#popcorn cocktail

[lifeofloon]

After show dinner snacks and tiki drinks at Tonga Hut. Love some Palm Springs fun.

[rubyiiiusions]

thinking about if boom eggman shipped sonadow and he was very vocal about it. as in he'd see sonic and shadow fighting, sigh, grab a megaphone and yell "KISS ALREADY"

[sweetestpopcorn]

Her father's favorite, Queen of her own right, riding a dragon, can practice incest without being humiliated by peasants, marrying a Targaryen prince.

Rhaenyra's life is literally Cersei's dream 😂

Don't forget had her children's genuine love and respect, had self love and didn't need to use her body to get things - her existence was enough to get them to fight for her - was a Targaryen, had a much cooler name "The Realm's Delight" and much better real name too, was much more fashionable... this goes on for a while 😂

[seednft]

Worldwide bartenders Project- Cocktails, tastes and sensations from all over the world!

[vaguelyhauntedcornfield]

Whoever gave the foods for that American food poll is clearly either west or east coast. No one from the south would slander good food like that, and no one from the midwest would neglect to mention the atrocities that every aunt or neighbor brings to potlucks. If you’ve suffered thru the mayo and jello based salads and the Frankensteined casseroles, you know they belong on there over grits, biscuits and gravy, and boiled peanuts. Also like, the basic white person from the suburbs meal of boiled/baked chicken, steamed broccoli, and steamed carrots, all with no seasoning…that should honestly have a spot too

[imminentinertia]

Happy Good Omens S2 Day for those who celebrate!

[slushiecoaus]

With more than 16 years of experience, The Slushie Co. is your one-stop shop for slushie and soft serve machines. From hireable slushy machines to fairy floss machines, popcorn machines, consumables and more.

[fernandospolaor-blog]

Spoiler !!! @pinocchiocucina #fernandospolaor #drink #cocktail #popcorn #circo (em Pinocchio Cucina) https://www.instagram.com/p/CnqUK0VudMb/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Healthy Habits To Look & Feel Your Best Without Restriction or Unrealistic Routines

Realistic ways to maintain a healthy life/body/appearance (size and weight are all personal, not the most important metric – for certain). No diet culture or delulu-land tips here.

What I've done to maintain my 30-pound weight loss for over a decade, glowing clear skin (no pimples or discoloration, etc.), and super healthy, full & shiny hair, still living life and enjoying it – the mindful way.

Eat home-cooked meals & (plant-based) whole foods – 90-95% of the time

Incorporate at least 1 salad into my daily routine (either a large, hearty lunch salad or a simple green salad as a starter with dinner)

Include at least 1 fruit/vegetable in every meal or snack

Never restrict food groups – whole grains/potatoes, healthy fats, protein-rich plant foods, and produce are all essential to consume every day

Focus on meals, but have whole food snack options on hand to enjoy if genuinely hungry (mainly fruit, lupini beans, edamame, carrots/celery/cucumber with hummus, plain popcorn, handful of almonds/cashews)

Have breakfast after one coffee (before a second) and have dinner late enough (8-9:30 pm) to curb late-night hunger

Only have fruit and tea after dinner; Always stop consuming food at least 3 hours before bed for better sleep/digestion

Order whatever I want when going out to eat, but split dessert

Have at least one indulgent meal/dessert per week

No sugary cocktails – wine, champagne/prosecco, martinis, gin & tonic, margarita, French Connection, Sambuca, Grappa, tequila on the rocks, etc. are great options. Bellinis/fruit plus wine/spirits cocktails are a good middle ground. Sugary drinks worsen the hangover – big-time

Perceive healthy eating as a form of enjoyment, creativity, and nourishment, not restriction or deprivation (it's not if done liberally enough)

Consume a vitamin B12 and vitamin D supplement daily. Keep digestive enzymes on hand for when they're necessary

Always have a large glass of water first thing in the morning (before coffee) and by my side all day long

No soda, juices, sugary drinks, etc. Black coffee, tea, and water only on the daily – wine and no-sugar alcoholic drinks on rare occasions. Smoothies can be a great snack or breakfast, though!

