#Rory monahan

[wcnderlnds]

caught in the act

COLIN ZABEL, PETER MAXIMOFF, WARREN LIPKA, PRE!DEATH KYLE SPENCER, RORY MONAHAN.

・❥・ summary: a series of drabbles on their reactions to someone catching you in the act ・❥・word count: 1.7k ・❥・warnings: 18+ smut, nsfw. unprotected p in v. oral (m & f recieving). swearing. alcohol mentions. female reader. ・❥・ authors note: this was requested by the lovely @bohnerrific69. it was supposed to be headcanons but im an overacheiver. i added rory for my own benefit bc that's my man and there needed to be something sweet so kyle is there too. its badly written smut like always.

COLIN ZABEL

It had been a cold, dreary evening when you’d entered the police station in search of your boyfriend’s office. He had called you earlier in the day to ask you to meet him before the end of his shift so you could easily go for dinner when he was finished. However, when you got to his office, he had stacks of paper piled up on his desk, head in his hands. This man was stressed. Work always did that to him but you had a way to make him relax. It had taken a lot of convincing but somehow you’d managed to make him cave. That’s how you ended up on the floor beneath his desk with his cock in your mouth. Your plump lips moving agonisingly slow against him. Colin’s hands threaded through your hair, guiding your movements.

“Babe, please…. faster,” he said breathlessly. He was really trying his best to be quiet. Who were you to deny his request? First, you had to tease him so you swirled your tongue along his tip, Colin’s hips bucking up into your mouth as you teased his sensitive head. Deciding to put him out of his misery, you sunk your lips back down onto him taking him all the way into the back of your throat. Colin let out a loud groan, your eyes widening as you looked up at him.

“Be quiet!” You hissed, pulling off him. In an attempt to keep him quiet, you moved up his body to straddle him. Grinding your clothed core against his aching cock, your lips found his, messily kissing him. It was just as your hand was sliding between your legs to push your panties to the side when the door to the office opened.

“Everything alr-” Mare started but stopped the second she saw you hop off Colin’s lap. Colin had never looked so alarmed and embarrassed in his life. His hands fumbled as he tucked himself back into his pants, standing up only to hit his knees on the edge of his desk.

“Mare… y-you… need something?” Colin tried to act nonchalant but the redness of his cheeks betrayed him. Mare only smirked, looking between you and Colin.

“Heard a weird noise but… I see now I was interrupting.” She snickered, letting the two of you stew in your embarrassment at being caught as she left the office.

“I’m going to go dig myself a hole now and live in it,” you said, absolutely mortified. Colin grabbed you, pulling you against his chest. His hand resting on the back of your head, soothing you.

“Make it big enough for the both of us at least.”

WARREN LIPKA

“Holy fuck,” you cried out as your fingernails tried to grip into the soft fabric of the couch cushion. Warren had bent you over the arm of the couch, his fingers digging in your hips as he pounded relentlessly into you. The way he was gripping you and holding you in place was sure to leave a bruise but he didn’t seem to care. All he cared about right now was getting off. The moans that left your lips were almost pornographic, the grunts coming from Warren turning you on even more if that was possible. All you’d wanted when you came over was to ask him he’d help you with some problem you were having with your college work. Warren was smart – he just didn’t like to seem it. He was good at solving puzzles, figuring them out so he was always your go-to person when any issues like that came up. But, it had ended how it always did with Warren fucking the living daylights out of you.

“That’s it, baby. Take it, take all of it,” Warrens voice was strained, rough. He was barely holding back. His hand reached up your back to grab your hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail in his fingers, yanking your head back. Warren was anything but gentle but he’d hear no complaints from you. 

Just as you felt those sweet, intense feelings coiling up in the pit of your stomach, footsteps sounded off the staircase leading into the basement. Warren mustn’t have heard (or he didn’t care) because he kept shoving his cock deep inside you. It wasn’t like you were in a position to warn him anyway. At this point you were rendered speechless, the only sounds coming from your mouth were moans and pleas of Warren’s name.

“Oh, what the fuck!” Spencer’s voice rang out. 

Warren didn’t stop but turned to face Spencer. “Dude, fuck off. Or watch, I don’t give a shit.”

Judging by the sound of rushed footsteps, you guessed Spencer had taken the first option. Just in time too because Warren buried himself deep inside you triggering your orgasm as he pumped you full of his hot seed.

PETER MAXIMOFF

When Peter had wiped your high score off the leaderboard of Space Invaders, you had stormed off in a huff. The pout on your face was enough to make Peter cave with a promise of making it up to you. Somehow, you’d ended up in the arcade bathroom. It was small, kind of cramped but Peter had you sat on the edge of the small, porcelain sink. Your legs were wrapped around him as he thrust into you. His head was buried in the crook of your neck, your hands tugging on his silver hair as he left wet kisses along your skin. He bit down on your pulse point leaving a nice, red mark there that was sure to turn into one hell of a hickey.

“Nice,” he murmured as he pulled back to admire his handiwork. Peter wasn’t really a possessive guy but he did love to see you all marked up by him.

“Peter,” you whined, urging your hips forward against his. “Stop fucking around and fuck me.”

���With pleasure, m’darlin’.” He pulled out then slammed back in causing the loudest moan to fall from your lips. This new pace was quick, hard and you were putty in his hands. His fingers found your clit, using his mutation to vibrate against it and bring you to your release faster. 

In his haste, Peter must have forgotten to lock the bathroom door because in walked poor Scott who looked like he’d just seen the most traumatising thing on the planet. You pushed Peter off you, the speedster turning with a huff to glare at Scott. “Dude! Occupado!”

“Maybe lock the door next time, Maximoff,” Scott mumbled, slamming the door shut and leaving you both to it.

“This is the most embarrassing moment of my life,” you jumped off the sink but before you had time to react Peter had sped you off back to his basement, throwing you on his bed and sliding back inside you with promises of making it up to you.

KYLE SPENCER

It had been a normal party. Beer was flowing and people were up to all kinds of stupid stuff but you? Well, you’d had your eyes on none other than Kyle Spencer. The two of you had always had a flirty thing going on but neither had made a move. Whether it was the alcohol making you both tipsy or something else, you found yourself in one of the spare bedrooms in the house of the party, Kyle’s cock inside you as you rode him. He sat on the edge of the bed with you on his lap slowly rising and falling on him.

“You look so damn beautiful riding me like this, baby,” Kyle praised, his hands skimming up your sides.

At his words, you moved a little quicker, resting your hands on his shoulders for leverage. He was so deep inside you – he was big so he was hitting that sweet spot most men never found. It was probably the best sex of your life. He was being sweet too and that was an added bonus. Your lips found his, Kyle’s hand resting on your back as he flipped you onto the bed so he was on top now. He kept the slow rhythm, his thrusts shallow and intense.

Both of your eyes snapped to the door when the sound of music blasted through it when it opened and in stepped another drunk couple. They didn’t seem to notice you at first. Kyle grumbled to himself, pulling out of you and throwing one of the blankets over you to cover your modesty.

“Guys, come on. This room is taken,” he tried to be kind as he threw them out of the room but he was still rock hard and all he could think about was getting back inside you. Once they were out, he headed back over to the bed. “You want to continue?”

He was so thoughtful of your feelings and, as mortified as you were, there was no way you were passing up this opportunity to finally sleep with the guy you were obsessed with.

