With Mitch Pls??

😳 with Mitch pls??

send me an emoji and dylan character for a headcanon ~

😳 : A confessing headcanon

Confessing his love for you, let alone any grandeur of emotion, was difficult for Mitch. His heart had already been broken - the fragments creating wounds that years of self-discovery eventually began to heal. That you began to heal. Mitch always appeared to only show stoicism or anger, but his roots delved much further down, and you were the lucky chosen to see who Mitch Rapp truly was. He had you perched on the edge of his bed as boot-cladded feet paced the room. Fingers dragged anxiously through his long hair and all that Mitch could muster was incoherent mumbles to encourage himself. It was your soft, gentle smile and calming voice that coaxed him to finally stop, his body facing you. Mitch's hands were wringing nervously as he took a deep breath. "Last time I felt this way about someone, my world ended." You tried not to show too much sympathy, not needed him to think you were taking pity on the poor man. Instead, you stood and stepped forward, clasping his hands between yours and squeezing them with only little pressure. "Just tell me how you feel." Mitch inhaled. His eyes closed as he counted down from ten in his mind, gathering himself. He finally smiled as he looked at you, confessing the emotion that made his body warm. "I love you."

ROUGH DAY | SAM TAYLOR (18+)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

DAY 7: ROUGH SEX

WARNINGS:

Rough Sex, Spanking, Praise and Hair Pulling.

work was rough that morning. building and shifting wood had worn out your husband as he practically limped through the hallway. he leaned against the door as he unlocked the front dirt to your newly built house, where you sat on the couch in the living room. you had been waiting all day for him to finish, working on a saturday wasn’t ideal for you both, but you needed the money somehow.

you stared at the door as you watched it swing open, sam's large frame filling up the arch as he strode through, standing above you. “hey, honey. how was-”

“bedroom. now.”

his voice struck loud and clear, demanding. you flushed as your body heated up, staring him up and down. you stood up as you stared each other down.

“did you not hear me the first time, sweetheart?” he glared. “bedroom. now!”

you leaped up the stairs heading into your shared room, perching yourself on the edge of the bed. he hummed, following behind you. his stomps bellowing on the croaky stairs. he purred, as he entered the room. taking off his signature red coat, draping it over his work chair, sweat covered undershirt following and his pants tripped of as he threw them aside.

you stared at his muscles as they glimmered in the sunset shining into the room. he looked down at you, running his rough digits across your cheek and jawline tenderly. his other hand came down pulling you up under the back of your leg as he flipped you over. forcing you flat on your stomach and lifting your ass in the air. he tugged your dress up over your hips and pulling your panties down letting them fall to your knees.

“hard day at work?” you stammered, but he could hear the sarcasm in your voice and the smirk that graced your lips, trying to keep the tension lighthearted. he shushed you, running his right palm over the lining over your spine his hands grabbing at your hips pulling you closer as his thumbs dug into your back.

“be a good girl for me.”

his hand lifted from your skin, smacking down on your ass, forcing a yelp from your lips. he smiled at your reaction as you bit your bottom lip, gasping at the pleasure. he massaged the flesh for a moment, soothing the tainted skin before slapping at it again. soon you felt the familiar feeling of his cock rubbing against you through his boxers as he ground onto your bare cunt.

he slowly peeled the garment off, pooling at his feet. before taking his cock in his hand and dragging it against your dripping pussy. “please, sam.” you begged. he leant forward, his cock teasing your hole before he reached out and pulled you up by your hair. he wasted no time, ignoring your cry of pleasure before shoving his cock deep inside of you.

you cried out at the sudden pleasure. his hips slapping against you as he plunged himself deeper and deeper, his thrusts growing rougher. you moaned loudly and he leaned forward over you, feeling the veins in his length glide through your walks. his hand rested beside your head. using his other hand to smooth down over your stomach feeling his bulge inside you before rubbing at your throbbing clit.

fucking you harder into the mattress, the headboard bagging against the wall and the weak wood groaning. he grunted and moaned, whispering filthy things under his breath. it didn’t take you long for your orgasm to creep up on you. he groaned your name out into your ear, as you came, sam still fucking you through your orgasm.

“oh fuck.”

he growled his grasp on your skin becoming looser, as he began to fall apart. he cried out as he came, feeling his cum fill you up. you gasped as you felt him tighten up. taking a moment for him you both to relax and let go. he dropped beside you, catching his breath. once again his affectionate nature shining through as he pulled you under his arm, closing his eyes.

🎃 KINKTOBER TAGLIST: @angelofthetrenchcoats @cvrliie @heyauntieeee @newgirl2 @stilessbaseballbat @taurusvic

A/N:

sorry this is late guys, my queue messed up and deleted them all but back on schedule now!

Dylan O'Brien NSFW Alphabet

Author's Notes: I hope you all love this. I had a ton of fun writing this. Maybe too much.. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment - messages, comments and feedback are appreciated! Thank you! xoxo

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing, References to fist fights, Smut* (Bondage, choking, over-stimulation, aftercare, public sex, biting, spanking, masturbation and mutual masturbation, oral sex)

Requested? NOPE! Requests are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. And you do not have permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

A is for: Aftercare- what they're like after sex

Soft. So fucking soft. No one has ever taken care of you like he does, in life or in love. Once everything is done, breath is even once more and the sweat is dried on your bodies, he is softer than the pillow that holds your head up. He just wants to take care of you, touch you. If you're in bed together, your head is more than likely resting on his chest as he run his fingertips over your scalp or kisses the top of your head. He likes to run his palms over your body, soothing any irritated skin if it was a particularly rough session. He also just really, really likes touching you.

B is for: Body part - their/ your favourite body part

Yes, he is very much an ass man. He likes how you back it up into him when you dance at a bar, or even when you're just hanging out with friends and you're kind of needy for his attention. And yeah, he likes taking a full handful when he's got you from behind. But he also really loves your shoulders. No, really. It's not even a sexual thing, he just thinks they're pretty and he knows that you can be self conscious about them so that makes him love them more. He likes to just kiss along your shoulder when you're pressed against him in bed, or in the shower. Or just give a little love bite when he walks by you to make you smile, and because you're his.

