🦇 She/Her 🦇 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♓️ 25♓️ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ⛔️ this blog is 18+ MDNI! ⛔️ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 🌹I Write for several fandoms, current fixation: MGS/Resident Evil 🌹 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 🕸Requests are: OPEN🕸 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 🦇see pinned post for requesting information🦇 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 🦇
This blog is 18+ only! MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT
I tried to tag every story with what is in it, every fic I post has a little warning of what to expect so please read those!!! also, this is an 18+ blog so read at your own risk!
I am taking requests, if you don't see the Fandom below, just ask first. I'm in alot of Fandoms I just haven't written for many yet!
If anyone has any suggestions to make this list look better or whatever PLEASE comment below 😭
⚠️⛔️ I AM ACCEPTING REQUESTS, IF YOU REQUEST SMUTT/ ASK TO BE TAGGED IN SMUTT, YOU MUST HAVE YOUR AGE PRESENT IN YOUR BIO ⚠️⛔️
It kills me every time I remember Solid Snake looks EXACTLY like his father….
Like, I get it, I know he's a clone, but imagine looking exactly like the person who traumatized you for life and seeing his face every time you look in the mirror.
Soft lips against your neck he grips your hair as he shimmies his pants down. You slide down the cold tiles and he pulls out his cock, looking up at his face he’s smiling back at you as if he’s won the biggest prize. He tilts his head up and lets out a slow heavy sigh as he pulls you onto his cock. The weight of it rocks back and forth on your tongue. He grabs you with his other hand and begins thrusting hard and fast into your throat. Fuck he’s an asshole you don’t just do that to people but it does turn you on even more. Grunting and swearing “yeah, yeah you like that bitch? You love that don’t you” pulling his cock from your jaw saliva drools down your chin before you can catch your breath he slaps you across the face “say it” you reply with a weak yes and he slaps you again. Firmly and loudly you moan Yes! Smirking he rams his cock back in your mouth. All you can do is sit there legs splayed out and take it. How did you end up like this huh? Having your throat fucked by a stranger in a public bathroom. He pulls away and demands you stand up. Stabilising yourself on the wall you’re not even half way there before you feel your pants ripped down. Slamming you against the wall hand gripping your aching throat he rubs his cock against you “You want this don’t you?” You gurgle what is assumed a yes and you feel every inch thrust deep inside you. Body set ablaze by the suddenness you press your hips forward trying to pull him out. He pulls your hip back while he pushes your shoulders down. Arms folded over your face he’s slamming you raw and hard over and over again. Your focus on how hair dangles infront of your face as he fucks you. Waving back and forth with each thrust. He grabs a fist full of your hair and pulls your head back “tell me, tell me how much you love this cock” your moans aren’t sufficient? “I love your cock” escapes your lips, you can’t believe you’re saying these kinds of things. “Yeah tell me how much you need this cock” “mmmh I need your cock” again why the fuck are you saying these kinds of things? Oh god who cares it feels so good. “I need it I neeed it” you hear his whispered yeahs as he draws close. For someone who so clearly thinks himself as quite macho his tender crackling moan as he cums inside of you is quite cute. He wipes himself off with some toilet paper and walks out of the stall. You hear his zip and buckle return as he exits the bathroom. What an asshole. But, maybe you really should come out more often.