RORY MONAHAN

Your legs were spread wide on the four poster bed as Rory devoured your pussy like a man starved. His tongue licked broad stripes along your slick folds, groaning at the taste of you. He couldn’t get enough – small flicks of his tongue against your clit were sending you into a frenzy, your body writhing under his skilled tongue. His hands gripped your hips, pressing you down into the mattress to say in place.

“Shit, babe. You’re so fucking hot. Could do this all day. Fuck working with Brad Pitt. This is so much better,” Rory grinned up at you from between your legs. The sight of him with your juices over his lips was probably the hottest thing you’d ever seen. He dived back in, his tongue plunging into your entrance. Your hands tangled into his red hair, body arching as his name fell from your lips like a chant. It wasn’t long before you felt yourself teetering on the edge, his lips sucking on your clit.

However, the second you started seeing stars and moaning out, the door opened and in stepped Audrey. You pushed Rory’s head away from you. He narrowed his eyes at you until he turned and saw his ex-wife stood there. “Oh, shit,” he tried to roll off the bed but instead got himself tangled up in the sheets, falling to the floor. As awful as the whole situation was, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself.

“Audrey, I’m so sorry,” you said, scrambling to cover yourself up.

“Always knew he wanted someone younger.” With that Audrey left. Rory managed to get back to his feet, throwing himself on the bed on top of you.

His lips ghosted over yours, a shit eating grin on his face. “I think she’s mad.”

taglist (ask to be added or removed): @ldydeath @jazz-berry @lemoniiiiiii @bohnerrific69 @lacucarachapisser @evanpetersbf

[rosecoloredsunshine]

hot ones — evan peters

masterlist

PAIRINGS: evan peters x female!reader

SUMMARY: you and evan decided to take on the hot ones spicy wings challenge.

REMINDERS: please be reminded that this is a work of fiction. meaning that all events and occurrences in this story are all fictional and all are part of my imagination. any resemblance to actual life events and people, living or dead, are all purely coincidence.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, wedding talks, established relationship, reader is an 'unofficially retired' actress, fluff attempt, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this has been written more as a self-indulgent fic lol. my requests for evan fics are open, so if you have any, just send me an ask. hope you'll enjoy this one! :)

You and Evan are inside a sleek, industrial-chic studio of Hot Ones, and sitting across from Sean Evans with a row of perfectly arranged and intimidating glazed wings between you and Evan. The set’s familiar aesthetic—black brick backdrop and neon accents, brings a grin to your face. You have seen countless celebrities get wrecked by these fiery wings. Now, it’s your turn.

“You sure you wanna do this, babe?” his eyes glinting with playful concern. “I know how you feel about spicy food.”

“I’ve survived worse,” you quipped, but your grin falters slightly when you glance at the perfectly arranged wings. “Besides, I couldn't let you have all the fun.”

“You’ve got a very loose definition of fun,” he chuckled, corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.

Evan’s hand finds yours beneath the table, fingers intertwining together like second nature. Sean smiled with the kind of enthusiasm that comes from years of watching people suffer through the gauntlet, and clasped his hands together.

“Welcome to Hot Ones, the show with hot questions and even hotter wings. Today, we’ve got a special couple’s episode with none other than one of Hollywood’s most beloved couples!”

“Beloved,” you repeat with a laugh, leaning into Evan’s shoulder. “I like the sound of that.”

“Right?” Evan grins, giving your hand a soft squeeze. “We must be doing something right.”

You and Evan turned towards the camera, with Evan giving a little wave to the camera, while you offered a sheepish smile.

“So,” Sean continues, “before we get into the heat, I gotta ask, how did you both end up agreeing to this? I know, from what I’ve heard, you’re not exactly a fan of spicy food.”

You laughed, already feeling your nerves dissipating. “Well yeah, I’m definitely not a fan. But I thought it would be a fun experience. Plus, Evan wanted to do it, and I couldn't let him suffer alone.”

Evan chuckles, squeezing your hand gently. “She’s braver than she thinks. I’m just here to make sure she doesn't regret it halfway through.”

“That’s true love right there,” Sean grins. “Alright, let’s start with the first wing.”

You and Evan each take a wing. It’s barely spicy, just a hint of heat, and you manage it with ease, earning an approving nod from Evan.

“That’s not bad,” you say, a bit more confident. “Famous last words.”

The three of you let out a laugh. Sean glances at his cue cards. “So, let’s kick things off. You two have been together for six years and recently got engaged. Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” you and Evan said in unison, making Sean laugh.

“Was the proposal a surprise?” Sean asked.

You glanced at Evan, a fond smile appearing on your lips. “Completely. We were on a trip to Japan for my birthday, and I thought that it was just a celebration for that occasion, but it turns out that Evan had this whole plan. I was completely caught off guard.”

Evan grins, remembering the memory. “She kept saying, ‘are you serious?’ like five times before actually saying yes.”

You nudged him lightly, laughing. “It was just a lot to process! I wasn't really expecting it.”

Sean leans forward, intrigued. “Was it nerve-wracking, Evan?”

“Oh absolutely,” Evan admits. “I was more nervous than when I go on set. But when she smiled, I knew that it was the right moment, and she did say yes, eventually.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yeah, eventually.”

The next wing has a bit more kick to it, and you’re starting to feel a tingle on your lips. Evan had noticed immediately, and turned towards you.

“Doing okay?” he asked softly.

You nod, breathing out a little. “Still manageable.”

“You’re doing great,” Sean coaxed. “Since we're on the topic, you have any wedding plans set?”

You had exchanged a look with Evan, both of you smiling. “We’re keeping it small and intimate,” Evan says. “Close family and friends. We’re still working out the details, but we know it’ll be somewhere meaningful to us.”

“Can I expect an invitation?” Sean jokes.

You laughed softly, surprising yourself. “Sure, why not. We’ll make sure you get one.”

“Oh really? Thank you!” Sean smiled. “Okay, before we dive into the next wing, I have to ask, who’s the better cook between you two?”

Evan chuckled before you even got the chance to respond. “She is, hands down.”

You smiled. “You cook fine, babe. When you’re not burning grilled cheese.”

“Which happens?” Sean prompted, eyes gleaming with interest.

“Often enough that the smoke detector hates him,” you said with a laugh.

Evan raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, true. But her cooking is on a whole other level.”

Sean laughs. “I’d love to see you two do a cooking show together in the future. Maybe some spicy dishes next time?”

You groaned playfully, eyeing the next wing on the table. “I think after today, I’m going to avoid spice for a good while.”

“Speaking of the future,” Sean says, reaching for another cue card. “Since you’ve taken a step back from acting, and Evan’s still heavily involved, has that changed anything for you two? I mean, with you being away from the industry and all.”

You glanced at Evan and smiled softly. “I thought it would be difficult at first. But Evan’s always been supportive, and I decided to step back because I wanted to focus on other things. It’s given me time to explore other passions.”

“She still visits me on set, though,” Evan adds, eyes softening. “And everyone always loves having her around. I think the crew likes her more than me.”

You smiled softly. “They just like the cookies and muffins that I bring.”

Sean chuckles. “Seems like you two have a pretty solid dynamic. Which brings me to my next question, what’s the secret to making it work for so long? Six years is impressive in Hollywood years, it’s hard to reach that kind of longevity, especially that you both are in the industry.”