Incorporate an (almost) daily walk into my schedule as a form of exercise and a mental health reset (I aim for 4-5 miles/10Kish steps per day on average)

Do short, low-impact strengthen training exercises 3x a week (15-30 mins each usually) for bone health & toning

Never forcing myself to do strenuous exercise/workout formally in a gym – it's not for me; it doesn't make me feel/look better and throws my hunger & energy levels way off. To each their own, though

Have a variety of playlists ready to go for waking up, working, dancing, walking/workouts, doing chores, and reading/relaxing

Internalizing that sexual health is a core aspect of your health & well-being – on all counts

Maintaining a simple skincare routine 2x per week with high-quality products and a couple of weekly treatments

Prioritizing my body care routine with as much as my facial skincare routine

Wearing at least SPF 30 daily

Exfoliating 2-3x per week

Learning what hair products work for my hair type; Using a deep conditioning mask and a scalp mask weekly

Using only cold water when washing my hair

Incorporating face & body massages into my weekly at-home routine

Using Uriage lip balm, hand cream, and deodorant religiously

Flossing 1-2 times a day/using an electric toothbrush

[cumulo-stratus]

reader being flustered at small touches from Spencer? like touch-starved spencer who would be all over reader when alone?

Fantozzi[s.r]

The BAU decides to have a movie night at Rossi's house, and Spencer you and Spencer find a quiet corner to sit in. You both fall asleep and cuddling ensues..

WARNINGS- established relationship, pronouns used, mentions of alcohol

Spencer reid x male reader ][ fluff, secret relationship ][ masterlist

a/n- ugh this is so cute, i know it's a little different but i hope you enjoy anon!

1.3k

It was a quiet night at Rossi's. The team had gathered for a quiet night together, and Rossi graciously offered up his mansion. 

By 8:30, everyone had arrived and was gathered in the large living room sipping on various drinks from cocktails, to seltzer. You and Spencer arrived together, as you had driven him straight from the office after finishing the never ending paperwork. 

Everyone was spread out on the various leather couches, settees, and chairs. You and Spencer had found a spot next to each other on a large chair. Spencer was sunk into the large saggy chair, and you were perched on the wide armrest, leaning against Spencer's side, a seltzer in your hand. Spencer's hand loosely gripped yours discreetly at your side. 

Spencer got clingy when he was tired, and by clingy I mean touchy. But you guys had not exactly told the team about your relationship yet, so Spencer had to settle for discreetly holding your hand. 

Neither you nor your boyfriend had been paying much attention to the conversations going on around you, until Penelope called you and your boyfriend's name. 

“Brainiac, Pretty Boy, we’re watching a movie for team bonding! What do you wanna watch?” Penelope's voice was giddy as she yelled across the room to the couple. Everyone gave a collective eye roll when she said team bonding, as while you and Spencer weren't paying attention, there had been extensive arguing over watching a movie, and penelope's main argument was that it would serve as “team bonding”. Everyone dismissed it first until hotch nodded and agreed with Penelope- it was settled.

“Derek wants to watch die hard, and although I love my chocolate thunder- no. JJ thinks 10 things i hate about you, and Rossi wants to watch some old italian movie-” Penelope was interrupted in the middle of listing the options by an annoyed Rossi, “its Fantozzi actually, a cinematic masterpiece of the 70’s..” Rossi would've continued, but Penelope waved him off and continued listing. 

“And I think we should watch the princess bride, aka the best option!” Penelope spoke with a giddy glee, but her face fell when Spencer gained a look of confusion and asked what that movie was about. 

“You’ve never seen Princess Bride?? Spencer Walter Reid- I demand we watch it right now.” Spencer was a little taken aback by Penelope's insistence, but obliged, agreeing to watch the movie. 

Not 30 minutes later, the lights were off and Rossi tried to figure his own TV while JJ made popcorn. Eventually Penelope just took the remote out of Rossi's hand, tired of him struggling. 

“I'll take that as my cue to get popcorn” Spencer said as he lifted himself with a heave from the large leather chair. But you grabbed his arm with a pout on your lips at the loss of warmth, “where are you going?”

