#dylan o'brien one shot

[babyflorencee]

My flannel

Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

I awoke to an involuntary shiver coursing through my body. Instinctively, I stretched my arm out in search of my boyfriend, Stiles, but he wasn't there. Emitting a disheartened groan, I shifted my focus towards Stiles' side of the bed, only to discover the window agape, permitting the morning sun to cascade within, its brilliance so intense it could potentially blind those who dared to gaze in its direction. Flipping on my back, I rubbed away the remnants of sleep from my eyes before lifting the sheets away from my nearly exposed form. The moment that the fabric was off my body, the wintry breeze made its presence known, caressing my bare arms and legs. I got out of bed, stumbling over towards the window, almost falling down multiple times, but eventually managing to close and lock it.

I looked around the room, seeing my clothes scattered about. Sighing, I made my way to the open closet, rummaging through Stiles' collection of flannels and jackets until I found the one I wanted to wear. I pulled a multi-colored flannel out of his closet, putting it over my shoulders, and buttoning up all the buttons before descending out of his room, making my way down the stairs and into his kitchen.

Immediately upon entering the room, I saw Stiles sitting at the island table, scrolling through his phone. Sneaking up behind him, I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck, before placing multiple kisses from his jaw to his cheek "Morning," he mumbled, leaning back into my arms.

"Hey Sti," I murmured into his neck.

After a few minutes of staying in that position, I reluctantly pulled away, only to perch myself upon his lap moments later. Settling into a crisscrossed posture, I leaned back into his chest. "Am I just a chair to you?" He teased, a laugh accompanying his joke.

"Yes, and my own personal footrest," I retorted, offering a bratty smile before quickly turning away.

"Ouch, I feel so used." He faux- pouted, before dramatically placing a hand over his heart as if it was wounded.

Glancing back at him, I noticed his gaze fixed upon me. However, he wasn't looking at my face; he was looking at what I was wearing. He bit his lip before speaking up. "Is this mine?" He lightly pinched a portion of the fabric, tugging it lightly.

"No, it's mine," I asserted, looking down at my hands.

"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure that belongs to me," he said, trying to bite back a laugh.

My eyes widened at the thought of being caught, as my protectiveness over the flannel intensified. "My shirt," I declared, arms crossed defensively as I turned my head to the side, a pout on my face, as I hoped that Stiles wouldn't make me give his flannel back.

Stiles lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, all while looking me dead in the eyes. "What does that say?" He asked, pointing to his name that was written on the the tag.

"Fine, it's yours," I said, sighing in defeat.

"I like how it looks on you," he pressed a light kiss to my temple, quietly laughing at the way my eyes lit up.

"Does that mean I can keep it?" I asked, offering the widest smile I could muster.

"Absolutely not. But you can wear it whenever you want." He said, his hands settling on my thighs, as he rubbed his hands up and down.

"I'll take it!" I said, grabbing his coffee and drinking out of it before making a face of disgust.

"Ew, what did you put in this?" I questioned, frowning as he laughed at me.

"I didn't put anything in it, it's just coffee," he explained, pointing to the dark liquid in the cup.

"This is disgusting," I said, pouting even more as his laughter persisted.

[written-beyond-the-grave]

Getting with Mitch Rapp HC's

After an intense who knows how long a bitch finally cracked and decided to write about Mitch Rapp since he’s a sweetie who doesn’t get talked about enough… like I been under the tag and I know writing takes so much time and effort so I decided to step tf in and give it a turn… bare with me

We all know after the death of Katrina this man went completely off grid, quit college, didn’t speak to his brother, went all in on avenging her on his own….. To take down a whole cell and the mastermind… yeah, white boy won’t shoot up a school, but will become an almost martyr (he’s what the govt would deadass hire, and keep on rotation)

ANYWAYS

I dead do feel like Mitch would we cautious, wary, and sus as hell with a civilian s/o

Let’s unpack: this man after Katrina probably wasn’t seeing anyone after that being emotionally scarred and whatnot (maybe he had to fuck someone or a few for the sake of a mission or kiss them, but it was just business). So the likelihood of this man entertaining someone else like with intention and not just some one fuck wonder is gonna be crazy ngl. This man has to look over his shoulder and his trust issues got trust issues, like his energy on a regular basis doesn’t scream “stay away”

But anyway, to catch his attention I feel like would be by constantly meeting him in mundane situations. I’m not doing the whole “you’re partners” trope, my black ass isn’t in this luv

Laundry room in the apartment and y’all get clothes mixed in on accident and you end up with his shirt or something— or the age old tale of him getting your underwear…. Or y’all shifting through the mixed laundry picking out what’s yours lmfaoooo

Mail getting dropped off in the wrong box or something

Bumping into each other at the grocery store and Mitch has the bare necessities in his basket and yours is like girl dinner coded

And the thing is, he’s not necessarily rude in interactions (when him throwing knives and punching his punching bag got loud and the person who owned the building asked Mitch to keep it down, and Mitch was respectful and said sure…. He’s not an asshole) but he might be on edge and try to speed things up

I feel like what might get the ball rolling might be a few different things: him seeing someone following you home that he KNOWS doesn’t live in his building (ik this man recognized everyone who lives in that bitch), being catcalled aggressively while walking home, seeing you stay in your car because a sus ass person is waiting for you to get out your car so he comes up to your window to help you out, or some comment about a terrorist attack “shoutout to terrorists, bc the US when to Afghanistan saw all this oil and snatched their chain. “We” (bc ain’t no WE here) snatch their chain and they retaliate, then we yell “it’s the Muslims” to spark a debate

Ngl he’s gonna have to let you cook with that one bc I feel like the “shoutout to terrosits” would’ve had that man spiraling and attacking you immediately. IK that man would spazz on the spot…. So let’s keep it to the safer options hm?