Evan turns to you, eyebrows raised as if the answer is pretty obvious. “We just get each other, and honestly, I think being best friends at first really helped. We’re ridiculously comfortable around each other.”

“Ridiculously is right,” you agree, smiling. “We’ve been through everything together. The good, bad, utterly chaotic, you name it. But we always talk things through.”

Sean nods thoughtfully. “Communication. A classic, but always true.”

The next wing awaits, and you hesitate before taking a bite of it. Evan watches you carefully, waiting to see how you would react.

When the heat hits you immediately, your eyes widen. “Oh, my god.”

Evan laughs, though he’s wincing through his own bite. “That’s…oof, wow.”

You reached for your water, but Evan already has the glass of milk ready for you. “No baby, drink this instead. The water makes it worse.”

You took the glass of milk gracefully, fingers brushing as you sip. “You’re the best.

“Always,” he replies, gaze lingering on you.

Sean smirks, taking in the moment. “Alright, I think we need to dig into something else before you both pass out from the heat.”

You can’t help but laugh, even as your eyes begin to water. “Yes, please.”

“Evan, you’ve been killing it in all these dramatic roles. But do you ever see yourself doing something lighter? Maybe a rom-com?” Sean asks.

Evan shrugs, wiping his lips with a napkin. “Honestly? Maybe. I think it would be fun, why not. Especially if I could work with her again.”

You raised your brows in surprise. “Really?”

“Absolutely. I mean, you’re an amazing actress, and I do miss working with you.”

The sincerity in his voice leaves you momentarily speechless. Sean seems to pick up on it, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “So, any chance we’ll see you back on screen soon?”

You laughed nervously. “Maybe. I mean, I’ve been tempted, especially with Evan constantly trying to rope me back in.”

Evan smiled brightly. “We’ve joked about it a couple of times. But she’s hard to convince.”

“More like you haven't pitched me anything compelling enough,” you teased, taking a sip of the water. “You’d have to really sell it.”

“Oh, I can sell it,” Evan laughs. “Just wait, one of these days.”

The last wing was brutal. The second that you bite into it, your entire mouth feels like it’s on fire. You clutch Evan’s arm, face scrunching in pain as you try not to let the heat overwhelm you.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, chugging the milk Evan hands you. “Why did I agree to this?”

Evan is faring only slightly better, tears pooling in his eyes. “Because you love me?”

“I might reconsider that after this,” you joked, voice a little hoarse.

Sean was laughing, clearly entertained by the chaos. “You guys survived!”

“I’m just glad I did this with you,” Evan says, rubbing your back gently as you recover. “Even if you hate me for it now.”

You glanced up at him, slight tears streaming down your face but still managing a smile. “Could never hate you.”

Once the video had wrapped up, you and Evan found yourselves hanging out backstage of the Hot Ones studio. You collapsed onto a couch with a tub of ice cream between you, as Evan watches you like you’re the only person in the world.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, voice low and sincere.

“I did it,” you say, mostly to yourself than anyone else. “I actually did it.”

Evan leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You did, and you were amazing.”

“Guess we have to cancel our sushi dinner, because I’ll be feeling these spicy wings on my mouth for a good couple of hours,” Evan laughed as you rested your head on his shoulder, still working through the lingering heat. “Next time, let’s just do a cooking show.”

Evan laughed again, wrapping an arm around you. “Deal.”

© rosecoloredsunshine, 2025

[rottenaangelwings]

AHS characters played by Evan Peters

[fear-is-truth]

⋆𐙚 ₊ pregnancy announcement .ᐟ

requested by anon

ft. kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ kai anderson ‧ rory monahan ‧ peter maximoff ‧ colin zabel

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

kit would be stunned at first, eyes widening as he processes the news. but a slow smile would spread across his face as he takes it in. a soft joy would fill his expression as he realises he’s about to become a father, and he’d pull you into a big hug.

his protective side would instantly surface. as someone who would do anything to keep his loved ones safe, he’d be extra cautious about your well-being. “tell me if you need anything, alright?” he’d want to make sure you’re comfy and taken care of, going out of his way to handle things so you can rest.

he’d worry about whether he can be a good father. he’d confide in you, saying, “i just hope i can be the dad this little one deserves.” he’d want to do everything right, maybe even overthinking small details about parenting, but he’d be earnest in his desire to give your child a better life.

would immediately start making plans for the future, thinking about practical things like finding a safe place to live, budgeting, and making sure there’s enough space for your growing family. he’d sit down with you to talk about these things, wanting to be responsible and prepare as much as possible.

works extra shifts to earn more money.

he’d become even more attentive, watching out for anything you might need, even if it’s something small. kit would check in on you constantly, asking if you’re okay, if you need anything. insisting on doing things for you, like cooking (or attempting to), lifting things, or making sure you’re relaxed.

hope you don’t get kidnapped by aliens lol

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

completely bewildered, his eyes widening and his jaw dropping slightly. he’d never expect something like this, not now, not while he’s still in college.

nervously laugh, thinking maybe it’s a joke (even though he knew you wouldn’t joke about things like this) . “wait… seriously?”

once he’s wrapped his head around the news, he’d immediately ask, “are you okay? how do you feel?” wanting to make sure you’re not scared or upset.

the second question he’s ask is whether you’d want to keep the baby. he’d respect your decision no matter what. it’s your body, after all.

kyle is a smart and super responsible guy, he’d begin overthinking everything. “oh my god, we need to figure everything out—where are we gonna live? i don’t even have a real job yet!” his mind would fill with thoughts of money, school, and what your parents would say.

he’d want to start planning for the future, but he’d be panicked about how little time you both might have. he’d talk about finishing school quickly, getting a job, saving up, and trying to secure a better living situation.

you’d probably hear him start cracking dad jokes way too soon.

would randomly ask, “do you think the baby will have your eyes?” or “do you think they’ll like sports?” he’d start imagining what kind of person your child will be, picturing what it’ll be like to raise them together, and getting really invested in the idea of being a dad.

⟢ 𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐍.

his excitement would be matched by a fierce desire to shield you and the baby from public attention. “we don’t need the whole world in our business,” he’d say, giving you a serious look as he assures you he’ll do everything he can to keep the news private.

though he’s usually very open and upbeat on social media, rory would hold back from posting anything about the pregnancy until he feels it’s the right time. he’d cherish these early moments in private, making sure you’re protected from the stress of the spotlight. if he’s asked by friends or fans, he’d stay low-key, not wanting to give anything away until you both feel ready to share the news.

the two of you would joke and laugh about all the outlandish hollywood baby names out there, making ridiculous suggestions “can you imagine if we named the kid ‘rayleigh moonbeam monahan’?”

when you two finally announce the pregnancy, he’d choose a special photo—you glowing and visibly pregnant or a snapshot of the ultrasound. the caption would be heartfelt like , “just when i thought life couldn’t get any better with you, y/n… along comes our little one to prove me wrong. feeling so grateful, blessed, and ready for this next chapter together. ❤️”

would be adamant about protecting the baby’s identity, using stickers or taking photos from behind to shield your child’s face. he wants them to have a real childhood, not just be “rory monahan’s kid.”