For you? Those hands of his are definitely Godly. And you have a habit of telling him so. Obviously when he's got them deep inside of you, curled just right, it's another level of existence. And you swear you've seen the other side, a handful of times. Godly. Again, though, it's not just sexual. It's the way he holds your face when he kisses you, or traces your skin post - sex. Or even just holds your hand, his fingers laced between yours. It's comforting. Those hands are a comfort in a way that cannot be explained.

C is for: Cum - anything to do with cum

He likes cumming inside of you, because of the intimacy of it all. He's not entirely sure where he stands on fatherhood, but he's not opposed to being your baby's daddy either. He doesn't do it every time, though. Other places of preference are those thighs and your back (and he has on more than one occasion licked your back after cumming on it)

D is for: Dirty secret - a dirty secret of theirs

He wants to have sex in public, really bad. There's something about having his girl absolutely wrecked for him, unable to keep quiet, with other people around (they can be strangers, he doesn't care) that makes him so fucking hot. It could be the bathroom of a bar you guys frequent, the back of his car, in the changing room of some upscale store. Anywhere that would force him to pocket your underwear, press you to a wall and pretend like he wanted you to be quiet. But he didn't. The louder the better, it was a tremendous boost for his ego. It's not even about getting caught, he could handle that. He's a pretty smooth talker. It's just the high of fucking in public and having people hear him satisfy his woman without a shadow of a doubt and then go back to his night while he holds you upright and steady.

E is for: Experience (how experienced they are? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's got some experience - "been around the block" a few times, as some would say. But what makes him so good is that he just wants to know, wants to learn your body. You get the feeling that even if he had never been with anyone before (yeah, right. have you seen that man?) he would be absolutely dedicated to finding out what makes you tick, what makes you feel good. It's a high all of its own for him to watch you fall apart.

F is for: Favourite Position

Honestly...Dylan just likes to fuck. As long as he has you, and access to the things he needs and really wants - he's good. But for the sake of answering your question...reverse cowgirl. He likes to watch your ass bounce against his abs, likes that he can just reach forward and your plump backside is right there for him. Okay, so he likes this position so much he may have put a mirror at the end of the bed so he could watch your face, watch you touch yourself as you ride him. He would just rest his head on his hands and watch you in that mirror until he felt like grabbing a handful of that ass, then sit up with his chest to your back and help you bring it home.

G is for: Goofy (are they more serious/humorous?)

He likes to make you smile, let you know that it's okay to have fun and let you loose. In fact, he prefers that you not take it so seriously. So his silliness translates to the bedroom as well. If one of you stumbles or falls mid -act, it's not a big deal. He smiles and flips you over, or picks you back up, and keeps going. It's just sex, honey.

H is for: Hair (groomed or not, does the carpet match the drapes…)

When he wasn't dating anyone seriously he didn't really care, he still doesn't. But he cares what you like, and what you're comfortable with. But you happen to like the hair between his pecs, and the trail of hair from his navel below his belt. So, he trims it down just to clean it up and so it doesn't bother you too much when you're down there. It also really makes him smile when you run your fingertips through the patch of hair between his pecs in the morning, or how you pretend like you hate it when you rubs his scruff your neck - you're such a bad liar.

I is for: Intimacy (what are they like in the moment?)

Despite being a little silly, he's also incredibly intimate. He loves to pin your hands over your head, press his forehead to yours and take it slow so you can feel his love, his sincerity. He likes to kiss down your neck, along your shoulders and whisper all the things he loves about you - ranging from how you squeeze his cock when he's buried inside of you to how soft your skin is, your beaming smile, your sweet eyes. Honey, he's fucking smitten with you.

J is for: Jack Off (masturbation head canon)

When he first met you, and before you two were dating and actually sleeping together he could not keep his hands off himself. Genuinely, he felt like he was 16 years old and it was fucking frustrating. He had to talk to himself out of putting his hands in his pants, go take a cold shower and calm down.

Then you two finally got together he didn't need his hands anymore, only when he was away from you. And even then it was kind of lazy, just enough to get him off until he's home with you. But he really likes the idea of mutual masturbation, side by side or across the room. You watching him, and him watching you as you talk each other through it. That's where his mind is at this point in his life.

& K is for: Kinks (one or more kinks)

Hair pulling (you pull his, he pulls yours. It's great)

Over-stimulation (not something he frequents, but he likes to play around)

Light bondage (handcuffs, and rope often make an appearance) He's been working on his knots when he has some down time, it's oddly calming for him. And if you're down, he'd like to give Shibari a go one day..

Choking! He thinks you're the prettiest girl in the world with his fingers around your neck (he loves you even more when you stick that tongue out and try to lick his fingers.)

Biting! Hickeys! Baby wants to claim you.

Spanking. He loves to smack that ass, in bed and out of it. He likes to dole out a smack or two when he walks by when you're bent over tidying up in the kitchen just as much as when you're on all fours in bed for him.

L is for: Location (favourite place to do it)

He's got two personal favourites other than "old faithful" (the bed). He likes the couch for purposes of you riding him. You get nice and close sitting there on his lap, either chest to chest or your back to his chest. Or he honestly, really likes to fuck on the floor. There's something about getting you on your back on the floor of the kitchen, or the living room, spreading those thighs and putting in the work. Maybe it's all the room around you two, knowing that he can just roll one way or the other and you'll be fine. But he is known for taking you down in the kitchen because, "your butt looks good in those jeans."

M is for: Motivation (what turns them on the most)

Perhaps it's cliche of him to say it, but it's you. It's always been you. The sounds you make for him, the way you breathe his name, the way your body curls into his when you kisses you. It all just gets him going. But he really does like it when you stand on your toes to get close to his height when he's kissing you, and breathe his name into his mouth. No lingerie, no set of handcuffs or coil of rope could turn him on the way that does. He's lost count of how many times you've said his name, all breathy like that, and he's just sat you on the nearest surface and fucked you senseless. It does something to him, igniting him to his core.