Soooooo after that it would spark a bit of conversation and solidify the familiarity bc here is your neighbor that you tend to see sparklingly helping you out

And being the person I am, I feel like as a thank you you’d leave him some brownies, cookies, or maybe a whole ass lasagna with instructions on how to best reheat at his doorstep being too shy to outright do it

Mans is confused but I feel like he’d take it to be nice, leave it in the fridge for like 2 days until he’s back late from a meeting and needs something in him and the only in that barren ass fridge is the lasagna…. He indulges and once he finds it’s good as hell he bodies half of it

He probably has it for lunch/dinner next day too. And then like washes it and knocks on your door to like give it back. He tells you thanks and you didn’t need to, but you say otherwise. And at this point with his stubborn ass if you’d invite over for dinner he’d respectfully decline so now there needs to be an event that puts him in your place of residence

Cue you taking a tumble on iced pavement

Mwah, inconvenience 😘

And now Mitch being at the right place wrong time, has to help you up and probably check for a concussion since that fall was nasty. He helped you into the elevator then into your place to help check your head and then like how you’re functioning bc goddamn. Once he figures out your fine, he’ll tell you to get a professional opinion and he makes you an nice ice pack and gives advice for how to take care of it

He thinks he’s good to leave you until he sees you struggling to get your bearings. He hates that he does this, but asks if you need any help since your mind is scrambled. Maybe he gets your some Advil, but then realizes you can’t take it on an empty stomach (he’s done it too many damn times himself) and so he looks into your fridge for something to heat up in the microwave to give you before you take the pill 

This is where the relationship starts and y’all make small talk, and how this is the longest you ever seen this man. He smirks, and snarks back. Once he gives you the food and sees you take the pill he’s off the clock and bids you a goodnight 

Until you see him gain tomorrow since he probably starts to check in on you, not like he’s been getting emotionally fed by having an associate outside of work that isn’t trying to kill him or isn’t Stan or Irene. Just a normie…. But he be lying about his feelings 

Next interaction is him coming back from a semi rough work week, and you catch him before he goes in and since he looks over it. Maybe a home cooked meal could help? You invite him over, no strings attached and go ok your way to get the braised short ribs out the oven for the mashed potatoes. You don’t tell him what’s for dinner tho

Thinking nothing will result of this, you get a knock at your door 30 minutes later with him and his hair still slightly damp. And maybe like a case in his beer bc he was told to never show up empty handed (so cute). Then bam! Y’all have some nice conversation, Mitch making sure to keep the attention off him and his job and do some information digging about you. School you went to, parents, hobbies, etc

He’s also scarfing down the ribs and such, you’re probably going to send him with food home tbh. He looks like he’ll need it 

After that it’s really wraps, like it destined for y’all to be real friends! Once he gets sent home with the plastic tupper (we don’t give guests the glass in case we don’t get shit back) we all know he’ll be back again

Then starts the tradition of Mitch eating at your place for like once a week that later gets bumped up to like 3 times a week. At some point your forgetting ingredients and maybe text Mitch about it, funny thing is he’s at the liquor store getting alcohol you might like since beer isn’t always going to cut it. He texted back what you need, and when he arrives he hands you what you need. This man stopped next door to the Shop Rite to get you the stuff…. Eventually I feel like he just buys your groceries since he eat EATS with all the work he puts in 

Friendship established

Y’all been shooting the shit for a while until there’s an emotional shift…. Lets say he’s having an episode of anger and just shuts down. On top the roof brooding and shit, it’s Katrina in another nightmare, him walk my himself with a panic attack, Stan up his ass, he just cannot right now. You take an elevator up there to see what’s up. You ask him what’s up, what’s wrong but he just ignores you. And by this point you know he can be a tight lipped lil shit…. But it doesn’t stop you from being there. So you do what you know best about which is just being there

So y’all sit in silence. And maybe you start to ramble to fill the silence, talking about the way your parents did a thing about colors when you were super and didn’t feel like talking. They said numbers “1 was green meaning yes, 2 was red so no to whatever they asked, 3 was yellow so a I’m not sure”. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Silence 

“Are you ok to be by yourself?”

Him staring straight ahead

“Do you want me to go?”

A painful hard silence

You respect his wishes and get ready to leave him until you heard a soft “2”, and the. Sit your ass down.

“Ok, so you want silence?”

“…..3”

“Ok, I’ll just sit here and watch the time…. We can get ice cream after….” You were doing your best dammit

Mitch felt a fond feeling some up over him, but didn’t say anything. You guys were up there until it got too damn late and cold. You tell him it’s time to go, and that when he looks at you like LOOKS and it’s just different…. You know he doesn’t want to go, and you understand but you can’t let self sabotage happen

“I get it, life is lifing and shit sucks but even  when you’re not ready for the day, it can’t always be night” 

This man knows you quoted Kanye

He gives you another long look, and you get up and offer your hand to help him up. He stared up at it… then grabs it to get up and y’all get inside. You two end up eating ice cream sandwiches 

Now the seed is planted for feelings to grow… MWAHAHAHAHAAAAA

After that y’all hangout regularly when he’s home, you give him normalcy in his life which he appreciates 

He will die on a hill before he admits or even acknowledges the feelings he has for you, lets be real he probably feels like he’s cheating on Katrina and that he’s not here to make friends since he’s a whole ass assassin and whatever. That’s fine, but when he’s wondering what you’re up to, or what’s for dinner, or reminiscing on a joke you made he feels warm and fuzzy and sometimes not as on edge as he usually is on missions

Stan noticed

I don’t think things will turn until he gets home one day at an odd hour of the night like 3am type shit and is bruised over his face. He just wants to lay in bed after taking a nice shower, but nah there’s you in the hall coming back from the club and having fun. You might be tipsy and say hi to Mitch but all that leaves your system once you see his face.  *giggles like a school girl kicking her feet* 

You’re on him without thinking asking what happened, he’s trying to keep it together and not blow up on you since you’re friends but he really wants to go inside. But you let him and follow him in asking for a first aid kit that he has. And you end up cleaning off his face after he showers, during that time you go to your place and get a first aid kit that is more advanced than his (that spray on band aid shit). Now it's you disinfecting wounds and putting neosporin on them and sealing it. During this time you’re complaining about wtf this man did while he was away, completely ignoring the fact that he’s in a towel. You’re giving him an earful and Mitch is rolling his eyes but not moving much bc when was the last time someone touched him so gently?