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

the moment you tell him you’re pregnant, kai’s eyes would light up with an almost crazed joy. he’d instantly see this as the fulfillment of his vision, his grand plan for creating a “messiah baby.”

would immediately assume control over the entire situation. he’d tell you that everything will now revolve around the pregnancy and what this child represents.

would obsess over every detail related to the pregnancy. he’d dictate what you eat, how you exercise, and even what kind of prenatal care you receive, believing that this child must be raised under perfect conditions.

he’d talk about how this child will be the first to be raised in his image, with his values and beliefs. “i’ll teach them everything they need to know. they’ll be stronger, smarter, better than anyone else,” he’d promise. he’d start planning out the child’s entire life before they’re even born, from their education to their role in the movement. (wow. poor kid lol)

despite being an asshole, kai would show an intense devotion to you during the pregnancy. you’re the mother of the messiah, after all. he’d shower you with praise and attention, possibly even becoming more affectionate. say things like, “you’re perfect. you’re giving me the greatest gift anyone could ever give.”

there would be moments where kai’s obsession give way to genuine tenderness. he’d touch your bump with awe, whispering, “i can’t believe it… we’re creating something amazing.” there’d be an almost childlike wonder in his eyes at times, as he’s totally in awe of the life growing inside you.

would be super gentle during sex and even go down on you when you’re horny :)

⟢ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋.

when you tell colin you’re pregnant, he’d froze, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide in absolute disbelief. his expression slowly shifting from shock to wonder. completely lost for words, standing there and struggling to find a response, yet somehow still managing to look at you with pure awe.

then, without warning, he’d swept you up into his arms. “are you serious? we’re going to be parents?” his voice shaking slightly as the reality settled in. then the two of you would kiss deeply, colin holding you close as he tries to pour all his excitement, gratitude, and love into that one kiss.

starts reading up on everything he can about pregnancy, making sure he’s prepared for every step.

he’d sit you down with a notebook and start talking about houses, school districts, and daycare options.

whatever your craving—whether it’s pickles, ice cream, or some random weird food—you can count on him to show up with it, no matter the hour. “got your favourite, plus a backup in case you change your mind,” (colin zabel the man that you are)

would get so invested in learning about babies that you’d find him falling asleep with baby books and parenting guides in his lap. he’d read up on everything from swaddling techniques to tips on managing sleep schedules, wanting to be as prepared as possible.

meticulous about getting everything ready for the baby, safety-proofing the house, researching baby essentials etc. when you start picking out strollers, cribs, and bottles, colin would obsess over quality and safety ratings.

be prepared for dad jokes.

⟢ 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅.

when you first tell him, he’d literally freeze. *peter.exe has stopped working*. “whoa… wait… a baby? like a real tiny person?” he’d feel overwhelmed, knowing he’s on the verge of a huge life change and trying to wrap his head around what it means to be responsible for another human being.

always ready to run off and get whatever weird snacks you’re in the mood for.

would totally go overboard in the baby shopping department, especially toys and gadgets. he’d bring home all sorts of things that seem way too advanced, like gaming consoles and motorized toys, “look, our kid’s gonna be a tech whiz,” he’d say, holding up the PS5 he bought.

he’d immediately start practicing his dad jokes. “did you hear about the cheese factory explosion? there was de-brie everywhere!”

peter would be driven by a deep desire to be the kind of father he always wished for himself. quiet moments of reflection, probably late at night, thinking about all the ways he can be there for your child. “i’m gonna make sure our kid knows they’re loved every day.” he’d tell you. it’d become a goal he’d never stop working toward, fueled by his love for you and the family you’re about to start together.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[slutforgarlogan]

Matching Wounds | James Patrick March x F! reader

Summary: James Patrick March killing you while hes fucking you (sorry guys i had a dream about it and had to write it)

A/N: this is so toned down i got too into the killing part the first time

Warnings: blood!, p in v smut, restraints, reader gets killed but shes in the cortez so she'll be conscious again guys its fine

You tug at the restraints, which are currently making sure both your hands and feet are secured onto the bed. Your chest is heaving and you're getting increasingly nervous, heartrate quickening and inducing you into a panicked state wondering what on earth had made you think this was a good idea.

When you had asked James to do the honours of killing you, so that you could be together forever, it hadn't occured to you that you'd actually have to go through the feeling of being killed. You had just wanted him to shoot you in the head or the heart or something, but it was never going to be that simple when you put your life in the hands of James Patrick March.

James on the other hand, felt the complete opposite to you in this very moment. He was absolutely ecstatic when you had asked him to kill you, and he ran through all the possible ways to do it. Choke you to death, cut you somewhere fatal, snap your neck, shoot you. But what he immediately knew for sure, was that he was going to fuck you while he did it.

After a few days of thinking, also giving you time to go back on the request, he had decided exactly what he was going to do. He was going to slit your throat, so you'd have a permanent wound that matched his own. Which is rather romantic in its own twisted, yet endearing way.

He watches you tug at the restraints that hold you down to the bed, laughing a little bit. "Don't worry darling, i promise this isn't going to be a bad experience for you. I'll make it quick, you wont even notice his happening"

You nod feverishly, though you were scared out of your mind right now, you could never deny the effect that he had on you, pussy clenching around air just from hearing his voice.

You try to relax your body against the sheets, keeping you eyes trained on him carefully, as he sheds himself of his 3 piece and boxers, and uncovering his open neck wound - which you'd only seen him do once before.

You're already squirming by the time hes hovering over you, soaked and desperate for his touch. You lock your gaze with his dark eyes - his gaze somewhat ominous, but loving at the same time.

"I love you, darling" He whispers to you, placing a soft kiss on your temple as he slips his dick into your soaking wet cunt. You whine a little at the stretch, and whisper back to him "I love you too, James"

His hips snap against yours roughly, as he snakes his hand between your bodys to toy with your clit, making you whimper underneath him. The moans that escape his parted lips sound glorious, as breathes out his words "fuck darling, you're always so good for me"

His skin is hot and sticky against yours, and the feel of him buried inside you makes your toes curl as you writhe and whimper beneath him.

He can see you're getting closer, your body giving him the same telltale signs as always. Clenching around his cock, squirming and shaking. The restraints that tie you to the bed leaving deep marks on your wrists at the way you're thrashing beneath him.

As your eyes roll back and you throw your head back, James reaches his free hand over to the bedside table, grabbing his knife and dragging it across your throat as he feels you coat his dick in your release.