Dylan..

N is for: NO (something they wouldn’t do)

Bringing someone else into your bedroom is a Hell-Fucking-No for Dylan. He doesn't care who it is, they aren't stepping foot over the threshold of your bedroom. He's territorial, and refuses to share OR watch you with someone else. Watching you touch yourself? Sure. That's a show he'd watch all day. Watching you fuck someone else? He would seriously rather fucking die. The idea of it makes his heart ache and his skin crawl.

O is for: Oral (preference in giving/receiving)

Oh, please don't make him choose. Remember that mirror across the room we talked about before? He loves watching you suck his cock in the mirror across the room while you kneel on the bed, ass in the air. That's another one of the reasons he put that mirror over there - to watch you suck him off. He gets to see to curl of your toes, the clench of your thighs and the flutter of your lashes in a way he probably wouldn't without said mirror. So....

On the other hand, Dylan really loves to pin those thighs down and eat you like the meal you fucking are. He's messy, and greedy. Not afraid to pull your legs over his shoulders and rub his beard over your thighs, an absolutely delicious sting on your skin. He likes to hold your hands when he's got his face between your thighs, letting you squeeze his fingers as you arch your hips into his face. It's intimate and kind of hot.

But for the sake of choosing, and being difficult, he picks both. Let's just 69 all night, honey.

P is for: Pace (fast and rough/slow and sensual)

He likes both, honestly. And it depends on his mood/ the situation leading up to him getting between your legs. But he's becoming more and more fond of the slow and sensual kind of sex. He likes to take his time, touch your body from the soft hairs on the top of your head to the pretty paint on the tips of your toes. He realizes that taking it slow, pinning your hands above your head and getting as deep as he can is just as satisfying, just as rewarding - if not more so - than those rough, fast paced nights where he's got you face down, ass up. He likes those nights, too. Don't you dare get it twisted, honey.

Q is for: Quickies (how fond they are of quickies)

Does not hate them, and will not turn down the opportunity to have you pressed up against a wall and wrapped around him. Sometimes that's just the name of the game if he's away and you have limited together. 20 minutes alone will be the best you can get, so he's got you posted up in the nearest, most secluded room he can find. And sometimes, he's just really in the mood and cannot wait to be at home. So, that secluded room comes in handy. Again, he doesn't hate them.

R is for: Risk (do they like to experiment?)

He errs on the side of caution, mostly because he doesn't want to put you in a position that would make you uncomfortable. But if you ask him, he's more than likely to say yes. He just doesn't want you to do something because you think it's what he wants. He considers himself a pretty open guy, willing to try new things. To be honest the addition of rope into your bedroom routine was your idea and not his. And he became quite fond of it after he realized it wasn't actual rope that could hurt you, but soft satiny rope for just this purpose. And that's how he started working on his knots..

S is for: Stamina (how long do they last)

He's good for at least two rounds, depending on how rough or intense. But more than likely you're going around twice and that doesn't count him with his face between your thighs. When he drinks it's usually only once, but it's no less intense than it would be any other time. You're still at the finish line telling him, "You're an animal, O'Brien."

T is for: Toy (do they like them or own some?)

He doesn't own a lot of toys as far as like, vibrators and dildos. He's not opposed to them, exactly. He just doesn't really feel the need to have them around quite yet. He's got the cuffs, the rope and a cute little clit vibrator for you that fits right on the tip of his middle finger. And that's about all he's got in his arsenal, but he's not against growing the collection. In fact, there was a time you had drunkenly told him that you wanted to get him a cock-ring. And he forgot pretty well everything that wasn't you standing in front of him, half naked with those platform pumps on. He wasn't sure when it would happen, but he would let you put a ring on him if you wanted.....

U is for: Unfair (how much of a tease)

He's an asshole. That's how much of a tease he is. He loves to tease and touch, make you think you're going to get it and then leave you hanging. On more than one occasion he's had you perched on his lap, fingers between your legs with a lazy little flick of your clit while you begged for more after hours of (what you would consider) torture.

"You don't like it?" He would hum into your neck with a little rub of his scruffy chin against your skin, fingers alternating between that lazy flick and a figure eight.

"You know I do."

He also just really likes to tease in the way that - oh, you think he looks sexy in those grey sweatpants? Alright, honey. Let me wear just those around the house. Nice and low on my hips.

Tease.

V is for: Volume (how loud they are)

He's fairly loud, lots of pants and groans as he works you two through it. He likes dirty talk, too. He likes to look at your face and watch your eyes get wide when he tells you how good your pussy feels around him. He noticed pretty early on in your sexual relationship that the louder he is, the louder you are. So he makes it a point to be loud because he wants to hear from you, wants to know that he's doing well for you. He wants to hear your moans, whimpers and whines.

W is for: Wild Card (random headcanon)

He's incredibly territorial. Like, will not hesitate to put a guy on his back if he looks at you the wrong way. What's Dylan's is Dylan's and he will make it known, he doesn't care who might be watching over his shoulder. He's gotten a lot better over the last year or so that you've been together, not so many almost brawls. He gets that snarl in his upper lip, twitch in his brow and his hand is on the back of your neck to remind you, and informing those around you, where you belong. Those are the nights he usually cuffs your hands behind your back, your chest pressed to the mattress, ass in the air while he doles out spank after spank asking you, "who do you belong to?"

And it's a question that demands an answer every single time.

X is for: X-Ray (what’s going on down below)

He's above average at almost 8 inches (very proud of it, thank you very much) and he knows exactly how to use it. He knows how to swivel his hips so he hits that spot and make your toes curl. And he's thick, like...take your breath away thick. You're not sure you'll ever get used to him and that first thrust, but that's just fine with you.

Y is for: Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He is a ball of energy, especially these days. And he seemingly has the sex drive to match it. He always had a high sex drive - just a particular look, or the raise of an eyebrow and he was good to go. You weren't sure if it was because he turned 30 or what, but lately he was insatiable. It's difficult to keep up with him, but damnit - you'll try.

