#and I’m watchin a movie

[your-unfriendlyghost]

so many of my mutuals are posting so much cool stuff n I don’t have the energy to comment on it rn bc my eyelids are so heavy but know that I have seen it and I LOVE it and tomorrow I get off work at 4 so I’ll write some comments bc y’all rock holy hell

[slicksquid]

I love Hilda fire emblem fancam

[buscemifan]

this post breaching containment was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. “fuck filmbros” THATS WHO MADE THE POST!! SOMEONE WHO HATH JOINED THE WAR ON PRETENTIOUSNESS ON THE SIDE OF THE PRETENTIOUS!!!!!!!

[sleaze4sleaze]

HA. Thought I was over the Brake thing because I’m knee deep in Walken heaven-hell? I’m not

[lovebugism]

hi! can i request shy/innocent reader who blushes at any sex talk, but one day she shows up covered in hickies that she didn’t notice and eddie, robin and the gang are grilling her trying to find out who shes with and steve’s just standing in the corner like🧍‍♂️

ty for requesting :D — the gang finds a hickey on you during movie night (shy!fem!r, fluff, 1.3k)

Slasher films, Eddie tells you, are just excuses to make the goriest, raunchiest movies known to man. But that’s why they’re so good! he exclaims like a giddy teenage boy before sliding the bulky VHS into the tape player. 

Your stomach’s been in knots about it since. You’re made of something more delicate than that — not particularly built for gruesome horror — but you swallow down your worrying anyway. 

Robin’s smacking on gummy worms at your feet, Eddie hasn’t stopped smiling since he sat down beside you, and Steve’s got one toned arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder. The combination of familiarity takes your mind off the whole thing when you threaten to scare yourself about it.

A half-hour in, and the scariest thing you’ve seen so far, is an overtly theatric sex scene. You only get a glimpse of the static nudity before a clammy, ringed hand splays itself over your eyes. It doesn’t save you from the high-pitched squealing and gruff moans, though, so you’re not entirely sure it’s doing much.

“What are you doing?” you ask Eddie through quiet giggles.

“This shit’s gross,” he answers, muffled through the candy in his cheek. “You don’t need to be watchin’ stuff like this.”

Your brows furrow beneath his palm. “I’m not a child, Eds.”

“Yeah, but you’re too pure! I wouldn’t feel right if I just let you watch it!”

Steve returns from the kitchen then, with a bowl of refilled popcorn in hand. He scoops a handful into his mouth and scolds through the mouthful. “Eddie. Leave her alone.”

The pale hand slips from your face when the scene ends — the climax sufficiently interrupted by a serial killing, chainsaw weilding psycho. The wild-haired boy scoffs. “Jeez! Sorry for trying to take care of your girlfriend, Harrington!”

“I do that on my own. I don’t need your help, freak,” Steve retorts, unthinking, before plopping down beside you and shoveling another handful of popcorn into his mouth. 

All three of you glance at him with unwavering stares. He blinks back at you for a moment until the realization hits him. Rolling his chocolate eyes, he grouses, “Not like that, you pervs.”

Eddie grins. “Oh, so it’s not like that, then?” he wonders in a teasing lilt. 

“Well,” Steve shrugs, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “I mean, obviously it is, but—”

“Steve…” you waver in an inaudible whine, shrinking back into the couch, hoping it’ll swallow you whole. 

The boy seems confused by your sudden sheepishness. He’s never been shy about anything in his life. “I’m just saying!” he chuckles. “I’m your boyfriend. I take care of you. That’s, like, my whole job… One that I do very well, might I add.”

Robin grumbles while Steve and Eddie laugh like a couple of teenage boys. She rises from her comfy spot on the carpet and reaches for your hand. She pulls you into the kitchen behind her and calls to them over her shoulder. “You guys are such freaks, you know that?”

——————

Tired and slightly tipsy, you stand with Steve on his back porch. A cigarette hangs loosely from his plush lips. His chiseled jaw tightens every time he takes a drag. The sight of him is impossible to look away from.

“You don’t think I take care of you?” he blurts before blowing smoke from his mouth. The wisps disappear beneath the starry velvet sky.

“Huh?”

“Earlier. When Eddie was making that stupid joke,” the boy explains, snuffing the cig out in the ashtray on the railing. He glances at you with sparkling honey eyes, half beneath his lashes, before turning away again. Almost shy. “I said it was my job to take care of you or whatever, and you just… Kinda grumbled about it. Like you don’t think I do or something.”

Your chest stings.

“Of course you do!” you answer sheepishly. “It’s just… hard for me to talk about, I guess. In front of Eddie and Robin and everything…”

“Oh,” he hums, nodding with his pink lips softly pouted. When the realization passes, he bites back a bashful beam. “So… you do think I take care of you, then?”

You roll your eyes, still impossibly shy. You know that he knows that answer now — he just wants to hear you say it. “Obviously…” you murmur with a quiet smile you try hard to keep hidden.

“Good,” he says to himself, nodding like he’s proud. “That’s good…”

You’re not sure how, but you end up squished between his body and the deck railing in record time. Steve kisses the breath from your lungs with lips tasting of nicotine, cola, and sour candy. His golden hands dig into your hips while his mouth trails to your jaw. 

You twist your hands in the strands of his silky chestnut hair as his plush lips lock with your thrumming pulse. A sigh spills from your mouth at the tingling feeling — warm and wet, then stinging for a moment. Steve runs his tongue over the bruise he left there. 

“Don’t leave a mark,” you scold in a slurred whine.

His chuckle fans across your neck before he parts from you. The lovebite is hardly noticeable now, just beginning to blossom beneath your jaw. “I think it might be a little too late for that, babe,” he teases with lidded eyes.

The backdoor slides open before Steve can kiss you again. Eddie stumbles out with a cigarette hanging between his lips. Robin nearly runs into the back of him when the boy stops suddenly in his tracks. His chocolate eyes flit between the two of you, now separated and trying to play it cool.

“…Are we interrupting something?” he murmurs through the stick in his mouth.

Steve shrugs and puts his hands on his hips, so not cool. “What? No. What are you— What are you even doing out here?”

The lighter clicks. “…Smoking?”

He glances at Robin, then. Her ocean eyes widen as she shrugs. “I just didn’t wanna be left out,” she murmurs in an answer to his silent question.

“Fair enough.”

Eddie squeezes between you and Steve, clumsy and unknowing. He glances at you innocently once, then again with suspicious, squinted eyes. “Is that a bruise?” he wonders before turning away to exhale the smoke from his lungs.

Your chest wrenches. “Huh?” you hum with pinched brows.

“You have a bruise on your neck,” he tells you, pointing a ringed finger to the blooming mark Steve left some minutes ago now. “What happened?”

He says it like he’s concerned. Like he’s worried something had happened to you. The possibility of it being a hickey doesn’t even cross his mind — ‘cause you’re just too pure for that. 

You shrug and start to stammer, somehow less cool than the overtly uncasual boy on Eddie’s other side. “I don’t know. It’s probably just... The lighting or something.”

His fluffy brows pinch together as his eyes dart over your face. You’re visibly flustered, lips softly swollen and shining with spit. He looks at Steve next and finds the boy looking much of the same. Only then does he realize what he’s interrupted.

“Eugh!” he groans in disgust, features screwed-up and puppylike.

Steve fights back a laugh. “What?!”

“You guys are a bunch of dirtbags!” Eddie shouts.

“It’s just a hickey, Eds,” the brunette boy says, chuckling before he can help it. “It’s okay. Calm down.”

“Absolutely harlot behavior. Both of you,” he chides, shaking his head until his wild curls sway around his jaw. While the rest of you laugh, he grumbles. “I don’t even feel like smoking now. You guys just ruined this cig for me.”

The three of you blink at him when he takes another drag. It takes him a moment too long to register the stares. When he does, he spreads his palms in defense and mumbles through the stick. “Well, I’m not gonna waste it!”

[whateveriwant]

Annoying Things the 141 Do

Price

Never cleans the sink well after he shaves. Every time you go in the bathroom after he’s trimmed his beard, it’s like walking into a crime scene of a hamster massacre

Always manages to load the dishwasher wrong (because, yes, there is a right way and a wrong way to do it, John)

Asks you to wait for him to get home so you can watch your shows together, but then as soon as you start the first episode, he falls asleep beside you

Smokes his cigars inside sometimes. I don’t care that you sprayed air freshener afterwards, sir. Now the whole house smells like spring meadow and shit!

Is incapable of closing the door behind himself?? At least, that appears to be the case since he’s always leaving your door wide open even though you ask him to shut it when he goes

Doesn’t like throwing things out because he’ll “find a use for it one day”. Even if that day ever does come, I think he has a better chance of finding Atlantis than finding that scrap piece of wood he saved four years ago

Ghost

Turns the TV on and then just… walks away??? And if you try to change it to something else, he grumbles “I was watchin’ tha’” when he comes back

Drinks milk/juice/etc. straight out of the carton. Mr Simon “Patient Zero” Riley might not see the problem with this, but I think the rest of us would agree that is diabolical behavior

Leaves his wet towel on the floor after he showers even though the towel rack is right? there?

Hates asking for help even when he has no clue what he’s doing. Like, sure, I get wanting to fix things yourself. However, I’d rather spend $100 on a simple repair than $1000 on a full replacement after he breaks the thing even more

Puts his phone calls on speaker whenever possible. While this can have its merits sometimes (you get firsthand news of Gaz’s engagement!), most of the time it feels like a nuisance (do you really need to hear Soap talk about his hemorrhoids?)

MANSPREADERRRR! This man cannot sit like a civilized being to save his life. He claims he sits like that because his balls need to breathe, and to that I say good luck trying to breathe after I karate chop you in the throat :))))

Soap

Cuts his toenails in bed, which wouldn’t necessarily be an issue if he didn’t accidentally leave one or two rogue clippings that stab you in the side later when you’re trying to get comfortable

Forgets to put the toilet seat down when he gets up in the middle of the night to pee – that or he pisses all over the seat in the dark. Either way, prepare to have wet cheeks the next time you sit on the toilet

Whenever he doesn’t feel like doing the laundry, he just buys a new set of whatever’s dirty (that’s how he ended up with 100 pairs of socks and 200 pairs of underwear)

Talks nonstop through every show/movie you try to watch. Good luck getting more than five minutes of uninterrupted runtime next to this yapper

Apparently, doesn’t understand what “one bite” means? Whenever he asks you for a bite of your food, he always ends up taking five or six

Also, apparently doesn’t know how to chew with his mouth closed? Like, I’m glad you’re enjoying your meal, Johnny, but can you enjoy it without speckling it all over the table and my face?

Gaz

Two words: bathroom hog. I hope you don’t like taking hot showers or having more than a 6x6 inch square of counter space for your stuff, because after Kyle’s done with his 30-step beauty routine, there’s little of either left

Never knows what he wants to eat for dinner, and no matter what you suggest, he never thinks it sounds good

Has the gall to chastise you for your screen time even though he’s just as bad as you, if not worse (because you being on your phone before bed is so much worse than him playing video games for nine hours straight, right?)

