, Y/N is here with me, says hi. Yes, mum...if you need to be sure of, it’s that I’m taking very good care of Y/N… We’re going to Michelle’s next Thursday for dinner…” His eyes stay locked on you as you reach the top of the stairs, his focus still divided.

You disappear into the bedroom, just as inviting, with a large, plush king-sized bed draped in soft linens. You leave the door slightly ajar and sprawl on the centre of the bed. You hear him carrying over the conversation, clearly flustered. “Soon. We’ll come round soon. Gotta go, mum, but we’ll catch up more tomorrow, okay? I’ll phone you. Kisses to dad and Andrew. Love you all.”

He ends the call hastily, tossing the phone aside, and practically flies up the stairs to join you. Eagerness and passion are written all over his face when he bursts into the room. “Couldn’t wait another sec–” he stops mid-sentence when he catches you right in action, dipping two fingers into your slick folds, mouth agape.

With his blazer and shirt back on probably to facetime his mum, he gulps hard and folds his arms across his chest, leaning against the door frame to admire you. You prop yourself on your elbows, knees bent and facing up as you gather your arousal and bring it up to your clit, swirling it in small, intricate circles.

“That should be my dick doing this to you, baby girl,” he protests, his brows knitted together, his tone rigid yet painted with passion. His expression softens to a hushed murmur when he observes you throw your head back, lips slightly parted in a seductive invite, softly whining his name as you continue to touch yourself.

As if in a trance, he kneels at the edge of the bed, chucking his blazer and shirt away. Crawling up towards you, he peppers tender kisses along your throbbing pussy, making you giggle in delight.

“Then, show me what your dick can do to me,” you challenge with a coy smirk, moaning softly as he licks his way up your lips for a harsh, heated kiss.

He groans, his forehead resting against yours, his breath heavy and ragged. “God, Y/N, you have no idea what you do to me,” he rasps, his voice thick with need.

He floats deep between your open legs, and you help him shuck his trousers off without breaking the kiss. His hand wraps around his cock as you hungrily fondle his muscular upper body, his thumb smearing the pre-cum around it as he lets out a soft grunt, “Fuck… you always get me so hard,” he sighs, his tip sliding along your slippery folds, coating it with your juices.

“Evan…please,” you moan, your hips desperately rocking in tune with his rhythm.

“Please what?” He beckons to you with a tilt of his chin and arches a brow in your direction as he slides a condom along his member. He continues his torturous movement, eliciting louder your whimpers from you.

“I want it.”

His devilish grin expands all over his face as he looks down on you. “Use your words, baby girl,” he urges as his tongue grazes his side teeth, his lustful eyes narrowing.

“Please, fuck me!”

“That’s what I wanna hear, baby.” He leans over you again, capturing your thirsty lips in a kiss as he lines up his hips. Satisfied moans slip off you both as his cock sinks into your heat. He fills your warmth completely until his hips are seated against yours, and you can both feel your pussy clenching around him.

“Stay in me for life,” you chuckle breathlessly, and nods eagerly, his hand holding your wrists over your head while pounding in and out with breathy groans.

Your legs eagerly wrap around his waist, pushing him deeper into you, and he makes a home in the edge of your lips, his breath searing on your skin as he starts panting. He sets a steady, agonising pace— just fast enough to have you shivering and mewling in his arms but still slow enough to savour every bit of it; to make sure you’re sensing every inch and drag of his thick dick buried in your cunt, to get it wetter with each thrust of his hips.

As you synchronise your tongue sucking with the way he slams into you, he can’t help but moan loud into your mouth, and your stomach flips. He bucks reflexly, and you begin to move up and down his satiny shaft.

“Let me ride you, baby Evan,” you sigh with begging eyes and taunt him by pulling out momentarily to slick his head with your cum.

He clasps onto your hips again and lifts you up. That’s to slide his cock in and join your lips together once more before you get on top. You gasp, clutching the broad, sturdy expanse of his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him.

You begin to bounce on his cock, throwing your head back as he marvels at your breasts, your nipples hard from excitement and titillation. “Boobs for days, I’m the luckiest guy alive,” he cries out, grinning and biting down his lips as he grabs your tits in each hand, kneading the sensitive mounds.

He then levers his torso up so your breasts can jiggle against his chest, his hands behind supporting you on the small of your back. The squelching noises of you pussy mixed with your mutual moans echo through the room, and every time he drives his cock deeper into it, you feel new sensations, your entire body starting to shake in pure euphoria.

“Holy shit, you ride my cock like my little naughty slut,” he praises as his dick drills into you again and again.

“O-o-nly for you,” you stutter as you plop down on top of him with shallow groans. He smirks knowingly at you, his eyes drowning into yours. Running his fingers across your parted lips, he lets his hand and eyes glide along your upper half. With a hungry growl as if he can’t take it anymore, his hips begin to bounce into the air, making you lightheaded as he snaps into you even harder and faster.