He’s probably taking in your clubbing attire while you do this, not in a weird way but like looking at the glitter, the new hair style, etc and putting it to memory 

“What the fuck were you doing? Jesus you look like shit”

Cue eye roll and for that you poke a nasty bruise that has his muscles flexing, he grabs your wrist for that

You give him a glare and don’t back down…. He answers with “The government” after that you don’t ask questions. The FBI agent assigned to your phone is probably already on your ass so you don’t need more enemies 

You fix him up, tell him to chill out, and then go to leave, but not right before him saying “thank you” 

We love a polite man who is in denial about having feelings, and you not acting in them bc Mitch is like a blank slate to read when he really wants to be

So like the way y’all talk about feelings and decide to get together and shit is not my forte, and breaking down his walls to talk about Katrina and the nature of his work to a degree that doesn’t scare you off. And his work on being emotionally available to you since he now cares for you more than he can admit

But we KNOW this man is a complete softie

Once he loves he LOVES, no question about it. And once you gain that, you have him for life

Fuck even if he’s been away for an assignment for months at a time, he’d probably head back to your apartment rather than his…. He knows where home is 

He might not be the type to declare his love for you verbally all the time, but he shows it through actions like remembering the brand of stuff you like. Bringing you dessert or picking up food for you when work has been bullshit. Maybe not a gourmet meal for breakfast in bed (he can cook but like take your expectations, he can throw down for breakfast tho and make good ass sandwiches), but he will give you the rest of the milk for the cereal. Do the dishes, trash duty, put furniture together, wait for you outside till you get off work and drive you home. And even tidy around if he sees you don’t have the time

And when things get more serious put you as an authorized user on his card without telling you. You’ll just find that shit in your Apple Wallet

He’d keep the loving touches at home but he’s a cuddle bug, loyal to a fault, and loves to spend time at home with you. Home dates are a must, but he does love a good date night to see you dressed up

He would grow to love the domestic nature of your relationship and that’s what this man needs besides a copious amount of therapy

You’d also find out that he’s a nerd, but like undercover. I feel like he’d be a Nightwing or Red Hood fan from DC, and other comics from his childhood shows as well

He’s protective, smart, probably would talk to you about getting an air tag or some government tracking thing in case of emergencies. Then maybe take you on a gun date to teach you some self defense which probably goes wrong because you’re a CIVILIAN and that punch came too fast at you and you screamed and ducked while covering your eyes. He feels bad now, but now knows to take it to baby steps 

Your assassin boyfriend has your best interest at heart, promise 

A/N: I do be writing for black readers iykyk, but here is just very general.... Let me get to the tomfoolery next time babes (like Mitch helping you take down the braids)

[freedomfireflies]

One of Those Days* | Mitch Rapp

Summary: Mitch has returned home from a mission to find that you need a little extra love.

And who is he to deny you?

Word Count: 1.3k

Dedicated to @finelinesss 💞

“Look at me. Look at me.”

Your eyelashes warily flutter open, head falling back against Mitch’s shoulder so you can see him in the reflection.

“That’s it,” he seethes, strong arm tightening around your middle. “Such a good little whore when you wanna be, hm?”

You shiver in his embrace, enamored by the way he speaks to you. The rough edge to his voice. The low, salacious purr as his dark beard brushes your cheek. The way his long fingers toy with your clit as he fucks into you from behind.

You nod to answer his question, knowing how much he hates to be left waiting.

The corner of his mouth dances with the idea of smirking but when his eyes find yours, you watch his expression darken.

At first, you’re unsure why, until you remember what led you to this moment in the first place.

Mitch had returned home from a mission to find you in bed, curled up into a ball, clinging onto one of his shirts as you tried not to cry.

After making his way to your side, he attempted to find out what was wrong. But you didn’t really know. You were just…sad. Pulled down by the weight of your unexplainable grief. To the point where it felt like you couldn’t even breathe.

Maybe it was because you missed him. Maybe it was because you knew he’d be leaving you again not even eight hours after returning home. Maybe it was because all you wanted to do…was have him hold you.

Either way, seeing the concern in his eyes as he crouched down in front of you nearly tipped you over.

But Mitch had made himself more than familiar with you and these bouts of sadness.

And he’d learned only one thing can really help:

A good, hard fucking.

He’d kissed you with so much fervor that it forced your breath to hitch, helping ease the panic in your chest. And you wanted to thank him, but he didn’t want to hear it. He only wanted to hear your soft, needy whimpers of pleasure.

Minutes later, he had you stripped and pressed against the wall as he got down onto his knees to taste you. Of course, it wouldn’t be an afternoon with Mitch if he didn’t edge you a few times first. He kept you there for what felt like hours. Yanking you to the edge of release only to abandon you moments before you fell. It was cruel, and painful…and everything.

And once he was sure these were different tears streaming down your face, he felt satisfied.

Next, he took hold of your wrist and flung you around until your cheek met the wallpaper and his large palm met your ass.

The sharp sound echoed around the room as you groaned and tried not to squirm back into his touch.

“That’s for not telling me how much you needed me,” he hissed, teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. Then, another spank. “And that’s for being my good little slut.”

He didn’t stop until you finally came. And just when you thought he was through…he led you over to the full-length mirror.

Which is where you’ve been for the past twenty minutes. Mitch’s stamina has always been rather impressive and today is no exception. You already know he’s holding off just so he can keep playing with you. Distracting you. Giving you enough marks and bruises to remind you of him while he’s gone.

Not that you’d really need them to remember him.

“How’s it feel, hm?” he asks, and you let your eyes trail down the veins in his arms as he continues thrusting into you. It makes you smile. “S’this what you wanted? Wanted to be thrown around and abused?”

Again, you nod, unable to answer verbally. Especially not now that his hand has found your throat to give it a good squeeze. 

“I know, baby.” He sounds proud of you. Proud of the way you’re behaving for him, even when this is all about you. “Such a good fucking girl for me. Always. Always so fucking good. Make Daddy so proud, don’t you?”

The nickname makes you gasp as your lashes begin to flutter, overwhelmed by the need for him and the pressure to your neck. 

You know he did it on purpose. Can see the smugness on his face as he reaches up to brush his thumb down your lip.

The droplets of blood that had begun to collect from a previous kiss smear across his finger and your chin as he drags it down…before bringing it to his own mouth.

You watch him suck your blood off his finger. Indulge in the way he groans, and at the way he presses his chest into your back as if to consume you.

That’s what does it for you. Staring at him, and loving him, and feeling him. You come and he’s a half-second behind. Filling you up as your knees just about give out from beneath you.

And you love the sounds he makes. Love the way he groans deeply before burying his face in your neck. As he tries to kiss you through it but can’t quite find the strength to do so as it sweeps him under.

You feel proud of the way you can make him come undone. Feel proud of how easily he loses his self-control for you. How willing he is to wrap himself around your finger.

Missing him breaks your heart.

But having him…makes it all worth it.

When he finally drops his hand from your throat, you move to speak. To thank him or whisper his name, but his head is already shaking.

“No,” he murmurs, turning you around to kiss you before dragging you back to the bed. “None of that. Just gonna hold you, okay?”

“Mitch—” you begin with a teasing smile, but his firm expression remains put.

“I mean it,” he repeats, almost as if to warn you. “Want you to be a good girl and come lay in my arms, okay?” 

