#evan thomas peters

[deadgirl-violet]

[bohnerrific69]

for your consideration: munch!peter maximoff with his vibrating tongue :)

thinking in sync... and thots. +18 MDNI

PETER MAXIMOFF ⊹ mentioning: afab/fem!reader, incorrect use of powers, squirting, and my older!peter. / not proofread!

ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY!! peter is an eater, i just know it. as a dedicated lover, he would totally worship his woman and be the kind of guy who gets "pussy drunk" like it is the time of his life. and having the powers to speed some parts of his body? goodbye sex toys!! (he would still help his partner with them for the fun, but the toys definitely would be super underused).

as the years go by with the relationship growing older and stronger, it's like nothing changes in that regard. peter is in his 30s and he still acts like a teenager intoxicated with horny hormones when he sees you after a long and tiring day at work. even if you didn't wanted to do anything after, he wouldn't mind at all falling between your thighs to feast your pussy like a hungry man while humping his hips in anything near to alleviate himself.

not a surprise that peter's favorite positions when it comes to oral sex are you seated on his face and a good old sixty-nine, that in most of the time he loves winning who pulls out an orgasm from each other first. — most of the time he doesn't ask for a competition because he knows sometimes it annoys you, but subconsciously he still does, it feels good for the ego.

i can't even phantom how easy it would be for peter to rip an intense climax from you by vibrating his tongue inside your walls or buzzing on your clitoris, now and then making you squirt. and when it comes to how many orgasms he can tear off from you? until he go out of oxygen or you say it's enough. the moment is always heaven-like, leaving your body trembling while you gasp and cry his name.

[violet-harmon2011]

to my favorite serial killer, clown, cult leader, hairstylist, vampire, playwright, actor, hotel owner, lobster man, circus performer, zombie, frat boy, and mechanic <3

[fear-is-truth]

— ★ . HOW YOUR CAMERA ROLL WOULD LOOK LIKE AS EVAN PETERS’ GIRLFRIEND

 fear-is-truth — do not copy, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[sixbeee]

Julian Dillinger.. Makes me horny

There's a scene in

the movie where Julian's mom taps Julian on the shoulder saying, "Congratulations." Julian is eating the snack with his eyes open loosely.

At that time, Evan Peters' Julian performance… was crazy.....His expression was really sexy… So I drew it, but no matter how much I draw it, I can't live it FEEL. I want to go to die. ㅠㅠ

And did you see Julian Dillinger's disheveled forearms? It's really sexy..

[boomer-doomer]

Taught - Evan Peters x F!Reader

“He didn’t just touch you—he rewrote you, slow and wicked, like ink bleeding into something once clean.”

Synopsis: She was soft, new. He wasn’t. Some things aren’t meant to stay innocent.

Character: Evan Peters (the man himself)

WC: 1,534

Warnings: NSFW | SMUT | PIV | CORRUPTION KINK | AGE GAP (18+ reader ofc) | PRAISE | VIRGINITY LOSS | DARK SMUT (? Nothing vile) | lmk if I missed any! <3 (my first ever x reader smut bear with me)

You weren’t supposed to be here.

A quiet afterparty. Someone’s balcony. A drink in your hand you didn’t really want. And Evan Peters sitting across from you like some warm-blooded temptation sculpted into denim and sin.

“You’re nervous.” His voice is low, just a bit raspy, almost amused.

You try to laugh it off. “A little.”

“I can tell.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “It’s cute.”

Your breath stutters.

He notices.

Of course he notices. Evan Peters has a way of seeing things. Seeing through things. Like the way you keep glancing at his hands. Or the fact that your legs have been crossed and clenched tight since the moment he walked in.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” he asks, voice silk and smoke.

You blink. “Done what?”

His lips twitch. “Let someone touch you the way you want to be touched.”

Your mouth goes dry.

His hand reaches out, slow, deliberate, brushing your knee with just enough pressure to make you freeze.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to pretend around me. You’re curious. And I’m…” He leans in, his lips a breath from your ear. “More than happy to ease that curiosity.”