Z is for: Zzz (do they fall asleep after it)

He doesn't fall asleep right after, no. Honestly more often than not it's like an energizer for him. He's the King of early morning sex, it just puts him in the right frame of mind for the day. And at night once you're calmed down and one with the mattress, he usually climbs out of bed, goes hunting for a snack and watches MLB highlights. His two favourite things - you and baseball. Doesn't get much better than that, honey.

Hotties:

@fashion-fasting @sugarcoatedjj @gillybear17 @truewdw1 @samxslaughter @my-baexht-ls

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo

Requests for Andrew Garfield and Dylan O'Brien ARE OPEN! Requests for OBX are currently closed.

“I don’t want any company. I want you.” & smiling into their neck (fluff or smut you choose) with either dylan or stiles! ❤️

oh boy, oh boy, oh boy what have we done here... this was supposed to be a blurb anon! A BLURB! what have you done to me!?!? gonna be real I don’t have the energy to read through it one last time so I’m posting it and hoping for the best at this point...

word count: 4.7k warnings: explicit content, minors dni masterlist

You pull the pan out of the oven, carefully setting it on the top of the stove and pulling off the oven mitts that donned your hands, putting them away in a drawer beside the stove.

The smell of your signature dish wasted no time in filling the kitchen air, mixing with the scent of your newest candle and setting the environment for the perfect evening.

You’re in your element when it comes to hosting a party. You love creating the perfect playlist, the tastiest menu, and the warmest and most welcoming house you could, and take great pride in your ability to do it seemingly effortlessly.

Dylan is a completely different story. He’s like a fish out of water with planning any type of party. He loves watching you do something you enjoy so much, and can’t help but take a little pride that he got to call such a force of nature like you his. That didn’t change the fact that the idea of your shared living space being filled with people was the opposite of his idea of a calm, relaxing, and enjoyable Saturday evening.

How could he say no to you, though? When you had the nerve to look at him with those big doe eyes and that pouty lip that begged to be kissed. You’re his kryptonite, and he’d sacrifice a million and a half nights in if it meant you’d flash him even one smile. Some might say he’s whipped, but he’d just say he’s completely and pathetically in love.

You’re doing a particularly spectacular job and killing him tonight—the way your dress is comfortably tight around your chest, delicately hanging against your hips, off the curve of your ass. The slit in the dress that went just a little too far up his thigh for his liking was the cherry on top—not that he’d ever tell you to change out of anything, he’d just get a bit more possessive, a little handsy, even if you were only hanging out with your mutual friends.

You’d always pick up on it when he was feeling this way, sometimes offering to change, but usually tiptoeing the boundary line of what he would or wouldn’t let you get away with. Teaser’s gotta tease, right? It’s not like you’d ever actually come remotely close to crossing a line.

The creaks on the kitchen’s wood floor act as a signal for his presence, so you’re not startled when he leans his head over your shoulder to kiss your cheek while you rinse off your hands in the sink. “Look good, baby.” He remarks, giving your ass a quick squeeze and a gentle pat.

“Watch it, mister.” You whip a hand towel in his direction, but he’s already far enough away that the impact isn’t felt. “You’re going to get yourself in trouble.” You warn, drying your hands.

“I’ll behave when they’re here, but I make no promises when the house is empty.” He says. “Not when you’re dressed like that.”

“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” You pout, looking down at your own body, smoothing the skirt of the dress with your palms.

“Nothing.” He softens. “Absolutely nothing is wrong with this.” He gestures down the length of your body. “And that is the problem.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. He just laughs. He’d find you hot in a potato sack, but seeing you all dressed up has never failed to get him hot and bothered. All he wants to do right now is pull that dress off your body and make you feel just how gorgeous he thinks you are.

“You’re a tease, baby.” He pulls a sideways grin. “And you know it.”

You do know it, and you love it. The chase is almost... almost as good as the prize. “Maybe I am...” You move closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers interlocking at the base of his head. He responds with a tight grip around your waist. “What are you going to do about it?” You crane your neck over his shoulder to peek at the oven clock. “When our friends are going to show up any second?”

He groans, dramatically tossing his head back. “I don’t want any company. I want you.”

“You have me.” You smile, and it only grows when a conveniently timed doorbell chime fills the house and sets Tony off in the other room. “I’m right here.” You mutter over your shoulder, heading to the front door.

He stays behind in the kitchen a few moments longer, biting down on a knuckle in an attempt to suppress the growing desire, in more than one place, to have you right here, right now.

The reason for gathering tonight is a birthday celebration, and Dylan is more than a little concerned that the house is going to look like a hangover hotel in the morning, that nobody is going to be sober enough to make a timely exit at the end of the night.

The whole crew’s in the house within the hour; Sam and Olivia, Sarah and Matt, Logan and Ana, Jas and Sheela. It’s a full house. It’s a lively group in public, but it’s a whole different story when they’re in private and aren’t worried about facing the court of public opinion for their actions once they’ve sobered up.

A mixing pot of everyone’s dishes for dinner and a few bottles of wine later, and you’re all comfortably lounging in the living room, the low hum of conversation muffling the music playing throughout the main living spaces.

The lack of overhead lighting and the surplus of yellow bulbed lamps sets a cozy and comfortable aesthetic that you couldn’t have planned if you wanted to.

The casual vibe of it all puts Dylan much more at ease than the dinner party section of the evening did, but he still struggles to keep his eyes off you for more than a few minutes at a time. He’s enthralled by you, by the contagious smile that paints itself gracefully across your features and the laugh that, without fail, momentarily stops time for him every time it leaves your lips.

You’re not going to engage in the eye sex he’s surely trying to have with you across the room right now, but you sure can feel his gaze burning into every inch of your body.

You pull your phone and type up your best work, finally making eye contact with him. His brows flash to a furrow as if to silently make sure everything is alright. You nod, tapping your pointer finger on your phone and looking to his pocket, the outline of his device visible through his pants when they’re stretched out against his thighs.