Spencer chuckled lightly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze as he comforted you,  “well you want popcorn right?” Spencer's tone was a bit teasing, but loving nonetheless. 

“fiiiine!” You let go of Spencer's hand and sigh dramatically, flopping back into the large leather seat as Spencer turns his back to you, chuckling, to get popcorn. 

A few minutes later, Spencer returned with a big bowl of buttery popcorn and a blanket he'd picked up on the way in his arms, a timid smile on his lips. 

Your face lit up despite the now dark room when your boyfriend entered. “Popcorn!!” You spoke with glee and Spencer smiled at his boyfriend. 

Everyone began to take their places and you and your boyfriend settled in next to each other. There was a blanket over you and Spencer's laps, and the large popcorn bowl sat on top. Spencer leaned into his boyfriend's side, causing you to blush a bit  at the contact, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.

The movie started, and everyone was silent, enjoying the movie. And by the time they had gotten to the fight scene on the cliff, the amount of comments you heard coming from your right had died down. 

When you noticed the lack of facts about fencing, or the architecture, or something, you looked down at your boyfriend, to find him half asleep, his chin resting on his fist. 

His eyes were half closed, and he took long blinks, before perking up again for a second.

“Spence?”

The sound of your voice startled him, causing him to jump a bit and rub his eyes saying, “yeah I'm awake- I'm here-” your boyfriend was very clearly not very awake. 

Less than a minute later, Spencer was falling asleep in his hand again. You just sighed and smiled to yourself knowing he needed the sleep. 

By the time you got to the halfway point in the movie, you felt a weight slump against your shoulder. You didn't have to look to know it was Spencer. 

You could already feel the heat creeping up your cheeks and behind your ears at the contact. Spencer was clinging to you like a koala, which he tended to do in his sleep often. 

Spencer didn't get a ton of physical love as a kid, and not much as a teen and young adult- so meeting you was a bit of a change. But a very welcome change. 

Spencer shifted a bit, and his face was now tucked into your neck, his arms were wrapped tightly around you, and one of his legs slightly overlapping with yours. 

You were a puddle pretty much, but your head was on a swivel, making sure your coworkers were too absorbed in the movie to notice the two guys cuddling in the back. 

But that didn't last long as within minutes your head had dipped down to lay on Spencer's, your eyelids getting heavier by second. 

Finally, the weight became too much and you let your eyes stay closed this time, drifting off peacefully as you snuggled farther into Spencer, forgetting where you were. 

Spencer was woken up by the lights being turned on, blinding him a bit despite his eyes being closed. Still half asleep, Spencer grumbled a bit and shifted around, trying to stuff his face further into your shoulder to block out the light.

But what caused him to lift his head from the warmth and peace of your neck, was the sound of giggling and the click of a photo being taken. When Spencer finally managed to peel his eyes open, he found most of the team staring at him. And then he remembered why they were probably staring. 

there were some mixed reactions, as previously mentioned- penelope was giggling to herself at the photo she had just taken. Both JJ and Emily had unsurprised smiles on their faces. Your boss smiled at your boyfriend and shook his head slightly. Rossi just didn’t care, more interested in his cigar.

Spencer was finally awake enough to register what was going on and blushed, hard. Even the tips of his ears were pink as he tucked a piece of hair behind it like he always did. Spencer looked down, stuttering. 

“I- well, he was tired and he- he didn’t mean to fall asleep on me and-“

Derek cut him off, “so, pretty boy and brainiac huh, took ‘em long enough,” Derek was dismissive, it was no surprise to him. He didn't miss the glances you threw at each other from across the room.

You were blissfully unaware of what the whole team had witnessed as you finally came too, mumbling something about five more minutes to spencer. Spencer couldn't help but have a lovesick smile on his face at your cuteness, the big strong FBI agent with a gun- grumbling about five more minutes in the lanky genius’s arms.

The End

Taglist- @spencers1wifey | @mvndfvelds | @mindfullycriminal | @luce-reid |@ferrjulie | @khxna | @il0vebeingdelulu

join my taglist here

[k-looking-glass-house]

Let's cheer and drink "santé"!!