Notes app developers go to hell forever challenge 2/3
Your face is warm from the alcohol Kaz and you chuckle “Think that’s bad have I got stories for you” something about this guy, he’s incredibly cheesy and delivers clearly rehearsed lines in an almost cartoonish tone. It’d be pathetic, but he is easy to look at so it’s almost endearing. Such striking eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. He pulls closer to you so he can hear you better, arm still around your back. You tell him about being stood up, how works bogged you down and how glad you are that it’s at least been a good night regardless. He nods and furrows his brow. “I am really glad you came here then, you’re meant to be free” You feel his hand on your knee, he’s a bit tipsy so you assume he’s just stabilising himself. You’ve assumed wrong because he’s slowly sliding his hand up your thigh. No one has ever been this bold before and you instinctively press your legs closed. “I’m so sorry, I thought that” you cut him off with a kiss pressing your hand into his cheek. He wraps his arms around your back and whispers to follow him. He leads you delicately by the hand through the bathroom door. Your mind races “Am I really doing this? With a stranger?” Fuck it you’re drunk and it’ll be tomorrow’s problem. He pins you against the sink rubbing against the front of your pants and kisses you again. Unbuttoning his shirt you slide your hands over his smooth muscular chest. He lifts you up onto the sink and begins to grind against you. His forehead pressed against yours as he begins to unzip his pants. “Not here” you want it badly but not badly enough to do it in such an open area. He wraps his muscular thick arms around you and pulls you into the stall. He slams your back into the door and kicks it closed behind him.
Has to be multi part because woke mob (tumblr) is cancelling me (has a word limit)
>:c (1/3)
So stressed with work lately, a friend invites you out to let your hair down and party. They know the perfect quiet spot where you two can just unwind and dance a little. For some reason you agree to it.
You know they won’t stop pestering you til you agree to it plus, you deserve to relax a little right? You’re starting to regret it because you’ve been sitting at the bar for half an hour scanning around trying to figure out where they are. Rocking your empty glass jn circles out of frustration.
And the more you wait the more rowdy men pour into the bar whistling and cheering. Pushing and shoving each other trying to get their drinks first. The way they’re dressed you assume they’re from one of the military groups or something, great just what you needed. Drunk soldiers tearing up the “super chill quiet spot” your friend promised to meet you at.
You order another drink, still hoping your friend shows up. Half way through someone bumps into you and that sends it flying. You grab a handful of napkins and begin blotting yourself.
A tall blond man slips besides you and places his hand over yours “I am so sorry, it’s been awhile since the guys have been off base and if I didn’t do something they’d start a mutiny. Here let me get you a drink” he waves down the very fed up bartender who reluctantly pours you two a drink. “Don’t let them start anything, I’m this close already” the strange blond presses his hands together in an almost mocking prayer thanking them. Turning back you you he rests his arm on your shoulder grinning ear to ear “You can call me Kaz, it means peace in Japanese but haaa… clearly I’m not very good at it” as he gestures over to as one of his men knocks over a tray of glasses and is hoisted away by another. You find humour in the chaos of it all maybe you can let yourself go after all.
You're only allowed to cum if you send him a video or FaceTime call him. He wants to see how you shake when you think of him. If he’s out in public, he wants you to call him so he can listen to your moans on the phone. You also need to send him a photo of your face after you cum, he wants to see you red, sweaty, and self-broken.
Perverted fuck probably already has cameras installed all over the cabin so he can watch you. That’s how he knows if you jack off without sending him a recording.
how do you think Master Miller would react to you wearing his clothing? 👀
Stops mid-sentence when he looks up/enters the room and realizes what you're wearing. His gaze lands on you for a few silent beats as he pauses to process that you're wearing his worn down t-shirt or his sweatspants or boxers. It seems like such a non-issue that you don't understand at first why he's staring at you in silence in the first place.
Can't help but let out a small smirk as he circles around you slowly like a predator. "Where'd you end up finding this?" He tugs lightly at whatever article of clothing you stole. Now he's fully grinning and laughing to himself. He adores it. He likes how it looks on you and feels like it's marking you as his in a way. "You miss me so much that you have to be wearing my clothing, too?"
Afterward, whenever you're both in the cabin and you're in comfy clothes, he teasingly asks why you're not wearing something of his again (he seems like he's joking but he's trying to hint at it playfully). When you leave the shower in a towel, he throws one of his old shirts at you to wear afterward instead. Better if you just wear that and nothing else under. Similarly, when you're sleeping, if you're wearing anything at all.