You watch with a smirk as he pulls his phone out curiously, all innocence leaving his expression when his eyes read over the notification of your message.

Baby <3: just thinking about fucking you tonight has me soaking wet

He quickly clears the notification and shoves his phone back into his pocket, blinking hard. Several times, in an attempt to clear the image you’d just put in his mind.

It makes you giggle, biting down on your bottom lip before anybody asks you what you’re finding so entertaining. Once he regains his composure, his eyes are back on yours, shaking his head softly at your boldness.

You raise your eyebrows and shrug your shoulders, pushing yourself up from the sofa and heading to the kitchen.

“Hey,” He mumbles in your ear, hugging you from behind.

“Hey.” You laugh, turning around in his arms to face him.

“Missed you.” He pulls you closer, eliminating the few inches that are still left between you.

“Oh yeah?” He hums a response to your question, tightening his grip on you. “All the way in the living room?”

“Yup.”

“What’s got you bothered all of the sudden?” You furrow your brows, cocking your head to the side. He mirrors your action mockingly, and you quickly capitalize on the unfettered access to his neck, moving to place a gentle kiss against his skin just above the collar of his shirt.

You could practically hear the eye roll, which only eggs you on further, leaving a trail of breathy kisses up his neck, loving the way the hair on the back of his neck stands up when you do so. You stop when you get to his jaw, and begin moving back down to where you started.

He exhales sharply through his nose before taking a deep breath. “Man, I wonder...” He quips and you laugh against his skin. You pull away from his grasp, grabbing your wine glass from the counter and topping it off.

“Fuck me.” He curses under his breath, running a sobering hand through his hair and then down the front of his shirt.

“Oh,” You smirk, walking backward toward the living room. “I’m planning on it.” You bring your glass to your lips and turn in the direction you’re walking in.

You announce with the confidence of an event planner that everyone needs to start sobering up, making up a lie about an early morning commitment and using it as your reasoning for why nobody will be spending the night.

You want the house to yourselves tonight--uninterested in having to worry about waking up a sleeping friend and never being able to look them in the eyes again.

Logan and Ana are the last ones to leave, insistent on helping you and Dylan clean up the house before they leave. “Really, it’s okay,” Dylan assures, practically ushering them out the door. “We’re just going to do it tomorrow. We’re spent.” He lies.

Once he’s finally gotten them out, he closes the door, leans against it, closes his eyes, and releases a heavy sigh. “You.” He says.

“Me.” You play coy for what will likely be the last time tonight.

His eyes open slowly. “You fucking kill me, y’know that? Between that fucking dress and your devious little smirk...” He sighs. “Sending me to an early grave.”

“You like the dress?”

He nods, tongue in cheek, pushing himself off the door and sauntering over to you, cupping the back of your neck with an open palm and pulling you into a desperate kiss.

His lips smash against yours, hot and breathy, the hours of pent-up energy leaving him beyond needy for you. You’re surprised by his eagerness but quickly settle into his pace, less trying to win a dominance battle and more seeking to share the same air.

Your hands find the belt loops of his pants, your fingers lacing themselves through the fabric and pulling him as close to your body as possible. The scruff of his beard rubs against your soft skin, the friction leaving a satisfying tingle on your cheeks.

“Okay,” You breathlessly laugh into his open mouth. “You really like the dress.”

“Dress is nice, but it’s not the dress I want.” He places a few more soft pecks on your lips when your cheeks flush, confirming his words silently. “It’s you.” He says, fully prepared to drop to his knees and beg if he has to-not that he expects to have to–you’ve never been one to turn him down, especially after leaving him needy with an evening full of teasing.

The irony of you blushing is not lost on him. Rather, he’s quite amused by the contrast between you sending him a risque text in a room full of your friends and blushing when he calls you, in so many words, hot as fuck.

“Tell me exactly what you want.” His hands roam your body, scouring your back until his fingers settle on the cold zipper of your dress.

“Wanna make you feel good.” He slowly unzips the dress until it hangs loosely from the thin straps on your shoulders. “Feel you shake around my fingers…” He buries his head in your neck, sucking a bruise to the surface. Your knees are weak with his words, a warm pool growing in your underwear-you might’ve been teasing with the text earlier, but that didn’t mean you were lying. “Taste how badly you want me.” He whispers, sending a trail of goosebumps down your now fully exposed back. “Watch you tighten around nothing, knowing you’re desperate for me to fill you up.”

His words are almost enough to turn you into a whiny mess. He’s just as much of a tease as you are, just as much of a menace. “That’s enough of that.’ You say, and he laughs. “Are you all talk, or what?”

“You’re just relentless tonight, huh?”

“It’s fun.” You giggle, pulling the straps of your dress off your shoulders and letting the garment fall to the ground and pool around your feet.

You’d opted for no bra under the dress, now wanting to bother with a strapless, backless torture device when the dress came with sewn-in cups. It was an act of practicality and comfortability more than anything, but the way his lips slightly part as he takes in all of you makes you wish you’d planned to stand in front of him in nothing more than a pair of pink, lacey underwear.

You’d always get butterflies under his glare, especially when he looked at you like he was stranded in the desert and you were the last drop of water. It was more than a look of love–it was hungry, ravenous even.

“You are so… fucking beautiful, you know that?”

“You do a pretty good job at reminding me.” You blush, heat rushing not just to your cheeks, but to your ears and chest as well.

“Good.” He says, nipping at your neck, hands softly tracing the curve of your breasts, your waist, running over the lacey material still concealing your ass before finally moving between your legs, his strong fingers relaxed, applying the gentlest graze over the fabric that leave you desperate for his lips to find yours again.

He increases the pressure ever so slightly with the pads of his fingers, never taking his lips off yours. You let a satisfied laugh slip through your lips and into his mouth, a smile spreading across your face when you feel yourself being guided backward, stopping when your back is against the closed door. It’s warm outside, but not even close to as hot as you are right now, and the door radiates a coolness that raises goosebumps to the surface of your skin

You could already feel your wetness spreading across the fabric, which drew out his own snicker, only becoming more turned on by how much of a mess you really are for him. It’s a power nobody else has ever had over you, the ability to leave you begging for more with just a glance.

