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cobrakaikink) wrote2020-11-21 04:59 pm
cobrakaikink) wrote2020-11-21 04:59 pm
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PROMPT POST 1
Please be aware of the Rules and Guidelines. Thank you!
Prompting: [CK or KK: pairing/gen/etc, kink]
Specifics can be put in the actual prompt.
For example:
CK: Carmen/Amanda, fluff
Post-divorce Amanda finds herself in a sports bar hit on by some aholes, but the cute waitress gets rid of them for her. Bonus for bathroom cunnilingus.
Report Your Fills:That post is for users to track to make it easier to find new fills without having to track the actual prompt post.
FILL: Johnny/Miguel (warning for age difference); Part 1/2
(Anonymous) 2020-12-09 08:49 am (UTC)(link)The first time happens one night when he’s in his office at the dojo late, staring at the bills that are piling up despite all the new students, and instead of dealing with them he’s just staring at them, drinking. By the time Miguel appears in the doorway, Johnny’s so drunk he can’t even read the words “past due” anymore. He hadn’t realized the kid was still here.
“Sensei?”
Johnny starts and looks up at him.
“What’re you doing here?” Johnny mumbles, trying to blink away a bit of the fog, but getting that feeling he’s past the point of return.
“I was cleaning out the storage room. Like you asked me to?”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”
“Is everything okay Sensei?”
“Yeah, just. Yeah. Everything’s fine.”
He looks back down at the bills and Miguel wanders over to stand next to him.
“Stressed about money?” he says, and Johnny shrugs. Miguel continues, “I’m sure we’ll be okay, we got a lot of new students this month.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“So you shouldn’t stress about it. Stress can take years off your life, did you know that? They told us that in health class.”
“Yeah, well, easier said than done, kid.”
Miguel is silent for a moment, which is unlike him, motormouth that he usually is, and Johnny thinks maybe he’s going to leave. Which would somehow seems both disappointing and like a relief. If Miguel leaves he’s left alone again, to what? To fill the garbage can up with more bottles? But on the other hand, if he leaves, maybe Johnny can just pass out without worrying if he’s being a bad role model or whatever.
“You just need something to distract you,” Miguel says finally.
“Yeah, whatever,” Johnny mumbles, and expects the kid to pipe up with some obviously out of the question example, like getting a hobby or something. But again he falls silent, and this time Johnny looks up, to make sure that he’s actually there, that Johnny didn’t just imagine the conversation.
When he looks up Miguel is standing closer than he’d realized, leaning against the desk, face not six inches from Johnny’s. Johnny pulls his head back, and Miguel bites his lip.
“Maybe I can help,” he says softly. Johnny swivels the chair towards him and gets ready to head off whatever lame idea he’s got, but Miguel sweeps forward and kisses him. Johnny yanks his head away and has to take a minute of trying to focus his vision on the filing cabinet. He was drunk, but he wasn’t hallucinating drunk, right?
“What the fuck,” he says belatedly. “I don’t know what kind of new age shit they’re teaching you in school, kid, but that’s not-”
Before he can finish the sentence Miguel’s on his knees in front of him, and Johnny’s legs had already been kind of open, and now Miguel’s between them, saying, “Just let me help you, Sensei, I can help,” and his hands are on Johnny’s stomach, are undoing his pants. Maybe it was the slow reaction that made the kid think it was okay, and Johnny wants to say I wasn’t hesitating I was just processing that shit, but Miguel’s got his pants open and Johnny can’t seem to move his mouth.
He goes to push Miguel away, but somehow his hands just land on Miguel’s shoulders and stay there. He maintains that he means to tell Miguel to stop until he gets his mouth on his dick. And his dick is already hard. When did that happen? And at some point Johnny finds himself with his head back on the chair, staring at the ceiling, his hand cradling the back of the kid’s neck, getting his dick sucked. Before and after it definitely occurs to him that this is wrong, but in the moment all he can think, as much as he can think anything, is that the kid is right. It feels good, and it’s been a long time since anyone’s had Johnny in this position, and the bills are the furthest possible thing from his mind right now.
