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sturniqlo · 16 hours ago

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WATERMELON SUGAR— C.S

pairing: fratboy!fwb!chris x fwb!reader

summary: 3 times when chris just couldn't get enough of your taste and can't go without it

cw: cursing, oral!f-receiving, hair pulling, oral!public(?)

an: sorry for the very late post.

fine line writing marathon

AT A PARTY

you had arrived at the party wearing that black mini skirt that always dives chris crazy. absolutely crazy. you didn't know chris had already arrived at the party, so you wandered into the kitchen to get yourself a drink. as you poured yourself the drink, you felt a warm hand on your hip and you already knew who it belonged to. "hey." he mumbled into your ear, leaving a light kiss just below your ear. you turned around and was met with his eyes already searching for yours.

"hey, you." you said, taking a sip from the red solo cup. "you wore that on purpose." he tugs a bit on the skin tight skirt. "mm, no i didn't." you shake your head. "sure you didn't." he smirks and his hand comes around to grip your ass. "chris— not here." you gasp and look around at the other people who lingered in the space. "nobody's watching." he murmurs, now beginning to grope your ass and kiss your neck.

"i fucking miss your taste, babe." he sucks the spot underneath your ear. "c'mon, i have to have you right now." he pulls away and grabs your hand. "what? where—" before you can finish talking he drags you through the sea of people and takes you upstairs to the nearest bathroom and closes the door, locking it. you're immediately pinned to the counter with chris' lips on yours.

"can i?" he practically whines and you already know what he's referring to. "mhm, please." you nod. chris leaves one last kiss on your lips and sinks to his knees. in one swift motion, both your skirt and lace thong are pooled at your feet and chris' tongue is running up and down your slick folds. "oh— fuck, chris!" your hand made its way to grip his hair.

chris looks up at your blissed out face as he keep licking at you and sucking your clit. "you taste so good, holy shit. so sweet." he murmurs against your wetness.

WHILE STUDYING

earlier in the day while you were in your 10am class, chris had sent you a message to go over the frat house later in the day for a hangout, which probably meant a hookup. classes were taking a toll on your that you were in need of a distraction and also some studying.

when you had arrived, chris had tried to get started right away, but you told him you needed to do some light studying beforehand. although he groaned and huffed, he sat next to you on the bed reading parts of your text book over your shoulder. "this shit is so boring, babe." his chin that was leaning on your shoulder turned and your felt a kiss on your neck. "i'm almost done, i promise. i have to get this out of the way or else i'll never get to it."

after a few morning minutes of reading, chris had had enough and went to lay by your legs and slowly started spreading them. "what are you doing?" you closed your book, marking your page with your thumb. "jus' gonna get a head start, yeah? keep on reading while i get a taste of you." he began to kiss up your legging covered thighs. "chris, fine—" he saw that you were about to put your book away, but he grabbed your hand. "ah— keep on reading."

seconds later, your leggings and panties were somewhere on the floor and you laid against chris' pillows with your book open next to your head, unattended. instead of having the book in your hand, chris' hair was. "right— shit— right there. oh my god!" you moaned, your hips rolling against his face. chris, groaning against your, mumbled those same words he always did. "you taste so fucking sweet. can't ever get enough." he dived right back in.

GOING ON A DRIVE

it was the way you looked out the window. maybe it was the way the green and red colors of the traffic lights casted over your face. or maybe it was the way he remembered how his face was buried between your thighs the other night.

chris had picked you up for a late night hang out to go watch the final showing of a new horror movie. as he pulled up to the parking lot, and parked in the secluded corner. before you could even open the door, chris grabbed you and put his lips on yours. "get in the backseat, yeah?" he pulled back and looked into your eyes. "chris, we'll get messy and all sweaty."

"no, i don't wanna fuck, at least not right now, i just wanna taste you before we go inside. please?" you couldn't help but smile at the way he was obsessed with giving you pleasure without giving him something in return. "okay, meet me back there." you gave him one last kiss on the mouth. chris exited the car as you crawled over the center console.

without any additional kissing or groping, your sweatpants and underwear had make their way to the front of the car and chris dove right into your pussy. his tongue messily licking and sucking you. the vibrations of his groans only make you leak even more. you loved the way that he could make you cum in a matter of minutes without even using his fingers inside of you, instead only licking, sucking, and prodding his tongue into your hole.

like muscle memory, he sucked your clit at a certain force and you were cumming. "oh, chris!" your legs began to shake and close around him. chris shook his head side your side lapping at you, trying to get everything you gave. knowing that you were about to become sensitive, he pulled away and crawled up to you to kiss you.

"fuck, i don't know if i could ever go without tasting you."

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urperfectcinnamonroll07 · 1 day ago

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Drinks And Threesomes

requested?: no pairing(s): john 'soap mactavish x afab!reader x smon 'ghost' riley genre: smut warning(s): threesome, smut, unprotected sex, reader is a virgin, oral (f&m recieving) doggy style, probably the best ever aftercare which has ever been written on this blog, masterbation, fingering, overstimulation, spanking (ass and pussy), orgasm denial, slightly oc!reader (she has a cat, change it if you want), simon not being a cat person (he calls reader's cat a rat), a LOT of mentions about sex before it acc happens, reader is rlly living the y/n life icl, dom!simon, dom!johnny, sub!reader, light choking, lap dancing (soap gets a lap dance from reader), breast-play, dry humping, kinda pervy characters icl, mentions of porn, johnny whimpers like once, reader is insecure about how her titties sit (dont be insecure about them my loves, you are all perfect), finger sucking, degredation, praise at the end, not proof-read (i was writing this at 1am and posted it today), hair pulling, squirting summary: 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘰𝘩𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 word count: 5.1k (i cooked bro) a/n: first ever threesome on this blog and the longest fic i have written thus far. remember to eat and drink something, love yas, mwah! -Cilla (p.s. i ate this up)

it was another sunday, the night before you went back on deployment with the rest of tf141. you were excited, but albeit nervous. price had debriefed you all and told you it would be an especially hard mission. he hadn’t told you what the goal was or what you would be doing while you were gone.

since it was so close to deployment time, you were all cutting down on alcohol since you all wanted to stay healthy. it was a tradition at this point for you, ghost and soap to go out for mocktails and a meal. simon went begrudgingly, only because you and johnny had begged him oh-so nicely to go with you both. he didn’t know why he agreed, but as much as he acted like he didn’t, he did enjoy being there with you both.

today was like no other, you were all laughing over drinks with no alcohol and the best burgers you had ever had in all of your lives put together. but this time, johnny was going on about a recent rendezvous he had with a woman a few nights prior. he was going into a lot of detail for someone who was usually so secret about his love and sex life.

as he was talking about the things he had done to her (eating her out, fucking her in doggy, etc) something twisted in your gut. you felt jealous, but also something else. you didn’t know how you felt, but one thing you certainly felt was jealousy. you squirmed in your seat as you chewed on the straw of your finished drink.

simon was an observant man. and he was also sitting next to you. he had seen you squirming in your seat, and he was definitely smirking under that stupid ghost mask he always wore. however, johnny didn’t realise how… ‘uncomfortable’ you were getting. he kept talking about what he had done to her, and god was it filthy.

you had always found johnny and simon rather attractive, especially since you had always seen them on duty, their big arms holding the guns they could very much end a life with. they could bith very much end lives with how massive their biceps were, and sometimes they did. you wondered sometimes what it would be like if they squished you in-between their biceps, how it would feel when you slept on them, how it would feel when you bit into them due to the immense pleasure they were giving you.

you saw almost every part of them. their chests, their abs, their v-lines, their massive biceps, their happy trails, every part of them. you saw them shirtless every single time you were laying low at a safe house during a mission. you went practically crazy every time, and almost every time, you ended up with your hands stuffed inside of your panties. you were never able to come from it. you needed more than just your nimble fingers playing with your clit.

you were broken out of your daydream when you felt a nudge. simon was looking down at you from where he sat. you were now slightly slumped in your chair, johnny still hadn’t stopped ranting about his one night stand with the girl he didn’t remember the name of.