“You weren’t kidding.” He mutters. You hum your answer unintelligibly, too focused on peppering his neck and chest like it’s uncharted territory.

“Why…” You don’t bother finishing the question, tugging on his shirt before remembering it’s a button-up, wasting no time in undoing them and pulling it off his arms.

He lets you use his hand as a toy, grinding on it in a desperate attempt to feel the warmth of his fingers. “Dyl… please.” You whine, and he complies, delicately pulling the fabric down your legs, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake until you carefully step out, moving them to the side with your foot.

His beard tickles the inside of your thighs as he kisses you so close, but so incredibly far from where you really want him. It puts a smile on your face, your hands in his hair in an attempt to move his mouth, and a weakness in your knees that makes you doubt the practicality of doing this standing up.

You think for a moment he’s finally going to cover your clit with his mouth, his breath sending an ache rolling deep through your body for the longest few seconds of your life before he kisses your inner thigh again. “Oh,” You laugh, “Fuck you.”

“What?” He looks up to you, brows furrowed but a smile on his face. You sigh and he doesn’t wait for an answer before abruptly sliding a finger inside you.

“Oh, my god.” Your voice quivers when he adds another, pumping them in and out of your entrance a few times, spreading your heat through the already slick folds.

“Ah…” He hums, still looking up at you, “I see.”

“Shut up.” You push his head down onto you and he doesn’t put up a fight, his broad, flat tongue lapping you up, the motion of his fingers shifting to more of a curl and less of a thrust. “Jesus Christ.”

You slide down the door, bending your knees just enough to give him a new angle, knowing that it will make it easier for him to work and easier for you to stay still–or at least stay steady.

He picks up the pace of his fingers, curling them into you harder and faster, changing the way his tongue toys with your clit, flicking and swirling the ball of nerves with a strong, pointy tongue.

You can see the high of your orgasm on the horizon–can feel the knot unraveling in your core. “Fucking…Do not- Fuck. Just like that.” You grab at his shoulder, and he moves his hand from your breast, sliding it down your arm, firmly grasping your wrist to move it off his shoulder, entangling your hands. “God!” You cry. “Fuck, Dylan.” Your grip on his hand tightens and your leg starts to shake under you. “I’m so close.” You whimper.

He nods between your legs, squeezing your hand harder, both of your knuckles white with lack of circulation.

The world goes so silent you think your ears might start ringing, every muscle in your body simultaneously tensing and then going limp. You can feel his hums against your core while you convulse around his fingers, undoubtedly giving you praises you’re too high to recognize.

His fingers and tongue don’t relent as you shake, instead slowly and steadily coming to a halt at the same pace your body comes down from the clouds.

“You.” You let out an exhausted laugh.

He looks up at you with a smile, sucking his fingers clean and placing a soft peck on your clit. “Me.” He grins cockily and you can’t do anything but roll your eyes with a shake of the head. It’s not cocky if he can back it up, and he sure as hell just proved he can back it up.

You pull him up, two fingers under his chin, guiding him to your lips. You groan at the taste of yourself in his mouth. “Your turn.” You say, shifting your weight off the door and swapping positions with him.

“It was just my turn.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Trust me,” He smiles like a dope, wiggling his eyebrows. “It’s always my turn.”

You laugh against his chest. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

“Am I?”

“Mhm.” You hum, sliding your hand past the waistband of his boxers to palm him.

He shrugs. “Worth it. Definitely worth it.” He laughs while you fall to your knees, pulling the boxers down with you.

You start slowly, licking a warm stripe from the base of his dick to the tip, swirling your tongue around the tip and pulling your mouth off with a pop. He mumbles a string of profanities that are only broken up by your name and it makes you ache, humming pleasantries around him, reminding him how much you love to make him feel good.

You look up at him with innocent eyes, opening your throat and slowly taking the entire length of him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to increase the pressure he feels. “Fucking hell.” He groans, knotting your hair with his fingers to get it out of your face, to ensure a clear view of your mouth as he disappears into your throat.

You take him so well, make him feel so good–you always have, and still manage to get better every damn time. Between the soft, wet warmth of your cheeks, the tight passageway of your throat squeezing around him, and the vibrations that reverberate from your moans send vibrations through his whole body, he’s in a state of complete euphoria. The rest of the world falls away when you let him take control. Long muffled is the aesthetic playlist you’d carefully crafted the night before, the hull of whatever was on the television is completely lost on him as he ruts into your mouth, fucking your face with little regard for anything but chasing his own high.

He knows there is no assurance of a second round, that he wants to feel himself buried deep inside you while you call out his name, but you feel so good with your lips wrapped around him that he’s willing to throw all caution to the wind and empty himself down the back of your throat.

You’re not nearly as satisfied with the thought of that as he is. You pat the back of his thigh as a silent safeword, a signal for him to relent and let you get some air. “Holy, shit.” You look up to him and laugh breathlessly, sitting back on your ankles, still stroking his length with your hand.

“You okay?” He asks.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah.” Your reassuring smile makes him laugh confidently, ego padded by the knowledge he can leave you in such a state without much effort. He holds out a hand and pulls you to your feet. “You’re not going to get off that easy, mister. I told you I was going to fuck you tonight.” You poke your pointer finger into the middle of his chest, playfully pushing him away. He holds his hands up in defense, a dumb, dopey smile painted across his face.  “And I meant it.”

“No complaints here.” He chuckles, watching you walk away, an exaggerated sway to your hips acting as an incentive to follow he didn’t require.

“You coming?” You look over your shoulder.

“Mhm.” He runs a hand along his jaw. “Just enjoying the view.” He says, shamelessly staring at your ass.

You wait for him in the doorway of the bedroom, teetering on your toes when he meets you there to kiss him, silently guiding him back towards the bed. You smile against his lips before parting at the edge of the bed. “I love you.” You mutter.

