bachshot

[bachshot]

summary: when virgin mickey finally takes his courage to ask you to teach him things and you decides a handjob isn’t that bad as a first experience with someone else.

pairing: inexperienced sub!mickey 17 x gender neutral!reader.

cw: +18. mdni. 1.3k words. inexperienced subby mickey 17. dominant gender neutral reader. teasing. praising. slight degrading. handjob. spitting.

FIRST TIMES.

To say Mickey was inexperienced in sex would be an utter understatement; with the girls he wasn’t the best, and with the boys… Well, it was even worse. It wouldn’t go as far as to say he was a virgin (he was, actually), because dreams counted, right? Dreams about you he had, where you’d be on top, riding him for the entire night.

The both of you had gotten closer since you were both expendable on the ship, dying again and again for a greater cause, or whatever. You understood each other, loading the “how does it feels to die?” question, and sat at the same table during the daily meal. So yes, you were bound to get close; to kissing and teasing touches.

But Mickey never tried to go that far with you, he almost seemed shy when you’d put his hands on your chest; as if he didn’t know what to do. At one point, you had asked him, “Are you a virgin?” and he stuttered, trying to brush the subject away as if you’d mock him. But you didn’t, only hummed and changed the course of the conversation but kept it at the side of your brain.

The thing was, the more Mickey died, the more he thought about it. And the more you died, the more you became touchy with him; your fingers running through his hair to tug on it, leaving him moaning in your mouth. Your hands would press him down as you made out so he wouldn’t rut his hips against yours. You’d tease him whenever his own hands would move to your chest without being told to.

You’d see the way his eyes wandered on your body as you dressed down to bed sometimes, how his hands would rest on his thighs like a puppy waiting for a treat, like he wanted to eat you but didn’t know how to ask.

And it was an awful boring day when he finally decided to speak up to you, “I want… us to do something. Like, having sex?” You had almost chuckled at his red cheeks, with how wavering his voice had sounded at that moment. “Sex? That’s a bit much for someone who’s as inexperienced as you.” You teased him and his cheeks flushed up even more.

“Then teach me. I want to be good for you.” Mickey said, and you paused for a moment to think about his words, your feet moving you to the bed where he was sitting. On the edge, eyes up on you, lips parted. He was such a pretty view, and you knew you couldn’t refuse him anything.

You moved to straddle his lap and his hands immediately moved to your hips, hands a bit too strong but you didn’t say anything. “What do you want to learn, Mickey?” You asked, nose brushing against the shell of his ear. You felt his hands move up to your waist, fingers trying to get under the fabric of your shirt. “Anything, I… I want to be good for you. Know more.”

You kept yourself from mocking him at that moment, teasing him for his inexperience that you actually found cute. “What about I teach you how to feel good?” He hummed quietly. “I know how to… jerk off.”

You moved your head away at the words, shaking your head as if what he had said was nothing but stupid. “Trust me, that’s not the same thing at all. Let me?” You felt his body straighten under yours, as if the realization of what was happening had finally hit his brain. Mickey gulped and nodded his head at you, leaning his upper body backward, holding himself up with his hands on the mattress.

Your own hands moved slowly while you kept watching his face, his flushed face, the twinkling in his eyes. Your fingers hit the barrier of his pants before you stopped. “Tell me you want this, Mickey.” You heard him take a sharp breath. “Yes, I want it. I want you to teach me.” And so, your hands kept lowering before you signaled him to lift his hips up.

That way, you pushed his pants and briefs down, making him shiver in anticipation. Mickey’s fingers gripped the covers of the bed, tightly, his body was already hot, making him sweat. He was still soft, and you lifted one of your hands to spit in it. His eyes widened at your action before he spoke. “What are you doing?” You looked up at him with a smile before wrapping your wet hand around his cock.

“Wow—” He gasped, his hips flinching toward your hand as if he already wanted to feel more of your touch. Mickey whined at the cold feeling before he relaxed, looking at your face. “Feels weird, I never did that before.” He bit down on his lower lip before his eyes shifted to your hand.

“That’s because you have no idea how to make yourself feel good, silly, do you? You have no idea what’s going on, poor boy.” You teased him before moving your hand, feeling his body squirm under yours. “Just relax and let me do that for you, Mickey.” You added, the up-and-down motion of your wrist was slow at first.

Mickey felt himself becoming harder in your hand, and he gasped quietly with the slow torture you were putting him in. He looked up at your face, lips parted like he wanted to talk but only a moan escaped his mouth before his head rolled to the ceiling. “Please, I—” He begged but you wouldn’t listen to him, your thumb rubbing against his tip, which made him gasp your name loudly. Mickey’s hips jerked to meet your hand and you had to stop your movements.

“Don’t move or I’ll stop.” You threatened and Mickey, breathing loudly, whined. There was nothing he could say to defend himself so he nodded, and pressed his hips down while your hand moved again. Down to the base and up to his tip where pre-cum already rested. “You’re such a good boy, see? You listen so well, Mickey. I’m proud of you.” You said sweetly, your free hand moving to brush his hair away from his sticky forehead.

“T-Thank you… I’m just good for you.” You heard him reply, which made your hand move to a faster pace up and down his cock. Little gasps escaped his lips at that, and he did all he could to not jerk his hips up. He didn’t want to disappoint you or make you stop.

And even when Mickey thought you could surprise him anymore, he saw you look down at your hand before spitting saliva, making everything more wet. Your thumb rolled onto his tip, and he felt the knot tighten in his stomach. “God, I— It’s coming soon.” He whined at you, hands almost ripping the covers of the bed with how much he wanted to squirm.

He let whines and whimpers escape his mouth as he looked at you, and you chuckled mockingly at him. “Already? That’s pathetic. You’re so pathetic, Mickey.” You said, your words snapped something inside Mickey as he let a loud moan echoe in the room, and before you knew it, he had came all over your hand and his own shirt. His breathing was labored, thighs shaking as he looked up at you. Your hand slowly stopped its movements.