“you alrigh’ lovie?” he asks gruffly, his chest moving with every word, you watched it move. his eyes squinted as you did so. he was either grinning or his brows were furrowed, either one would still make him look hot. you had only seen him without his mask once.

you remember it clearly. he was getting dressed after a shower. his mask was off as he didn’t expect anyone to walk into the room unannounced. you walked in as you had just gotten to the safe house after being separated on the mission. you were wanting to ask him what he thought about the choice johnny had made for dinner that night when you saw he had no mask on. your mouth fell completely open. you stood there and stared at him for a good few minutes before he finally snapped you out of your daze.

“like what you see, lovie?” he asked. and god, you did. his blue eyes, pale lashes. god, he looked amazing. you couldn’t even speak. and you didn’t.

you stood there and gawked until you heard soap bounding up the stairs. simon put his mask back on, though he still remained shirtless. you had your phone still in your hand, although it had turned off god knows how long ago.

“wha’s takin’ so long, bon? are we gettin’ a chippy or not simon, I fancy a kebab so it better be a yes” soap stood next to you in the doorway. you and simon stared into each other’s eyes for a moment longer, sharing something of understanding.

“lovie was just giving me ideas on what to order” johnny obviously took that to his advantage and began to talk about what was the best things to get from a chip shop.

eventually you had all come to a conclusion on what you wanted, and simon offered to go out and get the chippy. obviously, you wouldn’t forget what happened with johnny after that.

simon snapped his fingers in front of your eyes, bringing you back to the covert of the pub. you had all finished eating a while ago, and you just continued to chew on the plastic (shocker) straw of your mocktail.

“you alrigh’ bon? you’re very quiet tonight” soap observed (another shocker). you didn’t say anything and only nodded. he furrowed his brows, “ye sure, bon, you would’ve usually chewed my head off abou’ worrying about you by now” he asks, his tone slightly teasing.

“i’m fine, really, just thinking about what i’m gonna do when i get home tonight” it was a white lie. you were wet and you knew it, but you refrained from rubbing your thighs together as you felt it would make it a lot more obvious.

“are ya not gonna be a crazy cat lady when you get home?” he teases. you glare at him.

“i have one cat. one. besides, he’s in the catery for a while until i get back from deployment” you say, putting your empty mocktail glass down on the table in front of you. you fold your arms.

“wow, never woulda thought you would put that rat somewhere where he would be away from you for a long time” simon chuckles, you thwack his arm.

“i’m not gonna leave him for however many weeks without being looked after by someone nice” you defend “and he’s not a rat” you add pointedly.

“alrigh’ bon, enough abou’ the cat. what are you doing tonight?” soap interjected.

“dunno, probably just watch a movie. or a kids show to make me feel better about the fact we’ll be going god knows where doing god knows what for around a month” you speak, and as you finished, you looked down at where your hands were in your lap. you started picking at the skin around your nail.

simon discreetly placed a hand over your knee, stopping it from bouncing. you smiled appreciatively.

“how’s abou’ you come stay with me and simon for the night, bon? we was goin’ to stay together tonight anyway since we can jus’ get up and go tomorrow mornin’ it would be no trouble if you decided to stay. really bon” his voice started off uncertain, but by the time he reached the end of it, it sounded like he was pleading you.

“i would, really, i would, but my bag is at my house and i-“ soap cuts you off.

“we can go get it before we go over to mine. bon, i know you’re worried about the mission and what better stress relief than to stay with your best friends in the whole world” he says with that massive shit-eating grin on his face.

“i’m not sure simon is my best friend. especially not after he called dusty a rat” you say with a small smile after thinking for a couple of minutes. simon pats your hand that he was still sort-of holding.

“well, i didn’ hear a ‘no,’ did you, simon?” he turns to the man with the mask.

“i didn’ either, johnny” your smile got wider at the response simon gave.

“well, its sorted then, sleepover!” johnny cheers louder than he probably should have for a middle-aged military man. luckily, people were to engrossed in their own conversations to nosey over at your conversation.

you didn’t realise when, but somehow the bill had come over, you thought maybe simon had called it over while you were talking with johnny about your ‘sleepover’. but before you even tried to open your purse to pay your share of the bill, simon grabbed it and put it back into your bag. you furrowed your brows.

“what good gentlemen would we be if we didn’ pay the bill for our little bon?” soap spoke up, placing some cash on the bill, simon followed suit and put some more cash on the bill. both of them out on more than enough to cover everyone’s food and at least a twenty pound tip.

“home time” simon says as he gets up. you grabbed your bag before following behind the two men who were walking in a single-file line.

you eventually got back to soap’s car. you sat in the back while the two large men piled into the front and johnny started driving. it wasn’t long before you were back at your house, asking before you left the car if there was anything else you should bring with you other than your bag.

“only those nice little brownies you make, bonnie” you smile softly and jog towards your house, unlocking the door and going to the kitchen, grabbing a small plastic box and putting the rest of the brownies you had made inside of it. you grabbed your pink duffle you left by the door. you locked the door and made your way back to johnny’s car. both of the men were staring intently as you made your way back.

you got into the back of the car and rested the box of brownies on the seat next to you, johnny turned back and grinned at you.

“the best bon in the whole world” he grinned before turning his head back on the road and drove to his house. it was fairly far away from your house, and you had always been someone who was quickly able to fall asleep in cars.

you fell asleep fairly quick, and you had a weird dream. or rather, maybe you could call it a flashback.

the night simon left for the chippy that johnny had pre-ordered (you all chipped in with the bill, well, you tried to. they didn’t want your money even when you insisted), you were sat on the counter in the kitchen. you were sat sipping on some lemonade in nothing but johnny’s oversized tee and some skimpy knickers when johnny walked into the kitchen.

your legs were in the way of the cabinet johnny needed to get to in order to get to the non-alcoholic drinks you had stored. but instead of being a normal person and asking you if you could move your legs so he could get a drink, he spread them.

but then again, it was johnny, what did you expect? you were flushed when johnny patted your thigh and said a small, ‘thanks bon’ before he left to go drink his drink in the lounge. you never forgot about that, especially that night when your slipped your hand into your panties and failed to make yourself come for the umpteenth time in your life.

you only woke up when you were in someone’s arms, your cheek pressed against that someone’s chest. you opened your eyes and looked up at who is was. you were met with a ghost mask and concentrated eyes, not looking at you, but the way forwards. you closed your eyes again and squished your cheek more against simon’s chest.

soon, you were layed down on what you assumed was johnny’s sofa. you pretended to be asleep for a little while longer until you heard the tv turn on. it was a random tv show that was on way past a child’s bed time, and because they still thought you were asleep, it was on a very low volume. you opened your eyes and peeked at what tv show it was.

you eventually got engrossed in the tv and was fully awake watching it. you assumed the two other men knew you were awake, but your assumptions were wrong when they started talking. about you.