He shakes his head ever so slightly, in a constant state of awe whenever he looks at you. “I love you.” He pulls your lips to his once more, this time more fervently than the last. He’s still hungry for more, still desperate to ride out that high he was chasing in your mouth.

You swallow each other’s laughter while awkwardly attempting to comfortably situate yourselves on the bed without breaking the kiss. When you do finally settle, you’re straddling him, instinctively grinding yourself along his length, your wetness spreading onto his dick with every slide, making for a smooth and slick ride that elicits muffled whimpers and a firm grip on your hips pushing you down harder.

When you part long enough to get a glance at his face, the desperation in his eyes lets you know he’s had plenty of teasing for one night. He wants to be inside you. He needs to be inside you.

You shift your weight to raise yourself up, moving a hand down to guide him to your entrance. You don’t bother drawing it out any longer, wasting no time in sliding down onto him, your breath hitching and eyes rolling.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans your name. “So fucking good.” He cups one of your breasts, nibbling and sucking wet kisses on and around your nipple. He reaches up to palm the back of your neck, bending you forward to kiss a trail up your chest, over your neck, and to your lips while you adjust to the satisfying fullness.

“God, I love your fucking dick.” You whisper, forehead resting against his as you slowly start to grind into him, relishing in the way his skin feels against your clit when he’s deep inside you.

You know exactly what angle you need to find for him to hit that spot that drives you fucking wild and don’t hesitate to drive him into your g-spot. He’s rewarded for the pleasure he provides with sloppy, hot, open-mouth kisses, the tips of your noses clashing while you moan out each other’s names. His hands are ever exploring the map that is you; splayed out across your back, cupping your ass, brushing your hair out of the way of messy kisses, digging fingerprint-sized bruises into your hips to fluctuate the pace at which you fuck him.

One of his hands finally settles between your legs, and if the friction of his skin had your eyes rolling and profanities falling, the pad of his thumb has you seeing white and careening towards fiery release.

“Just like that.” You command, but it comes out with the inflection of a beg. “Feels so- Fuck, Dyl. Feels so good.” You stumble your way through pausing him and he does as told.

Your heart beats through your chest, pulsating through every inch of your body so hard you’re positive he can feel it. Your leg starts to twitch and your pace becomes erratic as both of your moans are swallowed into nothingness. Your eyes pinch shut and with a cry of his name you unravel around him, squeezing him like your life depends on it.

“Fucking…” He moans. “Fuck.” You still for just a few seconds, panting into his open mouth while your senses and soul return to your body. Once they do, you start bouncing up and down on him, now chasing his high instead of your own–wanting him to feel as good as he’s made you.

He’s not far behind you, the new rhythm allowing him to fuck up into you–to meet you halfway and shift some of the control back to him. “Close…” Is the only word you can make out of his otherwise unintelligible string of choppy, moaned sentences.

“I know.” You hum, his thrusts growing just as mindless as your motions had minutes earlier. “Wanna feel you.” He groans. “Come inside me, baby.”

“Fuck!” He cries out your name, your words being enough to send him over the edge. His face contorts with pleasure, eyes fixed on yours–watching your reaction to his warm load filling you up, to the way his dick twitches inside you until he’s emptied himself.

You share several hazy, tired kisses over the next few minutes while you settle from your orgasms, both of you giggly messes, completely high on each other. “Gotta wear that dress more often.” You laugh, falling onto the bed beside him.

You cuddle for a while, your head resting on his chest, your fingers playing with the hair between his pecs, his twisting locks of your hair around his fingers while you bask in the silent understanding of relaxation, love, and satisfaction.

He eventually slips out from under you, disappearing to the en suite, returning several minutes later in boxers and a t-shirt, with a matching set of clothing for you and a warm washcloth.

“Awe, so sweet.” You poke fun. He repeats your words back to you mockingly.

“Shut up.” He tosses the clothes at your head. He walks around the bed, leaning over to kiss you before helping clean you up, singing your praises the entire time and making you blush. “Come on,” He extends a hand, pulling you up out of bed with a groaned protest from your lips.

He disappears into the hallway and you know exactly how you’ll be spending the next half hour or so–cleaning the house. You pull the t-shirt over your head and step into the underwear, following him out into the living area where he’s already collected your earlier outfits off the floor.

“Here.” You hold out your arms to take the wadded-up ball of clothing from him and into the laundry room. “We’re so domesticated, it’s disgusting.” You laugh, giving him a quick kiss.

“I know, it makes me sick.”

BYEEEEE wtf this is either like the best thing I have ever written or the worst and I have no idea which

23 with Mitch!!

send me a character and a prompt for a scene blurb ~ (1/10)

SOOTHE : for one muse to calm the other during a panic attack.

He warned you that it could happen; the sudden jumps during the night, the strangled screams pulling from his throat, the sheen of sweat that drenched his skin. It’d been years since the nightmares refused to leave his darkened mind - grasping at any slither of sanity that he had left. The man would dream of softened sand and how it so quickly was stained red, ricochets of bullets and agonising screams creating notes of heart-wrenching symphonies. He witnessed a massacre and it was ruling his life - even after the miniscule trials of therapies and retribution gained from his CIA pursuits, he still couldn’t forget. Mitch Rapp would never forget. It didn’t make it easier on him when he started seeing your body laying lifeless in his arms and he couldn’t do anything to bring you back to him.

Your heart bounded in your chest as you were pulled sharply from your sleep, the man beside you shaking with ragged breaths. You’d never experienced Mitch when he was in this state but you could tell almost immediately that it wasn’t something that he was going to easily get past. As you turned to face him, his hand shot to his side to feel for you, warm clammy handprints encasing your wrist and he managed somewhat of a sigh when he realised you weren’t gone. It wasn’t enough, though, to settle his erratic heartbeat and panicked features.

“Mitch... Mitch, hey, look at me, Mitch... look at me...” You begged, still half asleep as you tried to maneuver yourself in front of the man. You kneed his legs apart through the sheets and settled between them, your hands cupping the scratchy stubble that covered his jaw. Thumbs ran shakily under his eyes, but it was their incapability to focus that nearly brought tears to your own. They were blown wide - the gentle caramel tone that often sparkled in the sunshine was nowhere to be found as black orbs drowned them out. They were wild and unkept and terrified. They were screaming out for help through silent pleas and you were starting to suddenly feel so small. 