Rests his feet on the couch/bed/coffee table while wearing shoes. It doesn’t matter if they’re brand new or beaten up; take your damn shoes off the furniture, sir!

Never writes down the shopping list because he’ll “remember everything”. (Newsflash: he does not remember everything, which means cue taking a second trip to the store)

Watches one documentary and thinks he’s an expert on the subject. You can have studied a thing for years, can present him with a bunch of rock solid facts and reputable sources, and he’ll hit you with a “Well, actually ☝️🤓” and then proceed to give the most nonsensical take ever

[rustedhearts]

just friends (again) (roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: you’ve convinced everyone around you that you and steve are just friends. now you just have to convince yourself—but it proves difficult when steve finally admits how he feels.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ just friends (part one) ✶ the library

tags: pining, yearning, they want each other so bad they're so stupid, little angst/hurt/comfort, oh steve harrington the man that you are. didn't proofread so ignore any mistakes oops.

buy me a ko-fi! (my blurb commissions are also still open!)

“I’m having a little carpet picnic.”

Julia Roberts’ voice filled the living room with a familiar warmth. The pinks and whites of the Beverly Hills hotel room from Pretty Woman coated the couch and the surface of your face with a gentle glow. The Chinese food you ordered a few hours ago was starting to stink. Even Ted, who was curled at your feet for most of your movie marathon, could no longer stand the vegetative life and scampered away.

It had been a week since Eddie broke things off. After Steve punched him, you spent the Sunday post-knockout calling and texting, hoping to sort things out. But Eddie never picked up. Eddie never replied. You figured stopping by the shop was a bit too far—if he wanted to talk to you, he would’ve by now.

So here you were, spending another weekend on the couch. Single. Broke. Lonely.

“He thought I was cheating on him,” is the excuse you have for getting dumped.

But the look on Theresa’s face when you told her is the first time it made you recoil. The first time you doubted that Eddie was 100%, entirely out of his mind.

Theresa winced into the overpriced lattes you were drinking at a curbside patio on Wednesday. “Well…I mean…”

And you gasped, mouth agape and heart hammering in your chest. What the fuck did that mean? Because you were just friends. All Steve ever was and is: your best friend. Why did everyone act like you were having a secret affair when the doors were closed on the public?

“You’ve gotta be kidding me—“

“I’m not defending the prick,” Theresa justified. “He was an asshole for talking to you like that. But I can see why he might have thought that. You and Steve are really close. Like…very close.”

“We’re friends,” you insisted.

And Theresa dropped it, holding her hands above her latte with innocent agreement. But her words haunted you the entire week. Every time Steve filled your coffee and had it ready on the counter for your commute to work (he even used your favorite travel mug). Every time he came home with a bag of peanut m&ms when he dropped by the store because it was the little treat you always asked for, but he didn’t even need to be asked anymore.

But like any other Saturday, the apartment was void of him for most of the day. He mumbled some excuse about going to the mall through your door this morning, and when he came home twenty minutes into Pretty Woman with an Abercrombie shopping bag, you knew he’d been date shopping.

“Hey,” he called to you, door clamping closed behind him. His keys jingled on their toss toward the table cluttered with half-opened mail.

Cheek squished against a throw pillow, body splayed flat on the couch, you cut him a glance sideways and adjusted the volume. “Hey.”

Steve kicked off his shoes and set his bag near the door, making your chest tighten when he immediately sauntered toward the couch. He turned to the tv with his hands on his hips.

He asked what he always asked, despite his eyes watching the very thing. “Watchya watchin’?”

“Pretty Woman.”

“Did you already watch Mystic Pizza?”

“Yep.”

Steve sighed. “Damn. Alright, well, scooch over.”

When he plucked your feet up and flopped down under them, he smelled like the sickeningly sweet butter of a soft pretzel, and the overwhelming stench of Abercrombie & Fitch. You couldn’t believe he still shopped there.

His hands were still resting on your ankles, bracing your feet against his jean-clad thighs. His touch was warm, soft, all-encompassing—and suddenly all you could think about even as Richard Gere came on screen. Steve's touch, his heat, the body those hands came attached to resting just inches away. He was wearing blue today. He looked so good in blue.

You swallowed and coughed, cheek rubbing on the pillow. Steve’s finger twitched around your calf.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you croaked.

His eyes bored into you for a moment before he turned back to Julia Roberts. "Notting Hill or My Best Friend's Wedding after this?"

Your lips parted to reply, but then his finger began tracing shapes into the patch of skin between the bottom of your pant leg and the elastic of your sock. Air choked in your throat. Your eyes bulged on the glowing television screen. The muscles in the center of your body knotted and squeezed like nausea.

In your stock-still state, it didn't even occur to you that Steve somehow knew your entire I'm-sad-and-can-only-watch-Julia-Roberts-movies marathon setlist, but it certainly crossed your mind later on. You and Steve are really close. Maybe Theresa had a point.

"Um..." Your tongue darted out to lick your suddenly-dry lips.

"You good over there?" Steve chuckled, head tipping to gauge the features and their current predicament on your face.

You buried it further into the pillow, as far as it could go without hiding completely. "Yes, Steve, I'm fine."

Steve pulled back, settling into the couch again. "Jeez, oh-kay."

He waited a moment, and you inched free from your pillow enough to bring your eye back to the television, doing your best to focus on the movie you'd seen a million times and not Steve's hand sweeping under your pant leg. He'd done that a million times, too. Touched you. Felt you.

He held your hand when you crossed the road like a child that needed guidance. He braced your back to move you which way he wanted, and to pull you close when public situational occurrences arose that made him uncomfortable. He brushed your hair once when you were victim to an ungodly illness that had you picturing death. He removed your makeup on your birthday last year when you got so drunk you puked in the doorway.

His hands were always so gentle. His touch was always so soft.

But, God, why did it feel so different right now? Why did it feel so good?

"Want a mall haul?" Steve asked, too uncomfortable in the sudden silence of the living room. He was already standing and placing your feet back on their own before you could reply.

In your periphery, he headed toward the door to retrieve the bags he neglected. "Got a couple shirts to try. Also, am I too old for that store? I swear, everyone in there was like a little Taylor Lautner wannabe from 2012—meaning they were fourteen and on steroids—"

"Steve!"

He stopped. Standing at the edge of the rug with both hands on the corded handles of his Abercrombie & Fitch shopping bag to pull it open. The snicker gathering in his throat hitched into a snort, smirk drooping into wide-eyed surprise.

You never yelled. Not at him. Not at anyone that didn't deserve it, like the neighbors when they were arguing too loud again and you were trying to nap. Like the guy that tried to steal Steve's package a few months ago that you nearly tackled down the hall.

But never Steve.

You shot up on the couch, hands flying to your pounding head. "Just...please! I don't want a mall haul, I don't want to talk, I just...—I just wanna be alone."

Steve blinked, cheeks colored pink. He closed the bag slowly, paper crinkling as he went. He took it in one hand and backed up, stepping off the rug foot by foot. He glanced at Ted, who skittered in surprise at your outburst and was standing with an arched back and black pupils near the tv stand.

"Uh...yeah, okay. Sorry," he mumbled, scratching at the nape of his neck.

Your shoulders slumped, deflating into the couch as Steve turned his eyes to the floor and tugged at the back of his hair. That stress tick again—the one you hated causing. He turned slowly, caution stiff in his spine. You watched his finger twist and wind into a lock of chestnut hair as he trudged into the hall. His door clamped closed a moment later.

A heavy, moaning sigh shuddered from your mouth as you flopped back on the pillow. Two arms locked over your head, pressing down on your eyes to blind them and the horror you created.

"Slippery little suckers," Julia Roberts snickered on the screen.

"It happens all the time."

✶ ✶

You ate dinner separately. It was the first time you'd ever eaten dinner separately within the same four walls. Even the night you moved in together, when you were nothing but a pair of strangers gauging how weird it might be to live with the opposite sex without something romantic or sexual in the undertones—even then, you ate a greasy cheese pizza together on the living room floor with an empty box as makeshift table.

He asked all the right get-to-know-you questions, and when he successfully made you laugh with all his snarks and quips, you knew Steve Harrington would be an alright roommate. You never figured he'd become your best friend.

Tonight, you pouted into the salad you regretted purchasing yesterday because a "healthy" lifestyle was born and had died within the span of your forty minute shopping trip. And now, you wanted nothing but another wet, shiny pizza, and Steve Harrington's dumb jokes.

He ate in his room. Shuffled out while you were finishing Notting Hill and made another bland chicken-rice-and-broccoli dinner. And then he shuffled past you, shut his door, and ate it alone. Never even giving you a chance to tease his unseasoned plate for the purpose of "gains." You thought he could remain just as toned and handsome with flavor on his food.

By the time you were showered, redressed, and gurgling with lingering hunger, you were properly sour with guilt.

And maybe the black sweatpants with the bedazzled jewels on your ass were pulled on with manipulative purpose before you shuffled to Steve's door. You lingered there a while, gnawing on the skin around your thumbnail and glancing between the wood grain of Steve's door and the plush surface of your yellow slippers. At this proximity, you could hear the low hum of his radio behind the door. He had a strange affection for the 70s and 80s station.

If only you knew that it was because Steve knew "the all time hits of the 70s and 80s" were your favorite.

The radio dimmed, and a moment later Steve's voice called through the door. "I can hear you lingering out there."

You jumped, stepping away from the door. Your thumb returned to your mouth, teeth piercing the skin to nibble it away. The shuffle of feet and jingle of the doorknob came too swiftly for you to evade, and then the door swung open to reveal Steve in grey sweatpants and a tight red t-shirt. He looked good in red, too.

"Oh. Hi," you murmured, hand instantly dropping to your side.

Steve caged the doorway, biceps bulging on either side. You averted your eyes with a swallow.

He sighed. "Hi."

Steve watched you sweep a slippered foot back and forth like sloshing through water. He tipped his head and bit away a smile when he caught the edge of a jewel on your hip. His favorite sweatpants.

"Are you mad at me?"

Steve sighed again, this time a little shaken with laughter. "No, kid. I ain't mad at ya."

To prove his point, he nudged the door open with his palm and motioned toward the bedroom behind him. "Come on in."

You flopped on the edge of his bed, bounced up and down by old springs. Steve swung the door closed and joined you, easing back against his wooden headboard to reassume his rumpled position. He reached toward the nightstand and turned the knob on the radio to lower the Elton John song playing.

Steve snatched the small plastic basketball from behind the radio and tossed it in the air. "So, what's goin' on?"

You watched the ball soar into the air and come back down into his palm. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I was just...cranky."

Steve quirked a brow, catching your eye over an orange blur when he threw the ball again. "Yeah? That all?"

The corners of your mouth pulled down. "Yeah...? What else would it be."