“simon?” johnny asked, simon grunted gruffly in response, “why’d bon get so quiet after i started talking about having sex with that lass?” he was so ignorant it almost hurt, simon shot him a sideways glance.

“maybe because she wanted to be in her place” simon shrugged. you were already rigid, but somehow you managed to become more stiff.

“what? i always though’ bon wan’ed to have sex with you. that’s why i laid off off her” you almost rolled your eyes at his foolishness. almost.

simon looked over at you. that’s when you knew you were busted.

“mornin’ lovie” simon drawled. you gulped as you took in how he was sat. legs spread, an obvious tent in his pants. since simon was fairly comfortable with you and johnny, he also didn’t have his mask on. you could see how his face darkened when he took in that you were fully awake.

you sat up and stretched.

“is it true?” johnny spoke up from where he was sat. his ankle was resting on his other knee, his large bicep laying along the back of the sofa, letting his elbow downwards dangle from the back of the chair.

“is what true?” you tried to play innocent.

“oh, come on, bon. don’t try to be all innocent. did you want to be in her place? the girl i was fucking” he said it so plainly, so seriously that you flushed red and shuffled where you were sat.

“does it matter?” you ask, avoiding both men’s gazes and instead looking and fiddling with your fingers.

you were so busy playing with your own fingers that you didn’t realise that someone else’s had begun to lift your chin. the two men stood directly in front of you, making you have to crane your head fully to look up at them.

“yes, it does” simon said gruffly.

“because we can make it happen if you wan’ us to fuck you, bon” johnny husks. it was his fingers that had lifted your chin, and they were beginning to trail down to your neck.

“we can fuck you good. make you cum all over our fingers, faces and cocks- so good you won’t want to be fucked by anyone else after we’ve done with you” simon lusts next to him.

you squeeze your eyes shut. they didn’t know you were still a virgin, you never shared anything about your sex life, not to anyone. it was now or never to tell them, you squeeze your eyes shut.

“i’m a virgin” you practically squeak, and when you opened your eyes again, looking up at the two men in front of you through your lashes, they were well and truly gone. well, mentally.

“oh fuck” johnny almost moans, “you tellin’ me that tigh’ little pussy hasn’t been fucked by anyone? haven’t even made yerself come?”

“i’ve tried, but it never worked” you say shyly, a faint blush creeping up your neck, painting your ears and cheeks a shade of light-ish red.

“what did you think about when you tried, lovie?” simon spoke up.

“you two” you blush harder, the light red now turning almost a wine-red colour.

“oh fuck” this time johnny did moan, the bulge in his cargo pants becoming more and more prominent. “you know how to lap dance, bon?” it was an unexpected question, so unexpected that you thought you turned redder, if that was even possible.

you didn’t trust yourself with words, you knew you would just become a stuttering and stumbling mess, so you let yourself shake your head.

“tha’s alrigh’ lovie, johnny‘ll show you” simon drawled.

as johnny sat down, you were practically hauled onto his lap by simon. johnny’s hands instantly found your hips, kneading, squeezing and guiding. out of your peripheral, you saw simon sit down not that far away from where the both of you were sat, having a clear picture of the two of you. johnny dragged your hips down until your barely clothed pussy came into contact with his bulge. you gasped and your hips jerked, but they jerked downwards, applying more pressure down onto his clothed cock.

“oh fuck, bon, yer makin’ me so hard” he rasps from beneath you. letting his head fall onto the back of the couch, his throat bobbing with a swallow.

he continued to move your hips, moving them in a circular motion. you were now wishing you had worn better panties instead of your skimpy light pink thong. at least they made your ass look good.

you glanced over at simon, which proved to not be a good idea at all. he was palming himself with a look in his eyes, watching the both of you with the darkest most lustful look in his eyes. it made your stomach flutter, hips stutter, but your stomach burn with confidence. johnny’s hand was now travelling up your body to your breasts. he was now watching you too, hypnotised, transfixed.

he gave you a look when his hand hovered above your breast. you nodded and he instantly began fondling with it. grasping, pulling, pinching. you were out of your mind, and with your new-found confidence? you felt almost unstoppable.

you took control, guiding your hips in a seductive way, wiggling them, grinding down on johnny with such force he actually whimpered. your ego was growing within the second. johnny’s other hand began to also travel up your body, and when your thought he was going to play with your other tit, he kept moving it upwards, around the collum of your throat. he squeezed slightly, not enough to cut off your oxygen all together, but enough to make a statement.

you continued to grind against johnny’s cock. at some point, you even threw your head back for dramatic effect.

that was until you were hoisted up over someone’s shoulder, your ass given a small slap when you instinctively kick. it was simon. you could tell by the blond hair. you looked up and saw that johnny was following and that simon was taking you upstairs.

you didn’t know where you were until simon threw you down onto what you knew had to be a mattress. nobody moved for a few seconds until you spoke up.

“what’re we doing up here?” you barely had time to get your words out before someone’s mouth was on yours. you instantly melted into it, tugging whoever’s hair that was kissing you. soon enough, your mouth was pulled away from the mystery person’s and another mouth was placed on yours. you couldn’t tell, but you had a sneaking suspicion you were kissing simon first before johnny wanted a turn.

who you thought was simon began to kiss down your body until he needed to pull the sundress you had on, off. johnny (you think) helped pull off the sundress before reaching over to the nighstand and turning on a lamp so everyone could see better. your suspicions were right when you looked up and saw johnny hovering over you with red lips and simon was down in-between your thighs.

“oh fuck” this time it was simon’s turn to groan. “these panties are the best fucking thing i’ve ever seen on you, lovie” he said lowly, kissing the inside of your thighs, wrapping his arms around them, “gonna keep these on while i make out with this pretty cunt, okay lovie?” johnny was watching the whole exchange before looking down at your panties.

you saw his eyes close and he took a deep breath, very clearly fighting the urge to take over from simon and ravage you until you were begging for him to stop. luckily, you didn’t have to wait much longer after a comment simon made about being drenched that its soaked through your panties before he moved the thin pink fabric aside, spread your legs and put his mouth on you.

he licked a large stripe up your cunt. from your hole to your clit, giving his tongue a flick when it got there. your hips jolted and hands flew to simon’s hair as he did so, a silent prayer, urging him to keep going. you honestly barely paid any attention to the fact that you were almost fully naked in front of the two men until johnny started suckling on one of your tits. you didn’t like the way your tits sat.

you had watched porn, obviously, you were curious. and whenever you saw a female’s tits, they always sat so nicely. yours didn’t, and you felt insecure about it. simon never stopped devouring you, not listening to the conversation you and johnny were having and instead focusing on making you feel good, plunging a couple of fingers in occasionally and scissoring them as well as curling them into a really good place.