Loves it even more when you're wearing it out to do a supplies run with him. He's the one wearing dogtags and you're the one in the old bootcamp shirt, making it obvious to everyone around that it's his shirt in the first place. Even still kinda smells like him, too. Another instance where he appreciates how much it feels like he's marking you, particularly so in public.
kaz request anon here! I don't really have much in mind but I do love the idea of maybe MGSV Kaz ending up with maybe someone who looks out for him, like a patient and nurturing type that might be either a battlefield medic or someone who helps in the R&D as an engineer or similar. Just someone he could, metaphorically or physically, lean on.
(if possible- fem!reader? 👀)
❗Metal Gear Solid: Boyfriend Headcanons (request)
📦 What would he be like in a relationship with you?
Characters: Kazuhira Miller (MGSV).
Content warnings: none, angst, fluffy.
Take a look at MGS Headcanons Masterlist
Kazuhira Miller:
Kaz can barely understand why you insist on taking care of him yourself. Every time you arrive carrying his medical file under your arm, he looks away, convinced you're only there to confirm the obvious: that his body will never be the same again.
—Don't bother —he mutters as you carefully loosen the bandages covering the places where his limbs used to be.
But you never answer him with pity. Instead, you ask if he's been sleeping any better. And when the examination is over, you always offer him a gentle smile, as though you weren't looking at a soldier broken by war.
For weeks, he tries to convince himself that you're simply doing your job. That your endless patience is nothing more than part of your duties as Mother Base's doctor. Until one day, he realizes that only someone who truly cares about another person stays awake until dawn just to make sure they're breathing peacefully.
—I don't know what the hell you could possibly see in me... I've lost a leg... an arm. Some days I don't even recognize the man staring back at me in the mirror.
His hand tightens around his cane as he takes a slow breath.
—And yet... you look at me as if I'm still whole.
Unfortunately, difficult nights never truly disappear for Miller. There are times when he jolts awake from memories of his captivity, his breathing ragged, phantom pain surging through the leg that's no longer there. But you sit beside him on the bed and rest a hand over his.
—You know something? —he says, barely above a whisper—. For a long time, I thought I didn't deserve to be touched with affection ever again.
You lace your fingers with his, and he closes his eyes, as though that simple touch could erase years of suffering. Then you cup his face in your hands, without caring about the scars, without caring about all the things he insists on seeing as flaws. He holds his breath, because he still hasn't gotten used to being looked at with so much love.
—Thank you... Thank you for giving me back the parts of myself I thought I'd buried forever.
He still struggles to believe someone like you could exist. Someone capable of looking at his scars without seeing a tragedy. Someone who can hold his hand with such tenderness... someone who can love him exactly as he is.
❗Spanish ver.
Kaz apenas entiende por qué insistes en encargarte personalmente de él. Cada vez que llegas con su historial médico bajo el brazo desvía la mirada, convencido de que solo vas a confirmar lo evidente: que su cuerpo nunca volverá a ser el mismo.
—No te molestes —gruñe mientras aflojas con cuidado las vendas del lugar donde antes se encontraban sus extremidades.
Pero tú nunca le respondes con lástima. Le preguntas si ha conseguido dormir un poco mejor. Y, cuando terminas la revisión, siempre le dedicas una sonrisa tranquila, como si no tuvieras delante a un soldado roto por la guerra.
Durante semanas intenta convencerse de que solo estás cumpliendo con tu trabajo. Que esa paciencia infinita es solo parte de tu profesión como médica de la Mother Base. Hasta que un día entiende que solo alguien que quiere a otra persona permanece despierto hasta el amanecer para asegurarse de que respira con tranquilidad.
—No sé qué demonios has podido ver en mí… He perdido una pierna… un brazo. Hay días en los que ni siquiera reconozco al hombre que veo en el espejo.
Su mano aprieta con fuerza el bastón mientras inspira hondo.
—Y aún así… tú me miras como si siguiera entero.
Por desgracia, las noches difíciles continúan existiendo para Miller. Hay momentos en los que se despierta sobresaltado por los recuerdos del secuestro, con la respiración agitada y el dolor fantasma recorriéndole la pierna que ya no está. Pero te sientas a su lado en la cama y apoyas una mano sobre la suya.