“Mitch—”

“Now.”

And you smirk as you allow him to guide you down onto the mattress. His strong arms quickly encircling around your frame as he pulls you into his chest. Your face meets his slightly sweaty skin as you giggle, and he buries his lips into your forehead. 

You breathe him in for a good minute or two as he rubs his palms up and down your spin. Helping to bring you back to this moment. Even though your brain is trying to take you to the next one.

“Mitch?” you whisper, eyes falling shut as you press your mouth to his sternum, feeling the way his heart thumps against your touch. 

“Yes, baby?”

A beat.

“I love you.”

He’s still for a moment before he’s somehow tugging you closer and tangling his legs with yours.

“I love you,” he repeats back, that confident voice of his now a broken rasp. “So fucking much. Hate leaving you like this.”

“I know,” you tell him. “But you have to. I’d never want to get in the way of your job.”

“You are my job,” he tells you, with so much earnest vulnerability that it makes your head spin. “Being here with you is all I want to do. Fuck this other shit. I mean it. Just want to make you happy.”

You smile, head tilting back to see him. “You do. Always.”

He takes hold of your chin, a look of indecision on his face. Almost as if he doesn’t believe you. 

Then…he sighs, and presses his lips to yours. “Did so good for me, baby. So fucking proud of you.”

You flush at his praise, smiling as he trails his kisses down your cheek. “Always, Daddy.”

He grins. “How about I take you to dinner? Wanna just be with you before I have to go.”

The reminder makes your heart lurch but the promise of a meal with him by your side quickly distracts you. Even after everything, he’s still taking care of you.

“I’d like that,” you whisper, nuzzling your face into his palm.

He smiles. 

“That’s my girl.”

~ Other Dylan Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[sourwulf]

stiles comes to you after his female anatomy class and asks you to help. he says he’s never even watched torn so has never even seen a vagina, but yours is the first one he winds up seeing and eating out

༄  word count  —  2.3k

፨  characters  —  stiles stilinski

☓  tw  —  none

⊹  cw  —  smut & oral, losing of virginity

☼  a/n— i have... severely neglected this blog

✎  masterlist

─

you were sitting on your couch watching tv, a root beer flavored sucker between your lips. you were channel surfing, nothing catching your eye. your front door opened unannounced, making your head whip towards it.

after it closed, the familiar face of stiles poked around the corner.

you sighed, glad it wasn't an intruder.

"hey," you greeted. "ever heard of knocking?"

"sorry, it's raining and the door was unlocked. i figured you wouldn't mind."

he kicked his shoes off and walked over to sit next to you, mimicking your position by crossing his arms.

"what flavor is that?" he asked, looking at the stick in your mouth.

"root beer."

"nice."

"so what's up?"

"i was hoping you could help me study."

"as long as it's not math."

"honestly, i kinda wish it was."

"why? what is it?"

"so... it's for my health class. we're doing a human anatomy course for the sex ed unit."

"and you need my help... why?"

"well... it's female anatomy." you raised your eyebrows. "you're the only person i'm comfortable with asking for help on this."

you just looked at him for a second before taking in a deep breath and turning off the tv.

"alright, fine."

within a couple of minutes you were both upstairs on your bed. you sat against your headboard, him laying on his side horizontal across the bed with his assignment in front of him.

so far, it was just multiple choice and fill in the blank questions. he was reading them out, getting your answers.

"what do the ovaries do?" he asked, a diagram of the uterus, ovaries, and fallopian tubes above the questions, with lines to label each.

"make hormones and contain eggs."

he skimmed the answers, finding the one that fit that description the best.

once he finished that chart, he flipped the page to see a very detailed diagram of a vagina, also with lines pointing to specific parts of it for him to label.

he looked at it for a moment, as if he was really studying it.

"vulva."

"i'm pretty sure that's just an all-inclusive word to include everything."

he circled the right answer

"what is the... clitoris? did i say that right?"

hearing stiles say the word 'clitoris' was a bit weird, but to be fair most people don't really say the full word.

"are you really asking me what the clit is?"

"yeah, what is it?"

you looked at him slightly in disbelief, chuckling a bit.

"come on, stiles."

"what?"

you were dumbfounded. everyone knows what the clit is.

"you've never even heard the word?"

"i've heard of it, i just don't know what it is."

"it's kind of obvious if you're looking at a vagina."

he shrugged. "never seen one. well, other than this drawing."

now this left you stunned. never seen a vagina? how was it possible for a teenage boy to never have seen one?

"you've watched porn, though."

he shook his head. "nope."

somehow he continued to shock you more with every sentence.

"never?"

"never."

"stiles, you're a teenage boy, and you're telling me you've never watched porn?"

"never needed to."

"the clitoris is... it's like a little bud above the vaginal opening. it's full of nerve endings and it's really only there for pleasure purposes."

"huh. interesting. can i ask you a question?"

"shoot."

"does every vagina look like this?"

"what do you mean?"

"like... are they all identical?"

"uh... no. every vagina is different. just like every penis is different. some of them are dangly, some are hairy, it just depends on the person."

"does yours look like this?"

your eyebrows dipped.

"did you really just ask me that?"

"i thought i was allowed to ask questions."

"yeah, general questions."

"that is a general question."

you sighed. "similar. but not really. i mean, they all have the same basic parts. but the anatomy is different sometimes."

he nodded. "wish i could see a real one up close."

it was kind of funny, how he was talking about vaginas like a specimen he could study.

"you will someday." he made eye contact with you and raised his eyebrows slightly. "stiles. you're not implying what i think you are, are you?"

"i mean... i'm not gonna say no."

"i'm not showing you my vagina!"

"that's not what i was asking, pervert," he said in an unconvincing tone.

to be completely honest, you weren't completely against the idea. the best way to learn was to see the real thing, not just a drawing.

you sighed. "fine." his eyes lit up a bit. "on one condition."

"mm?"

"no touching. only looking."

he nodded.

"sounds fair to me."

you could not believe you were fully exposing yourself to him right now, your vagina just out. your upper body was propped up on your pillows, your knees bent and thighs spread with his eyes glued to you.

"and no judging my lack of shaving."

he shrugged. "doesn't bother me."

he was looking at you like it was a book and he was reading every word.

"this is kinda weird, right?" you asked, trying to break the tension. and trying to distract him from the fact that his gaze was causing you to grow wetter and wetter with every second.

"a little bit, yeah."

"so... my vagina is the first one you've ever seen."

"yep. looks pretty similar to the drawing."

a few seconds of heavy silence went by.