“i- oh fuck- i know they don’t sit nicely-“ johnny looked up at you as you spoke, never disconnecting his lips from your nipple, but he looked at you curiously. “they don’t sit as nicely as other girls’ tits do- i don’t like how they sit-oh fuck, simon keep going”

“no, simon, don’t keep going” johnny sat up with furrowed brows. simon stopped sucking your clit with a wet pop.

“you should taste her johnny, so sweet” simon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sucking on the fingers he had just taken out of you.

“how do you think her tits look?” johnny asks, staring down at you intently. you try to sit up, but johnny placing his hand on your throat stopped you. you laid back down.

“they look perfect, why?”

“she doesn’t think they do”

simons eyes widen, you sigh.

you were then lifted up, turned around and forced on your hands and knees.

“simon, you fuck ‘er mouth. make sure she swallows and makes you come before she gets to. keep ‘er quiet from saying absolute bullshi’” you try to protest, but before you could even make a sound, simon’s cock was shoved down your throat.

he groans and keeps your head steady while he made sure you weren’t going to gag anymore. johnny then leaned down and ripped your panties straight off, discarding them somewhere in the room.

“they were my favourite panties” simon says through a groan as you took him deeper into your mouth.

“you never saw her in any others” johnny says pointedly before leaning down for his mouth to become level with your cunt.

“they were still my favourite” you moan around simon’s cock as johnny shoved his full face into your pussy, thrusting his tongue inside of you, hitting all the right places that make you moan and gasp around simon’s cock, making him pull your hair and groan back.

you didn’t know how long it would take to make simon come, but you knew by how johnny decided to make him fuck your mouth, he would last a while. johnny had already denied you an orgasm three times and you were beginning to feel hopeless.

and he did, every time you began to feel some kind of knot forming in your stomach, it would simmer away simply because johnny took his mouth away as his best mate hadn’t come in your mouth yet. simon gave you little to no warning when he was about to come.

the thrusting into your mouth became shallow and sloppy, you thought he was close, and he was. simon came with a low groan, spilling every little drop into your mouth. you swallowed instantly, since you knew johnny said if you swallowed and made him come that you could come.

simon pulled his cock out of your mouth, prying your mouth open with his fingers, looking to make sure you had swallowed every drop.

“how did it taste?” simon asks lowly, johnny was behind you, slowly rubbing circles on your clit.

“salty” you reply softly, almost gagging as simon shoved his fingers down your throat.

“she can come now” simon agreed along with johnny.

johnny got back to it, licking your clit, sucking and teasing, all the while, simon had his fingers in your mouth, making you such and gag on them. luckily, it didn’t take long before you felt the coil beginning to tighten in your lower stomach you felt unreal as you let go.

you let out an outright pornographic moan as you came on johnny’s tongue. your saliva dripped down simon’s hand, your legs were shaking as you came, your first ever orgasm.

when you came down from your high, you didn’t have long to adjust to being back before a cock was nudging at your hole.

“can i fuck you while johnny fucks your little mouth? please lovie, need to feel you wrap around my cock so well” simon practically begs.

“yes-oh please fuck me” you practically spread your legs a little, the two men chuckle as you do so.

you didn’t look down at simon’s cock as it entered your hole. it was full, and it burned as it stretched you out, johnny also gave you a couple of seconds before he opened your mouth, letting you take his cock into your mouth. you gagged as it hit the back of your throat. it was definitely big. like simon’s.

simon didn’t move until you were ready. you nodded slightly, moving johnny’s cock further into your mouth. you gagged, but it soon turned into a moan when simon slid his cock almost entirely out of your hole before slamming it back inside, making you take more of johnny’s cock into your mouth.

“oh god” you moan around johnny’s cock.

“not god, just simon and johnny, lovie” simon retorted.

“shouldn’ talk with yer mouth open, bon. ‘s not very polite” the scot pipes up.

“you’re right, johnny. maybe we should teach our girl some manners” simon coos, running a hand lightly down your back before slapping your ass harshly.

you yelped and jolted forwards onto the cock in your mouth, you barely had time to recover before you felt a hand come down on your clit. you were still sensitive from before, so you squeaked and your hips jolted away from the man who had just slapped your pussy.

you felt a few more spanks on your pussy and ass. each one as unexpected as the others before simon began to piston his cock in and out of your hole. your pussy was tight around his cock, he told you so. as did the squelching noises in the room. you were moaning, drooling, whining and completely in bliss as you tried to make johnny feel good.

“oh, just like tha’ bon” johnny moans out, gripping your hair when you did something right. you didn’t know what, so you let johnny take more of the lead.

they both moved in tandem, the only thing you were doing was making pathetic little noises, as well as occasionally bringing a hand up to cup and massage johnny’s balls.

you didn’t know how much longer you could last, especially not when simon had then reached forwards and began to fondle with your clit with his ring and middle finger. the lewd squelching sounds were bouncing off of the walls of the house. it was times like theses where you were happy that johnny lived in a semi-detached house so his neighbours would not have to look at you differently.

you couldn’t give any warning about your oncoming orgasm, partly because you didn’t know it was about to happen yourself. but before you knew it, you had screamed out, the sound muffled by johnny’s cock, but still loud enough that the two men had heard.

you were coming down from your high when you felt liquid dripping down both of your thighs. you were completely soaked, and you could say the same for the bed sheets.

“so pretty, lovie, so fucking pretty. squirting around my cock like that for me? oh i’m gonna fucking come, you’re so fucking pretty with your juices dripping down your thighs like a dirty little slut, oh, you fucking like that, don’t you?” simon’s thrusts were growing more sloppy, but harder at the same time, working you through your orgasm. “i’m gonna come, gonna come all over this pussy, paint it with my come-oh fuck, i’m coming” simon says through gritted teeth.

“oh i’m coming too- fuck, gonna swallow my come, paint your mouth all white with it- oh fuck” both men tensed around the same time, simon pulling out and spraying his come all over your pussy, whereas johnny came down your throat.

you eagerly swallowed again, it was almost the same taste as simon’s, but a bit different.

when you all caught your breath, johnny spoke up first.

“shower?” simon nodded and so did you.

both men helped you onto your feet and helped you to the bathroom. since johnny didn’t have a bath in any of his bathrooms (crazy, right?) you had to make do with a shower.

both men helped you stay upright as they both cleaned you, johnny wiping your cunt in order to keep it clean while simon washed your hair. you then cleaned the two men off, and got out of the shower.

the men let you have your privacy while you peed (you read it somewhere, don’t judge a girl, it’s what you’re meant to do, okay?) and they changed the bed due to your most recent orgasm, and simon’s.

and then, you were all comfortable in bed, your head resting against simon’s chest. you were laying on your side as johnny cuddled you from behind.

“that was good” you whisper with a yawn.

“yeah? who was better, me or simon?” johnny asked jokingly, kissing your shoulder. simon shot him a glare and instinctively pulled you closer. “oh come on, we know it was me. i gave her first ever orgasm”

“i made her squirt” simon adds pointedly.

the scot went in a huff, but still held you anyways, you didn’t hear them bickering, you were already asleep and off in dreamland where scots and englishmen weren’t fighting over who was better at fucking you.

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cece693 · 3 days ago

Note

More Norman Bates with business or rugged male reader?

RUGGED 'N HANDSOME

pairing: norman bates x male reader synopsis: You had pulled up to the Bates Motel with no destination in mind. Norman isn't all that used to seeing, much less interacting with people of your 'aesthetics', however, he finds himself much drawn to your certain charm and bluntness.