Steve shrugged, chin turned up toward the ceiling as he watched the basketball fly toward it. Elton John died down and switched to Def Leppard. "Hysteria" was one of Steve's favorite songs.

"You tell me. You were having a Julia Roberts marathon."

"So?" Your thumb returned to your mouth, teeth ripping at the skin.

"You only watch Julia Roberts when you're sad."

"Not true."

Steve fixed his head straight again, eyes narrowing into a pointed look. The basketball sat in his right palm against his chest. You huffed, angling yourself toward the door to glare at it instead of your roommate and his smug, all knowing expression.

He waited a while, like he always did—waiting out your stubbornness and refusing to let it break him. You could talk to him, you knew that. He wanted you to know that.

"I guess..." You sighed, throwing yourself back on the bed with your arms locked over your eyes. "I guess I'm just upset that Eddie still hasn't called. I've been calling and texting him, but...he doesn't wanna see me."

Steve immediately felt every blood cell in his body curdle. Like they were burning and festering, irritated under his skin. He swallowed, bringing the basketball to sit between his knees where he could pick at the design with blunt fingernails.

"And you want to see him?"

You dropped your arms, letting them plop to your sides. "I mean...yeah."

Steve couldn't help it—he scoffed.

The sound had your head turning, brows furrowed his way. His head was shaking, eyes focused distinctly downward to avoid yours. All the smugness of his expression dimmed into something distasteful and angry.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Nothing."

"You scoffed."

"I sighed."

"No, you scoffed."

"Well—"

This time, Steve did sigh. He took the basketball in his hands and chucked it toward the door, causing it to boomerang off the wood and catapult back toward the mattress again. The sharp smack had you jolting upward, and your eyes widened on Steve when he hopped from the bed and stood to his feet.

"What the hell—"

"He's not good enough for you!"

You paused on weak wrists used to push you upward. Steve stood a foot away from the bed with pink cheeks and outstretched hands. They curled back toward him to sweep through his hair and tug hard at the roots.

"Steve—"

"He sucks. Alright? All your ex boyfriends sucked, but especially Eddie. He didn't understand you, he didn't appreciate you. He made you cry, for fuck's sake, and you want him back? I just don't get it."

Your lips parted, but it felt like gulping for water on dry land. And Steve watched, helplessly, as you stammered for words in the face of his impending and inevitable confession. Inevitably painful, he knew, but he could no longer stomach the tireless routine of finding the body closest to yours in another dark bar, hoping she would comfort him enough to soothe the ache he had for you.

You, who slept across the hall and shared the sofa with your head on his shoulder. You, who looked at him like some sort of light source with those little round eyes. You, who made his heart pound and weep endlessly every second that you were near, and every moment you were away—leaving him in a constant, centrifugal loop of torture.

So—knowing it might ruin every bit of good the pair of you worked so hard to keep—Steve stepped closer to the bed and swallowed. He prepared himself to form the words he'd practiced a million times over in his head.

"I just figured that eventually...you'd get tired of all the wrong guys, and realize that...I'm here. That it was me, that you loved me. Because I love you—don't you love me?"

He paused, but it would never have been enough time for your mind to process his proclamation. He had a look of such anguish embedded in his features, all scrunched and screwed together with wet, shiny eyes.

"And I figured it was easier to sleep my way around than sit and watch you waste your time with these idiots. But they were never you. And I never bothered to get to know them, because I only wanted to know you."

Your breath hitched when Steve crowded your corner of the bed, hands clasped over his chest. You had to tip your head back to meet his eye, and you felt your arms shake in their locked position holding you up. The sight of him blurred with the onset of your own hot, salty tears.

Steve sniffed: a wet slurp proceeded by a tear slipping down his cheek. He wiped it quickly and sank to his knees before you on the bed, hands coming to cradle your bent knees.

"I just can't take it any longer," he whispered, and his hazel eyes were like shiny coins gazing up at you.

His lips were wet with his own tears. His tongue swept them away. Every breath inhaled rattled in his chest, and every exhale shuddered his cheeks full. He chuckled when he rubbed his palm into his eye and turned it red, sweeping his forearm over his face to clear the tears again but they just kept coming.

"Fuck, say something, please," he huffed, lacing it with laughter despite its absence of humor.

Your throat felt like it swelled to twice the size. Sickness rolled in your stomach. But it only grew at the thought of breaking Steve's heart with your silence. Because the longer he looked at you with those almond eyes, and the longer he sniffled and massaged your knees to comfort himself—the more your heart crumbled.

"I...I don't know what to say," you croaked.

Steve inhaled again, stuttering through a sniffle. He wiped his cheek on your knee and chuckled again. "Yeah. Yeah, of course—it's okay."

"Steve—"

"It's okay," he insisted, scrambling to his feet. He backed away toward the door and you finished pulling yourself upright.

"Steve, wait—"

"Really, it's okay, honey. I'm just gonna...—we ran out of ice cream, so 'm gonna g-go—go get some. Mint chip, yeah? Okay."

He sniffled again upon his exit, slipping through a small crevice he opened the door to. The front door slammed shut moments later, and you rolled onto your stomach to unleash a scream into Steve's mattress.

"Stay tuned for more all time hits of the 70s and 80s!"

✶ ✶

Steve did not return with the mint chip until nearly midnight. It came in a plastic bag that announced his arrival even before the clamber of keys. Yet, it was the squeal of old hinges that woke you from your couch slumber, and you jolted upright as the door swung open.

Steve closed the door and stood there for a moment, spotting you in the dimness of the living room. You rubbed your eye and he shifted on his feet. Ted scampered off the couch and butted at Steve's calf.

He held up the plastic bag. "Got the mint chip. It's uh...it's all melted now, though."

You wanted to reply, to make him feel better again. His eyes were still pink and puffy, and you hated the thought of him spending hours in his car or another dark bar agonizing over what you might be thinking. Worst of all, regretting any of what he said.

Because you spent the past few hours doing plenty of thinking. You laid in his bed, curled on your side, and looked at all the pictures pinned to a cork board above his desk.

The sepia toned film strip from a wedding last fall where you took him as your date. You were smiling in every one, and to the unbeknownst you might have already appeared as a couple.

The Polaroid from his most recent birthday, where you were sitting on his shoulders and clutching onto his hair for dear life. His sister took the picture.

The black and white he printed from his phone of just you on a park bench, feeding the ducks. You never even knew he had that one.

And when you shuffled to your room, you suddenly stopped. The clack of hard-bottomed slippers caught your attention, and you looked down at the plush yellow footwear around your toes—a gift from Steve.

You stood on the other side of your bed and stared at the windowsill full of miscellaneous yellow items all gifted from Steve. The movie ticket stubs shoved in your mirror and the hundreds thrown in a box on your dresser because you'd probably seen a thousand over the years with Steve, who loved movie theater popcorn and sitting close to you in the dark.

The birthday cards he wrote extensive messages of well wishes and gratitude for your friendship in with terrible penmanship. The purse he bought you for that you said you liked in passing but would never spend that much money on, and the note still tucked inside the zipper that came pasted to the bag on Christmas morning:

Because you deserve it.

Love, Steve

And then you ended up on the couch, falling asleep watching the door and waiting for it to open.

Steve trudged to the kitchen while you were lost in thought, and you hurried to catch up as he swung the freezer open. He wrapped the plastic bag around the pint of the ice cream and stuck it on the top shelf, hand reaching to close the door—when he was pushed forward by a force crashing into him.

And then there was warmth around his stomach: two arms curling around his ribs. Two hands pressing to his stomach and pulling him in. Steve stopped, immobilized in the open freezer door.

"I'm sorry," you breathed into his shirt, eyes closed tight. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I was just so stunned. And I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot, Steve, for letting this go on for so long. Of course I love you, of course you love me—God, I just never wanted to ruin everything. But you make me so happy, and I—"

Steve spun around, causing your head to lift off his back. You went to drop your arms, but he instantly brought them around his neck. Two hands, still frozen from melting ice cream, braced your cheeks.

"You mean it?"

You nodded in his hold, happy to see his hazel eyes free and clear of tears. "Yes. Yes, of course I mean it—"

"Oh, thank fucking God," Steve breathed, and then his mouth descended on you.

You curled to the tops of your toes to press into his kiss, whimpering at the warmth and softness of his lips. It felt exactly as you thought it would—anticipating their plushness every time he pressed his lips to your cheek over the years.

It lasted until the pair of you were breathless, and you heaved for air upon release. Steve brushed his thumbs over your bottom lip, smearing spit and hemming your airless grin.

He kissed you all night, and let his hands roam where they could not roam before. You fell asleep in his bed tucked under his arm, and when you woke you shared the refrozen pint of mint chip with one spoon.

And when Steve called his sister while you were showering to share the good news, all she did was laugh.

"Jesus, about fucking time."

[turcott3]

34 + 35

logan sargeant x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, smut!!, oral sex, foreplay, unprotected sex, breeding kink (hence the song)

positions fics masterlist

~watchin movies but we ain’t seen a thing tonight~

-

“logan.” you groaned, lightly pushing the boy. the room was filled with darkness and only lit by the tv.

“what do you want to watch? i’ve asked you fifty times.” he laughs, handing you the remote.

“don’t hate me but i’ve been wanting to rewatch this.” you say opening max to none other than, fifty shades of grey.

“you know i said i didn’t want to watch this.” he groans.

“just one chance logan please.” you beg, tugging on his shirt.

“fine, we can watch it.” he giggles as you press play and find your way under his arm. after a long bout of silence, your focus begin to stray. it was hard not to look at your boyfriend, who’s eyes were locked on the screen. he seemed to be invested but this movie was ramping up your sexual energy.

“are you okay?” he says breaking the silence.

“mhm” is all you muster out and his eyes stay locked on you as you shift your legs uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of his arm around you. you wanted any friction you could get.

“logan.” you whisper.

“hm?” he replies.

“can i put the blanket over us? i’m cold.”

“yes of course.” he replies, his thumb lightly caressing your arm, sending goosebumps throughout your body.

your hand began to wander, lightly touching his leg. you take one of the drawstrings of his sweatpants between your fingers, twisting it slowly back and forth, hoping he’ll notice sooner than later. intentionally, you brushed your hand over his dick to grab the other drawstring to play with.

“baby what are you doing?” he giggles.

“nothin.” you reply, giving him doe eyes.

“you’re the one that put this on, watch it.” he says briefly focusing back on the screen.

“you’re right sorry i just…. have something on my mind.” you say, your hand slowly drifting closer to his dick underneath the cloth of his great sweatpants. his breath hitches as you pull the waistband slightly. your fingers wrap around his thick cock, quickly rubbing him hard.

“y/n.” he says.

“shhh.” you smirk, pressing a kiss to his lips as you stroke him firmly, paying close attention to his sensitive tip.