“I— Sorry, I didn’t think I’d finish so fast.” You brushed the comment off by kissing him softly and one of his hands moved to your hair. “That was good though, you were right. Different from when I do it.” Mickey said, trying to breathe normally again.

You chuckled at him. “Of course it is, but you were so good. Want to try something else now?”

[bachshot]

i really want to write some ted lasso fanfic but idk if the fandom is alive if you're out there please lmk and send some requests ahhh !!

[bachshot]

Officially on spring break so I'll be getting back to writing soon!!

[bachshot]

FEEL. — mickey 17

somewhat inspired by @darkoies doctor c.ai! (NSFW)

w/c: 2.3K

As he felt his body temperature slowly begin to drop, Mickey knew that he’d been cloned again.  

He’d grown to accept that there was nothing like climatising to the perfect 20°C of the lab, sometimes laying there for hours with nothing but a sheet to cover his modesty – only if he’d been lucky enough to be attended to that quickly. Mickey seemed to be reborn in a lab full of people, yet he was always alone. 

Blinking, he fought to adjust himself to the sterile curing lights, expecting to be faced with Dorothy or one of the other scientists. Instead, he was met with warmth; rounder, fuller features staring down at him with a curious look and a gentle smile. He'd certainly never seen you before.

“...Vitals are surprisingly low,” the voice spoke. “Is this normal?” 

Instinctively Mickey opened his mouth to answer, clamping it shut once he realised you weren’t speaking to him, but a fellow doctor across the lab. He hoped you hadn’t noticed. He felt a bit silly. 

“I’m just going to put this in, ok? It’s a small chip to help us track your endocrine system, hormones, endorphins – those kinds of things. You shouldn’t feel a thing, it’s virtually weightless.” You spoke again, eyes occasionally making contact as you glanced down to reassure him, but more focused on dabbing at his skin with a wipe.

Mickey took a short breath, having not particularly grown accustomed to needles throughout any of his seventeen iterations. 

“Uh-huh... Why do I -” 

“All done.” You grinned, withdrawing the tool with a smile.

He couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed, selfishly wishing a flare up of some kind, anything that could get him to spend just a few more minutes longer with you. Anything was better than a meaningless afternoon within the four walls of his room. Pursing his lips, he pushed himself to sit upright, allowing for him to get a better view of you.  

“How do you feel?”  

“Fine...” he began, wringing his hands. “Though in my position I’ve learned that’s not much.” 

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to be an Expendable. I admire your bravery,” you began, leaning in, your faces a few centimetres apart. “Chin up.” 

Goosebumps peppered his skin as he felt your breath on his cheek, the warmth of your hands felt even through your plastic gloves as you held his face in place, running a torch over his eyes. 

“It’s not all bad,” he chuckled nervously. “I get to keep my memories.” 

“I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse. There are definitely a few things I’d like to forget...” 

“Like what?” he questioned, hoping that you wouldn't find his prying weird. He’d never get this far with any other doctor on the team. 

“Bad hairstyles for one,” you said with a soft sigh, stepping away from the man to enter something into a computer. "My entire college years, amongst other things.” 

“I bet they weren’t that bad,” he shrugged, brushing a wet, messy strand of his mousy brown hair from his eyes. “Nice girls like you definitely had a better time than me.” 

The statement seemed to illicit a smile.  

“Well,” you huffed as you scribbled something down on a clipboard. “Nice girls tend to finish last. That’s why I’m here. Other than the pay, being a doctor on Earth is pretty shit.” 

Mickey grinned, and this time let out a genuine, audible laugh, so unrestrained that his voice broke in the process. You hummed in amusement, presumably at the fact that the man had taken such glee in an offhand comment, before going back to your job and listing some rather important things about the tests being run.  

By that point Mickey had naturally zoned out, having heard all the doctors’ spiel before. What did it matter if hypertension could cause blackouts, heart attacks or death – he would just be reprinted anyway. In a fucked-up way, nothing really mattered... In what he thought would’ve been basic empathy, he hoped you could see him for who he was - less of a crash dummy and more of a human.  

- 

Marshall was fuming.

And by that nature, the whole lab was pissed off with you. 

The past few experiments had been complete failures – not due to misguided hypothesises, but because Mickey was a shitty lab rat. If you could even call him that.  

Over the few weeks that 17 had been cloned, nothing had gone to plan. Half the time, he’d passed out before research could begin, or hadn’t even been deemed fit to work. You’d only seen him in passing, being wheeled about on a table or through plexiglass – but you knew something was wrong…the numbers told you so. 

It was difficult. On Earth there were too many patients for you to really care about them in the way your cared for Mickey, but reading his past files and listening here-say from the other workers was enough to sympathise with him. From what Dorothy had told you, his past iterations had never been so stubborn, which was why it didn’t make sense for him to act up now. 

Arkady thought it to be a fault in the tech, that somehow he’d reprinted wrong…but you knew better.  

It was obvious he’d grown fond of you. You’d caught him staring multiple times, a distant smile dotted across his face as he carved out your visage through the haze of the testing room. Sometimes, he’d even wave. Discreetly, you did back. 

To be fair, you liked him too.

Naturally, it made sense for you to ‘deal’ with him. You clutched your clipboard to your chest as you walked down the empty corridors to a distant room, curtly waving away the guards as you entered. 

The brown haired man perked up, and if you weren’t facing expulsion – or death – from Marshall himself then you would’ve made a quip about it. 

“Oh - I, uh...They just shoved me in here, I have no idea what’s this all about —“ Mickey stammered, eyes glancing around the room frantically as if to search for a source of reason himself. You watched as he shrunk in on himself, seemingly realising from your crossed arms and pursed lips that you weren’t in a generous mood. 

