Small RP starter for Dylan because I really wanna roleplay him but have no actual plot ideas :(
@howdycowpokes @cowboy-corvidae @just-a-lone-soul
Dylan wasn't usually a early riser; to be fair, his whole schedule was wacky, no really set pace. Sometimes he went to bed at nine, sometimes he went to bed at two AM. Sometimes he woke at eight, sometimes he woke at lunch time. No set routine.
Today, he was up earlier than usual though, Five am. No particular reason really, though a few factors may tie into one.
He had a nightmare last night, not a terrible one but it just unsettled him. But he was pretty much over it now.
A restless feeling, a itch to do something, but he wasn't sure what.
A headache he'd woken with. He took some of Bucks herbs though to help, don't tell the other man.
Because he had been up so early he decided to make himself useful; he cleaned up the cabin a bit, wiped down some dust, swept, put things away accordingly. He fed the animals, he believed all of them, it was hard to keep track these days. He brushed the horses, pet the cat, give the canines treats, let the rodents out of the makeshift cage, everything.
He made sure the pot to boil water was up and started for the others and their drinks; he burned his hand a little, but at this point he was used to any feeling of such and just shook his hand out. He didn't make breakfast, he still wasn't sure how to cook and he didn't want to mess it up or get frustrated. He read a little bit, but was so restless he got up and paced a few times, deciding to settle on playing cards by himself.
So here he sat on the ground in front of the couch, sorting cards with a focused and zoned out gaze.
Can someone just fuck already!?! Could you write me a dirty one shot or something? Anything? The slow burn is nice but I'm needy for some filth. I have to know what your smut is like!
Uh... OOPS? But, yeah, you're right about the slow burn. "Far Away From L.A." isn't really catering to those readers looking for instant gratification, is it? Am I driving you guys crazy? My bad. Hmmm... I wonder what I could do to remedy the situation that I seem to have created here? How about a lil' blond Dylan gettin' some filming trailer action during the NY heatwave? 😈
Enjoy!
- Trashy
Authors Note: Established relationship with a girl named Rachael. There is also now a Part 2 because of Dylgenerate anons ;)
Cooler 'Heads' Prevail
It's hot. It's so god damn hot. Why is it so fucking hot? Hasn't the summer had enough yet? Hasn't it had its fun with him yet? New York rarely saw a heatwave like this, not this close to the end of August at least. And it wasn't that he hated the heat as a rule, but it was miserable filming in 100-degree temperatures with nothing but a tiny fan to cool you down.
Dylan sat slouched on the small couch in his trailer with his legs spread wide and his head resting against the window. He was only partially dressed in his next wardrobe because if he had to put on one more article of clothing he was sure he'd spontaneously combust. He was wearing only a white ribbed tank, a pair of boxer briefs, and a hat he'd been using to fan himself off and on.
He groaned as he rubbed his sweat-beaded forehead before he was startled upright by the opening of his trailer door.
"Oh," he flopped back into his relaxed posture. "Hey, babe."
"You alright?" Rachael asked, closing the door behind her.
"No," he whined, rubbing his thumb and forefinger in his eyes. "It's so fucking miserable today I'd like to cease to exist for a few hours."
"Oh. Is it hot?"
Dylan looked up at her, his expression the definition of unimpressed.
"I hadn't noticed." She set the small lunch cooler she'd been holding down on the table beside him.
"Seriously, Rach...I'm so not in the mood for teasing," he said in heat-addled exasperation.
"Huh," she mused, clicking open the cooler and pulling out a ziplock baggy full of ice cubes. "That's really too bad."
Dylan's head popped up from the back of the couch, watching her as she slowly unzipped the seal.
She plucked out a single ice cube and ran it slowly across her lower lip before she sucked it gently into her mouth and pulled it back out with a pop.
Dylan swallowed around the sizable lump in his throat as she slid it down over her chin and along the length of her neck and her right clavicle before letting it rest there for a moment in the dip of her throat.
Rachael's eyes were locked on his, dark and mischievous.
Dylan's tongue flicked out to wet his lips and he shimmied back on the couch enough to sit up a little straighter, watching the long, cool bead of melt-water run over her skin and disappear into her cleavage. He groaned, rubbing his hand over the erection that was starting to tent his boxers.
"Mmm," Rachael hummed, pulling her lower lip between her teeth and closing her eyes. "Feels good."
Dylan shot up from the couch.
Rachael smiled, taking a small step back as she looked him up and down. "I thought you wanted to be left alone?" she teased before she pressed the cube harder to her skin until the last of it melted.
"Forget what I said! I'm an idiot, and that was before all the..." he gestured at her wildly, his eyes roaming up and down her body, "sexy ice shit started."
Rachael blushed, but when Dylan tensed to move toward her, she reached out and gently shoved him backward until he flopped down on the couch with a huff.