“fuck.” he says, his head thrown back, the movie now just background noise to help drown out the groans exiting his mouth.

you sit up on your knees pulling the waistband completely down, moving the blanket with it, completely exposing his dick. you lean over and spit on it, working your warm saliva onto his dick, running your thumb over the bulging veins. your lips make contact with his tip, his hips bucking slightly as a reaction. you push spit through your lips, watching it drip down his throbbing cock. he gathers your hair carefully behind your head keeping it out of your way as you slowly take him into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks. you gag as is dick hits the back of your throat but stay put momentarily before removing him with a pop.

“fuck baby, you’re so fucking good at that.” he says before you attach your lips to his sloppily.

hastily, you remove your shorts and panties, simply discarding them on the floor. you climb into his lap lining him up with yourself as you sink onto him. he attaches his lips to your neck as you wrap your arms around his. you moved in rhythmic circles, something you’d never tried before.

“oh my god.” he grunts out moving away from your neck locking eyes with you without another word. clearly your choice made him happy.

“is that good?”

“so fucking good.” he sighs attaching his lips to yours, his tongue begging for entry which is quickly given. you start to move up and down, the sound of skin clapping quickly drowning out the movie that remained playing in the background.

“logan.” you say, your voice wavering at the sensation his thick cock made you feel while it was pounding into you. his hips met yours in the middle with a snap causing you to yelp before collapsing over resting your head on his shoulder while he pile drives you, your nails dragging harshly down his back under his shirt. your moans all meshed together, you could hardly stand the way he was making you feel.

“look at me baby, look at me.” he says as you pick your head up off his shoulder, daze in your eyes. he connects your lips lovingly, he knew you were close. he could feel your walls grow tighter around him with each thrust.

“are you gonna come for me baby?” he asks.

“uh-huh.” is all you can say, your moans growing sharper and sharper by the second as he picks up his pace, thrusting deep into you.

“fuck i’m coming.” you gasp, your body releasing shockwaves, your legs jolting every few seconds as you collapsed over his body.

“get up baby,” he says lightly tapping you on the ass. this was your typical ritual when you fucked without a condom.

“no baby.” you groan into his shirt as he slows his strokes down.

“you want me t-“

“yes fuck yes, i want it in me logan.” which was surprisingly all you needed to say to send him over the edge, spilling his climax deep inside you. you stayed in that position out of breath for a few moments before you pull him out of you.

you laid down next to him spreading your legs slightly, dragging your fingers through the little bit of cum that dripped between your legs and sucking it off your fingers as he watched you intensely.

“fuck i love you y/n. you’re fucking perfect.” he says climbing over you and reattaching your lips.

“please logan, please fuck me again.” you beg, tugging on his shirt so he wouldn’t back away.

“baby what if you get pregnant?” he asks, his eyes wandering your face for an expression.

“you’ll be in the off season again in 9 months.” you say, trying to egg him on. you’d never imagined yourself having kids until you got with logan. something about him and having his babies turned you on in ways you couldn’t explain.

“are you sure?” he asks, a little bit of hope gleaming in his eyes.

“i’ve never been more sure.” you smirked.

“god i love you. i love you so much.”

“i love you too baby.” you giggle as his lips make harsh contact with your neck.

-

[laiiaaa]

gushing over bf Carmy and he doesn’t even know how sexy he isssss :(((

Carmen—finally—has off from work tonight. Which means it’ll be relaxing for once in the past couple weeks, having time spent with you and you alone, cuddling over a movie, kissing between soft conversations, half-attentive before he’ll finally scoop you up and take you to bed.

But that’s for later.

Right now, though, he emerges in the living room ready for the movie you’d asked him to watch with you. You perk up at his entry and turn around to lean against the back of the couch, caught in a kiss before he starts telling you…well, you can’t seem to keep up.

All that’s on your mind is Carmy Carmy Carmy, so much so that whatever he’s saying doesn’t process, a wave of awe clouding your mind. You get lost in his image for a broad moment, doing little else other than admiring the stretch of his tee against his chest and biceps that tug the fabric just right, the sinew of his forearms tensing as he grips the back of the couch; his curls freshly washed hours earlier, still styled loosely before stressed bouts straighten them, stragglers suspended by his brow bone that charming way you remember when you first met; gray sweats handing loose on his hips, a little less so at the front to make you drool. He looks good, so so painfully good, and he doesn’t even know it. He’s not even trying.

“You listenin’, baby?” You only hear him when he tilts your chin up with his index and thumb—gently, to guide your attention back. “Baby?”

And your head follows, but your eyes still linger along his tensed forearms before they finally acknowledge his words and meet his gaze. “Hm?”

He smiles softly. “Spacin’ out, huh?”

“Sorry—” You bite at your lip. “You’re just so handsome,” you tell him as you look your arms around his neck. “It’s distracting.”

He starts to blush. “Yeah, okay.” But his hands smooth down your back anyway, pausing along the curve of your ass before an adoring squeeze.

“I’m serious, Carmy,” you coo, tugging him down for another kiss and teasing your nails along the nape of his neck. “Most handsome man ever.” One hand cups his jaw before another peck. “And the sweetest,” another smooch to his cheek, “and the prettiest,” and the other side, “and the sexiest,” again to his temple—

“Okay, baby,” he starts, flushed to his neck, but you beat him to the punch—

“And the best boyfriend ever,” you quip, extra sharp before you soothe it with a languid kiss to his lips, smiling against him as his hands run along your spine, slowing you down to sweet kisses until your forehead meets his. “You’re just the best, Bear.” And another, because you can’t help yourself when he looks like this. “So kind, the best chef ever, and so strong…” You bring your hands to paw at his arms again, “So so handsome, and you’re all mine—”

He scoffs, trying to bite back that gush of his heart, that rush of blood down south that has him pressed into the couch. “I think I get it, baby.” Gentle smooch to your forehead. “Thank you.”

You groan and sit on your heels, dragging your hands down his chest, to his middle, then closer to his waistband. Looking up at him with doe eyes and plush pout, you ask, “Take me to bed, Carmy…”

He huffs. “Thought we were watchin’ a movie tonight?”

“Want you t’fuck me instead…” Teasing a little lower, your fingertips graze behind the fabric. “Please?”

And if he thought he was hiding it before, he’s really giving himself away now: head lolling forward with a heady sigh, weight leaning into the couch as his blush spreads to his neck; mind swirling at the thought of you touching him, whining his name some more, pleading with that same pout as he’s making you come beneath him.

In no time he’s bent over to scoop you up from the couch, your giggles ringing in his ear while he carries you to the bedroom.

What, did you expect him to say no to you asking him so sweetly? The movie can wait. It’s your fault for getting him all worked up, anyway.

[madsmilfelsen]

the devil is in that movie

nw longlegs :)

[kitkat13001]

⋆｡°✩🎃 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚝

>> tomura shigaraki x civilian!reader

>> cursing, reader is scared of horror movies, mentions of serial killers, weapons, typical halloween stuff etc

tomura’s pretty sure your ear-splitting, blood-curdling scream can be heard across the entirety of japan. 

all he had done was tap on your window, same as he had every time he visited you. except that he had done so as you were in the middle of a horror movie, and now he’s pretty sure his ears are bleeding. 

he’s quick to climb inside and cover your mouth, shushing you gently with his arms around you while he waits for your heart rate to return to normal. 

“your neighbors are going to start asking questions,” he grumbles once he lets you go (after you’ve stopped shaking). 

you wave a dismissive hand. “they don’t give a damn. they’re all ten times worse than i am. ‘sides, if any of them give me shit, i’ll just send my evil villain boyfriend after them.”

this elicits a laugh from him. 

you settle back onto the couch while tomura makes himself comfortable, hanging up his coat and taking off his shoes before coming to lay out beside you. 

he squints at the screen, the horrified face of jamie lee curtis staring back at him. “whatcha watchin’ that’s got you so freaked?”

you bunch up the blanket all the way up to your face, burrowing into his side. “halloween, 1978. one of my coworkers bet i was too scared to watch a horror movie, so i’m gonna show her.” you murmur a spiteful ‘bitch’ under your breath and it makes tomura chuckle. 

“oh yeah,” he agrees sarcastically, nudging your leg with his own. “you and your little blanket against the world.”

you shoot him a look, sitting up to glare at him. “i can be brave!”

tomura just stares blankly, not dignifying you with an answer. he knows you can’t, but he doesn’t want to burst your bubble. 

you huff at him before collapsing back against his side, hitting play on the movie. 

the actress is mid-scream—you had to have known based on the way the movie was paused—but you jump anyway when she screeches. 

tomura tries not to laugh. 

it goes on like this for the next hour. you’re watching the movie from behind your blanket, nails digging into tomura’s arm, and he’s watching you as you jump and flinch and bury your face in his side. 

you sit, horrified, as the credits roll. 

“that was awful.”

“yeah,” tomura agrees, throwing a piece of popcorn at the screen. “the kill scenes were shit.”

“but the music was so damn creepy!” you insist, shivering. you lay against him for a while longer, letting the credits roll as you get comfortable. 

tomura’s nearly dozing off when he feels you tug on his sweater sleeve. 

“tomu, i have to pee.”

he peeks one eye open at you to give you a look before he leans his head back again. “okay?”

“come with me!”

“to pee?!”

“what if michael myers is in the bathroom?!” you cry, pulling on his sleeve insistently. 

he groans loudly, grumbling and complaining the entire way to the bathroom as you drag him with you. 

you shove him inside first, flicking on the lights with a yelp. 

“now check behind the shower curtain,” you tell him with a shooing motion. 

“you’re shitting me.”

“tomu!”

he huffs, knocking your curtain aside to check for serial killers. “see? no psychopaths in here.”

“except for you,” you giggle as he scowls at you. you make your way to the toilet, but he flicks the light off and you scream. 

he snickers at your cursing, dodging the roll of toilet paper you throw at him when you come out of the bathroom. 

“you’re such an asshole!”

he pulls you in as you grumble, but succumb to his warm embrace. 

“don’t be such a baby. you know i’d never let anything happen to you. some psycho with a knife’s got nothin’ on me, sweetheart. it’s me they should be scared of.”

you give a little ‘hmph’, but his words ease your nerves a little. that, and the warmth and safety of his arms around you. 

the way you burrow further into him, hands gripping the sides of his hoodie, makes him smile a little. tomura’s not capable of a significant amount of good, being a villain and all. but protecting you is, and will always be, second nature to him. 

i just watched halloween for the first time and was thoroughly creeped out. i hate horror movies, in case it wasn’t obvious. but i wanted to write something for tomura for the spooky season! stay tuned for spooky dabi :p 👻

- 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 !

[haileybeehappy]

Movie Nights

Summary : Movie night with your best friend turns when your long time crush, and her brother, invites you to watch the titanic with him instead of the horror movie she is forcing you to watch. Gets steamier than the car scene.

Warnings : there's a lot in this one. Oral, both female and male receiving. she grinds on his abs, because, a girl can dream. dom harry. spanking. pussy slapping, choking, slapping, calling him sir. Oh and daddy. p in v sex. protected. ummm.