“You shouldn’t be surprised. You haven’t been eating as much. Or sleeping,” you began, shoes tapping against the floor as you strolled towards him. He seemed to be trying (and failing) to divert his gaze from you, eyes as wide and watery as ever, and it occurred to you that it felt like a mean teacher punishing a schoolboy. “They wanted to throw you in the cell, but I convinced them to lend you to me under the name of science.” 

He nodded shyly and peered up at you from his bangs. 

“Our research is compromised if you go into a mission on two hours of sleep and low blood sugar. Then we look bad, and Marshall blows his gasket.” 

Mickey itched uncomfortably, contemplating something before the edges of his lips curved up into a small, jaunty smile. “...Isn’t there some kind of shot for that?” 

“That isn’t the point, Mickey,” you chided, ignoring his silly attempt at a joke. “Not everything can be fixed by a drug. We may be miles away from Earth, but most things are still down to basic biology. You’re still human.” 

The man sighed and cast his gaze to the floor, so much so that you couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you into trouble with Marshall. If you let me out of here, I’ll tell him it’s my fault.” 

You fought to hold back a small smile. Here he was, essentially a complete stranger – a literal lab experiment - and yet was ready to take a bullet for you. It baffled you as to why nobody else saw the gentleness of humanity in Mickey – probably because no one was willing to give him a chance. Being labelled ‘Expendable’ would do that, all too ironic that he was the most important on the ship. To the whole regime, really.  

“There’s no need to do that...” you hummed. “I’m just annoyed I’ve overlooked things.” 

“…Like?” 

“Happiness, for one,” you began, slowly striding around the room to place your clipboard on a small table. “And attention. We tend to forget that we need it.” 

Mickey swayed his head, seemingly taking in what you were saying as he watched you like a hawk. As if his body had been pulled taught with a string, his back visibly straightened as you stopped in-front of him, your shins touching the tips of his thigh. Swallowing, he angled his head to look up at you, and your gazes met. 

“Be honest with me, Mickey…Did you stop eating just so you could see me?” 

He swallowed again, briefly diverting his gaze before looking back at you, running his tongue over his lips. Mickey was always cute, but he looked especially delectable in this angle. 

“Y-yeah…” he stammered. “I really didn’t mean to get you in trouble —“ 

“Why did you do that? Did you want my attention?” 

“Uh –“ 

“Do you like me?” 

His answered came in the form of a shy nod and an uneasy grip on your legs. In the best way, you were going to ruin him.  

“It’s okay,” you smiled. “You can touch me. I want you to.” 

Reaching out to embrace your torso, Mickey found himself softly stunned as you pulled away, comforted with the sight of you removing your lab coat and aptly peeling off your jumpsuit, discarding it across the cold floor. 

The man wasted no time in latching onto you, rubbing his face over your bare skin as he pressed wet, impassioned kisses against your stomach, making his way passed your bellybutton and towards your underwear.  

You threw your head back as you pulled him closer, placing your hands on top of his as he roamed your body, lithe fingers kneading the shape of your thighs and ass. In any other circumstance, you would’ve been trying to pleasure Mickey – and you were sure you would eventually – but you got the feeling that he only ever wanted to make you happy. 

Your pleasure was his pleasure. He was useful that way. 

Mickey let out a soft whistle from his nose, momentarily pulling away from getting his fix. 

“You smell like strawberries…” he murmured before nestling into you. Who would’ve thought that the perfume you’d grabbed from Earth right before jumping on this metal container would awaken something in him? 

Grinning, a purr escaped your lips as you lowered yourself onto Mickey’s thighs, one hand on his chest as you gently pushed him onto the bed, his back springing up ever so slightly from the recoil. He looked so beautiful like this; all desperate and wanting, eager to taste your lips. 

Pressing your lips against his, you gave him what he wanted. Though you’d never underestimated him, you were rather surprised by how skilfully his lips moved against your own, barely missing a beat as his hands worked your way up to your breasts. 

He let out a moan as he gave them a squeeze through your bra, eyes darting frantically between your chest and the sight below him – your ass grinding perfectly against his bulge. 

“You’re so sweet, Mickey, do you know that?” you teased, popping up to quickly push down his pants. “I hate the way they treat you.” 

“You aren’t like them…” he murmured. “You’re perfect.” 

If it wasn’t for hormones clouding your judgment, your heart would’ve stopped upon questioning the melancholy statement. You’d only treated him as any good doctor would – with respect – and yet he was comparing you to some kind of deity. 

Mickey stopped you with a firm grasp on your forearm, just as you began to reach down into his boxers. You were mildly shocked, almost expecting him to be completely passive in the act, but wasn’t adverse to the offer. In fact you rather liked it. 

“Let me.” He whispered. 

You obliged. 

Mickey let out a loud whimper as he sunk into you, his cock bottoming out in you nicely. He was average sized, but it completed you. You felt every pulse and twitch as you moved your hips along him, coating pink cock in a shiny film. 

He’d pawed at your chest now, popping a breast from inside the material and putting it into his mouth, sucking and licking at your nipple. You moaned at the contact, though quickly but down on your lip to suppress any more noises. At the end of the day, you were still technically a doctor on duty. 

Then again, Marshall was so weird that he’d probably enjoy your gratuitous display – limbs flailing and Mickey’s hair clung to his forehead from ecstasy. The ship was cold, but heat filled your body, tingling from your loins and rising through to your cheeks.  

You were so preoccupied with Mickey’s visual proof of euphoria that you’d barely noticed that his hands had made their way to your lower body, his hands holding the sides of your ass in position as you writhed against him. 

“Shit…” you stammered. “You’re so good…Don’t stop…” 

Naively, the man shook his head, staring up at you with puppy eyes. In an effort to impress you, he bucked his hips up into your wet pussy, squelching sounds louder and prominent than before. He seemed to be hitting your spot effortlessly. 