—¿Sabes una cosa? —te habla en apenas un murmullo—. Durante mucho tiempo pensé que ya no merecía que nadie me tocara con cariño.
Tú entrelazas tus dedos con los suyos y él cierra los ojos. Como si ese simple contacto hiciera desvanecerse años de sufrimiento. Después sostiene su rostro entre las manos, sin importar las cicatrices, sin importar todo aquello que él insiste en considerar defectos. Y él contiene la respiración, porque todavía no consigue acostumbrarse a que lo mires con tanto amor.
—Gracias… Gracias por devolverme partes de mí que creía enterradas para siempre.
Todavía le cuesta creer que alguien como tú exista. Alguien capaz de mirar sus cicatrices sin ver una tragedia, capaz de sostener su mano con dulzura… capaz de amarlo tal y como es.
As much as I want to be thrown over that old man's knee and taught a lesson I won't forget, I also love imagining him afterwards cooing in your ear about how you're a good boy who took your beating well.
Do you think Master Miller is good at aftercare???
Feeling soft today, imagining him making you a nice meal and cuddling up by the fire place after.
I think he would be wonderful with aftercare, and find that part in taking care of you rewarding. Especially post a rougher session, when your mind is still hazy and you're vulnerable in every sense.
He tells you how you're so well-behaved, his favorite little pet, all the while he's massaging your shaking thighs and taut shoulders. Soft kisses planted behind your ear, his face so close to yours as he nuzzles your hair you can feel the slight scrape of unkept stubble.
Definitely gets you water afterward, holds it up for you so you can drink. A warm, wet cloth to wipe your body down. As you recover in the bed and sip the water, he's already stoking a fire in the living room and cooking something for you. When you walk out of the bedroom with shaky legs, he's smirking at you, teasing how you look like a fawn with how fragile you look.
God, Dad Bod Miller is so hot. He’s probably so soft to cuddle up next to. I saw your post about snuggling up to him while he drinks. He probably smells like either the beer or whiskey he’s drinking, cheap aftershave, and sweat.
I was thinking about Miller treating himself to a nice glass of whiskey after a long week and letting you curl up against his chest.
When you ask if you can have a sip. He has a better idea, sticking his fingers in his drink and telling you to suck them. He’ll let you taste it, but you gotta work for it. Plus, he wants to feel that hot mouth on his fingers. (and think about it somewhere else).
I can't tell if I like it better as his human arm or his metal arm. I love temperature play and cold metal on my face/in my mouth, but also warm skin..... hard choices to make here.
Especially cuddling up to him with his arm around you. He's not exactly the well-kept man he once was, and he works out everyday. He's a barrel-chested man at this point that always has the smokey scent of whiskey on him, some light sweat, and this cloying smell of aftershave. Sometimes, he smells like gunsmoke, or like his huskies, and rarely cigarettes.
He usually pours you your own glass without asking, but he hadn't this time. When you're curled into him, head resting on his chest and asking for a sip, he just grins down at you.
He likes it when you take it from his actual hand. He can feel the warmth of your mouth and the strong muscle of your tongue lavish his fingers. Although, there is something to using his metal prosthetic. The weight of it in your mouth intensified, the cold of the Alaskan night making the metal sing in your mouth from the temperature change. The burn of the whiskey mixed with the metallic chill. He makes you take sips like this a few times, pleased when you play along and lick his fingers.
Master millers taking you out camping, do a little hunting and fishing too. He’s gonna teach you all sorts of survival skills like how to hold his gun and how to take I mean tie knots. 😼
This is too cute...
He thinks it's cute when you don't know how to do something properly. He gets to get behind you and put your hands and body into position. Even if you're doing it fine, he likes the excuse of being close and helping you. He's a great teacher in his older age, after all, and getting to be the one to see your eyes light up when you do something perfectly rubs his ego in a way he can't get enough of.
Cooks by the fire he taught you how to make. The stars in Alaska are beautiful and bright, and the noise pollution is zero because he knows where the best camping sites are. Always brings a bottle to drink from whenever he goes out on these excursions. He can't help but enjoy your company, it truly does beat being out here alone.