While he watched her slowly step toward him and kneel down, the racing beat of his heart pounded in his ears.
"Take that off," she said, pointing to his shirt. "And that fucking Yankees hat too."
"Done!" Dylan grinned and ripped off his shirt, the hat toppling to the floor when he pulled the fabric up and over his head. He tossed it unceremoniously into the corner of the trailer.
Rachael smiled and inched forward until she was pressed against the edge of the couch, nestled between his spread thighs. She set the bag of ice cubes next to her on the floor, but not before she took another one out and popped it into her mouth.
Dylan tensed as she leaned forward over his body, letting out a tiny hiss when she let a few cold drops of water fall from her lips onto his stomach.
She looked up at him through her lashes before she lowered herself until her lips were pressed to the skin just above his navel.
Dylan's lips quivered as he looked down his body at her, his jaw falling slack when she opened her mouth over his skin, letting the ice cube glide across a long strip of his toned abs.
"Oh...that feels..." It was a relief and torture at the same time. The cool water sent a chill down his spine, but now he was hot under the collar for an entirely different reason.
Rachael held the ice cube between her teeth and trailed it across the seams of his abs and up into the start of the dip between his pecs just beneath his patch of chest hair, letting the melt collect in his belly button before she sucked it out.
"Holy shit," Dylan whispered, his hand shaking as he reached up to run his fingers through her hair.
"See," she smiled, looking up at him as she reached down for another cube, "teasing's not all bad." She sealed more ice in her mouth and then closed her lips around one of his nipples.
"Oh my God—" he practically choked at the feeling of her hot tongue and the cold ice swirling around his sensitive skin. He was fully hard now, pressing into her stomach as she leaned over him.
When Rachael was satisfied—and his nipple was hard enough to cut glass—she switched to the other side, eliciting a nearly identical response.
Dylan's hips bucked up reflexively when she hummed against his skin. He groaned when she pressed back down against him.
She pulled back and grabbed another cube, holding it in her fingers this time as she rose up a bit more on her knees so she could press a kiss to the side of his neck.
Dylan tipped his head to give her access to more of the skin he was happy to have her tease with her mouth. He sighed out a long breath when she kissed up to the juncture of his jawline before reaching up and pressing the ice cube in her hand to his lips.
"Your turn," she whispered in his ear.
His eyes fluttered in lust and he sat up a bit as he parted his lips and let her fingers slide between them. The ice was melting quickly in the heat of his mouth, so he didn't waste any time in cupping her head in his hand and pulling her into a bruising kiss.
The ice cube had cooled his tongue and it felt incredible to have her warmer one slide along his. They passed the cube back and forth until it melted down their chins, leaving their lips slick and cool.
"That feel good?" he asked, nudging her nose with his before he mouthed along her jaw and pressed an open mouth kiss to the side of her throat.
She groaned, leaning into him, nodding against his buzzcut.
His hand snaked up under her tank top and ghosted across her ribs, sliding up the length of her back as his other cupped her ass. He nibbled and sucked at the skin where her neck sloped into her shoulder.
She moaned into his hair as he tried to lift her into his lap, but she resisted.
He pulled back from the place where he'd left a red welt. "What's wrong?" he asked, holding her to his chest, nosing at her jaw.
"My ice is melting," she said, grabbing his head to point his eyes at the little puddle on the floor that was forming under the baggy.
He turned back to her. "And?" he breathed against her lips.
When he nipped at her lip to pull her into another kiss, she backed off. "Now, now." She pressed her index finger to his pouted lips. "I have plans." She pried herself out of his grasp and got back down on her knees, her hands trailing down his body until her fingers were looped in the waistband of his boxers.
"I like these plans," he winked, lifting his ass from the couch so she could slide them off.
She threw them aside and grinned as his erection sprung free and laid against his stomach, but when he reached up to wrap his fist around it, she batted him away. "Nuh, uh," she reprimanded.
"Damn, woman." He shook his hand in surprise.
"No touching." She leaned over and grabbed two of the half-melted cubes. "That's mine." She stuck out her tongue and placed them on it before closing her mouth. She took him in her hand and gave him one long, lazy stroke before she brought his slick tip to her lips—rubbing his pre-cum across her them—before she took him in her mouth.
Dylan's head fell back and he shuddered at the shock of the freezing ice sliding along his length, her hot tongue a stark contrast. He wasn't trying to fuck into her mouth, but he couldn't help the single thrust that jolted his hips.
She pressed down on his thighs, holding him still as she turned her head and swirled her tongue around his swollen head, letting the last of the ice in her mouth melt and dribble out of her mouth along the thick vein that along the underside of his length to its base.
"Jesus. Fucking. Christ."
She smiled around him and then took him deep into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks around him as he cupped the back of her head in his hand, his fingers carding into her hair for grip. Her hands glided up his bare hips, her fingertips pressing into his v-lines.