“Beautiful. God, you’re an angel…” he sighed, his squeaky, yet raspy accent as prominent as ever. He sounded like he was from New York. 

You’d ask him about it some day. 

As Mickey’s pace slowed, and your walls clenched around him, you could tell that you were both close. Honestly, you didn’t know whether you’d flop into his arms or if he would cave in on you, but somehow, even millions of miles from Earth, you grounded each-other.  

[bachshot]

sage. my flight got delayed AGAIN. i’m not getting back to school til late, i have an assignment due tomorrow i haven’t finished…may i please request some Mickey 17 stuff? smut or fluff or angst idc i miss that little guy:(

⭑.ᐟ cw (18+) : dry humping, tiny bit of fluff —

mickey’s body is a mess.

he’s just been reprinted for the twelfth time, his limbs slimy and his blood whooshing erratically through his veins as he’s sat up on the cold table. the familiar scientists poke and prod at his skin while they scribble hurried little notes in their pads of paper. his head spins badly whenever he gets propped up fresh out of the machine, but he still manages to immediately think of you.

where you’re at right now, what you’re doing, who you’re with.

he can’t do anything until the people in the lab are ready to let him go though, releasing him until the next agonizing experiment needs him. sometimes it’s funny because they’re ready to kick him out the door before his legs are ready to be used, like a mother bird kicking her baby out of the nest before its ready to fledge. regardless, they’re usually pretty quick about finishing their post-printing examinations. and he can use the spare minutes while they’re working on him to think about what he’s gonna do when he finally gets to see you again.

the sting of his new cells adjusting to the atmosphere is drowned out by thoughts of pressing his lips to yours, trying out one of the stupid sex positions you and him made up on one of the tablets, running his hands over your warm flesh. he sighs.

one time—a few bodies ago—you had sucked him off when it had only been about 30 minutes since the reprinting, and you’d told him that his come tasted like plastic and sterilized metal. (which was weird because his body was supposed to be biologically the same as the last, so shouldn’t he have tasted normal? whatever. didn’t matter. you had swallowed. you had licked the rest of it into his mouth afterwards. it did taste artificial.)

the people surrounding him eventually scampered off and he assumed his freedom, got dressed, and slinked off and out. he walked through the hallways and listened to the sound of his heavy shoes hitting the flooring. climbed the stairs to the rooms, then slid open your door to find you laid on your bed. his chest sags with relief.

you smile at him. god, that smile. he can’t help but shut the door behind him and crawl up on top of you. your guys’ dark colored jumpsuits slide together. its only a tiny spark of friction, but its enough.

his body is always extra sensitive after coming out of the machine; he always feels like a virgin again, not that he’s had much sex in general though. he feels your hand over his hip, and he shudders.

“mmgh,” he breathes into your neck, stiff and shaky, “i missed you.”

“missed you too. it’s only been a day and a half, but i really missed you,” you whisper against his jaw.

he loves how you can be just as clingy as him sometimes. you even beat him at his own game on occasion, sticking to his side like a glob of glue, but he blames the fact that you only get to see him during select parts of the day. with your duties and his expendable work.. it’s tough. you both take what you can get, and as much of it as you’re allowed. and that usually also means getting handsy as soon as you’re together.

you feel him rock down against your thigh involuntarily, reflexively, chasing a brewing feeling in his stomach. your fingers run through his brown hair, and you bite your lip when it elicits a whimper from him.

“already, mick?” you hum teasingly, the tips of your digits scratching the back of his scalp, just the way he likes it, “don’t you wanna go down and eat first?”

he chokes around a moan when he starts to hump the most perfect spot on your leg, just enough muscle there to give him something to work against. his hands find fabric of your suit, slipping under your back next as he keens. he feels a rush of warmth coat his cock, and then he feels a dribble of something start to leak from his tip.

“don’t wanna eat.. not really hungry..” he gasps, his brow pinched up now in the shadows of the crook of your body, “this.. you.. this feels so good, i don’t wanna stop..”

you tilt your head slightly and then lift your leg under him to press it further against his bulging crotch. a sharp cry spills from his lips. you pet his hair again. he’s like a puppy sometimes—a needy, possessive dog that looks up to you like you’re something to be worshipped. you can’t get enough.

“okay, well, i snuck you some food anyways, its in my—“

mickey cuts you off, crashing his lips to yours with a hunger that’s almost unlike him. he usually wants you to lead (much preferring following your directions). his tongue seeks yours desperately, flattening over your own once he gets access. you have to swallow down all the little noises he’s making as he starts to thrust his clothed appendage against your body quicker. the movement of his snapping hips is building a warmth between all of the layers.. you wouldn’t exactly be surprised if he burned a hole right through with all the rubbing he’s doing. you lovingly slide a hand over his lower back in an attempt to soothe his frantic movements, but it doesn’t quite work. he breaks from the kiss, body jolting, to look down to your face and hiccup. expression all crumpled and contorted and flushed with an orgasm that he’s almost got clutched in the palm of his hand. eyes glazed over and jaw slacked like he’s high on pure oxy from timo. just a disaster of a man. and to think—a hunk of machinery and a brick of his memories brought him back to life less than an hour ago. birthed him, really. everything about him in this moment is so primal. you can’t shake the need to mark your territory, just in case he’s forgotten somehow.

“easy, easy.. you’re all mine for the rest of the night anyways.. i don’t care what they want, they’re not taking you from me tonight..”

and that’s all it takes.

just those sweet, possessive words pouring like thick honey into his ears, and then he’s gone. easy as that.

his eyes roll back, his head drops to your shoulder, his length spasms in his new underwear, then he’s coming. it happens as quick as you can blink.