Your skin burns where his breath touches. Your thighs press tighter, and his hand moves higher.

“You can tell me no. But if you don’t…”

You don’t.

Not when he presses his lips to your neck. Not when his hand slips under your shirt, palm against your bare skin. Not when he says, “I’m going to ruin you, sweetheart.”

He pulls you into his lap. You gasp, but he’s already kissing you—deep, wet, unhurried. He tastes like whiskey and control. You melt before you understand what he’s doing to you.

When he finally pulls back, he looks at you. Flushed, breathless, and wrecked just from his mouth.

“You’ve got no idea how beautiful you look like this,” he says. “And I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

He lifts your shirt. His eyes drink you in like you’re a sin he’s waited too long to commit.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice dripping with praise and something darker. “You’ve been waiting for someone like me, haven’t you?”

You nod. You can’t help it.

“That’s my good girl.”

The praise hits something low in your stomach. It coils, tight and hot, as his hands trail down your body like he already owns it.

He stands with you in his arms, carrying you with ease. You’re placed on a bed moments later, softly, like he’s scared to break you.

He takes his time. Unfastens your jeans. Drags them down slow. Lets you feel every second.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers. “Nervous?”

“A little,” you admit.

His hand cups your cheek, warm and reassuring. “Then we go slow. You tell me if it’s too much.”

He kisses you again, soft this time, and slips his hand between your legs.

“Oh,” you breathe, back arching.

“Already so wet.” His voice darkens. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

His fingers stroke—gentle at first, then firmer, circling exactly where you need him. You whimper. He groans. “God, you’re going to make me obsessed with you.”

You moan when he slides one finger inside, slow and careful. Then another.

“I want to be the first,” he says, “and the only. I want you thinking about this when you try to sleep. When you’re alone in your room, aching for something you can’t name yet.”

You cry out softly as his fingers curl, hitting a spot that makes you tremble.

“That’s it,” he says. “Let me make you feel everything.”

And you do.

Over and over, until your legs shake and your voice breaks.

Until his name is the only word you remember how to say.

You’re breathless.

The world around you fades until all that exists is his touch. His lips. The heat of his body pressing against yours, the weight of him above you, commanding, demanding.

Your body is still trembling from the edge of pleasure, from the way his fingers had made you come undone—but now, as he pulls away from you for just a moment, you’re left with a gnawing hunger. Something deeper. Something darker.

Evan doesn’t let you catch your breath for long.

With a look that makes your pulse race, he unbuttons his jeans. His hand moves with practiced ease, and your eyes follow the movement, almost in a daze.

“You’re so fucking innocent,” he mutters, his voice rough with need. “It makes everything so much better. So much sweeter.”

You swallow, nervous, but the need between your legs is unbearable. Your body betrays you. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breath coming faster and faster as he moves between your legs.

He positions himself between your thighs, his hand slipping to your inner thigh, gently pushing your legs apart as he looks down at you with a dark glint in his eyes. His cock is flushed, leaking, angry. He needs this as much as you.

“You sure about this?” he asks, voice soft but heavy with expectation.

You nod, barely able to speak. “Y-Yes,” you stammer.

“You don’t need to be nervous. You’re safe with me.” His voice is smooth, almost reassuring, but it doesn’t hide his underlying hunger. “I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to make this good for you, okay?”

His hand moves lower, brushing against your bare skin as he lines himself up at your entrance. His thumb traces circles around your sensitive clit, making you squirm beneath him. You’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s overwhelming, it’s too much, but you crave it so desperately.

“You ready?” he murmurs.

You nod again, your lips trembling. “Please…”

He grins, but it’s not a soft, comforting smile. It’s possessive, hungry. “I’m going to stretch you out, make you feel things you didn’t even know you could.”

And then he pushes in.

You gasp. It burns, the stretch almost unbearable, but there’s something deeply satisfying about it too. His hands grip your hips, holding you still as he eases in, inch by agonizing inch, giving you a moment to adjust.

“You’re so tight,” he groans, his voice low and raw. “So fucking tight, baby.”

You clench around him instinctively, the sensation overwhelming. Your body is trembling, but it’s not just nerves now—it’s desire, it’s need.