He grunted as he bottomed out in her mouth, chewing at his lip until he tasted a hint of copper. The drag of her still-cold teeth where the thickness of him stretched her mouth further than she could really take, had him reeling, staving off the release he could feel building so he could have her like this a little longer.
Her hand slipped away from his hip and covered his hand in her hair, pressing her head down along with him.
It was all the permission he really needed. He knew what she wanted. He held her head between his hands and let himself go, thrusting into her mouth the way he knew she liked when she was in a mood to please.
Her throat gave in to him every time he was on the deep end of a thrust until he fucked in deeper than he ever had and it constricted around him. The sensation pulled a loud moan from his lips as he began thrusting his hips even faster, trying not to make her gag, but knowing she'd stop him if it was too much.
His panted breath and her soft groans filled the trailer as he chased down the orgasm he'd just been trying to delay. "Fuck!" he called out, his hands grasping desperately in her hair as he filled her mouth.
She took her time as he came down from his high, swallowing around his still pulsing length. She held him in her mouth, gently sucking on him until he began to soften.
He ran his palm over her hair, holding a few strands between his fingers, looking down at her as she pulled away with a final lap of her tongue.
"Wow," he said, his cheeks rounded over a wide smile.
"Still hot?" she asked, resting her cheek on his thigh.
"Oh Yeah."
"Oh." She sounded disappointed.
He leaned forward and pulled her to his chest, flipping them around until she was laying under him on the couch. "I just don't care anymore." He dipped down, kissing up her neck until he had her mouth trapped under his.
She giggled under him as his greedy hands pawed at her shirt, pulling it up over her head so he could cup her through her bra. He left a trail of wet kisses down the skin of her chest to her waist, his fingers unfastening the button of her shorts.
"What are you doing?"
Dylan leaned over her and grabbed one of the last few cubes of ice from the baggy. "I'm returning the favour," he said with a flash of his brows and a smirk.
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Multiple Orgasms, Dry Humping, (slight) Daddy Kink, somewhat rough but also really sweet side of Mitch
Notes: I killed two birds with one stones. First, MY FIRST DRABBLE FOR THE PRINCESS SQUAD. SAY WHAAAAAAAAT??? And second, my first post for Mitch Week all thanks to @stilinski-jpeg and @minhosmeanhoe. Double SAY WHAAAAAAAAAT??? Yes, this was planned as soon as Mitch Week was announced. I’m a hoe for Mitch, send help. Hopefully you all like this. Expect more Mitch soon.
**Click here for the rest of the July Princess Squad posts**
Mitch stirred in his sleep, his eyes cracking open to the faint light in the room. The clock on his table read 1:22 AM, and Mitch groaned to himself. Normally when he returned from missions, he slept peacefully for days, able to relax since he was free from danger, even for a little while.
So why was he awake now?
Not even a day of being back, and he was waking up in the middle of the night to a dimly lit bedroom. He rolled over in the bed, the blankets falling off his bare chest slightly. You set next to him in the bed, back against the pillows propped up on the headboard. You had tied back your hair, keeping your book pressed into your lap as your read silently.
You felt his arms wrap around your waist, looking down at his drowsy face. You smiled slightly at the look at his face, running a hand through his soft chocolate locks. “What are you doing awake, Mitch? Aren’t you tired from your mission still?”
“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice husky from sleep. He burrowed his face into your stomach, the fabric from your tank top being pushed up slightly. His scruffy chin scratched at your skin, causing you to giggle slightly. “The real question is why are you still awake at almost two AM? Don’t you have work in the morning?”
You smiled slightly at his thoughtfulness, thinking about your job. It was the reason you had met Mitch in the first place. You worked with Irene Kennedy, seeking out possible recruits for special operations in the CIA. You had helped her recruit Mitch when he was just twenty-two, barely a year older than yourself. You knew, from the moment you laid eyes on the man walking down the street, that he would go on to do great things. You just never thought it would turn out like this.
The first time he went out on a mission to Istanbul, you had not been able to sleep. You had watched the young man grow and train with Stan Hurley, your pseudo-dad since you were four years old, over the last year. Sure, you knew that Stan was a fantastic man, and an even better operative, but you feared what Mitch would do on his own.
In your late nights, you wandered the massive library in the Langley headquarters, fingers skimming the spines of the books you had read hundreds of times it felt like. Nothing piqued your interest, not a single book that you thought would keep you at bay until you knew what was going on with the male you had grown attached you without meaning to.
That was when you found a book that sat in your lap. It was a simple story about a young man that traveled around, doing dangerous things for a living. He always put his life at risk for the things he was passionate about, doing what he believed was right to better the world. He always seemed to find a way back to his wife and unborn child because they were his whole world. The plot reminded you of Mitch for some reason, maybe because Mitch was similar in desire to the protagonist, Tyler.