When you both inevitably end up in the tent, it's perfect. A little cold so he has an immediate excuse to bundle up close to you and hold you tightly. He says it's to keep body temperature up, but he feels a bit too eager for that to be the only reason.
master miller popping you on the mouth after being a brat and talking back.. djejtjidkfkgjdwjkr
Oughh, I imagine it's the first time he does it. He's used to you being bratty and talking back, he kinda even enjoys it, but you're becoming too bold. He knows that the more he lets you go off and make snarky little remarks, the more you'll feel bolstered by it. Maybe even not take him as seriously, or see him as an authority figure, and he can't have that.
He waits until you make another bratty comment (maybe about his age or complaining you don't want to go somewhere), and you grin as the last bit of the sentence rolls of your tongue, eyes twinkling with a bit of mirth. The perfect opportunity he was waiting for.
The second your smile tweaks into a smirk, the back of his hand smacks you with lightning speed. It's shocking enough to make you stagger back a bit and yelp, holding a hand to your mouth as the mischievous glimmer in your eyes dies immediately. His back is turned to you instantly, continuing what he was doing, trying to hide the grin of his own as the shocked tension settles between you both.
"Make a comment like that again, and I'm using my metal arm instead. Understood?"
You whimper from behind with your hand still caressing the part of your cheek and lip he smacked.
Pairings: Solimiller / Solid Snake x Master Miller. Set in Post MG2.
Warnings: Light Angst, Mentions of past Big Boss x Miller, Intoxication, Oral Sex, Boot Worship, Mentor/Student
Word Count: 3k
AO3 Link
They had made this a ritual, unwittingly. Once in a while, they would meet up in either of their respective homes in Alaska to drink and shoot the shit together. Even though they would never outwardly say it, each other’s company became a grounding comfort in their lives. It was hard to let go of one another for varying reasons. Both Miller and David had known each other for a long while at this point, and at times when David thought he’d lose himself to the bottom of a bottle, Miller’s voice rang out in the back of his mind.
“Look alive, rookie. I taught you better than that.”
After everything that went down in Zanzibar Land, they made it a point to seek each other out once in a while. It was hard being in retirement. You would try to get away from everything and everyone and yet, the loneliness, the grief, still found a way to creep in. Their shared moments together made letting their guard down easier than anyone else’s company could, undoubtedly because they could relax around someone else who could have empathy for their given situations. David was beginning to feel himself toeing the line of his wit’s end. Showing up unannounced at Miller’s cabin with his sled dogs wasn’t unusual for him to do at this point. At least Miller had his own dogs and David knew that the huskies would be taken care of while he was visiting.
Before David could fully dismount the sled, Miller’s cabin door was already open. The amount of surveillance and motion-detecting cameras around Miller’s home had seemed to only increase with every visit, but David was a smart enough man, he wasn’t going to brazenly bring that up to his old mentor. Plus, Miller probably did have every reason to be paranoid about whatever was worming its way around in his brain.
Miller’s arms were crossed at the entrance of his home, waiting for David to put away the dogs and walk up the steps of his old porch like an unmoving statue. Lantern-light illuminated his silhouette from behind, giving him an unearthly quality to his posture.The sun had barely crested below past the horizon, and his metal prosthetic arm and aviators glinted in the dissipating light. David lit up a cigarette as he finally unleashed the dogs from his sled and guided them out towards the pen where Miller kept his. They all were used to this song and dance, including the dogs, who were seemingly the most excited to see each other again. David closed the fencing behind him as he lumbered up the steps towards Miller, puffing on the cigarette and meeting his gaze through his shades.
“You look like hell.”
David grunted in response as he brushed off the debris from his boots on Miller’s welcome mat.
“Good to see you, too, master.”
Miller barely moved his body to the side to let David sneak past, eyes never leaving him as he entered the warmly lit home. David knew the drill. He kicked off his boots and placed them neatly by the door, never questioning why his mentor always kept his own set on. His coat was hung up neatly on an open hook in the wall. He made his way to the modest wooden table in the makeshift dining room he had and sat down, ashing his cigarette into the little tray in the middle.