"i mean... it's hard to learn when you're not... hands-on." you mentally slapped yourself for how cringey that sounded.

he froze, looking up into your eyes.

"what?"

"yeah, i mean... how are you supposed to learn what the clitoris is if you don't get to see what it does?"

"oh. i don't- i don't know."

"exactly."

"but you said no touching."

"i know what i said. maybe sometimes it's good to... break rules."

he slowly crawled closer to you and you spread your thighs wider. the cold air against your wetness could've given you chills.

"what... what do i do?" he asked, his face only a couple of inches away.

"see if you can find the words on your paper."

he looked over at it. "labia."

he lightly poked your wet lips — not the ones on your face.

"good."

"was that it?"

"mhm. good job."

"clitoris," he said without looking back at the paper.

"you remembered that one."

he looked around for a second before, without warning, placing the pad of his pointer finger onto your clit, making you take in a deep breath.

"that?"

"yep. right again."

"what do you... do with it?"

it was uncomfortable to explain, especially with a face in your vagina and a finger on your clit.

"uh... lots of things. really it's just different ways of touching it and touching it with different things. so, you could go in circles, back and forth, up and down. you can also use your tongue or some kind of toy. it's another thing that just depends on the person, everyone likes different things."

"what do you like?"

"circles, usually."

with a second of hesitation, he began slowly moving that finger in circles. you let out a breathy moan and closed your eyes, but he stopped.

"was that okay?"

you opened your eyes and looked down at him.

"that was good."

"so... what happens? is there like... an end goal here?"

"orgasm. it's how most women have to get there. sex, like penetration, usually isn't enough to get a lot of us there."

"really?"

"yeah. that's why it's important for our partners to do something other than just regular sex."

"so... do you usually prefer fingers or... a tongue?"

"well... me personally, i usually prefer a tongue. i feel like it's just more intimate."

"and what do you do with the tongue?"

"same thing you would with fingers. circles, back and forth, up and down-"

you were interrupted by a warm tongue on your clit, unable to hold in a gasp. he was going in circles like you said to do, and it was like he knew what to do immediately.

it felt good. you looked down at him to see him returning the gaze, a smirk creeping across his face.

"good, just like that, stiles."

you were doing your darndest to keep your hips still, ensuring he did everything right his first time. he placed his hands atop your thighs, making sure they stayed spread.

you reached up and pushed your hair out of your face, fisting a ball of your own hair. you were moaning, which he wasn't expecting to hear the first time he did this.

"you're doing good, stiles. that feels good."

he didn't answer, but his ego grew a few sizes at that. the closer you got to your orgasm, the more he had to hold you still. his arms were now wrapped around your thighs, his hands flat against your belly.

"fuck, okay, i can feel it coming," you said, looking down at him. "keep going, i'm gonna cum."

when you did look at him, it looked like he was experienced in this. his positioning, his hands, his pace, everything screamed 'i've done this a thousand times before'.

he liked this. being able to make you melt with just his tongue was making him hard, but he couldn't help it. your sweet voice moaning his name was like music to his ears, and the closer you got the louder you became.

your fingers tangled in his hair, trying not to pull too hard.

"don't stop, stiles. i'm almost there. i'll tell you when to stop."

he obeyed, not changing a single thing he was doing. if it hadn't have been so obvious, he might not have known you were cumming.

your back arched sharply, you took in a loud gasp, and your legs were trembling.

this was an incredible orgasm. you were perplexed by his skill, as ten minutes ago he had never even laid eyes on a vagina, much less eaten one out. but he was a quick learner, as you'd figured out from all the werewolf stuff.

"alright, stop, stop," you choked out. he immediately pulled away, using his shirt to wipe his mouth. you closed your legs and reveled in your high. your hand covered your eyes and you struggled to catch your breath.

"was that okay?" he asked innocently.

"are you kidding?" a moment later, you propped yourself up on your elbows. "how did you know how to do that?"

he shrugged. "i just did what you described."

"i've had more than one guy go down on me who was experienced and couldn't make me cum at all. that was, what, two minutes?"

"i guess i'm a natural," he joked.

you tilted your head to the side. "c'mere." you spread your legs again and his eyes widened, slowly following your directions. he held himself above you and you pulled him down to kiss you.

your hand trailed down his chest and landed on his belt, the clanking of the buckle making him pull away.

"what're you doing?" he whispered, looking at your half-closed eyes.

"well... i can see you're rock hard. i just figured, if you're losing your oral virginity, you might as well lose the regular one too."

he gulped hard, not moving.

"oh."

you stopped messing with his belt, furrowing your brow.

"unless you don't want to. you don't have to. don't feel like i'm pressuring you."

he shook his head.

"i don't. it's just... i didn't expect this. i wasn't planning on doing that when i came over, and i definitely didn't expect this. i didn't bring a condom or anything."

"i have some." you reached down and cupped his bulge in your hand, which made him falter a bit. "they might be a bit snug, but they'll fit."

he nodded, and you continued unbuckling his belt. when you got his pants shimmied down a bit and he was exposed to you, you noticed how red his cheeks were.

"what's wrong?"

"nothing. just... i don't want to disappoint you."

"stiles, it's your first time. i'm not expecting you to last past the first thrust." you can tell he took that as an insult. "i didn't mean it like that. no guy lasts past the first thrust during their first time. vaginas are different than hands or socks. i want you to feel comfortable with this. i promise i'm not judging you."

he nodded. "okay."

"if you don't want to have sex yet i could always just blow you instead. you might last longer that way."

"no, i want to do this."

"okay."

you reached over and grabbed a condom out of your nightstand drawer and opened it for him.

"want me to put it on for you?" you asked, to which you received a nod.

the feeling of your hand stroking down on him could've made him cum right then and there. but he wanted to wait until he was at least inside of you.

the feeling of his tip pressing into you was magical for both of you, and once he was fully nestled into you, he pressed a deep kiss onto your mouth.

he didn't move for a moment, wanting this to last as long as possible.

he was a nice size, not small by any means but not the biggest you'd had. he was perfect.

"you okay?" you whispered, pushing his hair off his forehead.

he nodded, the redness in his cheeks spreading to his chest. he slowly pulled out, and let out a loud, shaky moan with the next thrust. him laying his forehead against your chest let you know that he had cum, his arms trembling a bit.

when he looked at you again, he chuckled.

"what?" you asked.

"lasted past the first thrust." you both laughed at that, and you kissed him again. "next time it'll be better."

"next time?" he nodded. "when will that be?"

he thought for a second. "give me a couple of hours."