“aah! im.. im—!”

he heaves through the uncontrollable waves of pleasure that bloom and spread throughout his nervous system, rendering him trembling heap on top of you. if it weren’t for the remaining strength in his biceps, he’d collapse and probably fall like dead weight over your chest. he gives a few more shaky rolls of his hips as he rides out the prickling aftershocks of overstimulation. “f-fuck, ohh, ngh..”

then he really does slump over you. lowering himself slowly over your frame so as to not crush you. there’s something tender about the way he moves to ensure your comfort, even when he’s so wrecked, and it makes you instinctively wrap your arms around him. he sniffles while he catches his breath.

“s-sssorry,” the word broken up lazily as he struggles to bring himself back to the reality of your touch, “mmn.. jus’ felt so good, and you smell so nice, and i just couldn’t..” he trails off, shaking his head as he feels his body begin to overheat.

a little laugh bubbles up and out at his incoherency. then your hand over his upper back snakes down to playfully squeeze his rear. he sucks in a gasp and then chuckles into your skin as he squirms.

“s’fine, i like watching you finish like that.”

he chews the inside of his cheek like gum. you can almost feel his lashes flutter against your pulse point.

“felt like i wasn’t myself for a second..”

it’s a joke, one twinged with a bit of shame and guilt, you know that, but it doesn’t feel like one. each time he gets reprinted, a part of him changes—gets stripped away and plastered over with something new. you don’t always mind, but it does make you question which mickey you’ll get next time. will he be soft and kind? blunt and impulsive?

at the end of the day, you suppose it doesn’t matter much.

“you’ll always be my mick.”

he lets out a sigh of relief, and it’s almost like you can feel the last of the tension drain from his pores. he only whispers two more words against your ear before he finds his palms wandering your body, eager to reciprocate and prove that he’s still useful. he owes it to you for loving him through it all.

“yeah.. yours.”

[bachshot]

girl where's that fic you said this weekend 😭

IT IS COMING I PROMISE life's just dealt me the most diabolical deck of cards this week so I haven't been able to finish it 💀

I'm leaving this weekend a bottle blonde with baby bangs two things I did NOTT have before so that's how I've been coping lmaooo

[bachshot]

── MISC BOT DUMP © 2025, S0FTSOUL.

★ : AARON HOTCHNER.

( sweetheart barista ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

every morning, aaron gets his coffee from the café down the street. and every morning, he can’t help but watch you, your smile and your pretty face. but you are in your twenties. should he really ask you out?

★ : CARMEN BERZATTO.

( sibling’s love ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

you are still devastated by the death of your older brother, even after four months. but the one that took it the hardest? carmen. you decide to tag along with everything carmen does to make sure he’s alright; until one day, you can’t do this anymore. carmen neither.

★ : DEAN WINCHESTER.

( on death bed ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

heart attack, the doctors had said. not enough time, nothing else to do, do your goodbyes; they said. and dean hated that, hated hospitals and all that shit. but maybe there’s one good thing about dying if it means having you as a nurse.

★ : DEAN WINCHESTER.

( fake priest ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

acting as a priest to get answer from a mourning family? just done. pretexting to need to wash his hands to snoop around? also done. being scared by one of the miller’s neighbor (you) and acting like everything was alright? yep, done.

★ : EDDIE MUNSON.

( build for speed ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

eddie is not made for this closed-minded town. no, he’s made for something bigger, for music and rock’n’roll. you, as his best friend, should understand that — but you don’t. because he’s breaking your dream of a calm and peaceful life with him at your side.

★ : EDDIE MUNSON.

( metalhead ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

hearing motörhead at seven in the morning wasn’t something eddie munson expected. ever. because no one liked the same music genre as him in this town. except you; the new neighbor at the trailer park — coming from god knows where.

★ : EMPEROR GETA.

( the betrayal ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

the night was quiet, you couldn’t even hear the soft snoring of your husband. that woke you up; then, the screaming from caracalla’s voice. a betrayal, geta had spoken about when coming back to the shared bed.

★ : EMPEROR GETA.

( money talks ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

growing poor made people do unspeakable things; like your father selling you for riches. you had been lucky to be treated very fairly; unlike some others. invited to aristocratic parties, to meet emperor geta; to know you wanted and deserved more.

★ : EMPEROR GETA.

( the older sibling ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

for some, being older meant being more powerful. but the throne? you never wanted it; leaving it to your younger brothers. did you liked their ways of ruling? no. but you didn’t had in you to betray them. especially with how close you were to geta.

★ : FINNICK ODAIR.

( training gone wrong ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

he didn’t want to be here. he didn’t want to participate, nor to see more people die. especially when mags was on his side. but finnick had no other choices. he’s so distracted during training that he almost puncture you, victor of the 66th hunger games from the district 10, with his trident. oops.

★ : LEE.

( daddy issues ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

he’s pained for you, really; but lee understands more than anyone. you’re a stranger, he shouldn’t care. but seeing your father leaving you on the side of the room out of the dinner does something to his heart. daddy issues, uh?

★ : LEE.

( vampire’s bite ) au ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

maybe he shouldn’t have done that in the open. maybe the cashier just deserved it. bite, drink and go. it’s usually what lee does… except when he’s interrupted by you, and he decides you don’t deserve to die yet. so don’t scream.

★ : MICHAEL BERZATTO.

( big brother love ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

michael knows you are going through hard time right now — losing your job, breaking up with your partner and some more problems. all he truly wants is to help you; because he is your big brother and he cares about you.

★ : PATRICK ZWEIG.

( western sheriff ) au ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

1923. patrick says fuck it to his parents dream of him being a doctor. he wants to be a sheriff, to be happy with you; his spouse. he goes as far as buying a farm and animals for you to be happy. buying you flowers when coming home, gossiping to you? his new dream.

★ : RICHIE JERIMOVICH.