The door creaked shut as the smell of fresh tobacco consumed the little area. The crackling of the cigarette and the firewood in the hearth were the only things accompanying the sound of Miller’s footfalls entering the kitchen. He brought two glasses along with a half bottle of bourbon to the table, and wordlessly poured the both of them a drink. He shoved the glass into David’s hand before sitting down across from him, the chair protesting a little with his weight.
Miller lifted his glass, “What goes up,”
David mirrored his mentor, “must come down.”
They clinked and drank most of it down. Miller went ahead and poured more in their glasses before letting out a sigh, shoulders sagging and relaxing a bit.
“You been good?” Miller spoke between another sip, continuing to eye David through his shades.
“Yeah. Sure. You know how it is.”
They both drank in relative silence, Miller never taking his gaze off of David, as if he were searching for something underneath his expression. It was an obvious lie. David never sought him out under positive pretenses. Miller was the only person David could really emotionally lean on after all this time. They finished up the glass, and Miller poured them up again. The fireplace began to ember out, and Miller got up from the table to set another log in the fire, stoking it with the metal poker as David continued on the third glass of bourbon.
“Master… When was the last time someone came to visit you?”
The question took Miller back a bit. He had to admit, he had been rather lonely, and had mentioned indirectly as much to David before. He had to let out a haughty scoff, the idea of someone like him making sure he’s doing okay made him annoyed as much as it made his heart ache. Miller hated to admit to himself how much of a soft spot he really had for David. Similarly to someone sharing David’s visage. He shook his head to knock out the thought and continued to poke at the log, letting David’s question hang in the air for a bit.
“I still volunteer to help train the scouts here, as you know,” his back was still towards David, kneeling at the hearth’s edge, “and I see Cathy once in a while. Whenever her mom drops her off.”
He hummed back in response, starting to feel the beginnings of being tipsy. He could never hold his liquor like his mentor could. Miller always teased him for being such a light-weight. The warmth of the fireplace and the bourbon had him snuffing out his cigarette in the tray, then taking off his sweater to reveal his worn tank top underneath. The sweater was slung on the back of the chair he was sitting on as Miller came back to sit across from him again.
“And when was the last time someone came to visit you?”
David made a grimace, looking away from him and drumming his fingers on his glass. After a few seconds, he made a non-committal grumble. Miller knew it had been since the last time he had visited David.
“Right… You know you can come by more often. You’re always welcome around here.”
David grumbled in response again, finally meeting Miller’s gaze. “Yeah… Thanks, master.”
A palpable silence fell onto the room. David drank the rest of his glass, and unceremoniously hit it on the table. His drunkenness became apparent to the both of them as he pushed himself up.
“I’m, uh.. I’ll be back, gonna use your restroom real quick.”
He stumbled up out of the chair as his knee knocked against the table, causing it to topple a bit, knocking Miller’s nearly full drink over in the process. The bourbon covered a good chunk of the table on Miller’s side, and dripped down his pant leg and over his boot. He made a light scowl and flared his nostrils smelling the pungent liquor overtake the room, his soaked pant leg sticking the the flesh of his shin.
“Oh, uh. Shit, master, I’m sorry.” David lumbered towards the kitchen for a rag, continuing to knock the table in his attempt to get there faster. Miller made no move to get up and instead moved the glass upright while waiting for David to come back, noticing immediately how drunk he actually was.
He came back with a few rags and nearly rested it on the table before Miller harshly grabbed hold of his wrist.
“You’re not wasting my aged bourbon.”
David met his eyes from the top of his shades in silence. In his drunken stupor, it was hard for him to tell what to do next. He could sense there was an order between those words, but he couldn’t figure it out through his haze. Miller let go of his wrist and tapped down hard on the table as the fluid continued to drip off the edges down onto the wooden floor beneath them.
“Well? Are you deaf?”