[dylobilysmomg]

Motel Fever

𝗙𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺: 𝗧𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗪𝗼𝗹𝗳

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗸𝗶 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀: 𝟯.𝟭𝗸

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗪! 𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹 (𝗳𝗲𝗺 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴), 𝗽𝗻𝘃, 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀

𝗢𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘁: 𝗦𝗻𝗮𝗽 𝗢𝘂𝘁 𝗢𝗳 𝗜𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗔𝗿𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗸𝗲𝘆𝘀

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗜 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗮𝘄 𝗗𝘆𝗹𝗮𝗻’𝘀 𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗻𝗼 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗲. 𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀, 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴! 𝗖𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 (𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗵 𝘁𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀!) 𝗠𝘆 𝗟𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗧𝗿𝗲𝗲. 𝗡𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻. 𝗟𝘂𝘃 𝘆𝗮!!

𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝗶𝗳!

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I groan from beside Allison, taking a look at the disaster coach calls a motel.

“I’ve seen worse.” Scott says, and I scoff. “Where have you see worse?” Stiles replies, rolling his eyes. I pull my jacket closer to my body, trying to shield myself from the wind the storm brings.

The track team circles up as Coach speaks up. “Listen up! The meet’s been pushed til tomorrow.” There’s a groan that comes from just about all of us in unison at that. “This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and the least amount of good judgment when it comes to accepting a bunch of…degenerates like yourselves. You’ll be pairing up, choose wisely.”

Me and Allison walk up and grab a key from Coach, checking out the number and practically stomping to our room. Scott and Stiles close behind us.

“And I’ll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants, got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!” Coach shouts as everyone makes their way to their rooms for the night.

“I can’t believe this. How much you wanna bet we wake up to a cancelled track meet tomorrow.” I complain, approaching our motel room, which is oh so conveniently right next to Scott and Stiles’ 𝘖𝘩 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵.

I stop at the door, waiting for Allison to unlock it, but she’s taking her sweet time chatting it up with Scott. Stiles whips past me, brushing my shoulder.

“Hey Stiles, will you and Scott do me a favor and keep the moans down tonight. I would rather not listen to you two get in on while I get my beauty sleep.” I taunt him, leaning against the door, burning time while I wait for Allison.

Stiles halts his actions of unlocking his door to turn to me, “Didn’t you hear the coach, Y/N? ‘𝘕𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.’ Or is that word too big for you? Need me to dumb it down?” He jabs and I scoff in his face.

“Oh I heard him all right. I just wonder if you did.” I counter, watching as he scoffs, tongue poking out to glide over his teeth.

“We’ll be quiet, Y/N/N. Besides, I don’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep; God knows you need it.” He says, and before I can come up with a comeback, Allison is coming up behind me and unlocking our door.

Scott passes us both and bypasses Stiles into their room, “Sleep tight, Y/N.” Stiles sneers before disappearing behind Scott.

I join Allison in our room, shutting and locking the door behind me. “I hope you don’t kick in your sleep, or someone’s gonna sleep on the floor tonight and it won’t be me.” I say, looking at the single bed in the middle of the dreary room.

“About that…” Allison says, her face already completely giving away what she’s about to tell me.

“Allison,” I warn her, and she trots in front of me with pleading eyes. “Would you do me a huge, huge favor and switch with Scott tonight?” She begs, and I’m completely and utterly in shock.

“You cannot be serious. You want me, to share a room, a 𝘣𝘦𝘥, with 𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴?!” I try to wrap my head around the idea of having to survive a night with Stiles Stilinski. Yeah right, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.

“Yeah, no, no way in hell!” I shout, hands flailing in the air. “Have you even met me?!” I ask, baffled that she’d even think that I’d ever agree to such a thing. “I mean? have you even met Stiles?! I can’t stand him for more than a few seconds, let alone hours!” I exclaim.

“Then don’t stand him, sit on him instead.” Allison says, the tone in her voice suggestive. I scoff, “Yeah right, me and Stiles? Never in a million years.” I say, the idea completely out of the question.

“Oh come on, Y/N! You could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife! You guys just need to fuck and make up.” Allison tries to convince me, and I’m trying to deny the pit in my stomach that tells me she might be right.

“Allison you’re crazy. There’s no tension between Stiles and I.” I answer, rolling my eyes. “Oh please, Y/N! Please, please, pleaseeeee!” She begs, not backing down.

I groan out, “Alright! Alright! But you owe me big time for this.” I finally give in, and Allison pounces onto me to give me a tight hug.

“Y/N you won’t regret this, I’m texting Scott now.” She says giddily, and I change into my pajamas while we wait for Scott.

After a few minutes, there’s a knock at our door, and I open it to reveal a just-as-giddy Scott McCall. “Y/N,” He greets me with a tight lipped smile. “Scott.” I answer, brushing passed him and out the door.

It’s dark, rainy, and cold outside. I stand in front of Stiles’ motel room, shivering in my pajama shorts and matching t-shirt. I knock. No answer. I knock again. Still nothing.

“Stiles I know this isn’t the most pleasant arrangement but it’s freezing outside, please let me in.” I plead, my teeth chattering. Still nothing. Nothing but the howling of the wind and the drops of rain.

I sigh, sliding my back down against the door, sitting down on the cold cement. I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself as I shiver.

Then suddenly, the door is pulled open without warning and I look up to see a half naked Stiles. “What’re you doing?” He asks, looking down at me as I scurry up and onto my feet. “Waiting for you to let me in, dumbass. It’s cold out here.” I chatter, pushing past his naked upper half and into the room.

The room is ice cold, not any better than outside in the elements. Stiles rolls his eyes coming back into the room and locking the door behind him.

I turn to him to ask why the heater isn’t on when he beats me to it. “Yeah, well, the heater is broken to shit so it’s not much better in here.” He answers my unspoken question. I shake my head, sitting on the bed, head in my hands. “This cannot be happening right now.” I complain, more to myself than Stiles.

“You wanna complain some more, Y/N? Since you’re so good at it.” He jabs, padding to his bag, digging through it. I scoff in response, and it’s then that I look up and take real notice of him frame. ���𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦?

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He says, pulling me out of my daze. “Whatever, get some other desperate girl to be your paparazzi.” I reply, digging into my bag for my phone charger, but it’s nowhere to be found.