Mitch tried to speak but could only voice fractured syllables, his gasps growing in pitch and urgency for air. It was hard for you not to freeze and stare on in shock, but you knew that he needed you. He needed love. Stability. He needed reassurance and promise. And you could give him that and more.

The hand wrapped around your wrist grew tighter and it broke you from your brief reverie, your free hand falling from his cheek and scavenging for his twitching fingers. You brought them to your chest and laid the palm flat over your sternum - breathing in, and out, slowly. You built a rhythm and forced yourself to keep that steady pace. Your eyes bored into his as you shushed the man with careful lullaby tones; humming soft songs under your breath, your body in control and calm.

“Breathe, Mitch. You’re safe. I’m safe.” You pushed, verbal reminders to settle his damaged soul. The gasps were slowing and you nearly screamed out in happiness when you watched his eyes finally focus on you, his pupils shrinking from their anxious size.

Mitch’s hands shook loose from yours and they were brought up to your own cheeks, his protective hold instantly cradling your face as he cooed at your expression, “Don’t cry, baby. Don’t cry for me.” He said quietly, hardly a whisper, but the proximity of his body to yours allowed you to hear it as clear as day. His thumbs managed to catch stray tears that you didn’t realise even left your eyes, and their silky paths were soon covered in tender pecks from Mitch’s dry lips. 

He settled his forehead against yours and your arms were hastily thrown behind his neck, pulling the man as close to you as humanly possible. It was sluggish, but his arms slipped behind your frame and squeezed you in a needy embrace, your chests flush against the other and your hips thrown against his own. He was crushing you, but you knew that he was reminding himself that this was real. You were real. 

Mitch took a deep breath, one that shook your frame as he exhaled, before his nose dragged over yours, “You saved me.”

“I-I just helped you breathe.” Your reply was quick, modest. You were glad that he couldn’t see your face because it was surely glowing with rosy blush. 

“Not just now, you saved me... from who I was. You brought love back to my life.” His voice was hoarse, and it prompted an absent-minded rub of your delicate fingers down his spine - of which made him melt instantly against you. “I have my demons but you make ‘em go away. You make me better.” 

It was your turn now to squeeze the man, squashing him against you as much as you could, never wanting to let him go. 

FLOWER | MITCH RAPP (18+)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

DAY 5: BREEDING

WARNINGS:

Slight Size Kink, Nipple Play, Overstimulation and Slight Cockwarming.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

DOM/SUB DYNAMICS, SLIGHT PAIN PLAY, DACRYPHILIA.

“i want a kid.”

as soon as you stepped in the door, he stood infront of you, towering. his words hit a spot inside you that triggered that feeling. you’d been talking about it all yesterday and now he’s finally made his decision. but his words were sharp, dominant and you knew that’s what he certainly what he wanted, the way they easily rolled of his tongue, and mitch rapp always gets what he wants.

he walked backwards slightly beckoning you towards him, his eye contact deep as you tread lightly, following him obediently. when you reached your shared bedroom he circled you closing the door softly before you felt calloused hands rub over your shoulders gently guiding you towards the bead. thin lips attached themselves to your neck sucking lightly, his hands roaming down sensually both his forearms crossing your hips holding onto the other as he spin you around.

his dark eyes stared in yours as your courage lessened, learning that he must’ve been wanting this for a while and thinking about it heavily. he liked having his way with you and you liked it too. you knew he’d be gentle eventually but not whilst he was fucking your. no way. you felt his hands roam your body as he stripped you of your clothe, his hands heating up your flesh leaving goosebumps in their wake.

he gently lifted you from the ground, laying you down gently as his muscles held his naked body above you. you whines as his fingers skimmed your sex, getting straight to it as he covered his cock in your slick. he didn’t want to waste time, it didn’t matter anyway you’d still be here for a few hours, taking load after load. your face scrunched up as he entered you.

a soft moan leaving your lips at the pleasure. he gently fucked into you at first, toying with your nipples, pulling and pinching at them. his thrusts got heavier as your nails racked his back, the slight pain mixing with the feeling of your malware cunt wrapped around him, forcing his gruff grunts out faster as the sound of skin slapping filled the room.

your first orgasm creeped up on you quickly, mitch pushing you over the edge quickly as he lifted your right leg up over his shoulder fucking into your faster as you spasmed beneath him.

“yeah, fuck, yeah, that’s it.”

he breathed out. the slight praise hidden in between his words overwhelming you. you gripped his biceps tightly as he leaned down into you, pushing your legs up to your chest. the position change made you squeal as his cock prodded at that sweet spot inside of you. your eyes trailed over the veins popping beneath his skin as he tended.

his whole body covering yours at the size. he still took his time with you, caressing your skin gently, softly kissing your cheeks as tender tears spilled from your eyes at the pleasure. you looked fucked out, sweetly being ruined by him, by his cock. no dark marks were left on your skin. his face came back into view as he looked into your eyes glazed over.

he could feel that heat pooling in his abdomen, urging him to thrust faster. a few last deep thrust had him erupting. grunting out groans of gratification. He looked at you lovingly, but his cock never softened as you shook in his arms, so small. he stayed hard inside you as, his cock plugged up his come. making sure you were pregnant in a few days.

🎃 KINKTOBER TAGLIST: @angelofthetrenchcoats @cvrliie @heyauntieeee @newgirl2 @stilessbaseballbat @taurusvic

MITCH RAPP TAGLIST: @bxrbie1 @greengarsstuff @hessafeelsfordayss @idylio24 @luhh-snow @oh-kurva @ohwowimlonley @queen-eleven @screambih @whoaskedgabby24 @xo-circe @yktfv18poisonlvy @5lutfordylanobrien @its-carlerrr @queenofmisc @steadygoopangelhairdo @lilygreennn