Word Count : 5.3k (longest fic I have ever written I'm pretty sure)

Authors note : unedited, wrote it out while my best friend packed. took fucking hours 😂

You and your childhood best friend sat on her basement couch watching horror movies with your hands alternating in the popcorn bucket. You had just gotten home from college a few days before and had your first sleepover on the first weekend that the two of you were both back in town. A short standing tradition after the last three years of school.

“What are we watching?” You whine as you hide behind your hands. Peeking at the screen between the slits of your fingers.

“A shitty horror movie with a shitty budget and shitty actors,” she laughs as she continues to munch at the popcorn. You might as well be shaking from fear.

“I hate this! Why can’t we just watch the princess bride? Or ten things I hate about you?” You ask as you stuff a handful of popcorn into your mouth.

“Because those are shitty cheesy movies. You always fall asleep anyways so,” she shrugs her eyes not leaving the screen. The movie continues as you watch through your hands. Peeking occasionally to see someone being murdered or tortured. You didn’t mind the ghost movies or the monster horror but the guts and gore really got to you.

“Whatcha watchin?” Is whispered into your ear, your whole body tending and jumping clear off the cushion.

“Oh fuck Harry!” Gem screams as she throws a piece of popcorn at him. He skillfully catches it in him mouth and smiles.

“You guys make it to easy,” he laughs as he makes his way to the refrigerator in the kitchenette of the basement.

“You’re an ass,” you throw at him before turning back to the tv and placing your slotted fingers over your eyes.

“Why do you watch these if you don’t even watch them?” He questions you. His body gliding over back to the couch. His forearms resting on the back of the couch. His body so close to you that you can feel his body heat.

“Cause your sisters mean and won’t let me watch the notebook?” You state, more so a question.

“Why not? She makes me watch it all the time?” He scoffs. Gem looks at him with pursed lips and sunken eyebrows.

“Whatever Harry, you always pick that movie. I have nothing to do with it,” his face reddens slightly and he coughs.

“Whatever, I’m gonna go upstairs and watch the titanic. Your ears perk up as you hear him say that.

“Really?” You ask all too quickly.

“I even popped more popcorn,” he smiles down at you. You look to Gemma and she shrugs.

“You can go watch cheesy romance movies but I’m gonna watch real movies down here,” she smile. She’s always known of the attraction you have to her brother but neither of you say anything.

“You sure?” She asks. As if asking permission.

“All you’re doing down here is complaining anyways,” she jokes. You nod and then proceed to follow Harry up the stairs. His cologne filling your nose as you trail behind him. You breathe in his smell before realizing that’s definitely a little weird. You plop yourself down on the couch in your designated spot and he begins to dig through the cupboards that holds their DVD’s.

“DVD?” You ask.

“Yeah, of course,” he scoffs jokingly. Then in a much more serious time. “We gotta watch all the specials and extras too,” a smile stretches across your lips and you grab at the very large bowl of popcorn in front of you.

“Oh of course what was I thinking,” you laugh and shove a handful into your mouth. His head snaps at you as he hears the crunch of air puffed corn.

“Hey!” He whines. “Don’t eat all of it before the movie starts. Or you’re making more,” his eyebrow raised daringly.

“Fine. Whatever,” you plop the bowl into the coffee table. Your mouth still full of popcorn. Very buttery perfectly cooked popcorn. Harry has always had a knack for movie snacks. He finally finds the DVD and raises from his hunched position and inserts it into the DVD player. Snatching the remote from next to the tv and eventually finding the spot next to you on the sofa a comfortable place to be. He is close enough that he can reach the popcorn which he has now placed in between the two of you but far enough it’s not weird.

As the movie starts you can't seem to pay attention to the people on the screen. Mostly focused on the feeling of your lifelong crush sitting next to you. The body heat radiating off of him is all you can feel. You keep fidgeting around and moving around trying to get comfortable. His hand then finds its place on your knee.

"Would you stop moving so much," he whispers. His hand not moving from your leg as his attention moves back to the movie. His hand so warm it feels like it is burning a hole through your leggings. His thumb slowly moving back and forth the black fabric. You find your eyes drifting away from the tv and looking to Harry. A small smile resting on his lips as he watches the movie. Reaching over you grab a small handful of popcorn, his eyes darting to you and his mouth opens wide. You let out a small laugh and bring a few pieces of popcorn to his mouth. He smiles widely at you then crunches the popcorn between his teeth. You force your eyes back to the screen but keep looking to Harry in your peripheral. His hand still resting on your thigh.

He readjusts himself scootching slightly closer to you, his hand falling further up your thigh, a small gasp leaves your lips.

"Sorry," he whispers, sliding it back to the place before. You wrap your fingers around his moving it back up your thigh.

"It's okay,"

"You sure?" His head turning to look at you. You nod.

"I trust you," his face close to yours. If you both leaned forward just a bit his nose would bump yours.

"Probably a bad idea." his voice barely audible.

"You've never given me a reason not to," you drift closer to him slightly. Just as he began to lean forward Gem comes bursting through the door.

"James is here, we're going to go to a party at Wills do you wanna come?" she asks walking into the room. Her eyes on her phone. You jump back from Harry and look to your friend, heart in your throat.

"No I'm not feeling particularly partyish," you shrug. She looks between you and Harry, a small smile playing at her lips.

"You want me to take you home?" Her eyes mischievously looking to her brother.

"I can take her after the movie is over," his hand still resting on your thigh he begins to move his thumb back and forth again.

"You okay with that?" she asks looking back to you. You just nod. "Okay well than I'm out of here," she looks back to her phone and walks to the door. Your phone buzzes and quickly you glance at the screen. Wrap it before you tap it babe XD is the text notification you get from Gemma. You quickly turn your phone over, harry looking back to the TV screen as Gemma leaves. His hand raises holding the remote and pauses the tv.

"I'm gonna run to the bathroom, I'll be right back," you nod as he stands up. His frame towering over you. You look up to him, his waist at your eye level. As he brushes by you, he looks down to you. Stopping when he is right and front of you. Grasping your chin in his fingers as you look up to him. "Don't go anywhere," he says with a smile. You bite into your bottom lip.

"I wasn't planning on it," you say through a smile.

"Good," he lets go of your chin and makes his way to the bathroom. You take in a big breath and sigh out. Dropping your head to rest on the couch. You move the popcorn bowl to the table. Grabbing your phone you respond to Gemma. Shut up! Be safe, I love you <3. As she responds Harry comes back into the room, you drop your phone into your lap as he plops back beside you. Now close enough that his leg slots itself under your crisscrossed legs. His hand finds residency back on your thigh as he presses play on the movie.

"I'm thirsty," you complain. He slowly turns his head to you looking over your face. He pauses the movie again.

"What do you want?" He asks moving to get up.

"I can get it," you lift yourself from the couch shuffling to the kitchen. You grab yourself a glass, and when you turn to see if Harry wants anything. You yelp when you come face to face with him. "Holy shit you scared me," you laugh out. He smiles down at you.

"Sorry, didn't mean to," His hands find your waist. Your breath catching in your throat. "Didn't want you to get lonely," you can't help the smile that is plastered across your face. You just walk out of his grip and to the fridge.

"I think I would have been okay," You grab the pitcher of lemonade that they have just for you and pour yourself a glass. Harry lets out a sigh.

"You're probably right," as you turn back around, closing the door with your hip. He plucks the glass out of your hands and takes a sip. You gasp in fake annoyance.

"Hey! That's mine!" You push at him as he then sets the glass on the counter. Placing his hand on top of yours as you push against him. Your fingers encased by his. His other hand finds your waist and pulls you to him, your body colliding with his. He releases his hold of your hand on his chest and wraps you completely in his embrace. Usure of what to with your hands you bring your other hand up to rest on his chest. "You're mean," you joke. The smile on his face grows.

"I was thirsty," he shrugs. You just roll your eyes, dropping your head down. Looking down to where your hands rest on his chest. His hand grasps your jaw pulling you to look at him. "Don't you roll your eyes at me," he says jokingly, with some weight behind his words.

"What are you going to do about it?" you ask breathily. His hold on your jaw tightening.

"Don't tempt me," he says, your name escaping his mouth.

"I'm not doing anything," his eyes drop to your lips, then back to your own eyes. You nod, giving him permission. He dips, his nose bumping yours in a playful way. You close your eyes waiting for his lips to press against yours. You open your eyes, and he is just starring at you. When his green irises meet yours, he moves his thumb back and forth against the skin of your chin.

"You're so beautiful," He whispers before he collides with you. His warm lips enveloping yours. Your hands move to grasp at the back of his neck. The hold he has on your hips tightening, he pulls you to him. You deepen the kiss, tasting the Lemonade on his lips. He opens his mouth pressing his tongue against the seam of your lips, and accept him, exploring each other his hands drift from your waist to your ass. As you gasp you can feel him smile into your mouth. You pull back and gasp in a breath.

"You okay?" he asks. You nod at him, lips pulled into your mouth. "You wanna go back to the movie?" you shrug. "Or we can go to my room?" you shrug again. "It doesn't have to go further than this?" he offers up again. You pause for a moment before nodding your head. He fights a smile and turns to grab your drink, his hand holding yours in the other. He quickly leans down to grab the remote and clicks off the TV. Before he can pull you upstairs to his room you grab your phone off the couch. You trail behind him, eyes locked on your entwined hands. Trailing up the tattoos on his arms, you cross the threshold into his room. He closes the door behind you and places the glass of lemonade on his side table before sitting down on the edge of the bed. You slot yourself between his legs and drop your hands onto his shoulder. His eyes wide as he looks up to you. His hands sliding from their resting place on your hips and down to the backs of your knees. Pulling you close to him so that he can slide you onto his lap. As your body is jerked into his hold you let out a whine.

"I won't drop you," he jokes as you finally find yourself sitting in his lap. Knees on either side of his waist, feet under your bottom. Arms wrapped around his neck as his are clasped behind your back holding you in place. You lean down and press a chaste kiss on his lips. He pushes you back into him as you try to pull away. You laugh as he begins to place kisses on your jaw, slowly trailing down your neck. Not venturing down further than your collar bones. You lean your head back to give him access to more skin. The light scruff tickles as he pressed light kisses along the tendons poking behind your skin. Finding a soft spot that elicits a gasp from you. Your hands tangle into his hair as his teeth scrape against the lilac mark that now stains your skin. The pull at the base of his neck tilting his head up and you capture his lips in yours once again. As his tongue delves into your mouth his hands find your ass. Fingers kneading into your skin, Fingernails scraping at your fabric covered skin. As you nip at his lip he pulls back.

"Are you okay? With all this?" he asks emphasis on the last few words with a squeeze of your ass. You nod in approval. "Words," he speaks your name.

"Yes, I am very okay with it," you twist his hair in your fingers.

"And going further?" you nod. He gives you a pointed look.