Stiles goes into the dinky bathroom to change, coming out to me huffing and puffing. “What is it now?” He asks irritated, emerging from the bathroom in plaid pajama pants and a navy blue t-shirt. “I think I left my fucking charger at home.” I groan, checking my phone percentage. 12%

He chuckles, getting snuggled into the single bed and plugging his phone in, rubbing it right in my face. He turns his phone to the side, putting on some tv show. I grab my bag off the bed and drop it to the floor, “Make some room will you?” I push his feet from above the covers, and he scoots a millimeter to the side.

I curse under my breath, jumping into the bed and shoving him over some as he watched his phone. “Jeez, Y/N/N. If you wanted to get in bed with me that bad you should’ve just said so.” Stiles quips, and I pull at the cold blanket to cover myself.

“Oh please, get over yourself. You’re the last person I’d ever want to be in bed with.” I roll my eyes, getting out my phone to distract myself from him until it inevitably dies.

We’re laying shoulder the shoulder. He’s holding up his phone as he watches Supernatural, and before long my phone is dead.

I set my phone on the nightstand to my right, then turning over to lay on my left side and watch his show. My face is millimeters away from his broad shoulder, and he turns his head to me, peering down.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks, attention split between me and the phone. “My phone died, and I like Supernatural.” I say, my eyes flick from the screen to him.

“You like this? Scott hates it.” He says, turning his face back to his phone. Is he starting a normal conversation with me? What universe is this?

“Of course Scott hates it, he hates all things 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭.” I say, wiggling magic fingers in his face. He chuckles, “Yeah, guess it’s too close to home for him. I like it though, I like to think we’re like them.” He says, comparing him and Scott to Sam and Dean.

“So which one are you? Sam or Dean?” I ask, giggling. “Which one do you think I am?” Stiles ponders, his attention fully turned toward me by now. “Definitely Sam,” I answer confidently, “he’s my favorite.” I add, my eyes suddenly avoiding his own.

There’s an awkward silence for a moment before Stiles breaks it. “Awe, so you like me more than Scott?” He pokes fun at me, and I roll my eyes. “In your dreams, Stilinski. I wouldn’t be caught dead with you unless the situation was dire.” I counter, rolling over to my back, his phone long forgotten.

He turns it off, setting it on the nightstand on his side. “See that’s where you’re wrong.” He says, and the tone in the chilly room shifts. He sits up to almost hover over me. His face the closest it’s ever been to mine, and I can’t help but flicker my eyes from his to his lips and back again.

“I think you wanted this. I think you want me.” He says, voice huskier and hushed. “Stiles…” I can’t think of a witty response, I can’t think about anything besides his lips, and how impossibly close they are to my own.

“Say it. Tell me, Y/N.” He demands, a veiny hand dipping under the covers to slink down my thigh. My mind is running a hundred miles a minute, short circuiting.

“Awe, fuck it.” I whisper, more to myself than him, closing the gap between us. Our lips connect in a searing kiss, and my hands shoot up to his neck, pulling him down to me.

He growls into my mouth, moving to now completely hover on top of me, my legs instinctively opening to make room for him. His arms prop himself up over me, and my hands explore his body, moving to slide up and under his shirt. I slowly push up his shirt til his sits up, pulling it off in one swoop.

He’s so fucking hot. My hands dance along his slightly defined abs, speckled like his face. “Like what you see?” He taunts, leaning back down over me to assault my neck with his lips. “Oh, bite me.” I snip, and he nips at my throat in response.

Stiles trails his nimble fingers up my shirt, but I stop him, pushing his chest until he’s off of me. I push him over to his back, straddling his waist to be on top. I settle myself into his lap, his hands gripping my hips tightly. I pull my shirt up and off my body, revealing myself to him. The cold nips at my now half naked frame, nipples perking up and gossebumps cover my body.

I shiver a little, “It’s so cold in here, Stiles.” I whisper, and he snakes a hand up my waist and all the way up to my neck, pulling my face down to his. “Don’t worry, baby,” He whispers seductively, “I’ll warm you up.”

Our lips meet once again, tongues fighting for dominance. I grind down into his lap, his boner prominently poking me beneath his pants. He moans deliciously into my mouth as I do so, hands slipping into my shorts, groping my ass.

I moan as he rocks me in his lap, “God, why did we wait so long for this?” I whispers, looking up at me with those auburn eyes. “Because we hate each other.” I answer breathlessly.

“I could never hate you, baby.”

Then he’s forcefully pushing me back over, hands dipping into the waist band or my sleep shorts, pulling them and my panties down in one go. He places a palm on each of my knees, spreading my legs apart. I’m now fully bare and at his mercy.

I moan in anticipation as he methodically kisses up my thigh, getting close and closer to my dripping heat. He then brings a finger to swipe through my folds, my slick covering his digit as it glistens. “All this and I’ve barely even touched you.” He taunts me.

“Stiles please,” I beg, but he’s not ready to give in just yet. “Please what? Use your words.” He says huskily. “Please Stiles, please touch me.” I plead.

Stiles licks a stripe through my folds, sending shivers sound my spine. His mouth attacks my heat, his tongue working wonders. Stiles is like a starved man, feeding on anything and everything he can get his hands on. Feasting upon me. He sends me over the edge almost immediately. My hands shoot down to his head, gripping his hair til my knuckles turn white.

Stiles detaches his lips from my clit, sitting up to his knees and standing up off the bed. He drops his pajama pants to the ground, before zipping over to his bag to retrieve a condom from it. He rushes back over to the bed, pulling his boxers off in an instant, kneeling onto the bed in front of you as he rolls the condom into his think length.

My fists grip the bed covers, watching as he lines his swollen tip with my entrance, teasing me with it. “Stiles,” I moan, and he slides himself in completely.

He hisses as he does so, burying himself to the hilt. “Fuck, Stiles.” I moan out breathlessly. Stiles thrusts are hard, his rhythm unbearable. “Yeah, you like that?” He whispers, leaning down to me ear. His voice deep and husky, full of lust. His lips dip down to nip at my throat. “Yes, Stiles.” I moan, and I feel him smile against my kiss peppered skin.

“Awe, fuck.” Stiles drawls out into my ear, sitting up to his knees, still fucking me, his rhythm perfect. “Say my name.” He orders me, his hands gripping my hips as he pistons into me. I can barely take it.

Of course I do as he says. I moan his name, eyes rolling back, my mouth hung wide open as moans spill out of me. He slides a hand to my cunt, his thumb moving to circle my clit. He watches with hooded eyes where we meet as he fucks me senseless.

“Say it again.”

“Stiles.”

“Again.”

“𝘖𝘩 Stiles.”