“Relax, sweetheart. I know it hurts. Let me make it feel good.”

Evan doesn’t wait for you to respond. His hips begin to move, slow at first, testing, but as the burn begins to ease, his movements become more forceful, more deliberate. He’s so much bigger than anything you’ve felt before, and you can’t help but moan at the sensation.

“You feel that?” he growls, his hands tightening on your hips as he thrusts deeper. “You feel how I fill you up? You’re mine now. All mine.”

His words make your chest tighten, a mixture of pleasure and possessiveness making your head spin. You’ve never been spoken to like this. Never been touched like this.

The sound of his body against yours, the way he moves in and out of you, is all you can hear now. All you can feel.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispers, his face twisting with a mix of pleasure and awe. “I’m gonna ruin you. Over and over, and you’ll beg for more each time.”

You moan helplessly, unable to think, unable to form any coherent thought except him. His touch. His words.

His thrusts grow harder, faster, and you can feel that familiar tightening in your stomach, that pressure building, stronger with every deep stroke. His hands roam over your body, marking you, claiming you. The bed is groaning with every thrust, the headboard thudding against the wall.

“You’re close, aren’t you baby?” he murmurs, voice rough with lust. “Cum for me, baby. Let me see you fall apart.”

His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing in tight circles as he pounds into you relentlessly. You can’t stop the moan that rips from your throat as your orgasm hits you—strong and overwhelming. Your back arches, your nails digging into his shoulders as you come undone beneath him.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his pace relentless as he continues to fuck you through your high. “That’s it. I’m not done with you yet.”

The pleasure doesn’t stop. Not for him. Not for you. He’s relentless, dragging you through wave after wave of pleasure as he chases his own release.

When he finally cums, his grip on your hips tightens so hard it almost hurts, and he presses his face into your neck, groaning your name like it’s the only word that matters. Rope upon rope of release fills you up, his hips languidly pushing it deeper.

You’re breathless. Shaking. And when he pulls out of you, you feel emptier than you ever have before.

He lies down beside you, pulling you close, his fingers gently brushing through your hair as he kisses your forehead.

“You did so well,” he says softly, almost tenderly now. “I knew you’d be perfect for me.”

And for the first time, you realize he’s right.

You belong to him now—and you’ll never want to leave.

[redroses07]

[doll3tt33]

治愈 ㅤׂ ⦂ ( ℋ ) ✶ MAN WHO SENDS ME HOME

BOT LINK ┈ ⓘ

colin checking up on you, a kidnap victim, after you were saved. special thanks to @evanpetersbf for this idea!! 🫶

THE GREETING MESSAGE ┈ ⓘ

Colin had replayed the moment they found you more times than he cared to admit.

The empty room. The way his stomach had dropped when he thought he was too late. The relief that hit him so hard he’d had to brace himself against the wall once he knew you were alive.

The details of the case stayed fuzzy in his mind. Faces blurred together. Motives locked away. That part was over. Closed. What mattered was that you were here. Alive and well.

He checked in when he could. Never too often. Never enough to feel like he was hovering. A call to the hospital. A message passed along. Just small reassurances that you were still okay.

A few days later, he finally worked up the nerve to come by.

He stood outside your place longer than he needed to, adjusting his jacket, glancing down at what he was holding like it might suddenly look stupid if he stared too long.

A small paper bag from a local bakery. And, tucked a little awkwardly under his arm, a stuffed animal he’d absolutely overthought buying.

He knocked. Then immediately wondered if that had been too loud.

“Hey, uh- it’s Colin. Zabel.” A pause. He clears his throat, already cringing at himself. “I mean. You know that. Obviously. I—-”

He exhales softly, trying again.

“I wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re… actually okay. Or as okay as someone can be after something like that.” Another pause, gentler now.

“I brought you some stuff. Nothin’ fancy. Jus’ thought you might like it. And if now’s a bad time, that’s totally fine. Really- I can leave it here.”

There’s a nervous little huff of a laugh.

“I’m bad at this part, in case that wasn’t obvious.”