You read it in one sitting, the book giving you solace that Mitch would return unharmed. He returned two days later, relief filling your gut. He never expected to find you waiting at his apartment when he walked up, bag in hand. You were sitting outside his door, picking at the ends of the skirt you were wearing. He quirked an eyebrow at you, seeing the expression on your face ease when you saw him standing feet from you.
You launched yourself into his arms unexpectedly, his arms tightening around you unconsciously. You cried, relieved that he was safe, Mitch just holding you. He wasn’t sure why it comforted him, seeing as he barely had spoken with you since he was delivered to Hurley’s house at Lake Anna. He had seen you around, but thought it inappropriate to approach you. Now here you were, in his arms, a pit of happiness in his gut he hadn’t felt since his girlfriend was killed.
You switched to a desk job after that, hoping to keep an eye on the man you had grown attached to, having begun spending all your free time with. You had developed massive feelings for the assassin, the two of you tinkering with a more intimate relationship over time, mostly consisting of light kisses in the confines of his apartment. Irene figured out the reason you had requested the switch, understanding why you wished it, but she couldn’t compromise the integrity of the job because of your personal feelings. You were assigned to a different covert operative, far from the status of Mitch.
To say you were disappointed was an understatement. You cried at Mitch the night you found out, laying in his strong arms, his fingers rubbing your back to calm you. It hurt even more to know he was leaving on a mission the following morning, going to somewhere in Germany. He kissed your forehead, mumbling that everything would be ok and he would return soon. You looked up into his eyes, his whiskey brown orbs darting between yours and your lips. You leaned up, lips connecting with his gently, moving to straddle his waist. Things changed that night, but you knew it was a good change.
You sat in his apartment following that night, Mitch nearly demanding you move in while he was away. You hadn’t argued, but being around his place without him hurt. You somehow found the same book you read from his first mission, the words soothing your anxiety while he was away yet again. Every mission seemed to be the same, the book helping you keep calm while he was out risking his life.
That was why you sat reading it now. You were happy to have Mitch back in your arms, and he had actually returned sooner than anticipated. You hadn’t been able to finish reading the book, and you couldn’t put it down until it was finished. You couldn’t sleep anyway for some reason, so you had decided to lay in bed, Mitch’s warm body next to yours, while you read into the odd hours of the night.
You marked the spot in your book, closing in and leaving it on your lap. Your hand pushed his messy hair back, relishing in the soft feeling. He groaned slightly, hugging you tighter. “Yes, I have work in the morning. But I couldn’t sleep until I finished my book. I didn’t mean to wake you up with the light being on. I can head into the living room if you prefer.”
He shook his head vigorously, hearing you laugh as his scruff scraped against your stomach. “No. Don’t leave me. I’ve slept alone enough while I was away.” He sat up in the bed with you, your eyes trained on his bare, toned torso. He snatched the book off your lap, examining the worn pages. “This one again?”
You pouted, sticking your tongue out at him. “Yes, this one again. You got a problem with that?”
He shook his head, skimming through the pages carefully. “It’s not that I have a problem. Just an observation more than anything.” He paused, licking his lips slowly.
“Oh? You’re observing me now, Mr. Rapp?” You joked, taking the book back from his hands. He leaned over, kissing your cheek, resting his head on your shoulder. You smiled at the action, enjoying the softer side of Mitch Rapp that not many people got to see. He was always a hard ass around people, analyzing people without them knowing it. With you, he chose to push that aside and show the sweet side he buried inside himself when he decided he wanted this job.
You cracked the book open again, Mitch watching you continue the chapter you were on. “I’m always observing you. You fascinate me.”
“Oh I do?” You laughed, your eyes never leaving your book. “What are you observing right now, big shot?”
“It’s simple really. You’re always reading that one book. There’s so many other books in the world, why that one?” he asked, feeling your body stiffen at his words. You closed the book calmly, staring at the cover. “Why is this one so special to you? You are always reading it when I come back.”
“It’s silly, Mitch. Don’t worry about it,” you mumbled, slightly embarrassed at the reason. He huffed, obviously unhappy with the answer. Rule number one about Mitch Rapp: he is a stubborn asshole and doesn’t take no for an answer. It was good in the field, but home life can be rough because he won’t let the smallest things go.
“I don’t like that answer. It can’t be that silly. Just tell me, baby,” he said, turning you more to face him. You blushed, trying to find the right words to convey your feelings about the book, and what to meant to you.
“I uh… I found it when you went to Istanbul. Before we started dating. I know I barely knew you, but you fascinated me from the moment I first saw you walk out of the gym In Syracuse. So, when you left on that mission, I was worried that something would happen. I found this in the library at headquarters and it kind of kept me at peace while you were away.”
“But why?” He asked, his eyes narrowing on you. “I’ve read it before, but I don’t really understand why you are so attached to it.”