David dumbly blinked at him a few times before limply stuffing the rag in his pocket. He knew that his mentor rarely liked to repeat himself, but he still felt confused as to what Miller was implying.
“Master, I, uh…?”
“Damn, you really are drunk, aren’t you?” Miller moved his arm back and fisted one of the straps of David’s tank top and pulled him down by it, bending him over closer to where the mess he made was.
“Clean it up.”
David knew a clear order when he heard one. Miller brought his face down close enough to the table that the implication was no longer lost on him. He opened his mouth and let his tongue hit the bit of bourbon that hadn’t yet soaked into the old wooden table. He lapped up the excess as Miller removed his hold on his tank top and instead rested it on the back of David’s neck, cupping it passively. The bite of the fluid on his tongue was immediately soothed when feeling the rough weight of his mentor’s hand gripping the back of his throat. His tongue flattened on the surface more, lapping it with more vigor when he felt Miller’s thumb rub the soft skin there. His chair creaked as he leaned back, getting an eyeful of David’s full display.
“Looks like you can still take orders like a good dog. Knew you still had it in you, rookie.”
The affectionate nickname that Miller had kept for David echoed in his ears. It never failed to make his heart pace and head swim, especially with all the liquor in his gut and Miller’s hand keeping him in place. It was a blessing, after everything that had transpired, to turn his brain off and just listen to his mentor’s orders again. His face began to flush from the alcohol and realizing he had Miller’s undivided attention, someone he so deeply admired and respected.
“Alright, that’s enough of the table.” he patted David’s back in emphasis.
When he stood back upright his body wobbled, putting a hand down on the table for balance. David had begun to lumber back to his seat, trying to ignore the half-mast boner he was sporting, before he heard Miller clear his throat.
“You’re neglecting a few spots, kid.” Miller tapped his boot on the floor a few times, arms crossed and glowering at him.
The ground met him quickly as he knelt down without a second thought. Miller grabbed the back of his shirt again to hold him steady, guiding him closer towards his boots as David stumbled to him. He pressed his face down gingerly to where all the liquor had spilled on him. Miller’s pant leg was still soaked and burned David’s nostrils as he lowered his head. He began to lick and suck at the fabric before Miller’s hand moved to the top of his head, pushing him down.
“Don’t waste your energy on that, rookie.” He tapped his boot again.
That’s all that David needed to hear. Both his palms hit flat on the wooden floor as he bent closer towards Miller’s boot. He slightly tilted it up to meet David’s mouth, leaning back further into his chair to watch. His tongue rolled around the welt of the boot, grazing the bumpy stitching there with the tip of his tongue, gathering the leftover bourbon there. His lapping continued up the vamp, flattening his tongue to gather as much as he could. The smell of the liquor, the taste of his mentor’s pristine leather, the sound of Miller’s pleased grunts from above him… David couldn’t remember the last time life felt this right. He was a dog of war. Normally, he took the commands that were given to him, but it was much easier with Miller. There was a level of security and safety that he provided that nothing else in life did. His voice would always come to him in times of uncertainty. Whenever David felt like he would drown, Miller pulled him back up. He would happily give his mentor his leash whenever he wanted. They both knew that.
Miller peered down unflinchingly at him, unable to take his eyes off the enthusiastic display. There were times he could see Big Boss in David, especially as he grew older. His voice began to carry that same monotone cadence, same little grumbles, it was hard for his mind to distinguish the two at times. Training David when he was fresh had been a cathartic experience looking back; punching the lights out of a man who carried the same visage as Big Boss had been more relieving than Miller would ever have liked to admit. Now here he was, nearing the same age as Big Boss when they had first met, lapping up his boot and calling him master. It made Miller’s heart twist as much as it made his cock throb at the sight. After everything in Zanzibar Land, David had become his own man to Miller, but it didn’t make any of the grief feel any lighter. The guilt somehow was heavier, though, it was easier to manage while being full of liquor and having someone like David at his feet.