Glorious Masquerade Cocktail~

To celebrate Glorious Masquerade, with the help huuuuh more like "Heeeelllppp meeee Grimm! Popcorn !!!

And they helped me !! Yaaay cocktail, Champagne for everyone and mocktail for little one who can't drink obviouuuussslyyy !!

(Imagine me behind the scene drinking Champy'.... And dancing a bit tipsy like a frenchy baby....)🍾🥂

And soooo thanks @twiwoncrackpopcorn to find the name for everyone !!

▪️Sip of Honeyed Fables - Malleus Draconia ▪️Sip of Frostyverse - Idia Shroud ▪️Sip of Abyss Blend - Azul Ashengrotto ▪️Sipperella - Trein-sensei (champagne let me cheer with youuuuu) ▪️Sweet Whiskers - Grim ▪️Giggleberry Froth - Chenya/ Alchemi Alchemivinch Pinka ▪️Royal Bluebubbly - Neige Leblanche ▪️Frothy Oasis - Jamil Viper ▪️Minty Blast - Deuce Spade (created by your dear @twiwoncrackpopcorn yaaay thank you !!) ▪️Silky Dawn - Silver ▪️Zesty Junction - Sebek Zigvolt ▪️Sour Solace - Rollo Flamme ▪️Frothy Fizz - Handsome mob-kun NRC ▪️Fruity Emporium - Epel Felmier ▪️Tropical Bounty - Ruggie Bucchi ▪️Liquid Perfecto - Rook Hunt ▪️Lawful Berrylicious - Riddle Rosehearts

_Credit_

Mask game asset extract by @alchemivich

Concept done by me and @twiwoncrackpopcorn

[loveinhawkins]

When Dustin bikes past Steve’s car, left abandoned and empty by the edge of the woods, for some reason the first thing that comes to his mind is a phone call from last summer.

July 5th 1985.

He’d picked up the phone before his mom could get to it, thank God, because Steve hadn’t bothered with any pleasantries, just said in a garbled rush, “Henderson, your house, is it—you’re safe, right?”

“I mean, I’ve not used the toaster yet,” Dustin said, eyeing the bagel he’d set out for breakfast, “but the house is still standing.”

“No but, like—” Steve snatched a breath, almost like he’d been running. “Like, no-one’s… y’know, watching you or anything?”

Then it hit Dustin: remembering Steve, finally somewhat lucid, muttering sheepishly, “Yeah, we might not wanna go to your house… Well, I might’ve told them your full name.”

Dustin took pity on him, answered sincerely. “No, we’re all good, Steve.”

He didn’t even tease about how, if the house was being watched, then Steve phoning him probably wasn’t the smartest move, because the line would’ve been tapped.

Maybe everything at Starcourt had sharpened his senses, because Dustin could now hear that Steve’s voice was slurred around the edges, like he’d just woken up, breathing harshly as if he’d ran to the phone; and he had a sudden image of Steve jolting awake, wincing from the gnarly bruises on his face, Dustin’s safety being his first thought.

Steve breathed out in a whoosh of relief. “Okay… good. Great. I’m, um. Gonna sleep. Yell if you need… I dunno. Something.”

And then he’d hung up before Dustin could work out how to say that he didn’t really mean it, when he complained about Steve not “resisting” whatever nightmare cocktail of drugs he’d had forced into him.

There was a little knot in his stomach for the rest of the day—a quiet mixture of panic and concern. The next time he saw Steve, he acted like he’d never made the phone call, so they never talked about it, and the knot faded away until Dustin almost convinced himself that it wasn’t there anymore.

But now, as he brakes then steers himself round to Steve’s car, the knot has returned—along with a little prickle of goosebumps that he usually only associates with any and all Upside Down shit. This isn’t quite a Code Red, he knows that, but he also knows that it’s…

It’s something.

The knot doubles in size when he peers into the car windows, sees that the keys have been left in the ignition. When he tries the door handle, it’s unlocked.

He bikes to the nearest payphone. He’s memorised Steve’s work schedule, knows that he’s not in today, that Robin has the late afternoon to closing shift.