You paused, your fingers running over the cover. “It reminds me of you. It helps me remember you, and gives me that tiny glimmer of hope I need sometimes that you will be home soon, in my arms.”
His features softened, nuzzling his face in your neck, his scruff scratching it gently. “Aw, babe. I didn’t know that. Is this book really that special to you?” You nodded, Mitch smiling. His lips met your cheek, peppering it with kisses. “I didn’t know you were such a sap like that.”
You jabbed his side playfully, glaring at him. “Don’t be mean. I will kick you out of bed and your fine ass can sleep on the couch.” He held his hands up in defense, a smirk on his face. “Oh no. You have that mischievous look on your face. What are you thinking, Mitch?”
He took the book from your lap, leaning over to place it on the side table. You just watched him closely, unsure what he was doing. He turned your body so you were facing him directly, his thumbs tracing against your cheeks. “Well, I was thinking about how I have a way to remember you while I am away. It kills me to be away from you, so I have developed a fool proof method to make sure you are always on my mind while I am off killing people.”
You giggled, leaning closer to him. Your lips skimmed his gently, his hot breath fanning over your face as he pants. “Oh yeah? And what method would that be? Please, explain it to me.”
“It’s that not easy to explain, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “But I can show you.”
He didn’t wait for a response, closing the gap between your lips, his head tilting so he could envelop your mouth completely. His hand trailed down your arm to your waist, pushing up the fabric of your tank top so he could grip at your skin. Your leg crossed over his lap from the side, allowing you to push yourself against him more. Your arms wrapped around his neck, enjoying the fast kisses he was placing to your lips.
His kissed turned rougher, his lips wrapping around your bottom lip, sucking at it occasionally. You groaned against his lips, loving the open-mouth kisses he was giving you. The room was silently besides the sounds of your kisses, your lips smacking against each other whenever he connected them and pulled away. His nose nuzzled against yours whenever he moved in to place another kiss to your lips, your lips becoming swollen from the constant contact.
His tongue darted out from his lips, bypassing yours without warning. The wet article met yours, massaging it between your cheeks. You moaned against him, feeling it rumble in your throat. Mitch grinned into the kiss, flicking his tongue against yours as an attempt to get it to play with him. You smiled back, your tongue beginning to battle his, though his won rather easily.
He laid you back on the bed, lips still attached to yours, straddling your hips quickly. His hips rolled against yours, his hard cock pressing through both your clothes into your pussy. He groaned, breaking the kiss, moving his lips down your check to your neck. Your moaned into his ear, shifting your own hips against him, the pressure between your groins building. Even through the thin pajama shorts you wore and the athletic shorts he wore for once to bed, you could feel every inch of his cock perfectly. It was twitching eagerly, trying to escape its confines to get to the place it wanted most: inside you.
He sucked at your neck, a noticeable hickey forming in the spot. You whined at him quietly, playing with the hairs on the back of his neck. His hips pressed into yours, moving against it quickly. It was the same motions he does when he is thrusting into you, and it was driving you crazy since your pussy was empty, void was any feeling besides the pressure outside of it. His cock poked at the entrance every time he rolled forward, but the fabric between them kept him from filling you completely.
You moaned loudly when he bit at the junction between your neck and shoulder, knowing it was one of the most sensitive spots you had and that it always turned you on more. He made you cum once just by kissing and biting at it, amazing at how sensitive the spot was for you. Your hips jerked up into him, Mitch groaning against your neck.
You pulled him from your neck, making him look at your face. “Mitch, enough teasing. I don’t want you to fuck me with my clothes on. I’d rather my clothes be off, thrown across the room like you normally do, with your cock buried so deep inside me that it will need Google Maps to find its way out.”
Mitch chuckled, pushing your shorts and panties down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. You kicked them off your ankles, the material falling to the floor at the end of the bed. Mitch kicked his own shorts and boxers off his legs, not caring where they ended up. His lips connected to yours in a heated kiss, his cock sliding into you quickly.
He thrust into you quickly, his lips never leaving yours. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, one of Mitch’s hands gripping your thigh tightly. His thick cock pulsed inside of you, twitching against your walls. The tip poked your g-spot every time he slid inside of you, sending shivers up your spine. You moaned against his lips, your body overly sensitive to his touch.