The sound of the unbuckling of a belt momentarily stopped David in his tracks. When he glanced up, Miller was palming his boner through his briefs, eyes boring straight into David’s through his shades. He kept licking the leather as soft groans emanated above him from a man he desperately admired. His own cock pulsed at the idea of his mentor getting off to just watching and obeying him.
“You know, you’ve always been my favorite.” Miller grinned as he pulled the band down from his briefs, letting his cock come out.
That got David to stop his musings immediately. He hardly was ever one to care about the praise of his superiors, but something about having Miller’s burned into him. He continued to look up at him through his strands of dark hair as Miller fully wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and squeezed. Precum had already begun to pearl at the tip of his red cockhead and leak slowly down the shaft. Miller expertly stroked upward in a twisting motion, letting the rest of precum drip down his cock.
“Thought you were supposed to be cleaning my boots. Am I distracting you from your orders? Maybe you ought to clean something else if you feel like you’re finished.”
David was about to bend his head back down when Miller grabbed a fistful of David’s hair with his free hand and guided him up to his knees. His hands rested pliantly on Miller’s thighs as he pressed David’s face on his shaft, some of the dripping precum wetting his cheek in the process. Miller let go of both David’s hair and the base of his cock, leaning back again and pouring a small bit of bourbon back into his empty glass. He sipped on it idly, peering down at David, letting the wordless order hang in the air.
His tongue came out and licked gently up his shaft, cleaning up the bits of sticky fluid that had sat there. David went between little licks and sucking the skin with his swollen lips, marking his shaft with lingering, wet kisses. Finally, he moved up to the head, circling it with the tip of his tongue before putting his lips over it entirely. He sucked gently while still lavishing the head in his mouth, mindful of his teeth during the process. David glanced back up at him to catch his mentor unmoving, bearing down at him through his musings and nigh worshiping of his body. Miller’s cock twitched when their eyes met each other, and he abandoned the glass on the table with a solid thud. This had all become too much for him. Something akin to anger and guilt flared up in his chest, two emotions that he should be accustomed to at this point, and yet had never truly gotten easier with time.
Miller grabbed the back of David’s head with both hands, brown locks interwoven in both his metal and fleshed fingers, and shoved himself into his mouth. A broken moan fell from Miller’s lips finally feeling encased in David’s hot mouth. David offered up no resistance and fully allowed Miller to push himself as deep as he wanted into him, opening his throat as much as he could and breathing through his nose. A choked, muffled whine was the only thing David gave back to him. He couldn’t help but fuck into David’s open mouth as he swirled his tongue around his cock as much as he was able to, feeling his throat swallow around him.
“God fucking damn, you’ve always been such a good mutt for me. No one knows what to do with you like I do,” Miller’s words came out in hot, keening pants, “isn’t that, right?” He tugged a bit of David’s hair in emphasis.
His eyes began to water, still not taking them off his mentor, and hummed a high-pitched strangled affirmation in response. It was easy to tell whenever Miller was getting close, he could never shut up right before he came and his rhythm would start stuttering. He pressed his cock as deep into his throat as it could, David’s nose completely flush with the hair on his crotch, as he came loudly into him. The tight grip in his hair was enough to make David let out an audible whimper against Miller’s skin, making his mentor shudder a bit in his hazy bliss. David continued to swallow every bit that he spilled into him, still milking his cock as Miller’s grip on his hair started to ease up. He was panting harshly and shuddering through his post-orgasm daze, leaning back and letting David continue to suck him until Miller felt satisfied.
David pulled back and released his cock with a pop, a trail of saliva still connecting the both of them together. The flush on his face and his red, swollen lips were something to be admired. David leaned his head down against Miller’s thigh, sighing and chest heaving. They both sat there for a second, catching their breaths, as Miller placed a hand on top of David’s head and ruffled it up with as much care as he could give. From their positions, there wasn’t much pleasure the world could offer to them. Moments like these were one of few blessings they could still count on for the time being.
“Alright, c’mon, rookie,” Miller patted his shoulder as he began to sit up in his chair, “we’re hitting the shower.”