“Don’t cum for your baby Evan just yet,” he pleads as he grabs onto your breasts again, circling his thumb and pointer finger around your erect nipples.

He releases your boobs and moves downwards to grab your thighs, using the leverage to flip you around so you’re on all fours. His hands rest lustfully between your neck and jaw as you look up at him with imploring eyes.

He clutches the back of your head, and your lips collide into a sloppy kiss before he stretches you out again with his impressive length. From that angle, your cunt eats up his cock hungrily as he soon begins to strike your cervix. You feel his cock jump inside you and his body jerks, his balls continuously slapping against your clit.

Your wailing sounds resonate in the room, his grip hardening on your hips and neck, and you know he’ll leave bruises but you couldn’t care less. You’ve never been fucked like this before, and you you’re now addicted. He works hard, drilling into you, until you feel the knot of your release stiffening.

Your legs quiver more as your orgasm rips and shudders through you with newfound potency, heightened by Evan unrelenting thrusts into you at his usual harsh pace.

Tears of overstimulation prickle your eyes until his hips finally still, and he spills his warm, fresh load onto you you with a primal growl. Collapsing lightly onto your back, he affectionately hugs you from behind, peppering soft kisses at the back of your neck with heaving gasps.

Your legs continue to shake as you tightly grip his forearm, your cunt spasming around his cock from the aftershocks of your multiple orgasms.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

“Perfect.” you exhale, smiling faintly, stealing another soft kiss.

The rest of the world fades away, leaving nothing but the two of you, lost in the outcome of pure passion.

You jump from the bathroom and flick off the light switch, the sound of the flushing toilet subsiding in the background. You stride across the dark room, vigorously shaking your hands dry. The moon’s silvery radiance seeps through the window and bathes your naked body, casting attractive shadows on your slender figure.

You stop by the bedside table and take a few sips of water. Lying in bed, a sheet draped around his lower body and exposing his sculpted chest, Evan spies your every move. In one fluid motion, he sits up with a coy grin on his lips, his gaze always following you.

“You scrubbed every last bit of me in the bathroom, huh?” he mocks with a thumbs up, his lips curling into a crooked smile.

You glance back at him with a smirk, your hair flipping in the air with grace. “Didn’t you take off the condom and splatter all over my thighs? Well, I had to clean your babies off me and pee to avoid a UTI. It’s post-sex 101, didn’t you learn that in school, Mr. Know-It-All?” you fire back with a raised eyebrow.

He chuckles, unable to resist his eyes wandering over you, appreciating your beauty. “I barely remember my name when I’m with you.”

You tiptoe your way to him, playfully sweeping the blankets and cushions that now clutter the floor. As you climb up the bed, a mischievous grin adorns your face. With your eyes locked on him, you begin to crawl like a lioness, closing the distance between you with allure.

His breath hitches as he watches you slither closer to him. Smiling mischievously, his eyes light up with a mixture of anticipation and passion.

He pretends to ponder over something, scratching his newly shaven chin, his eyes squinting in a mock display of deep thought. “Hmm, that’s a tough one. Give me a hint...like the initial?”

Your eyes widen in theatrical surprise, your mouth resting slightly ajar as you feign mock-offence. You nudge his shoulder away, gently sending him tumbling him back in bed.

You lie next to him, your eyes fixed on each other. You slide your hand down and playfully squeeze his knuckles together until he winces in slight discomfort. “Does it ring any bells now?” you insist and exert a bit more pressure.

Evan, caught off guard, finally gives in. “Y/N! Y/N! Your name’s Y/N!” he cries out and instinctively grips your wrist in defence, your bracelet subtly clinking.

He takes hold of your other wrist and playfully immobilises you on one of the pillows, sliding on top of you with ease.

You squeak in delight, a giggle rippling off your mouth. “You’re not just awesome, you’re practically a one-woman army,” he chuckles out with a wide grin, unable to look away from you.

As you stare at each other intently, the erratic tempo of your heartbeats fills the silence. “I love you,” he murmurs out of the blue, his eyes swimming into yours.

Wheezing quietly, your eyes instinctively widen in shock at the three words that hang in the air between them. For a moment, the entire universe seems to stand still, suspended in the gravity of his confession. You feel a rush of emotions flood through you—joy, disbelief, and a profound sense of warmth that flushes your cheek.

“I... I love you too,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. A tremulous smile spreads across your lips, tears glistening in your eyes as he closes the distance between you in a heartbeat.

Without reluctance, you surrender, pouring all the love and tenderness you feel into the kiss.

“Y/N... Tron shoot’s kicking off again soon. Would you come to Canada with me?”

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