( from across the street ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

richie can’t help but visiting the café as much as he can. and it’s not really for the cakes, for the sweets or anything. fuck no, it’s for you. and yeah, you’re younger and so bubbly — but what? can’t a guy just have a crush?

★ : SAM WINCHESTER.

( class crush ) college au ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

stanford is nice to sam. all he wanted was to have anormal life with friends, maybe a partner, just doing young adult stuffs. and he’s able to do that and more; like having a crush on one of his classmates.

★ : SAM WINCHESTER.

( hear me father ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

posing as a priest to gather informations wasn’t the best idea the winchester brothers ever had. but sam was persuaded something was wrong, and he wanted to know what. though, he never expected for someone to take him as a real priest during all this.

★ : SYDNEY ADAMU.

( berzatto’s sibling ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

this was weird for sydney. was it even allowed? having a crush on her friend / boss / coworker sibling? she didn’t know, but it made the relation between the two of you really awkward. could she even ask you on a date? ugh.

★ : TONY STARK.

( distracting assistant ) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

tony has no idea what’s going on inside his mind and his heart. since he hired you as his new assistant, he started feeling some weird things. adoration, care? something like thar. he was supposed to work, take time for himself. but no, you had to be so distracting.

[bachshot]

⟢ mickey 18 x f!reader x mickey 17 ⊹⠀ ﾟ ˖ post-canon au nsfw/mdni ----- warnings: threesome, overstimulation, voyeurism, oral sex, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, 18 being mean to 17 (classic), excessive swearing

mickey-18 knew he was lucky to be alive. all because of some faulty wiring in the bomb’s remote ignition, thanks to arkady’s failing-up approach to science. the look marshall and 18 shared when they realized there would be no explosion was incomprehensible — even if he included 17’s fluke with the crevasse, mickey barnes had never been so dumbfounded to be alive. then, after that confounding moment of nothing, death still came knocking at the door, and it still wasn’t his. in fact, he was the one dishing it out!

maybe mickey barnes would never die again. been there, done that, got the memories to prove it. there’s two of ‘em now? who cares. is it a multiples violation? who cares. that’s what the council decided in the end. who. fucking. cares.

wanna know the only thing 18 cared about?

that time of the night when his world shrank to the size of a bedroom. when the door could be locked, and clothes could come off, and everyone else could go fuck themselves. the only people on the planet who mattered were you and him. and 17. he was there, too.

the only thing 18 wanted to do was feel his body on yours, skin on skin, perfectly aligned. he wanted to lavish your lips with kiss after kiss, quicker than your mind could keep up with, each one deeper and rougher and dirtier than the last. his hands traveled restlessly over your curves, squeezing and gripping like he wanted to leave his mark on every inch of your skin. he kissed and bit his way down your neck, your breasts, your stomach, and his smirk grew wider with every whimper and moan he coaxed out of you. it made him so hard to know he was the one who could do this to you, he was the one who made you feel like this, sound like this. the gratification was unparalleled.

he still remembered the way it felt to fuck you only a couple hours after he’d been printed, still chased that feeling every time you’ve fucked since. it was always a sensory overload, that first time. every mickey was always a little too exhausted for sex straight out of the printer, but there was really nothing else like it, so he couldn’t pass it up — 18 certainly didn’t. electricity firing in all directions, lighting up his nerves in unexpected ways, leaving him boneless, helpless to the pleasure. he kind of floated like that when he was on oxy, but it wasn’t the same. the drug didn’t capture that raw, almost painful feeling that made him want to scream when he sank into you, when you pressed him into the bed, when he came into you, flashing lights blinding his rolled-back eyes.

he wanted that all the time. it was too much, and that’s the way he wanted it. if somethin’ had to take him out, if he had a say in any of that the next time around, then he wanted to go out drowning in you. it was that or nothing.

and also, 17 was there.

the whole thing with the creepers and marshall’s death changed him a bit, he wasn’t such a pathetic lil shit anymore, thank fuck. buuuttt some things stayed the same.

as 18 made himself comfortable between your legs, 17 watched. it was like he didn’t know how to participate, even though they’ve been having sex with you for years now — 1 through 18, all the same difference — and you had sex diagrams and it should all make sense by now.

dumbass, 18 thought as he spread you open, getting that first taste of your arousal in a long, teasing lick before sealing his lips over your clit and getting to work.

the multiples thing still made 17 cagey. he always started off a little nervous, a little uncertain, but he eventually came around. ‘you’re thinkin’ about it, don’t think about it,’ 18 always said, but 17 never remembered. he’d started off just sitting there on the edge of the mattress, eyes wide, jaw slack, hand on his dick — over his pants because he was always the last one to take his clothes off, dumbass — touching himself idly until he decided to do something.

what will it be tonight? 18 would wonder gleefully in the privacy of his thoughts. he would start these nights making bets with you on what would set 17 off if you didn’t scold him for bullying his clone too much. but it was just too easy and too fun.

your whimpers turned into whines as 18’s mouth brought you higher and higher, your voice so broken and beautiful in his ear that he couldn’t stop himself from moaning too. you sank your fingers into his hair, throwing your head back on the pillow with a cry when he pushed two fingers into you. gradually, he worked up to a brutal pace, as fast as his hand could go from his angle, all while his lips and tongue worked you over in tandem. it was a practiced art of his, getting you off this way, and his cock throbbed not only from the pure bliss of getting to do it, but because it was so clear how much you loved it.

when your orgasm hit you, your back arched and you shouted his name — almost. suddenly, you were locked in a fevered, shaky kiss, 17’s hands cradling your overheated face, pulling you up to meet him as he leaned over you. languid as if he’d just come too (though he definitely hadn’t yet, not by a long shot), 18 lifted up from your pussy, laughing at his clone’s desperation.

he yanked at 17’s shirt, his waistband. “you’re overdressed for the party, buddy.”