He lets out a gutteral groan at the sight in front of him. Your fucked out expression, blood pouring down your neck, trickling down your breasts, and he runs a thumb over your nipple, smearing your blood around it as he waits for you.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Taglist: @lacucarachapisser @the-ultimate-theatre-kid @bluerthanvelvet444 @lvxybby

[xrag-dollx]

-What the AHS Evans- -------wear in bed-------

Tate:

• shirt of his favourite band and a messy pair of sleeping pants, you can expect them to be all gross and worn out

• he never ever cared abt cleaning the clothes at least once a week so he basically wears the same sleeping clothes like 365 days a year

• thinks bc he's a ghost nobody would ever care

• when he isn't around you, you exchange the clothes and make sure he's having new sleeping clothes bc the smell really annoys you when you're in bed with him

• is actually thankful that you're exchanging his clothes ❤

Kit:

• sleeps in pyjamas during wintertime but prefers to sleep in speedos and a top in summer

• exchanges his clothes at least every week but during summer like every 2nd day (bc u both are a hot mess during the night 😏)

• he mostly keeps track on having new clothes but when his week was too stressful he might forget about it

• so you carefully put his new clothes on his bedside and he always comes around you and thanks you with a kiss on your cheek ❤

Kyle (frankenkyle):

• is wearing the cutest pj's on earth

• like the ones which make u look like a dinosaur or a tiger

• could wear pj's 24/7

• you always need to remind him that he can't go out in his dinosaur pyjamas

• is crying for 15 mins

• you convince him to get a new pyjama if he gets out of his current one just to go out in his normal clothes

• when you see Kyle yawning or sneezing in his dinosaur pyjamas it literally makes your heart melt in cuteness

Jimmy:

• likes shorts and a top in summer and a pyjama in winter

• when he's getting drunk he falls asleep in his actual clothes bc yea why not

• normal clothes = most comfortable clothes

James:

• darn expensive silk pyjamas

• but in summer he'd prefer something like boxers and a top

• exchanges his sleeping clothes like every 2nd day bc he's a hoe for tidiness

• doesn't need to care abt changing the old clothes himself at all, Ms. Evers takes care of it (as for everything else)

Rory:

• loves to sleep naked (and loves to walk around naked at home bc why not)

• in wintertime he's pretty okay by wearing a shirt and some long sleeping pants

Kai:

• he's basic af so just a shirt and shorts (in summer probably shirtless)

• never really exchanges the sleeping clothes unless winter is doing it (bc she's a good lil sissy)

• has to care abt more important shit than sleeping clothes

• does he even sleep at all???

• I guess not, too busy on taking world domination

Mr. Gallant:

• is never underdressed, not even while sleeping

• prefers to sleep in fancy pyjamas bc he thinks when he sleeps without anything on he feels gross

• wears nothing else than Gucci and Versace pyjamas

• goes shopping like every weekend to get some new ones (bc his nana has the cash 💸)

Austin:

• could never go without his silk robes and pyjamas

• has a favourite store in paris so when he's on vacation he gets TONS of new ones

•basically lives off this shit

•they are like his 2nd skin

• likes to brag and shows it to EVERYONE

• when he's got a new writing idea he runs downstairs so his long robe is hovering dramatically over the stairs (thinks it looks freakin cool while doing this)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~《《《》》》~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @fear-is-truth @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @trueangel420 @lacucarachapisser @evanpeterspeter

[emilyskinners]

since I'm back in my ahs era since I'm doing a rewatch with one of my mutuals who is watching it for the first time. I decided to make a part 2 with the evans as yearbook quotes. if yall wanna see the first part that i made a couple years back, you can check out here, but for now, here's another one

[themuselesswriter]

Also Evan Peters cause this guy's been through hell

[melsimps]

I uuhhhh did a thing again

Saw my mutuals interacting with all of these Evan role-play blogs and... yeah this took over an hour it's stupid I know but stuff like this is my love language (I love making memes for people).

[evnp17]

YALL HAVE NO IDEA, IL THIS EDIT SM OMG

its by:@per4ltcine

[wcnderlnds]

my heart is so jet lagged | rory monahan

・❥・ summary: a long distance relationship with rory while he’s away filming isn’t the easiest ・❥・word count: 1.5k ・❥・warnings: nothing rly just a couple of swear words maybe ・❥・ authors note: hi i love rory and i wrote this in like an hour so 😭 i had a long distance relationship for two years and they are HARD

Another day, another missed call. It seemed to be happening more often lately. When Rory had first left for England three months ago, there wasn’t a single day that went by where you didn’t spend hours upon hours talking to each other on the phone. There had always been a set schedule and nothing would deter either of you from that. Slowly, as the weeks went by, it got harder and harder for the two of you to abide by that schedule. Either something came up on your end or Rory had to film — it sucked but that was life. Sometimes things didn’t go the way you wanted and you had to adjust to it. So, you tried. Those everyday phone calls turned to barely two a week and now you were lucky if you managed to speak to each other once a week. It was one of the worst feelings in the world feeling like you were losing someone you loved so much.

You had first met Rory two years ago at some Hollywood party you’d tagged along to. Your friend was a PA to the stars and was occasionally invited to those big, fancy shindigs that took place after award shows. The one party you had decided to attend happened to be the one that Rory had. It was a chance encounter — he’d been passing by and making some stupid joke and you’d laughed. Of course, he’d stopped and started chatting to you. That was Rory down to a tee. He was a social butterfly. He could make friends anywhere he went — bonus points if they found him funny. The rest of the night the two of you had drank, laughed, made fun of all the celebrities making idiots of themselves. It really had been a pleasant surprise. You’d half expected everyone there to be stuck up but Rory was far from it. He was a normal, down to Earth guy so it was no shocker when he left that night with your phone number.

Truthfully, you hadn’t expected anything of it but when you got a text from him the next day, you couldn’t have been more thrilled. Things escalated from there. He took you out on dates, you made things official and before you knew it the two of you were moving in together. Life with Rory was fun. Everyday felt like a new adventure, it was impossible to have a boring day when he was around.

That was why you felt so… empty now that he was gone.

The days dragged on. You found yourself feeling more exhausted, more irritated by everything around you. There was no smiling Rory to come home to after a hard day's work to make you feel better. There wasn’t even a phone call anymore. It felt like a heavy weight on your chest constantly weighing you down. The entire relationship was hanging on by a thread at this point and you so badly wanted to hang on to it but would it be better to cut it loose? Was Rory feeling the same way?

Throwing your purse on the couch, you sat down just as your phone rang out. Quickly, you pulled it from your purse, seeing Rory’s name on the screen. Your heart was pounding as you accepted the call.

“Herro!” His cheerful voice sounded out.

You could almost cry with how good it felt to hear his voice. “Rory!”

“Hey, babe. Sorry I’m calling at such a weird time but I wanted to hear your voice,” he stifled back a yawn. You could just picture him sprawled out wherever he was using the back of his to cover up his yawn.

“I… I miss you,” you whispered.

“I miss you, too, baby. You have no idea ho-“ He didn’t finish his sentence but you could hear muffled voices in the background then a second later Rory sighed into the phone. “Sorry, hot stuff, gotta go. I’ll call you again tomorrow. I love you.”

“Yeah, I love you, too,” you sighed. The phone call ended and once again you went to bed that night with a heavy heart.

Rory didn’t call the next day but he had sent a text telling you that he had a busy day on set but he’d try to check in when he could. Everyday without him was getting harder and harder. You knew when he got this big job and was flying across the other side of the ocean that it would be hard. You just didn’t think it would be this hard. Rory was the love of your life, he meant everything to you but sometimes you had to let go of the things you loved. Inside your brain you were fighting every single day between holding on or giving up.

One night when you called and he picked up, you couldn’t handle it anymore, trying to explain how you felt but it all came out in a jumble of words. At first the phone call had been normal — small talk and him telling you about his days but it only made you miss him more so you ended up word vomiting.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Rory. Every single day without you is like a knife to my heart. It hurts and… this isn’t me being selfish because I love you and I’m so, so happy and proud of you for doing what you love but… we’re growing more and more apart every single day. We barely speak and when we do it feels… strained. Maybe…. maybe this isn’t work anymore,” you choked back a sob. If this is what heartbreak felt like then you hated every single second of it. It felt like your heart had been ripped out, stomped on then put back in.

“Babe, no,” Rory instantly panicked. “I know it’s hard b-but we’ll be okay. We can make this work. Please. Please don’t do this.”