He tugged your bottom lip with his teeth, breaking the kiss slowly. His hips slammed against yours, his thrusts growing more powerful. You moaned loudly, your voice echoing around the bedroom, mixed with the loud slapping of skin. Mitch grunted, leaning back on his knees, his speed picking up even more. It was almost ungodly how fast he was moving, your legs tugging him closer. Mitch watched your breasts bounce happily with his thrusts, licking his lips at the delicious sight. The angle he thrust at sent waves of pleasure through your body, your body writhing, heavy pants falling from your lips. “Mitch, baby. I’m gonna…”
He nodded, reaching down to rub your clit. “Let it out baby. Just cum for daddy.” You mewled at his words, feeling him lean down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples. He kissed the bud, tugging at it with his teeth and lips, tongue flicking the hard peak. His fingers rubbed vigorously at your clit, pinching the nub with the tips of his fingers. The knot inside you unraveled before you knew it, juices coating his cock while he thrust. Your back arched off the bed, your head digging into the pillows, toes curling in the blankets that were bunched up at your feet. Mitch sucked harder at your nipples for a second before he pulled away with a pop, his movements slowing to a taunting push, his cock sliding in and out of you slowly to prolong your orgasm.
He pulled out abruptly as your body began to relax, flipping you so you were on your hands and knees, ass pressed against his pelvis. His cock was still hard, covered in your juices, his precum dripping from the tip. He rubbed the tip through your folds, probing your entrance occasionally. You mewled into the pillows, looking back at him over your shoulder. “Please daddy. Fuck me more.”
Mitch groaned loudly, shoving his cock inside of you, rougher than normal with the action. You winced as he bottomed out, the force from his penetration surging through your bones. Mitch didn’t realize the slight pain you were in, digging himself deep into you with his hurried thrusts. His hand connected with your ass, your body vibrating from the slap, his cock slamming into you harder every time. Your ass was turning red from his constant smacks, one of his hands slightly pulling on the hair it threaded itself into.
You whimpered slightly, pain and pleasure flowing through your body. You were overwhelmed with the feelings, unsure if you were enjoying the feeling or not. When your whimper hit his ears, Mitch slowed down, pulling you up so your back pressed against his chest. He stilled inside of you, turning your head to lightly kiss your lips.
“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got excited when you called me daddy,” he mumbled against your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist. You relaxed into his chest, sighing deeply.
“You’re alright, babe. Just take it easy a bit. I want you to cum with me, not bruise me unintentionally,” you joked, a small smile forming on Mitch’s face. “I love you, Mitch.”
He didn’t reply, slowly beginning to thrust inside you again, the new angle causing him to hit your g-spot sharply, even at his gentle pace. You mewled happily, feeling his lips kissing at your neck. He sucked red marks from your shoulder to the juncture between your shoulder and neck, nipping at your tender spot.
His thrusts were growing stronger, your hands reaching forward to grasp the headboard of the bed to keep steady. His hands slit up your torso, beginning to caress your breasts with his fingers, tugging at the nipples simultaneously with his thrusts. His cock shoved deep into you, your walls contracting around him eagerly trying to holding him to you, desperate for another release. His face remained buried in your neck, hot pants hitting your skin. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, your moans mixing with it.
Mitch’s movements began to falter, his thrusts growing sloppy. You felt you were drawing close, knowing Mitch was as well. You nudged his cheek with yours, Mitch looking up at you. “Kiss me, Mitch,” you whispered, his lips on yours before you could finish your words. It was a gentle, loving kiss, but forceful, as if to tell you that you belonged to him and only him. His hands grabbed at your breasts tightly, his cock twitching sporadically against your walls.
In a single second, your vision spotted, unraveling in his arms. Mitch felt you shaking violently, your juices splattering your walls around him, soaking into his skin. He grunted against your lips, streams of hot, white cum shooting from his tip, mixing with yours. Your fingers scraped against the wooden headboard, your head falling back on his shoulder slightly, moaning loudly. Mitch slowed to a pleasant speed, riding out your shared highs.
He pulled out, carefully laying you back on the bed. He flopped next to you, his arm wrapping around your bare waist. You looked up at him, pecking his lips slowly. “Is this why you always want sex before you leave on a mission?” He nodded wordlessly, tightening his hold on you. You giggled, cuddling into him. “I’m not complaining. I like your way of remembering me. It makes me love you even more. I love you so much,” you mumbled through a yawn.
He kissed your forehead, turning carefully, trying not to disturb your position, to turn off the light. He heard your soft breathing, knowing you had already fallen asleep. He looked down at your, smiling to himself. “I love you too, baby. Maybe one day, our story will be exactly like your book. I can look forward to coming home to you and my child inside of you.” He laced his fingers with yours, playing with the engagement ring that was perched on your digit. “Someday soon I hope.”
For @fictionalconstruct of my rambling on Dylan :DDDD thanks for letting me HEHEHEH
This is how Dylan originally looked!! The first drawing is by me, then second is by @shad-art. He started out as a bit of a self insert, hence the name. He was originally just a young man who apparently sold his soul to the devil, and the only way to get it back, was through something called a soul train.