The Bates Motel sat like a sun-bleached memory, all cracked paint and desolate charm. Most people drove past it without blinking. You weren’t most people. You didn’t have a destination when you pulled your bike into the gravel lot, boots kicking dust up behind you. The road had stopped calling your name a few states ago. What you wanted now wasn’t adventure—it was silence. A break.

Norman didn’t know what to make of you at first. Your beard was rough, your eyes like flint, and your voice came out in gravelly notes that didn’t waste time on pleasantries. You asked for a room. One night, maybe two.

He gave it to you.

Norman tried not to stare when you lit a cigarette just outside your room, sleeves rolled up past your forearms, a quiet storm of muscle and restraint. You noticed, of course, and let him get his fix. “You the only one running this place?”

Norman nodded. “It’s just me and mother. She doesn’t come out much.” His smile was quick and too polite, the kind people used when they were hiding something sharp behind their teeth.

“That so? Guess that means the pressure’s all on you, huh.”

Norman didn’t speak. But his eyes flicked to your hands. Calloused. Capable. The kind of hands that could rebuild engines or break ribs. You’d seen your fair share of dark things, and it showed in the way you moved—wary, heavy-footed, ready. But you never looked at Norman like you were afraid of him. And that unsettled him.

He started leaving you little things.

Fresh towels. A new bar of soap. One day, a small bundle of wildflowers, awkwardly arranged in a mason jar on your nightstand. You didn’t say anything. But the next time you passed the front desk, you nodded.

“Thanks,” you muttered. “Not a lot of folks bother with kindness.”

Norman’s smile lingered longer this time. “You seemed like someone who notices the small things.”

You lit a cigarette. “And you seem like someone who hides big things.”

That got him. He blinked, frozen. Then he swallowed.

You didn’t press.

The storm hit three nights later. You came back soaked from walking down the hill, rain running in rivers over your leather jacket. Norman was at the front desk, eyes flicking to the drenched state of you. “I can get you a towel.” he offered.

You gave him a look—half teasing, half something else. “Unless you’re offering a hot shower and a warm bed, a towel won’t cut it.”

Silence.

Norman looked like he’d been gut-punched by his own heartbeat. “…Would you want that?” he whispered. Not quite daring to believe it.

You shrugged off your jacket, water dripping in thick drops. “Depends on if it’s you offering or your mother.”

He flinched. A beat passed.

Then: “Me.”

You kissed him that night. Not like he was fragile. Not like you pitied him. You kissed him like you’d been wanting to for days and didn’t care who saw. He’d never been touched like that—like his edges didn’t scare you, like you could take every part of him and still stay.

When his fingers gripped your shirt like he was drowning, you let him. You let him climb into your lap, let him touch your jaw like he was studying every scar and line for the first time. And when he hesitated, you kissed his throat, slow and deliberate. “You want this?” you murmured.

He nodded against your skin. “I want you.”

Later, when he lay curled against you, bones taut but softening under your touch, Norman asked: “Why aren’t you scared of me?”

You looked down at him, brushed his hair from his forehead. “I’ve danced with worse monsters than you, Norman. Hell, I used to be one.”

He blinked. “But I’ve done—bad things.”

“So have I.”

His lips parted. “I’ve killed,” he whispered. Confession or test, you couldn’t tell.

Your hand stilled on his hip. “Was it because you wanted to?”

His eyes grew glassy. “No. Not exactly.”

“Then maybe I get it more than you think.” You pulled him closer, chest to chest. “And if something in you ever tries to hurt me,” you added lowly, “just know—I bite back.”

Norman smiled at that. Wide. Warm. Just a little haunted. “Good,” he whispered. “Maybe we’re not so different after all.”

#x male reader #male reader #slasher fandom #psycho #psycho 1960 #psycho movie #norman bates x male reader #norman bates #bates motel #norman bates x reader #slasher community #slasher x male reader #slasher movies #slasher fanfiction #slasher #x male y/n #male reader insert

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sweetromanova · 21 hours ago

Text

This Is Home: Part Two🖤

Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x Original Female Character

Summary: There were strict rules before. Now there’s freedom, feelings and a toaster.

Warnings: references to cult/cult activity, mild psychological manipulation, mild violence, abuse themes, brief mentions of homophobia, cult is not explicitly religious but it has a very similar vibe so if that offends you be mindful!

Chapter Two

The Tower was quiet by the time the team dispersed. The lights dimmed automatically with the late hour, casting a soft glow along the halls. Even the usually buzzing common room had gone still, the remains of coffee cups and half finished files abandoned for the night.

Natasha sat at the kitchen island, her arms folded, watching the steam rise from her untouched tea. Across from her, Wanda leaned against the counter, gently rubbing the back of her neck, both of them quiet for a long stretch of time.

"She didn't even hesitate." Natasha said eventually, voice low.

Wanda nodded, her eyes distant. "No. It was automatic. Like breathing."

"She dropped like it was expected. Like we were the ones who were late in commanding her."

There was no judgment in her tone. Just something deeper. Unease. Maybe guilt.

"I've seen soldiers do that." Natasha added. "But never someone so... calm. She wasn't afraid of being wrong. She was afraid of not serving, of not having a purpose."

Wanda looked toward the hallway as though her thoughts were already drifting to the girl down the hall. "Do you think she even knows what that word means? 'Serve'? Outside of how she was taught?"

Natasha didn't answer right away. Instead, she finally picked up her mug, held it between her hands like it might ground her.

"She thought Steve was holy." She murmured. "She didn't just kneel. She offered herself. She thought that was the right thing to do."

Wanda's eyes found Natasha's. "She thought it was safe."

⋆⋆⋆⋆

They moved without speaking, both stepping out of the kitchen and into the hallway, following instinct rather than decision. The door to Astrea's room was half-closed, the light inside dim.

Natasha stopped a few feet from the entrance. Wanda came up beside her and then very slowly, they both peered through the gap in the door.

Astrea was on the floor.

Her body was folded forward, knees pressed against the wood, her hands outstretched in front of her in a position that was too reverent and formal to be anything but worship. Her hair had come loose from its braid, falling over her shoulders in soft and messy waves. The soft white light from the lamp behind her gave her the outline of something angelic.

She was whispering.

Not crying. Not asking.

Just reciting.

Natasha leaned in, straining to hear.

"...for I remain his light, the gift forged in obedience. I humble myself in silence, as was taught, as was willed-"

Wanda's breath caught. "She's still praying to him."

Natasha closed her eyes, just for a moment. She felt something heavy settle in her chest. Perhaps not anger or fear but grief. For the girl on the floor, for what had been done to her and for how long it might take before she could even begin to understand that she had been wronged.

"I don't think she even knows she can stop." Natasha murmured.

Wanda watched, unmoving. "Then we teach her what stopping feels like."

They didn't enter the room. They just closed the door gently, careful not to disturb the rhythm of Astrea's whispered devotions and walked back down the hall without speaking.

Behind them, the prayer continued. Soft, steady, sacred only to the one who had no other gods left to believe in.

⋆⋆⋆

Astrea woke before the sun rose.