Tears were falling freely down your face now. “I… dont know, Rory. I just don’t know.”

“…okay,” he sounded deflated, like his whole world had fallen apart. “I’m sorry.”

The phone call ended and, once again, you went to bed but this time not with a heavy heart but a broken one.

Getting out of bed the next day was hard. All you wanted to do was bury your head in your pillows and sleep the day away. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to think about the hurt in Rory’s voice or how you’d just lost the best thing you’d ever had. A day in bed sounded great but the insistent knocking at the door was enough to make you get out of the comfy confines of your safe haven. Pulling the front door open, you were greeted with the fiery red hair that you were so fond of.

“Ro-“ You started but he stopped you by obnoxiously placing his finger on your lips to shush you.

“Let me talk. By the way, sorry for knocking, couldn’t find my keys and then I tried to climb in through the kitchen window but you’ve locked it which is smart. You’ve always been the smart one. We’re like Pinky and the Brain. You’re the brain and I’m the dumb one that just goes along with everything you do…. okay, I’m rambling,” he laughed half heartedly. “Look, last night, that phone call? It was the worst moment of my life. The feeling of losing you? I never want to experience that shit again. No job is more important than you. I need you to know that you are and always have been the number one thing on my mind. Seriously, what was that thing Taylor Swift said? Living in my head rent free, that’s you.”

“Rory…”

“Not done, babe. I love the shit out of you. So much so that I literally hopped on a plane the second we hung up last night so I could come and see you. I’m honestly not sure what time or day it is right now but that doesn’t matter because I’m here with you. Don’t give up on us… on me. Please.”

The sincerity in his eyes brought tears to yours. The last few weeks really had been an emotional rollercoaster but here he was right in front of you fighting for you. How could you give this man up? “I don’t want to. I just… couldn’t take it. The not talking, the being so far away from each other. I love you so much. I was trying to protect my heart and failing really badly.”

“We’ll make it work, okay?” He stepped inside, kicking the door closed behind him and taking your hands in his. “I can come visit you, you come visit me and we’ll get back to calling each other every night. This isn’t happening again.”

“I like the sound of that,” you smiled.

“Now, what’s it gonna take for a guy to get a kiss after a big romantic gesture like this?” Rory grinned as he grabbed your hips and pulled you into him. With a laugh - and a healed heart - you pressed your lips against his for the first time in months. It felt like home, like everything was going to be okay.

list (ask to be added or removed): @ldydeath @jazz-berry @lemoniiiiiii @bohnerrific69 @honeymoon8 @lacucarachapisser @evanpetersbf

[rosecoloredsunshine]

honey, you're familiar — james patrick march

masterlist | character.ai bot | part two

PAIRINGS: james patrick march x female!reader

SUMMARY: you are the reincarnation of his greatest love, the woman who mysteriously vanished from his life in the 1920s. though you have no memory of your past life, you are an exact replica of the woman he adored.

REMINDERS: please be reminded that this is a work of fiction. meaning that all events and occurrences in this story are all fictional and all are part of my imagination. any resemblance to actual life events and people, living or dead, are all purely coincidence.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, reincarnation, slight implication of reader being murdered (if you squint enough), the countess does not exist in this fic, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi! i've been rewatching ahs, and i wanted to give it a try writing for the ahs fandom. this will also be my first time writing for the ahs fandom. i also made a character.ai for this fic that is linked just above. i hope that you guys will enjoy this one! :)

2015

The night air was unseasonably cold for Los Angeles. You had stepped out of the cab with a soft huff, wrapping your coat tighter around your body as you glanced up at the building that stood before you. The Hotel Cortez. It loomed like a relic of another era, gothic and imposing, the dark stonework catching the dim city lights in odd angles. Truth be told, it wasn't your first choice, it was far from it, but after calling around every hotel in the city, it was the only place left with a vacancy. You had hesitated for a brief moment in the cab, chewing the insides of your cheeks, but what other option did you have?

Inside of the building, the lobby was a different world. Grand, in an old Hollywood kind of way, but there was something off. Maybe it was the silence, or the way the golden fixtures gleamed too brightly, as if they were watching you. You have your luggage in tow behind you, the sound of wheels clattering against marble floors echoing through the space.

From behind the front desk, a woman perked up at your approach. She was a much older woman, thin lips pulled tight over perfect teeth, hair styled in an immaculate bouffant that screamed another decade. Her name tag read Iris.

“Welcome to the Hotel Cortez,” she said brightly, but her eyes didn't seem to match the warmth in her voice. “Checking in?”

You nodded at her. “I need a room for the night…maybe two.”

Iris’ fingers clicked across the keyboard, an ancient looking machine that still required a punch of force on each key. “Well, lucky you,” she said, “we’ve got one left. Seems like the city’s just full up tonight.”

She then slid a paper across to you, pushing a fountain pen along with it. “Sign here, please.”

As you scrawled your signature across the page, you felt something in the air had shifted. It was subtle at first, like the faintest change in pressure before a storm. You did not notice it, but he did.

James Patrick March was standing on the mezzanine above, his hands resting on the brass railing as he stared down at you with eyes wide, unblinking. He had not known fear in his lifetime, he’s the kind of man who reveled in control, carnage, in bending fate to his will. His usual smirk was absent, replaced with something that is raw, something akin to disbelief.

His mind could not accept it at first. It had been nearly a century since he had last seen you. Since you had vanished without a trace, leaving him to scour the world for any whisper of your presence. But now, James watched as you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, just the way you always had. Your fingers were delicate, graceful, as if they belonged on piano keys. Your profile turned toward Iris was devastatingly familiar, the high curve of your cheekbone, the sharpness of your fox-like gaze, even as your eyes darted so casually across the lobby in a way that suggested this place unsettled you.

You are here. His lost love. His obsession. His salvation and his damnation.

James�� chest constricted. You were unchanged. Not merely similar, but the same. Perfect. Flawless. As if God himself had honored James’ desperate plea for your return, despite his profound aversion to the Christian values. He descended the stairs without realizing he had moved, the sharp click of his shoes announcing his approach. Iris noticed him first and immediately stiffened. You did not see him at first, too busy retrieving your wallet from your bag.

“Sir,” Iris said, voice lower, deferential.

James’ voice was honey-drenched steel. “I will handle this guest personally, Iris.”

You turned then, startled. For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause. He stood before you, immaculate in a three-piece suit from another age, posture unnaturally straight, predatory yet elegant. His mustache was neatly groomed, and his dark eyes were captivating. It was as if they burned into you with such intensity that you took a small step back without thinking.

“I—” you began, voice soft and uncertain. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

His smile was slow, it was like a knife slipping beneath flesh. But there was something else there. Reverence and awe. “You will,” James replied, voice low and velvety. “In time.”

There was an unsettling calm to him, like the eye of a hurricane. Iris handed you an old-fashioned key on a brass fob before scuttling away, leaving you alone with the man.

James gestured toward the elevators. “Permit me to escort you to your room. It is the least I can do for a guest of your…exquisite standing.”

You briefly hesitated, but politeness was second nature. It had been drilled into you at finishing school, and this man spoke with such an archaic elegance, like he had directly stepped out of a Fitzgerald novel.