He listens to his gut and dials Eddie’s number.

At first, Eddie thinks that Dustin’s calling him for a ride because his bike got a flat tire again. But as Dustin explains, he gets quieter and quieter until he’s just making anxious little hmm noises.

“I think I know where he’s gone,” Dustin adds, and Eddie’s sigh is a bit like Steve’s had been that morning he called, like he’s been holding his breath.

“Oh, thank God. You’d know better than anyone, Henderson.”

Dustin hangs up the phone after promising Eddie that he’ll stay by Steve’s car until he arrives.

He thinks about the relief in Eddie’s voice when he said he had a hunch about Steve’s whereabouts, like Dustin is the chosen one for understanding what makes Steve tick. Eddie’s joked about it before; he’d called it “sibling telepathy” when Dustin had silently communicated his popcorn order at the movies, and he’d nudged Steve in the ribs when Steve’s nose wrinkled meaning Gross, dude. Then Steve had huffed a laugh, nudging Dustin back. Okay, okay. I’ll pay for it, you little shit.

But Eddie gets Steve, too, Dustin thinks; that’s why he called him. And yeah, it’s different than the way Dustin understands Steve, but it’s significant enough for Eddie to make the cut of Steve Harrington Interpreters in Dustin’s mind.

Eddie’s van comes into view, and he actually uses his turn signal perfectly as he parks next to Steve’s car, like the panic has made him extra cautious.

“I’ll leave my bike here,” Dustin tells him as Eddie hops out.

Eddie’s lips turn into a thin line when he sees Steve’s keys. He nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll—okay.” He takes a breath, looks Dustin up and down. “Uh, I’ve got a coat if you need it, man.”

Dustin rolls his eyes, and Eddie at least smiles through his concern. It’s started to rain, that slow misty kind that clings to the skin, but Dustin reasons that he’ll be fine; he’ll be warm enough once he gets moving.

Eddie eyes the trees nervously. He jerks his head back to the van. “There’s—you need a flashlight? Just in case, um. Just in case?”

Dustin shakes his head. “It’s not that dark,” he says, not unkindly; Eddie kind of has a thing now for always having a flashlight on hand. Dustin can’t remember the last time he’s even come this close to the woods after March—his eyes keep darting down to the ground like he’s going to see vines there instead.

Eddie nods again, sighs. He checks his watch, then says, “Two hours tops, okay? And if it gets too dark and—just come back the way you came, even if you’ve not—” Eddie swallows. “We’ll figure it out.”

Dustin acts like he agrees and leaves his bike with Eddie—but there’s no way he’s gonna turn back, not without Steve.

He heads for the railroad tracks.

[laurrrelise]

the hutcherson multiverse™ has a horror movie night

WC: 2.1k

Tags: just a fun little blurb (i guess it’s a sort of big blurb) (also would this be considered fluff? i have no clue), slight spoilers for Scream , Toy Story 3, and La La Land (can’t believe i’m actually saying this LMAO), mentions of sexual fantasies, Derek is a freak, alcohol, cursing, horror movie mentions etc.

idk why i wrote this to be honest i guess i just love the hutcherson multiverse / jhutchverse LMAO

—————————————————————————

Josh opens his front door, a beaming smile on his face. “Hey! You guys made it!”

Derek leans against the wall outside the door. “Fuck are you surprised for? We told you we were coming.”

Mike’s overwhelming admiration for horror movies is hidden beneath his typically scruffy demeanor. “What movie are we watching?”

“I don’t know, we have to decide. Peeta and Billy are already here, we’re just waiting on Clapton.” Josh steps to the side, allowing them to walk in. Derek pushes past without hesitation, Mike politely following behind.

Derek collapses onto the sofa, flinging his legs onto Peeta’s lap. “Hey, bread boy.” Peeta gives him a half-smile while Mike takes a seat next to Billy on the other side of the couch.

Josh gets the door as Clapton arrives. “Hey, party people! We got beer?”

Mike gives him a look of confusion. “No. And even if we did, you wouldn’t get any.”

“You know what we do have?” Josh excitedly walks in front of the TV, grinning ear to ear. “Tons of food! Wolf hooked us up.”