"Yes,"

"How much further?" you answer with a shrug. He gives your ass a sharp slap. "Words, was that, okay?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes, and I mean, whatever happens, happens," you shrug with one shoulder. "I'll let you know if I want to slow down or stop," he nods and drops his back onto the mattress. Your form following his as he presses a kiss into your lips. Another smack is laid on your ass and he quickly spins you around so that you are under him. Your legs unfold from under you, the weight of his body on yours a comforting feeling. Your legs wrapping across his back. Pulling him down closer to you, his clothed cock rubbing across your core. A small growl vibrates within is throat as he grinds down into you.

You disconnect from him and begin kissing down his chin, down his neck, sucking at the sensitive skin. He finds solace in the crease of your neck, face buried in your hair. He breathes deeply as you pull at his hair, your hands venture down from his hair. Running over his neck, down his chest. Ghosting over his abdomen and slipping up under his shirt. Rubbing your fingers sternly over the bones protruding from his hips. Hands skimming over the fern tattoos that you know adorn themselves on his skin. He lets out a shaky breath as your hands continue to explore his body. Your head now dropped onto the mattress, eyes closed and breath shallow.

"Fuck you feel so good against me," he whines into your ear. Pressing himself harder into your center. You let out a wispy moan. He leans up, scootching himself off the floor and stands. Looking down to you, you sit up slowly and snake your hands back under his shirt.

"I wanna see your tattoos," you pout, pulling at the black fabric of his shirt. He smirks and pulls the shirt over his head. Revealing his ink-stained torso. Your hands lay flat against the ferns that poke out from his jeans; The waistband pulled down slightly. His light happy trail thickening as is dives below his waist. Slowly skimming your hands up to the butterfly under his pecks your fingers tracing the lines of the wings, then up the center. continuing with one finger you trace it up the center of his chest and bring your other hand back up. You rub your thumbs over the birds on his chest before slipping the pads of your fingers up and down his collar bones. You look back to his face, his eyes already watching you intently. His hands encapsulate your face, leaning down he places a kiss on your nose. You scrunch it as he pulls away.

"I wanna see you too," his voice husky. You move to take off your shirt, but his hands quickly cover yours and grasp your shirt. Slowly pulling it off your body. As the fabric moves over your face you close your eyes, as he drops the shirt to the ground, he leans back down over you. Your eyes still closed he drops to his knees. He begins placing kisses on your neck, your head falling back. "So fucking beautiful," he whispers as his bottom lip skims across the tops of your breasts. His hands running up your legs, fingers splayed as he travels up. Lightly running them up your sides and waist. Finally grasping at your bra covered chest. The sudden pressure causing you to let out a moan.

"Harry please," you whine out.

"Please what baby?" he asks, pressing soft kisses against your hot skin.

"I don't know I just want to feel you," his hand runs along the band of your bra until he finds the clasp in the back. "Yes, please," you say before he can ask for permission. He smiles against your skin, quickly unclasping the lace clad bra. It falls off your form, he pulls it from your body and adds it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. His mouth covers your exposed flesh. Tongue circling your peaked nipple while his hand comes to play with your neglected breast. Kneading at your skin, You lean yourself down to him.

"So fucking needy," he says before he reattaches to the opposite breast. Your now wet exposed skin tingling in the cold air. Little gasps and whines leaving your mouth as he continues to suck at your skin.

"Only for you," you breathe out. He growls as his teeth nip at you. You let out a squeak and jolt back. He pushes against you, having you lay back flat. Mouth finding your neck, adorning you with more marks. His hand drift to the waist of your leggings and he slips just the tips of his fingers into the fabric. Rubbing his hands back and forth, you twitch up into his touch. "You can take them off," you tell him. He sighs into you. Hands bunching the fabric, coming back to a full standing position as he pulls the black fabric fully from your legs. He then drops down to his knees. Fingers skimming down from your ankles, up your calves. Resting at the inter seam of your knee. Holding onto the flesh of your legs as he looks to you. Your hair splayed on the cream sheets behind you.

"Touch me please," you beg. He runs his finger pads along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You grasp at his hair as he begins to place kisses along the edges of your underwear. "Harry please," you whine, lifting your hips from the bed. He responds with a slap to your thigh.

"Let me explore," he nips at the skin of your thigh. You instinctively try to close your legs. He then takes both hands, wrapping them around the back of your thighs and holding you open. You let out a huff as he begins placing soft kisses along your clothes seam. Almost light enough you can't feel him. "Already so wet," he groans out, as if he is speaking to himself. He then licks a flat stripe against you, not quite enough to touch your depraved clit. You moan out, gripping his hair tighter. Pushing his face to you, his nose bumps your clit, and your hips try to push up to grind into him, but he stops you with the grip he has on your hips. He pulls back and slaps against your pussy, which rips a wail from your throat.

"Fuck Harry please,"

"Stop being a needy little whore and let me have fun," he then hooks his fingers into the gusset of your underwear and all but rips them off your body. He dives back into your cunt. Fingers playing at your entrance as he instantly attaches his mouth to your clit. You writhe off the bed.

"Harry, yes, oh my god," you yell out. His smile breaking the suction he had. "Please don't stop, please, please," You pull tightly at his hair. His fingers finally slip knuckle deep into you. Exploring, searching for that spongy spot inside you. Moans and obscenities falling from your mouth. As he finally presses his fingers to the spot deep inside of you drop your head into the mattress and your legs drop to the sides. Arching up off the bed, he continues pumping his finger in and out of you. Mouth still attached to your clit; you can feel yourself approach your climax faster than ever before.

"Fuck Harry please I'm so close," pushing yourself against his face.

"Come for me baby," he says before quickly attaching himself to you. Teeth grazing your clit causing stars to burst behind your eyes. Your fingers and toes curling and clenching so hard it almost hurts. Broken words fall from your mouth as you whimper and moan. Pleasure coursing through your veins, your heart beating a million miles an hour. "Such a good girl," Harry groans as he begins placing kisses on your trembling thighs. You roll your head to the side as he guides himself onto the bed. Pulling you to his chest as you come down from your high. His hand running up and down your back, murmuring into your ear.

"You did such a good job baby," he presses a kiss into your hair. You open your eyes and look to him.

"Thank you," you smile at him. Which causes him to chuckle.

"You're welcome, I've been dying to do that for years," He then pulls you in for a kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, he pulls your bottom lip in between his teeth as he pulls away.

"Years huh?" you ask.

"Years," he confirms before kissing you again. You just smile into his lips.

"Damn," you mumble against him. He looks at you with slight concern. "You're saying I could've had mind blowing orgasms for years but we were too chicken?" he breaks out in laughter.

"I guess so," once your head is finally clear you look down at your tangled bodies. His pants have been undone; zipper flayed open. Exposing is Calvin Clein briefs that clothe a still very hard member. The outline of the head of his cock pressing against the fabric. You run your finger along rim of his cock, and he lets out a broken sigh.

"It was starting to hurt," he breathes out. Eyes watching your hands intently.

"Aww baby," You condescend as you then palm down the length of him.

"You fuckin, ooh," he trails off into a moan.

"Can I kiss it better?" you ask as you slowly glide down his body. He nods in confirmation.

"Fucking please," he groans, his dick pushing up against your hands.

"I can't wait to taste you," you say as you are eye level with his clothed cock. Pulling at his jeans and underwear. His hips lift from the bed so you can gain access to his untouched skin. His dick springs out slapping against his stomach. He lets out a hiss as your hand wraps around his base. Lifting his dick to your lips, you place an opened mouth kiss against the tip of his cock. Tongue poking out to taste him. A hum like moan leaves his mouth at the contact.

"Holy fuck you feel so good already," his hips jerk up. You then take all of his head into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around him. Slowly taking a little more at a time, bobbing up and down slightly. Wetting his cock slowly. His grasp finds home in your hair pulling at your roots. You moan at the pleasurable burn that sends tingles through your body. The vibrations on his cock causing him to thrust up into your mouth. "Fuck, sorry, sorry," He groans as you pull off of him.

"It's okay," you gasp. Before diving back in and taking him as far back as you can.

"Fucking shit you're perfect," he groans. Eyes screwing shut and his head dropping onto his pillows. His hand stays at the back of your head as you bob up and down on his dick. Taking what you can't fit down your throat in your hands. You can feel him twitch in your mouth, your mouth salivating, ready to taste him explode across your taste buds. Before he finishes, he pulls you off him and lets out a shaky breath. "I wanna feel you," his dick twitches in your grasp. "If that's okay with you?" you nod.

"Yeah, yes, please," He pulls at your hair, you climb back up onto him. Your exposed core sitting on his abdomen. Connecting at the lips again. His hands gripping your hips slowly guiding you to grind against his abs. You whimper into the kiss, his fingers digging deep enough to bruise in the morning. You can feel your orgasm building as you rub yourself on him. His skin becoming wet with your slick. He pulls back from your lips.

"You getting close?" you let out a whimper as you nod. "Come on baby, you can do it. Cum on my tummy baby," he coaxes you as you grind down harder onto him. He lets go of your waist with one hand and slaps your ass. The sting pushing you over the edge. Legs clenching around his abdomen, shaking and whining. His eyes glued to your face, that's twisted and clenched in pleasure. "Good girl, such a good fuckin girl," he growls as you finish for the second time. Your hands find rest on his chest as you collapse into his arms.

"Fuck Harry you're gonna kill me," you sigh as you nuzzle into his neck. He chuckles. Hands kneading your ass.

"At least you'll die satisfied," you place a kiss against his neck.

"Can I satisfy you now?" you joke.

"Of course," he laughs. Turning over so you are under him he hops off the bed. Quickly shedding himself of his pants he turns and begins digging in his dresser. He comes back to the bed. A small foil packet in his hand. He tosses it on the bed beside you. You stand up on your knees and waddle to the edge of the bed. He pulls you into a deep kiss. Hands on either side of your face. You sigh out into him. As he pulls away his thumb runs across your bottom lip.

"You sure? We don't have to if you don't want to," his thumb resting on your lip. You lean down and press a kiss against it.

"I am beyond sure," you smile at him.

"Thank fuck," he wraps his arms around your thighs and picks you up. tossing you back onto the bed. You land with a laugh. Be stays standing looking down on you, lustful look on his face.

"Are you going to fuck me or just look at me?" he smirks and grabs the condom. Ripping open the wrapping and rolling it onto himself without taking his eyes off of you. You look back and forth between his face and his dick. Mouth practically watering at the sight of him. He guides himself over you. Slowly crawling onto you. As he comes face to face with you, he pecks your lips.

"I want your eyes on mine okay?" he questions you.

"Yes sir," you slip. Eyes widening slightly. He smirks at the comment. He moans as his tip teases your entrance. You lift your hips causing his head to slip inside of you. Both of you gasping at the feeling. His hand then comes around your throat. Squeezing slightly at the sides, asking permission. You nod.