Not because she was restless or out of place but because her body was so finely trained that anything else felt like sin. She sat upright in her bed, legs folded beneath her, hands resting in her lap. The sheets were barely disturbed. She hadn't allowed herself to move much in her sleep. All night she wished to lay below the bed, on the cold floor of the bedroom. But she was given a bed and it would be ungrateful to dismiss such a gift.

She slid from the mattress without a sound, moving like breath through the air and knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed. Her fingers intertwined, her head bowed. She mouthed silent words, not because she feared being heard but because reverence was more powerful in stillness.

When the prayer ended, she stood slowly, walked to the edge of the bed and and began folding the sheets into exact lines. She took care with each corner, smoothing them into tight triangles, just as she had been taught. The bed should look untouched.

A clean space reflected a clean soul.

The clothes Wanda had left her, a soft black t-shirt and loose grey sweatpants were still neatly folded at the edge. Astrea lifted the fabric as if it were woven from gold. She brought the t-shirt to her face, gently inhaling the scent. It smelled like vanilla and artificial softness, something she wasn’t used too.

There were no fastenings or laces or clasps. Even no modesty layers.

She hesitated then placed it back down gently and turned towards the bathroom.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The shower was waiting.

She stood in the doorway and stared at it.

It looked like an upright coffin made of glass and metal. There was a sleek, chrome lever jutting out from one wall, a faucet at waist height and round silver disc above, embedded in the ceiling.

She walked inside and stood in the center of the tile, fully clothed, turning slowly to examine each surface. No bowls, no basin, no oils. Just a single bottle labeled ‘shampoo’ and a button that read steam mode.

She pressed the lever and nearly screamed.

Water poured from the ceiling in a violent, thundering stream, slamming against her back. She stumbled forward, clutching the wall for balance.

It was hot. Not boiling but nothing like the room-temperature cloths or herbal rinses she was used to. She turned sharply, eyes wide, gasping. Then she slipped slightly as her bare foot hit the slick tile.

Still dripping, she reached for the bottle labeled shampoo and turned it over in her hands like it was a relic. She twisted the cap and sniffed. It smelled like fruit, like fruit that had been lied to.

She looked up at the water again then stepped under it.

⋆⋆⋆

Fifteen minutes later, Wanda opened Astrea's bedroom door after a polite, couple of knocks and smelled something unusually strong.

"Is that... coconut?" She muttered to herself, the smell strong enough to drift from her bathroom.

The bathroom door opened and Astrea stepped out, wrapped in one of the plush towels from under the sink. Her hair was dripping, her arms held stiffly at her sides. She looked like a baptised ghost.

"I think the rain room is broken." She whispered, quietly.

Wanda blinked. "The what?"

Astrea gestured back towards the shower. “It shot water from the ceiling. I tried to contain the waterfall. I used a cloth."

"You mean the shower?"

Astrea nodded, slowly. "The glass walls did not hold it."

Wanda opened the door behind her. The bathroom was drenched, steam still rising, towels soaking on the floor and the bottle of shampoo lying upside down in the sink with its contents poured out like a sacrifice.

Wanda tried not to laugh. "Okay. That's... we'll work on it."

Astrea looked genuinely concerned. "I will accept punishment if I caused harm to the room."

"You didn't." Wanda said, immediately but gently. "But maybe... just ask next time?"

"Yes." Astrea agreed. "Next time I will ask the rain to wait."

⋆⋆⋆

By the time she joined the others in the kitchen, she was dressed in the sweatpants and t-shirt. Her braid had already come slightly undone from the humidity and a curl hung loose at the side of her cheek. Her leader, Elias, would have never stood for such sloppiness but Wanda walked with a purpose and she didn't want to be left behind. So she walked in slowly just two steps behind her, scanning the space.

Maria stood at the counter, pouring black coffee into a chipped mug. Clint was rummaging through the fridge, muttering something about expired yogurt. Sam was pressing buttons on the toaster like it was a video game.

Astrea watched them with fascination. It was like watching animals in the wild. Each of them moved with ease and independence, laughing, half talking over one another, trading insults with affection. It was loud but not hostile. The tension in her shoulders rose anyway.

Natasha appeared behind her with a reassuring hand on her back. "Come on." She smiled. "This is just breakfast. You don't have to do anything."

Astrea nodded, stiff as a board.

⋆⋆⋆

Maria noticed her first.

"Morning." She grinned then frowned slightly. "Are you okay?"

Astrea looked around the room. She spotted a chair and simply waited.

Natasha motioned to it. "You can sit."

Astrea sat slowly, placing her hands flat on the table.

Clint turned around from his conversation with Wanda. "Hey, Rain Girl! You survive the waterfall?"

"I did not drown." Astrea answered, most seriously.

There was a beat of silence. Then Wanda laughed, Sam tried to smother a smile and Clint raised both hands in mock defense.

"Okay. So she's literal. Noted."

Sam placed a plate of toast in front of her, sliced unevenly with a little butter already melting into the bread. He gave her a friendly nod.

"This is toast." He said gently, like speaking to a wild deer. "It's bread but warm."

Astrea stared at it. Then reached out and touched it cautiously with two fingers.

"It feels... damp."

"That's the butter."

"Ah." She looked around the table, then slowly picked it up and bit the corner.

Her eyebrows lifted. "This tastes... sinful."

Natasha nearly snorted her coffee. "You'll get used to it." Wanda said, taking the seat beside her. "Most of the food the guys eat around here is sinful."

Astrea chewed thoughtfully. "It feels like something I'm not supposed to enjoy."

Natasha leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. "That means you're doing it right."

⋆⋆⋆

The lights were low in the common room, setting the tone for the night. The large projector buzzed softly above the seating pit, casting a flickering glow onto the far wall. A romantic comedy had been chosen, one of the older ones Sam insisted 'aged fine mostly' and something about it felt safe enough for a team who could handle alien invasions but not the emotional devastation of a modern drama.

Pillows were strewn across the floor, bowls of popcorn within reach and Clint was halfway through a bag of red licorice, ignoring all protests about the sound of his chewing.

Astrea sat perched on the edge of the couch, spine stubbornly straight, a blanket carefully folded across her lap like a ceremonial robe. Wanda had set it there. The others lounged in their usual, careless way. Yelena draped over a bean bag, Bruce and Bucky quietly arguing about the film's logic, Sam periodically narrating moments as if the characters were on a mission.

Astrea didn't move and she definitely didn't laugh. She barely blinked.

She watched the film like it was a documentary of alien life.

Wanda, seated beside Natasha, leaned lightly against her shoulder. It was casual and familiar. Her hand brushed Natasha's briefly, something natural in its tenderness.

Astrea saw it. She didn't move or speak.

But her body shifted barely. A breath caught somewhere between shock and calculation. Her gaze lingered on their joined shoulders and though her face remained composed, her thoughts flickered like a lit match.

But they are both women. That union is without blessing. Forbidden. It is an unclean pairing. One must belong to the other, not mirror her.

Wanda didn't flinch but her body went still. She heard it as she glanced over, her thoughts too loud to ignore.

The thought came so clearly, so unfiltered, like a whisper pressed directly against her ear. Astrea hadn't meant to send it, didn't even know she had. But her confusion, her judgment, had bled out and spilled into another.

Wanda didn't speak.

She just exhaled through her nose, slow and thoughtful.

She didn't move away from Natasha but she did look at Astrea.