“Who the hell is Wolf?”

Peeta sits up straight, mouth agape. “You have a pet wolf? Katniss told me she saw one of those before.”

Josh shakes his head at him. “What? No. Wolf is a retired demolitions expert who’s also a genius in the kitchen. He made us a popcorn bar and virgin cocktails, since, y’know.” He looks at Clapton and Peeta.

“Dude, you’re such a buzzkill.”

Derek pulls a bottle of whiskey out of his jacket. “That’s fine. Can’t fucking catch me unprepared.”

Josh ignores him, continuing, “Just… try not to bother Wolf when he’s cooking. He gets really… focused. And violent, if interrupted.”

They all nod, and Josh grabs the TV remote to start deciding on a movie. “Alright, what are we watching?”

Derek smiles. “You guys ever seen The Poughkeepsie Tapes? Or Megan is Missing?”

“Hell no. We are not watching those,” Billy says firmly.

Clapton stirs. “What are they?”

“Too fuckin’ scary for you, that’s what they are.”

Clapton furrows his brows. “I don’t get scared easy, asshole. I’ve watched, like, every horror movie ever. With a straight face… except for those.”

“Hereditary?” Derek grins evilly.

Mike and Josh both look at him. “Absolutely not.”

“I hope you guys realize I’ll watch these as soon as I get home.”

“Whatever, as long as we don’t have to sit through your disgusted reaction.”

Clapton looks at him, slightly offended. “They can’t be that bad! I seriously never get scared. Have you seen Cinderhella? I didn’t bat an eye.”

Josh changes the subject. “Any other ideas? Ooh, what about Toy Story 3!”

Everyone stares at him, bewildered.

“What? That movie’s scary.”

“You mean the one with the big ass purple fucking bear? That one?” Derek asks, a laugh falling out with the question.

Billy and Mike practically fall over cracking up at his genuine fear of the children’s movie.

Josh frowns as he whines, “Yeah… Lotzo.”

“You’re fucking scared of Lotzo?” Billy can barely breathe between his laughing.

“That’s not fair! The scene where they’re falling toward that big fire pit thing is terrifying!”

Clapton snickers at him. “Dude, you’re such a dumbass.” Derek fist-bumps him in agreement.

“And you guys are all bullies. Peeta, can’t you back me up?”

Peeta just stares at him, wide-eyed. “I’ve never seen it. It sounds scary.”

Josh whines at him. “It is!”

Peeta shrugs as everyone else continues to laugh at him.

“Alright, then someone else recommend something.”

Derek smiles. “How about-”

Billy cuts him off. “Derek, shut the fuck up.”

“How about we just watch some stupid 80’s slasher?”

“Like what?”

Clapton drums on his legs, clearly bored with the lengthy decision process. “I don’t know, Child’s Play.”

Peeta looks at him. “What’s that about?”

Clapton turns to him, giving him a puzzled look. “Have you never seen a movie? Like ever?”

Peeta shrugs nonchalantly and Clapton turns back to the TV. “Nightmare on Elm Street?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Dreams are important. Shouldn’t be mocked.”

Clapton rolls his eyes. “Friday the 13th?”

Derek shakes his head. “That one’s just boring. Absolutely not.”

“… and why is it boring?”

“Because I said so.”

Josh continues to scroll through a page of endless horror movies. “What’s this one?” He clicks on one titled Tragedy Girls and watches the trailer.

“Hey, dude, that guy totally looks like you.” Billy points at a man on the TV screen, then at Josh.

“He does no- actually he kinda does.”

There’s a moment of silence. “He kinda looks like you, too.”

“You think so?”

“Wait, he looks just like Derek, too!”

“Yeah, like a clearance version.”

Josh finds the coincidence too weird and clicks off of the movie. He continues scrolling.

“Is that Vantage Point? Why is that in the horror section?”

Derek’s eyes go wide. “It uh… sounds pretty scary to me.”

“Wait, is that the one where the president gets assassinated?” Josh looks back at Mike curiously.

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure it’s action, not hor-”

Derek cuts him off. “We’re not watching it.”