How he lost his soul is in part one, and part two! Also ima just put these, but these are my analysis on him too if you ever wanna read em: part one, part two, part three, part four, part five
To run down: he lost his soul to gambling. He was unfortunately a heavy gambler, since he was sixteen. He was twenty two, his current age, when he got to cocky and bet his soul, believing no such thing existed. Who he was betting with, was Satan's right hand man and technical leader of the 'devil run gang'. They told Dylan he only had five months to get his soul back, or he'd be one of Satan's slaves, just like them.
One thing I do want to mention and note: the differences between Dylan WITH his soul, and without.
Dylan with his soul: he grew up... oddly let's say. He came from ireland, had a unfortunate abusive family, which he escaped through violent means. The minute he got into America, he thought everyone was playing a mean trick on him because he couldn't understand English; then he met a small gang called the ruffians, who used him. As he grew up he figured he could trust no one BUT himself. Everyone else was a let down and would try to kill him. This ended up in him pushing the one friend he had away, and getting further into a life of crime. Stealing, murdering, the likes. Bad things. He's also very observant. Cocky. Sure of himself in what he does.
Dylan WITHOUT his soul: can't feel anything. Can't feel joy, anger, sadness, just kinda... existing. He's not blantly rude, more so just blunt and a jokester to try and fill his head. Needs constant stimulation or else he will set something on fire. Out right seems happier, though it's an act. Charming. Sure of NOTHING. Friendly.
Anyhow, he went on a travel with his dear horse, Chance. A missori fox trotter silver dapple who he had for years and a very strong bond. They went to find the soul train. Months passed, Dylans began to lose time. Had it been four months? Two? He wasn't sure, but that's when he met Charles, then eventually meeting everyone else. @just-a-lone-soul @shad-rp @howdycowpokes @magpies-and-mysteries the likes!
Some of them helped him get his soul back, fron the actual soul train. A train thst ran past saint Denis, carrying allll the poor lost souls. Dylan got his back and felt free again. His soul was his....
But only for a few days.
Art by the lovely @surprisinglyscarlett
Dylan, on a outing with chance, was jumped by the devil run gang. They said the devil wanted him back specifically, how he was never supposed to win. How he wasn't made to win. He tried to fight back, but lost. This... unfortunately ended with his soul taken, and Chance was killed...
Dylan, in his mind, was haunted by Satan himself. He said the boy wasn't allowed to win his games. His soul would be his forever and ever. Dylan grew spiteful and depressed, trying to harm himself in multiple instances to prove something. At one point in a dream he even confronted and yelled at Satan. That didn't go well though, and Satan's tail lashed across his face.
Art by @surprisinglyscarlett and @ohwowhumans
As you can see, the right side of his face became scarred. His jaw is permanently half broken and his left eye is permanently closed.
At the very same time I believe, his bounty grew. His old remaining family in ireland set out a price for him to bring him home; immediately the only people he could think that might know where he was, was his old gang members. So he set off to find the main ones and effectively ending them.
However, in the last 'attack' against Seth, his old tormentor, they both killed each other. Dylan was supposed to die there and then, owned by satan completely... burt he conned his way. He told the devil the only real way he'd join, was if his soul was paper, in a actual contract. Satan agreed but before Dylan could sign.... Dylan ran off with it. He ran away with his soul, had scammed the devil.
Sureee he went through a few... changes in appearance. He had a fox tail, and horns, showing he was half devil himself. And he could transform into a fox!
Art by @osi-inn
Satan as you csn presume, was NOT happy. He fumed in the underground and demanded his hell hounds to chase the boy. Kill him if they had too. So, they set off.
It wasn't long before they found him and slaughtered his body, throwing him in the air. On his back is a long scar down his spine, showing where they tried to rip through. It's also how he lost his right leg!
You were correct, his right leg IS metal!! It's a prosthetic. It did start off with him just having crutches, then he got the prosthetic.
(Old redesign form by me)
One night, Dylan was visited by something called a kitsune. She said she could help him; she could protect his family. But she never specified his biological, or found family. He didn't read the fine print and sold his soul to her.... just to be tricked....
He went two months as her slave, but he was working with satan behind the scenes. He promised the devil his soul if he helped; at the end of it all, Kitsune was dead by her own doing. Satan demanded the boys soul. But Dylan refused. He even tore up the contract so his soul belonged to no one, not even himself.
The devil was furious. Had enough of the boy, he pinned him.. and ripped out his heart. Then dumped him back on the surface for everyone to see.
Thankfully for Dylan, he was blessed by a god. He became a plant/flower host, yes it was a painful process. Vines curling around his spine, pushing his organs out, blegh... but it keeps him alive.
This resulted in @just-a-lone-soul and @howdycowpokes in killing satan.
art by me
To boot, the whole bounty thing was still going on. So. Dylan went to ireland with Huron (@just-a-lone-soul), and put a stop to it. It may not have ended well for either, both got hurt bad, with tremors, the likes. Dylan got burnt very badly, and has a inhaler to help his lungs.