Their eyes met for a heartbeat, Wanda calm, Astrea frozen and in that brief, unspoken exchange, something passed between them.

Not confrontation. Not anger.

But a quiet promise.

I know what you think. And I'll teach you better.

Astrea looked away first. She didn't speak of it, Wanda assumes she wouldn't dare.

⋆⋆⋆

Halfway through, the female lead stormed into a room in nothing but a bathrobe, yelling at her boyfriend for lying. She threw something at him, a magazine Tony had said and when he tried to apologise, she kissed him.

Astrea tilted her head.

"She is unwell." She spoke, aloud.

The room went quiet.

Bruce paused mid-sip of his drink. Sam lowered his popcorn. Wanda slowly turned her head.

Astrea continued, thinking she was helping. "She raised her voice. She exposed her thighs. She broke discipline and then she rewarded him. That is... disordered."

Yelena blinked. "Wait, are you talking about Lucy?"

"The female one." Astrea confirmed. "She should have been corrected or… guided."

Clint snorted under his breath.

Sam made a face. "Okay, hold up."

Wanda leaned forward, voice careful. "Astrea, that was just part of the story. She was angry but they talked it through. That's normal now."

Astrea looked confused. "Anger isn't permitted in women.”

"Uh... yes." Natasha replied. "Yes, it is."

Astrea turned her eyes back to the screen. "But she raised her voice above her partner. That's against the doctrine of proper yielding."

Yelena sat upright. "What doctrine?"

"The teachings. Harmony requires submission. Order is peace. Obedience is love."

Wanda exhaled quietly through her nose. "You don't have to follow those teachings anymore."

"But I haven't learned new ones yet." Astrea said, softly. "So I guess I only have the old ones to guide me."

Point made.

The room was silent again but this time, there was no tension. Just a fragile stillness, like no one wanted to move too suddenly and shatter the moment. Then Clint muttered. "Man, cults are so bad at rom-coms."

Wanda elbowed him lightly and Natasha leaned over to whisper to Astrea. "Next time, just wait till the credits."

Astrea nodded solemnly, completely missing the joke.

⋆⋆⋆

As the film ended and the credits rolled, the team began to stretch and disperse. Yelena offered her a high five. Astrea stared at her palm like it was a riddle then pressed her forehead gently to it like a benediction.

"That's... not how you do it." Yelena muttered, amused but not unkind.

Sam ruffled Astrea's hair as he passed and she froze like she'd been knighted.

Natasha helped her to her feet. "You did fine." She assured.

"I didn't laugh."

"You don't have to."

"I didn't understand."

"You're not supposed to yet."

Astrea looked down at her socks. They were striped, bright colours of pink and red. Wanda had chosen them for her. "Then why did I come?"

Natasha touched her shoulder, light and grounding. "Because you're learning. And this is part of it."

Astrea looked back toward the projector, still glowing faintly in the dark.

"I think the woman still needs correction. She shrugged but her voice wasn't certain this time. It was wondering or perhaps questioning. Either way, it was the first crack.

Natasha gave her a small smile. "We'll rewatch it in a few months. You might surprise yourself."

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bachshot · 2 days ago

Text

— THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS

Mickey Barnes x GN!Reader 1.3k words

You watch Mickey die for the first time, he shows you he's still here. fluff/comfort (?)

There was always a certain clinginess to Mickey, it varied from version to version of him but it was always undeniably there. Perhaps clinginess wasn't the right word, longing might fit better; every Mickey longed for you. Unsurprisingly dying and being reprinted was a tireless process, one second he's plunged into the unmistakable darkness of the end and the next he's waking up in a cold room filled with the harshest fluorescents; good as new but not really, the memory of what dying felt like still engrained fresh in his mind. His attitude after reprinting would differ depending on how he had died, all deaths suck of course but after the first few some are easier to move on from than others.

This one though was tough, you had been there.

Mickey could get over dying, been there done that, but seeing your face as he died? That was something that haunted him. You both knew he'd be back of course, but it's difficult to see past that when you watch someone die before your eyes. As much as he could put on a brave face over dying, he knew you'd be struggling to put one on over watching him die. Needless to say, Mickey was longing to see you after this reprint more than he ever had before.

He knew you needed to see him too and knew exactly where he could find you. You had wandered your way to his bunk not long after the death, mind numb and running on autopilot. You knew you didn't need to mourn, he would be back in a few hours just like always, but actually watching him die rather than hearing about it made everything feel too real, it awakened a new fear within you... What if one day they didn't reprint him? The thought was distressing, one you wished you could shake but it clung to you like a thick smog blocking anything else from your mind. He enters his room quietly, eyes landing on you laying on his bed back flat against the mattress and eyes glue to the ceiling, you don't react to him coming in, only looking away once his voice fills the air.

It's soft, hesitant as if he doesn't know if he should say anything, and all he simply says is, "Y/N..." But it's enough, enough for you to know he's there, enough to make you look up.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, staying in his bed, cold expression softening and Mickey doesn't miss the way your face is puffy and eyes red, heart straining at the thought of you crying for him. And with your voice hoarse, a slight quiver to it like you don't really believe he's there, you murmur out,

".. Mickey?"

That's all it takes to get him by your side, almost stumbling with how eager he is to reach you on the bed. He crawls over you, resting his head on your chest and his long legs awkwardly tangling in yours. Instinctively your hands fall to his body, one in his hair and the other around his torso pulling him close like you'll never let go.

For a while neither of you speak the only sound in the room your overlapping breathing. It isn't awkward though, it says everything and nothing the two of you want to say. Mickey can feel your stress slowly melting off of you as you lay entwined together, your fingers curling to brush through his hair, resulting in a satisfied sigh from him that lets his walls fall down, words tumbling from his mouth.

"you shouldn't have seen that," he mutters, face buried in your chest muffling his words, "i don't want you to think of me... Dying.."

There's a pause before he says it, he doesn't want to mention the elephant in the room, and he practically spits the word out. For a second he thinks he's said the wrong thing, a flash of panic crossing him as your fingers movements pause in his hair.

"I did though." You say plainly, trying to keep your voice steady. You had accepted long ago that Mickey's job was to die, you knew that, but knowing and seeing were two entirely different things.

He finds himself at a loss for what to say, an ache forming in his chest as he longs to comfort you, everything about being an expendable was strange. It was unprecedented territory, not something he could simply pick up a life advice book on and use to fix all his worries and yours. Luckily, it's you who breaks the silence and rips Mickey from his thoughts that were starting to become existential.

"I don't regret it," you inhale deeply, the exhale shaky, "I was going to see it happen at some point, we both knew that.."

Mickey shuffles in your hold, resting his chin on your sternum to glance up at you.

"I knew you'd be back, you always are... It just.. shook me."

Your words are followed by silence, wide eyes staring up at you as they compute your words a fear flashing in them like he doesn't know what to say. Maybe, he doesn't need to say anything.

The look of his face says everything he wants to, he knows it was bound to happen but that doesn't mean he wanted it to. You both know what you're thinking too, about the uncertainty, about how one day the ship could decide there's no need for expendables anymore and just like that Mickey's gone. It's nothing holding each other can change, it's like a cut that never stops bleeding, a worry that won't go away. Your hand gives his hair one final ruffle before falling to your side and that's Mickey's sign to make a move, shuffling up to now burrow his head in the crook of your neck and let his chapped lips skim over the tender skin.