Mike senses the sudden discomfort and changes the subject. “Blair Witch Project?”

Everyone unanimously groans in agreement.

“I give up. You guys pick.”

“Wait, I got one!”

Everyone looks at Peeta. “It’s called La La Land.”

Josh furrows his brows at him. “That’s not a horror movie, that’s just a sad romcom.”

“But they lose each other in the end. I mean, could you imagine? I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.”

Billy and Clapton give him a sad look. “It doesn’t count as a horror movie.”

“Man, you’re so fuckin’ lame.”

“Detention?”

“No.”

“Five Nights at Freddy’s?”

“Nope.”

“For the love of god… Scream?”

Everyone exchanges glances before they all shrug.

“Alright, we’re watching Scream then.”

—————————————————————————

A few minutes into the movie and Mike speaks up. “Hey, that guy kinda looks familiar.”

“Who? Stu Macher?”

“Yeah, I can’t really place why, though.”

“Maybe Matthew Lillard just has one of those faces, y’know?”

“Maybe…”

Josh lights up suddenly. “We knew a guy named Stu a little while back, he was seriously crazy.”

“Who the fuck is we?”

“Oh! Me, Wolf, and Tiger. Tiger actually fell in love with Stu for a little whi-”

“Tiger?”

“Yeah. Tiger.”

Billy looks at Derek, who rolls his eyes before they both decide to drop it.

“Yeah, Stu was crazy though.”

“Well, Stu Macher is pretty crazy too, right?”

“Hey! Don’t spoil it! Peeta’s never seen this movie before.”

“It’s an obvious twist. He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t even know what’s going on so far.” Peeta looks at the TV, clearly confused by the plot.

“I think all guys named Stu must be at least a little insane.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Josh lays back on the floor in front of the TV.

—————————————————————————

A few more minutes pass. Billy stirs, readjusting himself on the couch.

A few more minutes. Billy once again readjusts.

Finally, “Alright, I’m fuckin’ bored. Let’s do shots.”

Derek fist bumps him. “Oh, hell yeah. I’m in.”

“Um, what about the two children?”

“Children?” Peeta furrows his brows at Mike.

Clapton sits up, gaping at Josh with an offended look on his face. “I’m 19!”

“Yeah, so am I.”

“You guys are the youngest. You’re going to be kids to us no matter what.”

“Fireball good with everyone?”

“Works for me.

“I got work tonight… but sure.”

Josh looks up. “Hey, how are you guys all getting home? I don’t want anyone driving under the influence.”

“It’s one shot dude.”

Derek smiles. “It’ll turn into seven. I’ll call my driver.”

“This is so unfair.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “It’s nothing personal, kid. You can drink all you fuckin’ want in a few years. Be patient.”

“Oh, like none of you drank before you turned 21.”

Billy shakes his head, standing up to make his way to the kitchen. He returns a few minutes later with a small tray and 6 shot glasses filled with amber-colored liquid, plus a few beers.

Clapton lights up when he gets handed one. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Peeta cringes but reluctantly takes it.

Derek, Josh, and Mike take theirs before Billy grabs the last one and they all huddle around the coffee table.

“On three, alright?”

Everyone nods. “Three… t-”

“One, bottoms up.” Derek throws his back, not even flinching.

Everyone else takes theirs, and Mike and Josh wince with the strength in the taste of the liquor. “How can you do that without even making a face?”

Derek chuckles. “Are we just fucking meeting for the first time, Mike?”

Billy watches Clapton’s face as he realizes that his shot was actually apple juice. Peeta lights up, smiling with excitement. “Dude!”

“Is that juice? We only got this stuff in the Capitol. Can I have another?”

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

Billy ignores Clapton and grabs the bottle of apple juice from the kitchen.

Peet’s takes it, sort of confused. “… where’s the… cup?”

Billy waves him off, twisting the cap off of a beer. “Knock yourself out, kid.”

Peeta smiles and throws the cap off of the bottle, chugging it eagerly. Everyone else takes their reserved spots again and continue watching the movie.

Derek squints at the screen. “’m gonna get one of those masks after this.”