"So fucking needy," he groans as he then sheaths himself fully inside of you. He stays buried inside you unmoving. The moan that leaves your body is unlike any noise you've made before. The sheer fullness of him causing your body to vibrate. "Such a tight little cunt," His eyes still locked on yours. "My tight little cunt huh?" you release a little moan. His hand releasing your throat and tapping at the side of your face. "Words baby," he commands.

"Yes Harry, all yours," he then lighly smacks your face.

"Uh uh, that's not my name," His pupils blown with lust. You moan out to him.

"Sir," you whine out. He begins to slowly pull out. "Yes sir, I'm sorry sir," barely escapes your mouth as he fully thrusts back into you.

"Fuck," he drowns out. Slowly dragging himself across your walls. As he slowly fucks you, your moans grow. His tip bouncing off your cervix in the most deliciously painful way. "Fuckin good girl taking Daddys cock all the way," he groans.

"Like it was made for me," you sigh.

"Just for you baby, only yours," you clench around him. His breath faltering. "You keep doing that I'll fucking come," he scolds. His hand snaking in between your conjoined bodies and finding your clit. As he draws slow circles over the bundle of nerves you gasp. The two prior orgasms making you overly sensitive.

"Oh Daddy please don't stop,"

"Come on baby, come for me, come with me," he whimpers. You can feel him twitching inside of you, on the edge. As his thrusts become sloppy you feel your orgasm teetering on the edge.

"I'm gonna come, Daddy, fuck," His eyes not leaving yours.

"Eyes on me, wanna watch you come," you moan out as he thrusts harder. Your vision cloudy with tears as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes closing as you hit your peak. His hand making harsh contact with your cheek.

"Eyes on me," he releases a frustrated groan. You open your eyes to look at him. His eyes an even darker green than usual. His pupils dilate erasing almost all the color from his irises as he releases into the condom buried balls deep inside you. Gasped breaths escaping his mouth as he struggles to curse out. He collapses onto you. slipping beside you and nuzzling into your neck. You move to wrap your arms around him as his clasp your waist.

You lay together for quite some time before he lifts himself to kiss you. Slow lazy kisses, capturing each other's breaths. As he pulls away and looks back into your eyes, you speak.

"That was pretty good," you shrug. His mouth falls open with offence.

"Pretty good?" he scoffs. "Don't make me fuck you till you can't walk pretty girl. I will fucking destroy you," Before you get a chance to answer he captures your lips in his. You push him off you.

"So sensetive," You laugh, pulling him back in for a kiss. Both of you fighting smiles.

Masterlist

[princessbrunette]

i just know jj is continuously giving you water and juice the entire trip even though johnb warns you both that there aren’t going to be any places to stop for miles, then hours in you’re whining and crying that you have to pee really bad and johnb is just like “told you so.” & eventually when you really can’t hold it anymore johnbee pulls over so you can pee behind a tree while jj holds your hand the entire time cs you’re scared someone is going to grab you. - 🍄

⋆˙⟡🍩♡🤎౨ৎ🐶˚˖𓍢ִִ໋

the “told you so” is sooooo jb ugh !! even goes as far as to snatch the bottle out of jj’s hand when he can, setting it aside and giving him a wide eyed stern look !

“hey, what’d i say huh? gonna make the poor girl pee herself.”

“excuse me, i’m being a good boyfriend and saving her from dehydration okay— have you been drinking any water, huh?”

john b protectively watching the both of you run off to the tree line, watchin you squat down in the distance as jj stands right over you with his hand in yours. “go ‘head girl, tinkle away.”

“i’m scared.” you speak over the sound of your pee trickling out.

“of what? the pee monster? yo i actually watched this movie once about this demon that lives inside the toilet and —”

“stop!” you whine, nearly in tears as you clutch his hand harder.

you return to the twinkie sniffling, jj trailing behind with an innocent smile.

“jj kept saying scary stuff!” you accuse, huffing as you turn your body to face the window — pulling your blanket over you. john b turns to the blonde with his lips pressed together, a sarcastic yet disappointed dad smile on his face.

“y’proud of yourself, buddy?”

“yeah that maybe wasn’t my finest moment.”

⋆˙⟡🍩♡🤎౨ৎ🐶˚˖𓍢ִִ໋

[biting-miguel-ohara]

T-Shirts - Wade Wilson x ftm!Reader

A/N: I had so much fun writing this. I really hope Wade’s personality is in-character. I tried to keep the silly goofy vibes he has along with the pet names, but it’s been a while since I saw a Deadpool movie other than DP&W

Fic is written for this request

CW: Pet names; Reader is called baby boy, baby, and handsome; mentions of stabbing and murder; light fluff; suggestive content; explicit sexual content; smut; this is really just sex with a little bit of buildup; Wade is implied to be physically bigger than Reader; mild implied possession kink; Wade wears lingerie; sloppy kisses; AFAB Reader but their parts are called dick and hole; Reader’s arousal is described as slick; Wade eats the Reader out; overstimulation; multiple orgasms; fingering; PIV sex; unprotected sex; crying during sex; rough sex; Reader bites Wade hard enough to bleed; Wade cums inside Reader; Wade uses his fingers to keep the cum inside; aftercare; implied round two; snuggling

1730 words

“Oh, baby boy!” Wade’s voice rings out as he kicks open the door to your shared apartment.

You look up, smiling. “Hi, Wade.”

He waltzes over to you and plops himself down next to you on the couch. “Whatcha watchin’?”

You gesture at the TV, but can tell he’s only asking to be nice. “Just some show. How was your day?”

“Oh,” he rests his head against your shoulder. “Full of stabbing and murder. The usual.”

You wait, sensing some sort of dramatic pause in his manner.

“And I got us a present!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What sort of present?”

You know to be a little cautious. Wade’s presents have ranged from a sweet set of guns to a teacup pig you had to return to its owner.

But this time, Wade’s glee seems oddly more enthusiastic than usual. “I bought us matching shirts.”

You laugh. “Matching shirts?”

He nods and leaps up from the couch. He rummages in his bag by the door before plopping back down next to you. “See?”

He holds up the first shirt. “I had to hunt all over town for the shop, but I finally found them today!”

You laugh. You can’t help yourself. It’s not mean laughter, but actual, genuine laughter. You’re touched, in a way.

“Oh, Wade.” You read the shirt aloud. “‘I love my trans boyfriend.’ That’s so sweet!”

“And look at yours!” He holds up the other shirt.

“‘I love my smoking hot boyfriend.’” You nod, grinning at the cheesy decal. “I’m gonna wear it to the next family meeting.”

Wade gasps and clutches his shirt to his chest. “I’ll never be able to focus. Oh, you’re a sneaky one.”

You laugh and reach out to lift up his mask. You kiss his scarred cheek. “How ‘bout I go try it on, hmm? You wear yours… and I’ll wear mine…”

He clearly doesn’t miss the suggestive tone of your voice as he hops right up. “Yup! Let’s do that! I’ll just—“

He practically sprints for the bedroom and you grin. You can hear him banging around against the dresser, probably looking for some cute lingerie or something. You let him do his thing in peace, curious about what he’s gonna come out wearing.

You strip to your boxers and put on the shirt. It hangs big on you, which makes you smirk.

You used to think he just couldn’t remember your size, but now you know better. He does it on purpose, as he likes to pretend it’s his clothes you’re wearing. Some roundabout possession kink or something.

You can’t blame him. Hell, you let him do it. It makes you feel wanted, in some odd way.

You think about that for a moment, as you move to sit on the couch again. You quickly reach the conclusion that it doesn’t really matter, as you wouldn’t be dating Wade without a few quirks of your own.

Like his cute little saying about matching crazy. You don’t know if you match his level of insane, but you definitely match his level of horny.

So when he comes out of the bedroom with a literal bang of the door, you ogle him in amazement. He’s wearing the shirt and the hottest pair of red panties you’ve ever seen. They’re lacy, they’re silky, and they’re practically nonexistent.

Your mouth waters immediately. “I wanna suck you off.”

Wade groans, his cock visibly twitching in the panties. “Baby boy, I want that more than anything. But I made a promise to myself and I intend to keep it.”

You rest your chin on the back of the couch. “What promise?”

He walks over to you, lifting your head and planting one of the sloppiest kisses you’ve ever had right on your lips. You kiss him back with equal fervor, licking into his mouth with glee.

He pulls back from the kiss with a gasp, gazing at you with such adoration it makes your face heat.

“I promised I’d worship you, baby.” He cups your face in his hands, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Worship that sweet dick of yours.”

You can feel yourself get wetter. Can feel the slick soaking through your boxers, making them stick to your legs. “Fuck, Wade.”

“That’s the plan, baby boy.” He grins at you. “I’m gonna eat you out so good you’re seeing stars, and then I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk in the morning.”

“Promise?” You’re almost giddy with excitement. You and Wade fuck like rabbits almost every single day, and yet it still gets you excited every time.

“Promise. Now, come here. I wanna give that sweet mouth of yours some love.”

He practically topples over the couch as he leans in to kiss you. And you? You let yourself be squashed by him. Anything to keep his lips on yours and his hands roaming your body.

You moan into the kiss, arching your hips up against his. His hand snakes down to your boxers, stroking over the damp fabric.

“Aww, look at you,” he coos, “So wet for me. I bet you’re absolutely soaking.”

You whimper and press into his touch. His mouth lodges against yours again as his fingers dip below your waistband.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, as his scarred fingers meet the pool of slick between your legs. He circles your dick, making you gasp and squirm beneath him.

“Wade! Wade, oh my god! Yes, just like that!”

“Yeah?” He nudges a finger against your hole. “Like this?”

You moan. Bucking into his touch, clenching around nothing. “Please, Wade…!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he pulls his hand away. Bringing it up to his mouth to suck his fingers clean. He groans at the taste. “Fuck, baby. I love you so much right now. All needy and desperate and—“

He cuts himself off, sliding off the couch to kneel between your legs. He grips the damp fabric of your boxers, easily tearing them apart. You whimper, clenching at both the sight and at the breath of air against your dick.

“Oh, damn,” Wade breathes. He reaches out, tracing his fingertips over your slick skin. “Baby boy, I am going to feast on you.”

You grab a couch cushion, already preparing yourself. It always takes you by surprise, though. His first lick against you.

You squeeze the life out of the couch cushion, moaning and gasping as Wade laps at you. He sucks on your dick, groaning as you soak his chin with slick.

“Gonna make you cum on my tongue,” he mutters against you. “Then on my fingers. And then I’ll let you have my dick.”

You whimper. He smirks and goes back to eating you out.

You cum on his tongue twice. Right in a row, unable to help yourself.

When he slides his fingers into your dripping hole, you scream into the couch cushion. He pumps them inside you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot.

You cum seeing stars. Once, twice again,

Your body is twitchy, wracked with shudders when he finally pulls out his dick. He rubs it against you, coating it thoroughly in your slick and cum.

“You want this, baby?” He coos. “You want my thick cock?”

“Yes!” You bury your face in the couch cushion, mostly to hide the tears building in your eyes. It’s going to be too much. But you need it. You need him. More than anything else on the planet. “Please!”