"I can hold you still." He murmurs after a while, and you can feel the smirk that pulls at his lips, his tone is cheeky despite the solemn atmosphere, and although he doesn't need to say it he still does, "to stop you shaking."

It's so stupid, and you both know you didn't mean you were shook like that... It's what makes it all the more ridiculous, but it has the effect he intended as you crack a smile, pushing his head from your neck. He's pliable, he always is to an extent but especially when freshly printed, head following your movement willingly and leaning into your hand as he doesn't even try to hide his dopey expression.

Despite the cheesy response you can't help but indulge him, pulling your hand from his face and waving it with a slight shake in front of him as if to test his promise. He lets out a boyish laugh at the action, quickly lacing his fingers with yours, driving to kiss at your knuckles. The way he glances up at you, like he's looking for approval, the look is intoxicating and it's difficult to keep a straight mind when his dark eyes watch you through those thick lashes. It's enough to make you forget your worries, at least for now.

He seems to notice some of your tension easing, beginning to trail his kisses down your arm with those stupid exaggerated wet 'muah' sounds he knows make you laugh, and when you let out a groaned 'hey!' embarrassed by his teasing he responds by giving you a peck on the lips.

It's tender then, quiet, and he rests his forehead on yours as your eyes lock together and shallow breaths fan against each other's faces. You'd never stop worrying about Mickey, it would always be like a persistent scab you can't stop picking at, and maybe he would die again tomorrow but right now he was here and most importantly he was alive.

#cutesy one am posting (I’m so tired)#fanfic #fanfiction #mickey 17 #mickey 17 x reader #mickey barnes #mickey barnes x reader #mickey barnes x you #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson #fluff #comfort

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lovesickf-fics · 1 day ago

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If you have time/energy is there any chance you would pretty please write a sequel to “Shy guy big cock” with James and Remus 👀

Big Cock put to Use

tw : virginity, first times, spit as lube, useless cock mentality, size kink, riding, scratching, cumming on others, cumming quickly, overstim, breeding

ship mentioned : james x remus (marauders)

summary : pt 2 of this! fic, where remus wants to see what other things he's missed out on while also letting james get his happy ending by letting james have his fun.

an : i loved writing pt 1 and 2 of this i love that my marauders fics are doing so well

James would like to think what he done was good, he made remus cum and hopefully helped break down whatever mental block his friend had.

Sure, he practically scampered away to deal with his own boner but that was all about remus, not him and he definitely had something decent to think about to finish himself off.

Imagine his surprise when the next night, remus is waiting for him, his boner prominent in his trousers.

"I want to do more. with you- preferably. I heard you afterwards, so could i? could we like- mutually cum?"

he's still red in the face and embarrassed and clearly still unsure what to do with himself and james who has been plagued with the thoughts of how remus looked and felt last night almost agreed before blinking, selfishly he wanted to see what else remus could do.

James lets him into his bed this time, curtains shutting between them and he guides Remus to lay down.

"You okay moons?"

The boy was shaking almost, practically useless laying there.

"i dunno if i can do this prongs, its alot of responsibility"

James realises in that moment, the boy cant top. He's scared to be too much with everything he's packing, and james has a very simple solution.

"I'll do the work, you lay there"

They dont kiss, theres no foreplay, he helps remus lie down, and then they strip themselves down, shifting and shimmying clothes off till they're tossed into the pile growing outside the four poster bed.

Remus is blushing again and james thinks seeing that is going to start getting him hard on habit because hes hovering above remus, remus is half hard and already grabbing his waist.

James is leading everything, he's the one who shifts so he's able to spit down onto remus, he's to one who spreads the spit across the length slowly to help ease the nerves the boy beneath him clearly had, he's the one who gently guides remus' hand to his hole, helping him push the first fingertip in him while he focuses on the cock infront of him.

Remus is wide eyed, he gasps at the feeling of james touching him and almost chokes on air at the feeling of pushing past how tight james is. The whole experience honestly makes him dizzy, as if every drop of blood is choosing to go to his cock rather than his brain.

He let's james guide his fingers, in and out slowly, all while his spare hand not holding remus' wrist is working its way up the length of remus' cock, the tip already leaking pre, useless there and waiting until James is more open.

James is the one that takes his hands away, remus could whimper from the lack of heat on his cock and on his fingers, immediately missing the sensations

Remus doesn't have to wait long, james taking pity on the boy laid there with no idea what he's doing by shuffling forward, gently lining himself up and lowering onto the length that was desperate for something more than a mouth.

James lowers slowly, he knows first hand that remus is huge, and taking it all will practically knock the air out of him, so he's careful, which makes remus break a sweat.

He thought a mouth was good, and he's not taking that back, but now he has james' hole, taking him inch by inch without fear, and he feels close already. His hands dig into the sheets, letting james go to everything, and he's laid there trying not to squirm.

James bottoms out, panting slightly and his skin a pinker shade than before, cockwarming for just a moment, taking in every feeling, the feeling of being fuller than ever before, the feeling of remus trying not to squirm below him, the feeling of his own cock hard and sat just infront of his stomach, hovering and dripping onto remus.

Remus can barely take it, his throat is dry, every liquid in his body seems to be helping keep his cock hard or sweating out of him.

James gives into the pity of the squirming boy beneath him and also the desperation clinging at the inside of his stomach, slowly rising again, dropping down ever so slowly, remus practically cries out, the sensations are all too much he feels like he could cum already.

James keeps going, the burn in his thighs and the tingling in his stomach keeping him moving, up and down at an uneven pace, slamming down a little harder each time and enjoying the feeling of the cock knocking the wind out of him while remus starts to grab at james. Scratching the boy ontop rather than the sheets, his knuckles white

James has his eyes shut, selfishly riding remus like a new toy, breaking the boy in while he tears up, remus cums without a chance to warn james and all james does is ride him through it, continuing to bounce while remus lets his tears hit the pillows.

They flow down his temples and soak the fabric beneath him while he digs his nails into james' hips, not stopping the movements but not helping them either, a state of overstimulation clawing at him, his cock starting to go soft but staying up enough that james can keep going. Not that he looks like he'd stop.

He probably wouldnt, his whole body feels alight and he cant stop to think about how the overstimulation would affect remus because he feels close too and he doesnt want his new toy taken away just yet, bouncing like his life depends on it while sweat clings to his skin, glinting in the soft light in the canopy bed.

Remus watches in awe, vision blurry and gasping with every bottoming out but james looks delicious like this, his skin is glowing, his cock is redder than before and dripping, a string of precum attaching remus to him by the hair on his stomach. Shakily grabbing his cock to help him finish before his own cock ruins james' experience.

James thinks that remus' hand is practically useless there but the cute attempt makes him melt, ruining any holding back he had as he cums in spurts, soaking across remus' stomach and chest. Remus feels james clenching, and if he had anything in him, he thought he'd have probably came again.

#moonchaser #moonchaser smut #remus lupin x james potter #james potter x remus lupin #the marauders #the marauders era #james x remus #remus x james #james potter smut #remus lupin smut #prongs x moony #moony x prongs #marauders microfic #marauders smut #smut fic #smut fanfiction #mlm smut #eclipse

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