“shut the fuck up,” 17 mumbled against your lips, but his hands started tugging at his clothes, fussing when 18 tried helping him.

you reminded them of the rules, “play nice, boys, or we’ll stop,” and in unison, they replied, “yes, ma’am.”

even this part was 18’s favorite. the sharing. it wasn’t so bad, when 17 finally figured it out.

he got to sit right beside his clone and watch as your mouth sank over 17’s cock, your lips wrapped so snugly around the head. got to hear the wet sounds as you worked him over, taking in more and more of his shaft until you met the base, fully in, your tongue working magic he couldn't see but knew all about. you swallowed around him carefully, and it was like 18 could feel it, just a psychosomatic response, the memory of how you’ve had him exactly like that before. he grabbed your hand and pulled it into his lap, wrapping it around his own cock, the head so slick with pre-come. you didn’t move your hand so much as you let him fuck it. your attention was focused on the cock in your mouth, the moans escaping from 17’s throat, the shifting of his hips as he wanted move but tried to be mindful not to choke you. 18 fucked your hand fiercely, so enamored with the sight of you like this — it was like watching porn, but it was real and it was him, even if it really wasn't. he knew exactly how it felt, but he could see it in a whole new way.

he didn’t even mind when 17 rested his cheek on the outer curve of his shoulder, leaning into him for support to keep from melting into the mattress, moaning loudly, shakily, as you picked up speed. yeah, he knew exactly how that felt, and it was fucking incredible.

18 came over your fingers with a grunt, chest heaving, his face covered in a light sheen of sweat. 17 was still stuck there against his side, his eyes fluttering, lost to the pleasure, and he decided to be a good guy and help him along: “just look at that, she’s so fuckin’ beautiful like this. move a little, she can take it, can’t you, baby? yeah, you know she can, man, just fuck her a bit- there you go, that feels fucking good, right?” he said every filthy thought that entered his mind, his voice curling darkly around each word, until 17 tipped over the edge, gasping as he came, lodged deep in your throat.

you should be proud of him, right? for provoking his clone in a good way for once.

this was all that meant anything to 18. there was a whole new world to discover, homes to build, life to create. he knew all of that, and it was all well and good.

but this. nothing could top it. it was the one and only thing that mattered. fuck the rest.

[bachshot]

BOT RELEASE · ˚ ༘ *⋆ 032525 © darkoies

notes ✶⋆.˚ 2.1k followers and 400k+ interactions hello?? crazy. also i finally got around to my requests! cleared all of them out! so if yours was missed or somehow skipped over, please send another one? i know how glitchy google forms can be for me! as always if you have any requests, submit them here! thank u mwah mwah i love u

honeymoon — anthony and kate bridgerton 𐙚

after marrying the two strongheaded, now bridgertons, you all decide to spend your honeymoon visiting kate’s birthplace, india.

halloween party — garrett laughlin 𐙚

being introverted all your life with the most extroverts teen as your bestfriend, he convinces you to attend the halloween party with him.

the baby talk — luke thompson 𐙚

years of marriage and tough conversations spark back up in your minds at the scene of a movie, causing the talk to return.

bad pranks — mickey barnes 𐙚

after the perishing of president marshall, mickey 17 and 18 have earned the right to coexist, now you have to do what you can to make them comfortable, even at 17’s expense.

clingy — mickey barnes 𐙚

with relationships comes sharing, with sharing comes.. restless nights sharing a twin sized bed with your boyfriend. snd it doesn’t help that he’s the clingiest person you’ve ever met.

obsessive love — mickey barnes 𐙚

weeks of silently watching you on the ship turns to confidence as he approaches you in the cafeteria, taking his chance.

spoiled brat — mickey barnes 𐙚

despite the many deaths and viruses and infections, a simple common cold is what deters mickey, turning your once courageous boyfriend into a whiny brat.

[bachshot]

not written in days because I've had too much work but I hand it in tomorrow so.... We are so back this weekend

[bachshot]

I can't stop thinking about Mickey being an absolute munch, there's nowhere he feels more at home than in-between your legs. It doesn't matter where or when, if he can get down there's he's doing it! Before sex as foreplay, after sex when he's too tired to properly go for a second found, a treat in the morning after he knows you had a grueling shift the night before.... The list goes on.

But his favourite time to eat you out, or rather your favourite time to see him eat you out, is usually after he's been reprinted. He's always quiet then, trying to shake off that freshly printed funk and processing his death, it makes him long to be close to you. He always seeks you out after, coaxing you back to one of your bunks if you aren't there already, and it starts off innocently enough with him laying with you, needing to feel you close to him.

He loves your thighs, resting his head on them with his arms wrapped around your waist as you play with his hair. It doesn't take long until he's spicing things up though, giving kisses to your thighs and pulling at your waistband, looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes in a silent 'please' you just can't say no to.

Fresh off the printer he's always desperate, like his sensations are dialled up to ten, and it shows in the way he eats you out like a man starved. He suckles at your clit, hands grasping your hips to keep you close like he's scared you'll run away, and constantly looking up at you for validation. It was difficult not to give him the praise he craved when he had you like this from just his tongue alone. More often than not, he can cum just from eating you out, he tries to hold himself back on regular occasions but he can't stop himself when he's newly printed like this grinding into the mattress as he eats you out, sure he'll cum before you do but they doesn't stop him. He whimpers and groans into your pussy, never one for being quiet, and its impossible not to soak those sounds up.

And, in the end, when you cum he always lifts his head and looks at you with that same glazed over look, his chin wet with your arousal as he breathes out a 'thank you'.

[bachshot]

I literally followed you for the off chance you end up writing for challengers lol do it!