Wade chuckles and notches the tip of his dick against your hole. “How badly do you want it?”

“So bad!” You rock forward against him, but he grips your hips.

“Oh, no,” he smirks. “Don’t be greedy. You’ll take what I give you, won’t you?”

“Please!” You beg. “Please, Wade, just put it in!”

“Alright, alright. Since you asked so nicely.”

In one fluid movement, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself inside you all the way.

You sob at the stretch, cumming immediately. You’re so sensitive. So achy and needy. Your poor dick so delicious sore.

Wade groans. Loudly. “Fuuuuuck! Keep that up and I won’t be able to last!”

You both know it’s a lie, he can go as long as he wants. But your sex-dumbed brain can only think of one thing. More pleasure.

You fuck yourself on him, arching and rocking your hips against his. He’s so deep inside you, you’re sure you could feel a bump in your stomach if you tried. It’s too much, exhaustion creeping up your spine.

Your movements get sloppy, more like needy grinding than fucking. You’re really crying now, tears flowing freely down your face and staining the cushion in your arms.

“Aww,” Wade coos. “Look at you. I wish I had a camera to take a picture. You’re perfect like this, you know.”

You just moan weakly. Thankfully he seems to get the memo. He grips your hips tightly and begins to fuck you roughly. Harsh, desperate thrusts. Heavy panting and sloppy kisses.

You abandon your cushion in favor of gripping his face as you kiss him.

“Please, please, please,” you beg.

He gasps and groans, fucking harder into you. “Oh, yeah, baby. This is it. You ready for this, handsome?”

You bite his lower lip in response, hard enough to make him bleed.

With a low curse, Wade slams his hips against yours, cumming deep inside you. You moan, slumping back against the couch. You feel full, weak in all the best ways.

He slowly pulls out, stuffing your hole with his fingers to keep his cum from spilling out. “You alright, baby boy?”

You just whine in response. Your limbs feel like lead, your eyelids drooping.

“Yeah, me too.” Wade chuckles. He gently scoops you up, carrying you in his arms. He heads into the bathroom, turning on the tub.

“You did so good,” he coos, pulling off your shirt and setting you in the water. “Was that five or six orgasms?”

You rest your head against his chest, voice slurred and sleepy. “Five, I think…”

“Damn. We’ll get one more next time.” He presses a kiss to your head. “Now sit up for a moment. I wanna get in too.”

You do a lazy round two in the bathtub before passing out on the bed.

Your last thought, all warm and snuggled up with your boyfriend? You wouldn’t trade him for the world.

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

I can’t stop thinking of demon! Adam going through development and reaching the point of like,, doing something nice without anyone telling him to do it, purely for the sake of doing it. Something he never would have done before. Even if it’s something as small as sitting down with you while you’re watching your favorite movie or show and not shitting on it the whole time, just to keep you company. Or something like that. I dunno. I’m just a sucker for slow burn subtextual romance.

THAT, and the reader seeing his face beneath the mask, looking him the eyes, and smiling a little. Even if they say nothing. I feel like that would stick with him.

Exactly. Demon!Adam lives in my head rent free now. I know this weren't a request of sorts but I kinda wrote something for this

random ficlet below

Demon!Adam x GN!reader (Fluff)

DemonSinner!Adam is something that plays on my mind a lot. He still doesn’t believe in the whole redemption shit that Charlie is laying down but if it gets him a glimpse of seeing heaven again he is willing to try.

-----

Adam was bored and needed something to do that would put off the inevitable “therapy” session with Lucifer’s brat later. So that must be why he finds himself outside your room. He knocks lightly on your door. You didn’t answer, he knocked again louder this time. Still no answer. So he opens the door and peers in.

“Hey errr (Y/n) Charlie asked me to check on you.” A blatant lie but he won’t tell you that.

He sees you’re watching TV.

“Huh? What no shitty nickname this time?” You mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn. Adam walks over and flops down on the couch next to you.

“Oh yeah, nah I didn’t really feel like it.” He grabs a handful of your popcorn.

You quirk a brow.

“Also Charlie said nooo giving nicknames to people that demean them and also who don’t want it and people were given names to be used blah blah blah.” He shoves the popcorn into his mouth. “So what are we watchin?”

“I'm watching a movie I really like so if you're staying either shut up or fuck off.” You sink back into your blanket cocoon.

*10 minutes later*

“What the fuck! This guy clearly likes her but she goes for the other bozo. Is she blind . . . . as well as ya know hot.”

You choke on your drink. You didn’t think that this would be his kinda thing but here he was emotionally invested in the film you had picked. You had really wanted to just wallow in your depression by binge watching trashy romcoms but what was really making you feel better was watching the ‘dickmaster’ himself rooting for the underdog to open up about his feelings to the lead woman.

You go to grab some popcorn but see the bowl is empty.

“Gotta pause.” You go to stand but he stops you.

“I got this.” He hides the good deed by quickly saying “And I need to piss anyway.” You pass him the bowl.

“Not in the popcorn I hope.” You rearrange yourself back in your blanket burrito.

“HAA, You nasty but don’t watch without me. Coz that is a dick move.”

“You know all about those.” You mutter into the blanket. But Adam had gone to the hotel kitchen to make popcorn.

You chose to scroll on your phone until he got back. There were a few messages but you didn’t really feel like answering them. You flop on your side. You can always move when he came back.

While you waited in silence for Adam. You think back on how he really was getting better. After seeing him slowly open up to Charlie’s ideas and seeing that he can be a good guy when it suits him. You smile to yourself.

Your door slams open.

“Okay I’m back bitch.”

Nevermind looks like he has thrown up his walls again.

He lays out the armful of snacks and the bowl of popcorn that looks way bigger than the bowl he left with. He sees you on your side.

“You comfy down there?”

You groan and slowly sit up again. He sits back down but wraps an arm around you and hugs you into his side and nothing more.

“Okay we can continue now.” He grabs the popcorn and rests it on his lap.

You set the movie going again and snuggle just a little bit closer. For popcorn reasons of course not that Adam was nice and warm and you felt safe next to him.

“Clearly she don’t know a good thing when she sees it.” You pipe up after about three minutes into the film again. You had seen this film so many times but there was one scene that always brought out annoyance in you.

“Right!! She needs to open her eyes this guy clearly loves her for who they are and not some fake ass bs that other . . . what?” Adam stops mid-sentence looking down at you resting against his chest.

You blink a few times before realising you are staring “Huh oh nothing.”

You focus back on the screen in front of you.

The climatic end of the film was approaching and the main lead were confessing their love and as the credits role you can here someone crying. You glance up and see Adam wiping away tears.

“You okay.” You sit up and reach for the tissues on the table to hand them to him.

“What!!! I’m fine. Of course I’m fiiiine. Shut up bitch.” He grabs the tissue box from you.

“If it helps I cried the first time I watched this movie.” You wrap the blankets tighter around yourself.

“I . . . ah . . shit.” He saw you curling further in on yourself. He feels guilt crawling into his stomach. “Sorry, I’m . . .Ugh. Look I’m bad at these feel your feelings crap that Charlie spouts. But it was a good film and yeah I cried but . . .”

“It don’t make you any less of a man.”

“Yeeeah I know. Of course I know. I’m the first man.”

“Huh back to that are we.” You bump shoulders with him, making him laugh.

He pulls you back into his side “So what are we watching now?”

------

I really didn't mean for this to be as long as it was. I'm sorry

[loganbcrnes]

hi would you mind writing a imagine of logan and f!reader cuddling on the couch watching horror movies? 🥺

oh my.. this has been in my inbox since 2021 LOL so uh enjoy sjjsjs ----------------------------------------------

Safe in his arms - Logan Howlett x female!reader no warnings.

The wind howled outside, rattling the windows of the small cabin, but inside, the crackling fireplace cast a warm glow over the living room. The couch, worn but comfortable, had been claimed by Logan Howlett and you, tangled together under a thick, knitted blanket. The TV flickered, casting eerie shadows as the horror movie played, filling the room with tension.

Logan shifted slightly, his arm draped over your shoulders, pulling you closer. His body was solid, radiating warmth, and despite the gruesome sights on screen, you felt safe tucked against him. You had both gone back and forth about what to watch tonight—he had rolled his eyes at your suggestion of a horror film, but you had caught the slight smirk he tried to hide.

“You sure you wanna watch this, sweetheart?” he murmured, voice gruff but teasing as a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the speakers. His fingers absentmindedly traced circles along your arm, the roughness of his calloused hands contrasting with your skin.

You nodded, gripping the blanket a little tighter. “I can handle it. Besides, you’re here to protect me, right?”

Logan huffed a chuckle, shaking his head. “Damn right I am.”

Another jump scare sent you flinching into his chest, and he exhaled through his nose, amused. “Maybe we should’ve gone with somethin’ else,” he mused, but his other hand settled on your hip, grounding you.

You tilted your head up, catching the smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Are you saying you’re scared?”

He scoffed. “Of this?” He nodded toward the screen, where the protagonist was making a predictably bad decision. “Nah. Seen worse.”

That much was true. Logan had been through more real horror than any film could conjure, but here, in this moment, he was just a man lounging with his girl, watching something ridiculous.

At the foot of the couch, your two cats, Shadow and Whiskers, were curled up together, their tails twitching occasionally in response to the sounds from the TV. Shadow, the more curious of the two, would occasionally flick an ear toward the screen, while Whiskers remained blissfully unaware, purring softly in his sleep.

The movie progressed, each scene growing darker, the tension coiling tight in your stomach. Another scare sent you nearly jumping off the couch, but Logan’s arm tightened around you, keeping you in place.

“Easy, darlin’,” he murmured, his lips ghosting your temple. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna get you while I’m here.”

You burrowed further into his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing soothing against the eerie silence of the movie’s buildup. “I know,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

For a while, the two of you just sat there, entwined, his fingers running absentmindedly along your arm, your waist. Every once in a while, he’d make a low sound of disapproval when a character made a dumb choice, and you’d giggle, feeling lighter despite the sinister atmosphere onscreen.

When the credits finally rolled, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Logan shifted beneath you, stretching his legs out with a satisfied groan. “Well, that was somethin’,” he muttered.

You tilted your head up to look at him. “Did you like it?”

He smirked, thumb brushing lazily against your side. “Eh. I liked watchin’ you react more.”

You playfully smacked his chest, and he let out a deep chuckle, catching your wrist and pulling you back in. His lips found your forehead, pressing a slow, lingering kiss there before he mumbled, “You tired?”

You hummed, already feeling drowsy against his warmth. Shadow stretched out lazily before curling back into a tighter ball, while Whiskers twitched his paws in his dreams.

Logan adjusted, shifting so you were even more comfortably nestled against him. “Get some sleep, sweetheart,” he said, voice softer now. “I got you.”

And with the fire crackling low and the storm still whispering outside, you let yourself drift off in his arms, safe in the warmth of his embrace, the gentle purring of your cats filling the cozy silence.