Josh gives him a confused look. “…Why?”

“You planning on going on a murder spree? I can add some names to your list.”

Derek looks at Billy. “No, I’m just imagining, like, bringing someone to my room while I’m wearing all black and one of those and then sneaking up behind them and ripping-”

“Dude!”

Derek pauses. “Don’t fuckin’ interrupt me, that was a good idea.”

“There are two kids sitting next to you.”

“I’m 19! Stop calling me a kid!”

Peeta shrugs. “Y’know what? I actually don’t mind. It would be nice to be a kid again.”

“They’re not kids. They know what sex is.”

Clapton sinks into the ground slightly. “Yeah, obviously I know what it is.”

“Katniss and I are taking it slow.”

Derek looks at Mike. “See?”

“It doesn’t matter. No one wants to hear about your weird sexual fantasies.”

“I didn’t think it was weird. That sounds hot.”

Derek looks at him excitedly. “Right?”

Billy nods, taking a sip of his beer. “For sure.”

“Alright, you two talk about that stuff later. The rest of us don’t want to hear about any of that.”

“I don’t mind. I need all the tips I can get.”

Clapton furrows his eyebrows at Peeta. “I don’t think Katniss would want you to seduce her in a horror movie mask.”

“Why not?”

“Because that isn’t a normal sexual interaction. Derek is just… uh… very experienced.”

“Damn right I am.”

“Well… what is a normal sexual interaction?”

Derek smiles, sitting up and crossing his snakeskin boots in Peeta’s lap. “I’ve got so much to teach you. Alright, first, be aggressive. Girls like that. You want to alway-”

“How about we just watch the movie?”

Derek scoffs, rolling his eyes and melting back down against the couch. “How about we take another shot?”

—————————————————————————

They eventually finish the movie, but Derek and Billy are fairly intoxicated by the end of it. Derek calls a car to drive them all home.

Billy tends to forget about personal space when he’s drunk. “Thanks for having me, buddy,” he practically yells as he leans against Josh, his mouth brushing his ear.

Josh pats him on the back, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah… no problem, man.”

“See- mph. See you tomorrow, Joosh.” Derek stumbles slightly as he walks out of the house.

“What? To- tomorrow?”

Derek nods, not turning back as he walks down the driveway. “Yeah, we’ll be back tomorrow.” He gets into the dark limousine, Billy following behind him.

Peeta and Clapton stand in the doorway, Mike still putting on his boots.

“We get to ride in a limo?” Clapton grins.

“Actually, I’ll uh… I’ll call you guys an uber. There’s no way in hell that they aren’t about to go to a bar.”

“Goddamn it,” Mike appears behind them, watching as Derek’s head hangs out the window like a dog as the car drives off.

“Tomorrow, Futturman!”

Josh signs. “Goddamn it is right.”

—————————————————————————

thanks for reading! this was so stupid but it’s just fun to create the jhutchverse so let me self indulge please :)

(this is a late update but i just remembered @xcherryerim wanted to be tagged in jhutchverse stuff, here you go monica, ly <3)

also i know this is barely about the actual movie and more about the banter but that’s the fun part so i don’t care 💀 sorry if you wanted to hear me talk about scream (i’ve actually never seen it but i know the general plot don’t kill me)

have a good day babes <3

[evanchantingpeters]

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!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

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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Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[the-magpie-archives]

Tma characters as hyperspecific non-categorised experiences.

Jon: Trying not to fall asleep on the bus when it's cold and dark outside.

Martin: The slightly firm texture a fluffy blanket has before you wash it for the first time.

Tim: Sipping a cocktail without realised how cold it is, the ice brushing your lips.

Sasha: The slightly artificial but altogether natural scent of fresh homemade popcorn.

Basira: When you spill rose oil on your hands and they smell like it for the rest of the day.

Daisy: The sting of a burnt tongue from a sip of scalding coffee.

Melanie: The taste in your mouth after you spit out chewing gum that's lost its flavour.

Georgie: Pressing your hand into a brand new feather pillow

Elias: Accidentally putting your hand in your mouth after using hand sanitiser.

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