When he comes (down the kid’s throat, because even though Johnny mumbles out a warning, Miguel doesn’t pull away) he falls asleep almost instantly. It’s a deep, dreamless sleep, the best he’s gotten in a while, since he started trying to drink less, although he wakes up in the chair and can barely move his neck. He knows immediately what happened, and that it was real, even though there’s no evidence of it. Miguel had put everything away and zipped his pants back up, which for some reason is the things that makes Johnny’s face flush. But what is he supposed to do? It happened, and it can never happen again, but he can’t fixate on it. Regret does not exist in this dojo.
Of course, it does happen again. Johnny doesn’t mean for it to, has been careful to treat Miguel the same as usual during classes, makes a point to leave the dojo right after, half the time just hanging out (hiding) in his car across the parking lot until Miguel leaves with the rest of the kids. But after a couple weeks, he gets comfortable. The whole thing starts to seem like a dream, almost laughable to think about it (almost. Johnny’s not laughing yet. Not when he avoids Miguel’s eyes during class, and not when he jerks off at home thinking of nothing until the memory of Miguel’s mouth hot and wet around his dick comes back to him and he comes over his fist harder than he has in a while).
Anyway, he lets himself get careless, and heads to his office after a Saturday class to go over some stupid tax forms he’s suppose to send in by Monday. Maybe it’s because the class ends in the afternoon, and in the daylight is when it seems so implausible, so ridiculous that Johnny can almost convince himself he doesn’t believe it happened. Or, it seems that way until Miguel appears over his shoulder again while he’s rubbing his forehead, on his third beer, staring at the forms. Johnny can hate himself for it later, but the first thing he does it look to see if the door is shut. It is.
He doesn’t even try to stop Miguel this time. He mutters a half-hearted, “We shouldn’t be doing this,” when Miguel’s already got Johnny’s dick in his hand.
“I just want to help, Sensei,” Miguel says, face wide open and earnest, and Johnny has to close his eyes.
It’s not like the kid’s great at sucking dick (he obviously hasn’t got much, if any, experience, and the burning Johnny feels in his gut at that might be guilt and it might not be) but what he lacks in skill he makes up for in enthusiasm. It’s wet and sloppy and with how fast Johnny comes he doesn’t have any room to complain.
The third time it happens Johnny’s been thinking about it more and he can’t figure out if Miguel’s into him or if he’s doing this out of some weird need for approval, because Johnny never asked for this but he can’t imagine why a kid, any kid, let alone Miguel, would be into him. So the third time it happens, before it happens, when Miguel’s standing next to his chair and puts a hand on his shoulder he says, “You don’t have to do this.” It’s the closest they’ve come to talking about it. Last time Miguel slipped out of the dojo when Johnny went to the bathroom to clean up, and when else are they supposed to discuss it? During class?
“I know that, Sensei.”
Johnny cringes.
“Don’t-you don’t need to call me that when we’re not in class.”
“Okay, sorry, um. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
Johnny still hasn’t looked at Miguel, looking at his desk still, not seeing anything, rubbing his forehead.
“I don’t have to do any of this,” Miguel stresses, the hand on Johnny’s shoulders flexing, and he before Johnny can say, then why are you? He mumbles, “I want to.”
The time after that is the first time Miguel rides him. Johnny doesn’t see it coming (literally, his eyes are closed) until Miguel’s got his hands on the arms of Johnny’s chair and Johnny opens his eyes in time to see Miguel climbing into his lap, pants-less, long, lean legs folding under the armrests, on either side of Johnny’s thighs.