You offered a wary smile. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

As he walked beside you, pace measured, James studied every delicate angle of your face. They way you held yourself, graceful and poised, just as he remembered. Your perfume was different, more lighter, but your skin—he could almost swear, still smelled faintly of rose and sandalwood.

“I’m James,” he said as you reached the elevator. “James Patrick March, the owner of this hotel.”

You nodded. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

The elevator doors opened with a groan, and he ushered you in, following closely. As the doors slid shut, you glanced at him, feeling the weight of his stare.

“What is it?” you asked softly.

James tilted his head, smiling in a way that made your stomach twist, half-charm and half-sinister. “Forgive me. You remind me of someone…very dear to me.”

You flushed faint at his words, but nodded, really unsure of what to say. As the floors ticked upward, James kept his hands behind his back, concealing how they trembled with restraint. He wanted to touch you, just to confirm that you were real. That you were flesh, and not some cruel hallucinations that had been conjured by centuries of longing.

When the doors opened, he stepped aside and let you lead the way, gaze never straying from you for an instant. You walked to the door that Iris had assigned you—room 64. He took the key from your hand with a touch that sent a straight shiver up your spine and opened the door for you. You crossed the threshold, feeling the strange energy of the room settle over you like a veil. As you set your bag down, James remained in the doorway, just watching.

His eyes darkened as he spoke again. “If there is anything, anything, that you require, you need only ask.”

You turned to him with a gracious nod, still smiling politely, though something about his intensity gnawed at you. “I appreciate it, Mr. March. Goodnight.”

James took a breath, lips parting as if to say something more. But he did not. Instead, he gently grabbed your hand and kissed it softly, as though you were a queen and he was a loyal knight.

“Goodnight, my dear.”

The door shut softly, but he stood there for a long time, staring at the wood as though he could see through it. His mind reeled. You were here, at his hotel. Alive. Returned. Though you bore no memory of the life you once shared, of the nights he whispered secrets into your ear and how your voice had caressed his name like a prayer as you lay tangled in his arms, of the dreams he had for the empire he was building with your beauty at its heart—he would remind you.

James would awaken the love you held for him. Brick by brick, memory by memory, he would reconstruct you into the woman who once adored him with such fierce devotion, and this time, you would never leave the Hotel Cortez. One thing was certain—James Patrick March did not believe in coincidences. Fate had returned you to him, and he had no intention of letting you go a second time, so he wasted no time and descended the stairs to find Iris.

He turned to Iris. “Send her dinner, something divine. And Iris…”

“Yes, Mr. March?”

James’ gaze was gleaming. “Nobody disturbs her. She is not to leave. The lady of the house is home at last.”

Then slowly, he smiled.

© rosecoloredsunshine, 2025

[v1ctor1asecretangel]

"Lyin on your chest, in my party dress"

rory monahan x reader

song i recommend listening to: love song by lana del rey

warnings: none? i dont think. fluffy, mention of alcohol and little hurt/comfort

word count: 1.1k

notes: sorry guys this isnt as good as i wanted it too me😞 i had a whole plot outline for a rory fic but i got too carried away. but a @marchsfreakshow post about rory inspired me too make this!!!

The apartment was dim, with soft, warm lighting illuminating the scattered remnants of your latest night out. A pair of heels kicked haphazardly near the door, your coat draped over a chair, and Rory’s jacket lying crumpled on the floor. The air was thick with the lingering scent of perfume and something deeper like that hint of whiskey on Rory’s breath whenever he pulled you close. It was as if the whole place held onto traces of the wild, dizzying night you’d shared.

You lay sprawled on Rory’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath you. The party dress you’d worn, once pristine and carefully chosen, was rumpled, the zipper half-down and the hem bunched around your legs. Your head felt heavy, a dull ache reminding you of the champagne and cocktails that had felt like such good ideas at the time. Now, though, you were a beautiful, hazy mess in his arms, and it felt almost poetic.

Rory’s fingers played absentmindedly with a strand of your hair, his touch gentle, soothing. He smelled like his cologne, rich and comforting, mixed with the subtle scent of the night air that clung to him. There was something grounding about being in his arms, like he was the one constant in a world that always seemed to be on the verge of slipping away.

“You okay, babe?” he murmured, his voice soft, a bit rough around the edges. You could feel his breath warm against your temple as he pressed a gentle kiss there, lingering just a little longer than he had to.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you shifted slightly, snuggling closer into him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as if it were the only thing anchoring you. It felt like if you closed your eyes, the whole night might dissolve into some hazy dream, and you’d wake up alone. But here, lying on his chest, you felt real, like maybe, just maybe, you were more than the fleeting moments you always worried he’d forget.

“Yeah,” you finally whispered, your voice a bit hoarse. “I’m fine. Just… tired, I guess.”

Rory chuckled softly, his hand moving to your back, tracing lazy circles. “That’s what happens when you insist on dancing until two in the morning. You’re like a machine, babe. I don’t know how you do it.”

You managed a weak smile, the memory of the night’s blur of lights and music washing over you. “Well, I had to keep up with you,” you teased, a hint of playful accusation in your voice. “You’re the one who dragged me out there, remember?”

He laughed, that familiar, infectious sound that made you feel like everything would be okay. “Hey, I never said I was the responsible one in this relationship,” he quipped, flashing that mischievous grin of his that always left your heart doing somersaults. “But, I gotta say, you looked incredible out there.”

His fingers brushed your cheek, and you felt a warmth rise in you that had nothing to do with the alcohol still lingering in your system. But then, just as quickly as it had come, that feeling of comfort was overshadowed by a pang of insecurity, the same one that crept in whenever you found yourself in his world.

“I’m a mess, Rory,” you murmured, barely able to meet his gaze. “I mean, look at me. Dress ruined, makeup smudged. I don’t even know how you put up with me.”

Rory’s smile faded, his eyes growing softer, more serious. “Hey, don’t say that,” he whispered, his hand moving to gently lift your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You’re not a mess. And even if you were, I wouldn’t care. You know that, right?”

The way he looked at you, the sincerity in his gaze—it was almost too much to bear. You’d always felt like you had to keep up with him, like you had to be the life of the party, the girl who could match his energy and charisma. But here, in the quiet of his apartment, with his arms around you, he saw right through every layer, every facade you’d built.

A silence settled between you, thick with unspoken words, the kind of silence that felt heavy but comforting, like he was waiting for you to let him in, to trust that he could handle the parts of you you’d hidden away.

“Sometimes,” you began, hesitating as the words fought to come out, “sometimes I feel like… like I’m not good enough for you. Like you’re this… incredible, charismatic guy, and I’m just… me.” Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to keep going. “You deserve someone who’s got it all together, not someone who’s a mess.”

Rory’s expression softened, a mix of surprise and sadness crossing his features. He gently cupped your face, his thumbs tracing delicate lines along your cheekbones. “Look at me,” he murmured, his voice steady but full of emotion. “I don’t care about the ‘perfect girl,’ or someone who’s always got it all together. I care about you—the real you. Mess and all.”

You felt your chest tighten, the walls you’d built around your insecurities beginning to crack. Rory had always been so sure of himself, so confident in everything he did. It was hard to believe he could see anything worth holding onto in someone like you.

“I’m not perfect, babe,” he continued, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m far from it. But you—you make me want to be better. And if that makes you a mess, then I guess I’m a mess too. Because I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

A lump formed in your throat, the weight of his words settling deep in your heart. You’d spent so long convincing yourself that he’d eventually see through you, that he’d grow tired of the nights where you felt vulnerable and exposed. But here he was, holding you close, making you feel like you were enough.