His voice also changed! Voice claim
Through all this he met a lot more people too! One of them being @samaelmntzrp
I'm not sure what else happened, I forget, BUT HE WENT THROUGH A BIGGGG REDESIGN
His fox form changed, his looks changed. But his scar placement is still there and super sensitive. I think every splotch on him represents a scar.
Minor things now!:
Those littls pins on his bag? Those represent all his friends and choose family members.
Dylan owns a pet fox named pip, after a old pet he used to have, two mice and a rat.
Dylan is on the spectrum of ADHD and Autism. Possible anxiety disorder as well.
Everyone has sung enough karaoke to leave their voices hoarse, and had enough alcohol to know they’ll be feeling it in the morning, but all of those things are tomorrow’s problem, tonight is about him.
Dylan’s loosened up and having the time of his life. He’s half a bottle of whisky deep, and who knows how many Jell-O shots. He always loved celebrating his birthday, and this was a big one. Thirty. He just turned thirty. It seems hard to believe that the noodle of a man that’s wiggling around the dance floor can be classified as an actual adult, let alone a thirty-year-old man.
He’s laughing and smiling in that way that makes the room fade out at the edges so that all you see is him. He’s moving around the dance floor, weaving through the little groups that formed in the corners. He’s draping his arm over the shoulder of his friends and speaking into their ears, and their faces light up at his words, revealing how charming and well-loved he is. His infectious personality is intoxicating, and everyone is under the influence.
The pumping bass of the dance music is fading away and his face is lit with the flickering candles on the cake he’s standing over. Everyone starts singing to him in a disjointed rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’. He’s laughing and conducting everyone with wild arms and lazily pointed fingers as his drink sloshes out of his glass. He’s leaning over licking up the line of alcohol that had trailed down his forearm, closing his mouth over a spot on his wrist as everyone is rounding third on the song.
He’s bouncing on his toes and swaying his shoulders, unable to keep his hips from following suit. His happy smile is rounding his cheeks and wrinkling his nose when the crowd sings out the final: ‘Happy Birthday to you.”
His friends are shouting their hoots and hollers and then begin to chant for him to make a wish.
“Thank you guys so much!” he yells, laying his palm on his chest, his mouth curled down in an adorable frown of appreciation. “I’m so happy you’re all here, and that I’m here...that we’re all fucking here together tonight!”
“Okay, okay!” He holds up his hands and widens his stance. “I’ve got the perfect wish!” He hauls in a full lung of air, exaggerating the way that he fills his chest before he blows out the candles.
The crowd cheers and hollers, clapping their approval.
Dylan bows and laughs, thanking everyone again with pats on the back sloppy handshakes and fist bumps. And then he saunters over to you looking perfectly sinful with his bedroom eyes and crooked smile. His blond buzzcut is picking up the colours of the flashing lights strobing from the small stage, and he smells like whisky and a good time.
He’s standing in your space, his hands nestling into the curve of your hips. His eyes are on your lips when he’s drawing his own between his teeth.
“What’d you wish for?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes as you pull gently at the fabric of his shirt.
“You,” he hiccups, booping your nose with his index finger before he crumples into your arms, too drunk to stand let alone get his wish.
My gift to you all in honour of Dylan’s 30th Birthday! I hope you enjoyed it, you bunch of degenerates <3
Having breakfast with dylan in a pretty little cafe in the sunlight and he eats really fast because it's been like twelve hours since he last shoved food into his mouth and you get full two thirds of the way through your pancakes so he finishes that off for you as well. And then you sip watermelon juices as the sun warms your skin and more people arrive at the cafe and dylan smiles lovingly across the table at you, his feet linked with yours beneath it.
Anon said: what about Dylan taking care of you if you were sick/injured in the hospital?
He's the one taking you to hospital because the stomach pain just won't go away and you have this niggling fear that it might be something serious because it's getting worse and worse. It's almost a relief you were right, that it was appendicitis, because that will mean they'll be able to stop it, thank god. You're doped up on pain medication while they ready the surgery theater, and Dylan sits beside you the whole time, humoring you as you go a bit loopy from the morphine, but then you're wheeled off and he's left to sit in an empty corridor, nothing to do but wait. He knows nothing will go wrong, but still, it's been a stressful night and he's tired and scared and all he can do is run his hands through his hair and just hope. You're fine, of course, and he's right there when you blink your eyes open, a new scar across your abdomen. ("You're so hardcore, babe." "I know, right.")
but kissing dylan for the first time and it's all hushed breath and he smiles reassuringly while his eyes flicker to your mouth and you're all in each others space, hanging on this movement, and then his eyes are fluttering closed and his heads dipping down and his mouth is warm and gentle and soft. and his hands settle on your hips and they're comforting and there's no amount of mental pressure weighing on you or fear, it's just you and dylan kissing in the moonlight.