If this isn't a sign I don't know what is!!

absolutely need someone to send some ideas in though because I have no idea where to start lol, I'll definitely add it to my masterlist though 🤭🤭

[bachshot]

i feel like (2022) batman would want you to ride his face/let him eat the coochie whenever he had free time. idk he gives likes to please vibes to me. Also luv your work!!!!!

um i love YOU for sending me this ask.

bruce is absolutely a fucking munch because 1. he's obsessed with you and 2. it allows him to communicate his love for you without having to say anything.

shocking to absolutely no one, he's not that great with words. his love for you burns so intensely in his head that any coherent thoughts of adoration get all tangled up before they can leave his lips. and while you find his quiet nature endearing, it always embarrasses him.

so instead, he's found himself developing a habit around you. whenever the two of you are alone, whether it's when he's come home from patrol or during some rare moments where you're both doing nothing, he slides down to settle between your thighs.

it doesn't matter if you're reading a book or on your phone or watching tv. none of that stops him from getting to work on you. he curls his hands around the soft flesh of your legs and nuzzles against the thin cloth of your panties.

most of the time you'll let out a little giggle, but it doesn't make him shy like it does if he's trying to talk to you. instead, it sends all his blood down to his cock. the thick length stiffens up against the mattress even though he's not concerned with getting any attention it.

he takes his time when he's down there. he's in no rush to leave his favorite place in this world. once he's got your panties out of the way, he starts small with little kitten licks and kisses to your clit. as time goes on though, he gets more into it, more dedicated. in a matter of minutes, his eyes are shut and he's moaning against your slick folds, fully making out with your pussy. he laps at it like he's never tasted anything better. he moans without shame while sucking on your bundle of nerves. he devours you like he hasn't done this four other times this week.

he doesn't stop until tears of overstimulation brim your cute little eyes. only then does he pull away and start to crawl back up to be beside you. he then cradles you to his chest and rubs your back, soothing you down from the highs of repeated release. you're all spacey and clingy, so he doesn't have to worry about conversation either.

in fact, when you're all blissed out like this, he finds it pretty easy to whisper out the words i love you.

[bachshot]

i kinda want to start writing for challengers because I inhale so much fanfic for that it's crazy but idefo need to rewatch first 😭 if anyone has any thoughts though... The ask box is open

[bachshot]

if your asks are still open what do we think about mickey 17 degradation…. the praise kink is so obvious that i think it works well, he needs to be taken apart and put back together again. also i think he lets 18 but not nasha call him “baby girl” (and enjoys it)

I feel like there's a fine line when it comes to Mickey 17 and degradation, it excites him but he struggles to speak up when it gets too much for him. He needs a good balance between the praise and the degradation, like you said he needs to be taken apart and put back together again, handled with care.

I think the best kind of degradation for him is the kind that simultaneously praises him or reinforces he's yours, sure you're calling him a slut but you're calling him your slut and knowing he belongs to you is what he needs.

Or, involving Mickey 18 I would absolutely love a good cop/bad cop dynamic with 18 degrading 17 and reader/nasha holding him together with praise. 18 thinks you're too soft on 17, he needs toughening up, and loves to degrade him... 18 definitely has a thing for making 17 cry a little bit and having to watch you wipe his tears and reassure him afterwards. I feel like 18 might also have a bad habit of accidentally pushing 17s boundaries, though. Being his clone sometimes he operates under the idea that his and 17s boundaries must be the same, but this isn't the case, contrary to his belief 17 is so much more delicate. In that regard it's definitely a learning curve, but with a third such as reader or nasha there to keep him in check, 17 can still thrive being degraded by 18.

Also I'm 100% on team 18 calling 17 baby girl, or any variation of baby really... I think he likes to call 17 a crybaby best, the insult almost becoming a pet name.

[bachshot]

── MAYHEM THEMED BOTS © 2025, S0FTSOUL.

★ : BUCKY BARNES.

( THE BEAST )

bucky isn’t always bucky. even with how much you want to help before he leaves for wakanda, there’s still a trace of the winter soldier inside his brain. and bucky doesn’t understand why you stay by his sides. he just doesn’t know that you don’t feel obligated anymore.

★ : EDDIE MUNSON.

( ZOMBIEBOY )

becoming friends with eddie just because you complimented his band? done. going party with eddie and waking up feeling like a zombie because you can’t remember shit? also done. it’s even better when eddie doesn’t care if anyone likes you, as long as he does. and he does.

★ : KATHERINE PIERCE.

( GARDEN OF EDEN )

katherine has a plan — and she really doesn’t care if it hurts people along the way, especially if she gets her liberty in the end. but you? friend of the scooby-gang and so pure? oh, she’s having some fun at corrupting you. she’s making you her toy. lying to your friends, hiding details, poisoning them with vervain. you’re just like her.

★ : PATRICK ZWEIG.

( KILLAH )

you’re confident but there’s more to it. on the court, you’re powerful, you know your worth. there’s something that attracts patrick towards you, making him want your attention. but once again, there’s more; all the people you seem to get out with disappear. what’s happening?

★ : QUEEN MAEVE.

( PERFECT CELEBRITY )

queen maeve — maggie — has enough. how could she look at herself in the mirror after what happened? after she let homelander abandon this plane filled with people? maggie has enough of vought, of being their good little puppet, never saying anything. she’s tired of being queen maeve.

★ : TONY STARK.

( HOW BAD DO U WANT ME )

you’re no good. after ultron, tony decides to step away before fury reminds him of his job as a consultant. that’s how he meets you; an enemy of earth, a danger for people and god… tony likes you. why? and why does he idealize you so much? he knows you’re no good and yet, he wants you.

★ : WANDA MAXIMOFF.

( SHADOW OF A MAN )

wanda had lost everything. she lost her liberty, then pietro first, and vision. she lost so much, so why was it so bad to get those things back? why s.w.o.r.d was trying to take it all back from her? wanda won’t let anyone take her home away and she’s thankful that you, the only person she can’t seems to hypnotize is here to listen.

[bachshot]

why's the hardest part of writing a fic coming up with a title 😭