With a shaky breath, you lifted your head, meeting his gaze fully, letting yourself believe, just for this moment, that maybe you didn’t have to keep pretending. Maybe you could just… be.

“Thank you, Rory,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly. “For not letting me push you away.”

He smiled softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. You’re stuck with me, babe. Mess and all.”

As you lay there, his arms wrapped around you, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. A rare, beautiful calm that washed away the chaos of the night. You knew there would still be doubts, still be moments where you questioned whether you could truly keep up with him. But for now, you let yourself believe in his words, in the warmth of his embrace, and in the quiet strength that came from knowing he saw you ,all of you, and loved you just the same.

[fear-is-truth]

what do you think each of the evan’s wear to bed?

(i was trying to imagine what JPM would wear to bed and was stumped lmao)

⋆𐙚 ₊ the evans… sleepwear .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james patrick march‧ kai anderson ‧ rory monahan ‧ peter maximoff ‧ colin zabel

a/n: ty for the req !! so fun to write tbh

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

tate’s sleepwear is very 90s boy-next-door. half the time, he’s in those vintage-looking striped tees—horizontal stripes in muted colors, the kind that might seem kinda baby-ish now but somehow work on him. baby boy. the rest of the time, it’s a band tee, nirvana or the smashing pumpkins. for bottoms, he’ll either grab his track & field shorts (you know, the short ones that look kinda fruity) or a pair of boxers. if it’s hot, he’ll ditch the shirt completely. on colder days, he’s in one of those sweaters paired with green checkered pyjama pants.

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

kit’s all about practicality. hot weather? briefs. nothing else. he’s not into anything restrictive or fancy when he’s sleeping. when it’s colder, he might throw on some soft flannel pajama pants and a white undershirt, but only if it’s freezing.

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

kyle’s sleepwear usually includes an old college club tee—something from a campus event or charity run—or a nerdy sci-fi shirt with marvel, star wars, or star trek designs. for bottoms, it’s always something cozy, like well-worn sweatpants or flannel pyjama bottoms, usually in neutral or plaid patterns. his clothes always smell nice because he’s that guy who uses fabric softener religiously and actually knows how to do laundry properly.

⟢ 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.

wife-beater and boxers, no questions asked. he’s the type to sleep in just his boxers most of the year because he doesn’t see the point in layering up unless it’s absolutely freezing. when the weather does turn colder, he’ll trade the tank for a plain button-down.

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

james wouldn’t dare wear anything less than a matching set of black silk pajamas, tailored to fit him perfectly. the initials “J.P.M.” are embroidered in silver thread on the pocket because, of course, he’s that extra. to complete the look, he has a matching silk robe—also black, with a silver trim. probably has a nightcap too.

⟢ 𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐍.

“actor off-duty” typa fit. his go-to is a plain, perfectly-fitted t-shirt (you’d think it’s basic, but it’s actually some high-end brand like james perse) paired with plain sweatpants. if it’s getting chilly, he’d swap the tee for a well-worn hoodie, but even that’s designer, probably with a well-hidden logo no one notices unless they know fashion. cashmere socks because his feet get cold in winter. rory’s all about comfort, but it’s the kind of comfort only a celeb with a fat paycheck can pull off.

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

kai would 100% sleep shirtless, wearing those loose, low-slung grey sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips, showing off that delicious v-line because. he a whore. when it’s cold, though, he’s layering up with a sweater or plain hoodie—the kind a tech bro would wear without a second thought. or black thermal shirt paired with fleece joggers.

⟢ 𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒.

austin’s sleepwear is all about luxury. he’d wear a high-end silk robe, probably from something like tom ford or balenciaga, in sleek b & w pinstripes or a classy paisley print. It’s the kind of robe that looks expensive without being flashy—tasteful, refined, and just a little bit sexy. he’d leave it slightly open at the chest, showing off just a sliver of his pale skin (scandalous! what a slut!). he’s also got matching slippers, and an eye mask for when he needs to block out sunlight.

⟢ 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅.

he’s got a collection of band tees that double as sleepwear, (pink floyd or rush). then, of course, there are those absurdly dorky graphic tees that are so bad they’re good—like the “nacho average guy” with a cartoon taco or a random graphic of a turtle. peter’s pyjama bottoms are often cartoony and childish. think patterns like cartoon superheroes, or those old-school looney tunes characters. they’re soft and comfy, of course.

⟢ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋.

simple and comfy. he’d throw on a plain cotton shirt and wear boxers. when it’s warmer, he’s in boxers, but when the temperature drops, he’s switching to a long-sleeve thermal shirt to stay warm. his pajama bottoms are a staple—those brown, white, and black checkered plaid ones, they’re slightly worn in from frequent use, but he looooves that soft, lived-in feeling.

[slutforgarlogan]

"With your finger in my mouth and the sound when leather jackets hit the ground!" | Jimmy darling x fem reader

Summary: Riding Jimmys thigh while he pays you no attention

Warnings: Thigh riding (obv), he calls you slut like once, hand kink

A/N: Its two in the morning im too tired to proofread soz x

You desperately rocked your bare core against Jimmys thigh, needing more help than you were getting from just this alone. "Jimmy please, I'll be good" you whined, looking up at him desperately.

He pays you no mind, carrying on with what hes writing, little fucker, muttering a dismissive "I'm busy doll." You whimper in response, rutting yourself on his clothed thigh, repeatedly brushing your clit against it.

The friction was delicious and it did make the coil in your stomach tighten, but it just wasnt enough. All you wanted was his big, fused fingers thrusting into you. You let your eyelids flutter shut, and you brought a hand up to your breast, playing with your nipple and whimpering softly.

You think about how his fingers usually feel inside you, stretching you out deliciously as they curl upwards inside your spongy walls, making you writhe beneath him.

This brings you closer than you were, rutting yourself mercilessly against his thigh and whining and whimpering loudly, begging him to touch you. "Jimmy please, just a little bit of help please"

Your eyes widen in surprise when he shoves his free hand in your mouth, but then you suck on his fingers as if they were his cock, listening to his low voice. "Be quiet, i told you i was busy and you couldn't wait an hour, its my thigh or nothing doll"

The sound of his voice and his fingers in your mouth are nearly enough to drive you over the edge. You suck his fingers harder, sinking your teeth into them as you finally manage to cum all over his thigh.

He winces a little when you bite down on his fingers "fuck, little slut"

[xrag-dollx]

❤️A list of amazing Evan fic writer ❤️

Thought I'd make a list of (wonderful 🫶) people in the fandom I can highly recommend:

@fear-is-truth

@am3ricanh0rrorwh0re

@trueangel420

@doll3tt33

@evvypeters-fics

@evanpeterswifeyyy

@taintandviolent

@silverzoomies

@marchsfreakshow

@corrodedmilk

@frankenkyle19

@lacucarachapisser (huge re-blogger! ❤️)

@evanchantingpeters

@theswanqu33nsblog

@c-cobweb

@evanpeterspeter

@wherewritersgotodie-blog

@kit-walk3r

@feefymo

@redroses07

@evanpeterswhoresblog

@kaislittlelamb

@whosbloom

(Sorry if I forgot anyone 🙈)