“Can I?” he says, and Johnny almost laughs because he’s asking that now? But then Johnny realizes it’s the first time he’s asked. Not that Johnny couldn’t have stopped him at any time before, but this is the first time Johnny has to say it, has a single moment like this to say no, it stops here. And that’s what he should say, but instead he nods mutely, and the kid sinks down onto his dick. And just like all the other times, his mind goes instantly, blissfully, blank. He grabs Miguel’s hips tight, and Miguel cries out. He loosens his grip until it’s just enough to control Miguel’s movements, to slow him down a bit. Johnny opens his eyes and stares straight ahead at the dip in Miguel’s collarbone, at his smooth, brown chest. His ass is tight, but not painfully tight, and wet, like he’d gotten himself ready, like he planned this whole thing. Johnny can’t help the feeling that this has gotten out of his control, that’s it’s always been out of his control, but he instead of resisting the feeling he floats in it, pretends for the moment that he doesn’t have a choice, and lets himself get that much closer to coming. Miguel gasps in his ear as Johnny pulls his hips down, ass meeting thighs on every thrust. Eyes glazing over, Johnny just sees in his periphery when Miguel wraps a hand around his own dick, jerking himself off. Johnny nudges his elbow back and replaces the hand with his own, not moving it so much as letting Miguel’s dick pump into fist as he rides him. He digs the fingers of his other hand into Miguel’s ass, and the kid comes all over the front of Johnny’s t-shirt. Johnny follows soon after, and closes his eyes when he comes. He sits like that, with his eyes closed, taking careful, even breaths as Miguel disentangles himself. He opens them to see Miguel hopping on one foot, trying to get his pants back on, and maybe it shouldn’t, but it makes Johnny smile.
Still looking down at his belt, Miguel says, “Feeling better?” and it makes something stick in Johnny’s throat until Miguel looks up with a smug smile and it passes.
“Little shit,” he mutters, smiling too as he turns back to the insurance documents he’d been looking over when Miguel came in. And just like that, it’s normal between them again, like nothing happened. At least, it feels that way until Miguel leaves, half an hour later, and Johnny sits back in his chair only to look down and remember his shirt’s covered in come.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters to himself, and resolves to stop it the next time.
He doesn’t stop it the next time.
Re: FILL: Johnny/Miguel (warning for age difference); Part 2/2
(Anonymous) 2020-12-09 08:50 am (UTC)(link)And the pretense isn’t a lie, because it works. The business records, insurance, taxes, hell, even the lesson plans are in better shape than they’ve ever been. There’s so many goddamn things to worry about running a business, but every time Miguel leaves his office, Johnny wakes up in the morning with a clear head and a sense of purpose, and gets it all done.
It’s been going on for months—not all the time, of course, not even once a week, but maybe as much as once every two or three—by the time LaRusso finds out about Kreese and confronts him about it. And come on, it’s not like Johnny doesn’t have it on his radar, he has Kreese under control, right? But the confrontation leaves him shaken in his faith anyway. Less his faith in Kreese, which already had it’s cracks, and more in his faith in his own judgement—was there something LaRusso saw that he was missing? Or was the guy just being a cock, as always?
So of course when Miguel peeks around the door to his office, here at god knows what time of night for god knows what bullshit reason, they end up in the same position as usual, but this time it’s not working for Johnny; his stress isn’t the same low-rent buzz of having to read fucking fine print or trying to make two numbers add up that won’t.
“I’m sorry kid,” he says, pushing Miguel away, and like he needs a reason to explain himself, “today is just not-”
“You wanna try something else?”
Johnny doesn’t know what “something else” looks like, and is afraid to ask at this point, but he shrugs warily, in a way he knows Miguel will take as yes.
Miguel pulls himself off the floor with his hands on Johnny’s knees, his mouth colliding with Johnny’s in what first seems like an accident, but is his sloppy attempt at kissing. The kid kisses like he sucks dick—unskilled but eager, too much tongue and not enough actual action. But much like the way he sucks dick, Johnny doesn’t complain about it; he lets the kid kiss him for a few seconds before pulling back just a fraction of an inch, their noses still touching, Miguel’s eyelashes brushing his cheek. He can feel more than see Miguel’s nervous inhale, biting his lip, before he says in a rush, “IwasthinkingmaybethistimeIcouldfuckyou.”
After a stunned moment, Johnny lets out a noise that he meant to be a laugh but sounds more like, well, he doesn’t know what it sounds like, but it’s not a laugh.
“I mean, if you wanted to,” Miguel says, like he’s backtracking, but Johnny nods mutely.
“Yeah,” he says, and his voice is unexpectedly hoarse. He licks his lips. “Yeah, we can do that.”
That’s how he finds himself over his desk on his elbows, pants around his ankles, as Miguel pushes into him front behind, condom, lube, and everything, giving Johnny the feeling once again that was never making any of the decisions all along, just unwittingly following the plan. But it’s a pretty good plan.
“Have you ever done this before, Sensei?” Miguel says in a tight voice, holding back a groan as he bottoms out. Johnny opens his mouth in a silent gasp, glad he’s facing away from Miguel as he adjusts to the feeling.
What the fuck is Johnny supposed to say to that anyway? That he’s had a few cocks up his ass before, but never made it into a habit?
“I told you ah—I told you not to call me that,” he says instead of answering.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Well, is there something I can call you?”
“Jesus Christ,” Johnny grunts. Miguel laughs, a far cry from the nervous kid he was when Johnny met him, and it makes Johnny feel somehow both proud and annoyed at the same time.
“John,” he says finally, catching his breath after a few more thrusts. It’s technically his name, but nobody else calls him that, so he doesn’t have to think about this every time someone talks to him. But Miguel doesn’t say it; he just lets a shaky breath out as he speeds up the agonizing push-pull of his hips.
“Fuck, kid,” Johnny says, knuckles going white around the edge of the desk as Miguel hits just the right spot, and a white hot flare of pleasure courses through him.
Miguel echoes him, whispers, “Fuck.” He doesn’t understand how to hit the spot again (probably doesn’t exactly understand what he’s done at all) but he makes his next thrusts deep, looking for it.
Johnny lets himself get lost in the mismatched rhythm of it, half loving the actual feeling of it, half loving the mindlessness of it, 100% feeling miles away from fucking Kreese, and LaRusso, and the lot of them. It’s like nothing exists outside of this office.
Finally Miguel finds the right angle again (by accident, Johnny’s guessing), and hits it hard, over and over, no sense of subtlety, no sense pacing. Johnny doesn’t care, doesn’t have room to care, with the electric sensation filling his whole body, filling his head until it pushes out his ability to care about anything. He’s making noise, but it’s not words, and he can’t stop himself; just a long groan that gets choked off every time hips come flush with his ass.
Johnny comes without touching himself; he doesn’t even realize it’s going to happen until it’s washing over him, his dick spurting on the underside of the desk, and everything getting sharper as he comes down, starts feeling oversensitive. He doesn’t have to feel that way long, though, before Miguel stills, and, with a long moan, pulses inside of Johnny.
Johnny manages to hold himself up on his legs made of jelly until Miguel pulls out, and then he drops to his knees, just getting his pants up before his ass hits the floor. He props himself up against the desk, leaning back against the drawers, ignoring the drawer handle digging into his back so he can have a moment to regain a little dignity.
Miguel finishes cleaning himself up, and slides down against the filing cabinet across from him, mirroring Johnny’s pose, knees up, arms resting loosely over them.
Johnny watches him get situated, and meets his eyes for a brief moment, before leaning his head back.
“Thanks, kid,” he says after a minute, still breathing hard, and it’s the first time he’s said it, even though he feels it every time. Miguel smiles and closes his eyes.
“Any time, Sensei.”
Re: FILL: Johnny/Miguel (warning for age difference); Part 2/2
(Anonymous) 2020-12-09 06:21 pm (UTC)(link)(Not OP btw.)
Re: FILL: Johnny/Miguel (warning for age difference); Part 2/2
Re: FILL: Johnny/Miguel (warning for age difference); Part 2/2
(Anonymous) 2020-12-10 05:28 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Johnny/Miguel (warning for age difference); Part 2/2
Re: FILL: Johnny/Miguel (warning for age difference); Part 2/2
(Anonymous) 2020-12-10 05:15 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Johnny/Miguel (warning for age difference); Part 2/2
(Anonymous) 2020-12-10 07:29 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Johnny/Miguel (warning for age difference); Part 2/2
(Anonymous) 2020-12-10 07:12 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Johnny/Miguel (warning for age difference); Part 2/2
(Anonymous) 2020-12-29 04:02 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Johnny/Miguel (warning for age difference); Part 2/2
(Anonymous) 2021-01-08 12:48 am (UTC)(link)