“Yeah, you getting close? Do I fuck you that good? Say it.” He seethes, his dirty words rattling in my head. I’m breathless, the cold room now unbearably hot. “You fuck me so good, Sti.” I moan, the ball in the pit of my stomach tightening with every touch of his. His hand gripping my hip. His cock hitting that sweet spot inside me with every thrust. His thumb pressing to my clit.

“Yeah? You like that, baby.” I can’t take it anymore. “Stiles,” I moan, my limbs restless, I can’t stay still. “Tell me.” He says, leaning down over me to envelope my lips in a wet, searing kiss. I moan as he parts, “I’m gonna cum, Stiles.”

“Then do it.”

I obey his every word, my release washing over like a wave. My back arches into him, and Stiles buckles down, chasing his nearing high. I’m just about to tell him I can’t take it anymore when he cums, spilling into the condom. His brows furrowing and his mouth agape. He lets out the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard, I never want it to stop.

He pumps a few more times, riding out his high. “Oh, fuck.” He whispers, slowly pulling out of me. I moan as he does, partly in pleasure and partly in pain. I’m sore now, I can’t even imagine how sore I’ll be tomorrow.

Stiles gets up from the bed, he quickly discards the condoms and pulls his boxers on. He pads to the bathroom, and I lay there for a minute not sure of what to do. I close my legs and watch as he comes back with a damp rag.

He comes back to me, kneeling on the bed in front of my closed legs. “Open.” He says, placing a hand on my knee to pry them open once more. He cleans me up, and I’m completely and utterly in shock. Did he really just do that? What have I been missing out on?

When he’s does, I sit up so our faces meet, and I peck his kiss swollen lips. “Thank you.” I whisper, and he hums in response, kissing me once more.

As he goes to the bathroom to put the rag away, I gather my scattered clothes from the floor, and I’m slipping them on as he comes back, hopping back into the bed.

It’s at this point that I’m not really sure what to expect now. Are we never gonna talk about this again? Are we just gonna hate each other and fuck on the side? I’m nervous to get back in bed with him.

“Come here.” Stiles mumbles, laying his arm out for me. I crawl into bed, snuggling into him. “Do we still hate each other?” I whisper. He says nothing, reaching om his other arm over to his nightstand.

“Here.” He says, handing me his phone charger.

!𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙐𝙎!

“Jesus Stiles, turn it off.” I grumble, his alarm blaring in my ears. Stiles is dead asleep, how he’s able to sleep through his excruciating alarm? No idea.

I reach over him to grab his phone, hitting the snooze button. But before I put it down I see a text from none other than Scott, at 12:31 AM.

𝙎𝙘𝙤𝙩𝙩 𝙈𝙘𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙡: 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙬𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙨

𝟏/𝟐𝟕/𝟐𝟒

[uhhhj13iguess]

in his flannel

stiles x reader (no (y/n) use)

wc: ~900

a best friends to lovers trope is at no moment NOT running through my head

when stiles opened the door, his mouth was dry on impact. there you stood, innocent and ready to study for your upcoming test -- in his flannel. he didn’t remember when it came into your possession, but he didn’t care.

he didnt even know he wanted so badly to see you in his clothing, until now, where he just can't seem to take his eyes off of you.

you.

in his shirt.

"stiles? can i come in, or..."

you spoke suddenly, breaking stiles from his trance. he shook his head dramatically, cringing at his first impression at the door.

"yeah jesus sorry, come in."

he stepped out of the way, making small talk as you made your way to his room, unloading your textbooks and notes across his bed. you sprawled out, laying on your stomach as you began to flip through the pages. stiles' eyes once again fell to the way his flannel fell against the curves of your body, his own feeling too hot suddenly.

he hadn't really thought of you this way before. okay, that was a lie, but he never took it seriously. he’d known you forever, and anytime he felt you unconsciously slip into his thoughts, he felt embarrassed to be thinking of his best friend like that and pushed it away. but now, seeing a shirt he had worn a few days earlier now draped over what he can only presume as your bare torso, he was torn between feelings of cuteness aggression and wanting to rip the shirt off of you.

you could sense the gaze, looking towards his frame slumped at his desk, smiling as he turned away as though he'd been caught.

he cleared his throat. "so. where do you want to start?"

you weighed your response carefully.

stiles had left his flannel in your car the other night after dropping him off, and you hadn't taken it off since. originally, you'd put it in your backpack to bring to him the next day, however after being sleepless long enough, you grabbed it, hoping the extra warmth would send you dreaming.

you were awake the rest of the night.

you couldn't get over the smell. when his scent first hit your nose, you found it calming, sure it would bring you a sense of comfort and immediately put you to sleep. as it turns out, it was taunting.

with the smell of espresso and fresh linen overwhelming you, the only thing on your mind was stiles. everything about him, every memory of you two, every accidental touch -- suddenly, it was all you could think about.

in the back of your mind, you always knew there was something special about him. something deeper within him that drew the two of you together. stiles made you feel every single thing with so much more passion, so much more intention. but you'd brushed it off, convincing yourself you were crazy.

that he didn't feel that way.

but he was flustered, and you hoped you were right about why.

"so, where do you want to start?"

you let out a hum, toying with the topmost button on his flannel, blushing as you noticed his eyes honed in on your actions. you sat up slowly, trying to build any ounce of courage you had.

"i want to start with why you're being so weird today."

stiles cleared his thoat, scratching the back of his head and turning back towards his desk. he shuffled his papers. "I, uh I mean, I don't know what you're talking about, I'm being completely normal."

you sat up facing him, tugging at his sleeves. "sti-"

"why are you wearing my shirt?"

your eyes shot up and you frowned immediately. suddenly uncomfortable, you wrapped your arms around your waist and looked down.

"oh, im sorry, you left it in my car and I didn't think it would be--"

"no no it's okay i just-"

"-- an issue, i have a sweatshirt in my bag I can--"

"-- i like it"

you looked up at him, completely silent. your brain fought hard to process what he said and how you could be reading it incorrectly.

"you..."

"i'm sorry, i, that sounded weird, jesus. i just mean its fine that you, you know you're wearing it, and--"

"stiles."

he shut up. he knew he was rambling and he just hoped he wasn’t reading the situation incorrectly. he locked eyes with you, anxious and listless.

"i wore it so you would notice."

stiles felt hot again.

he took a shaky breath, trying to think past the growing tension in the room. he wheeled his chair closer where you were sitting.

"oh"

you swung your feet over the edge of the bed.

"yeah"

both of you would swear that time stopped. the air got thick, and the moment was a blur. you don't know who made the first move, but suddenly you were both standing, your lips against each other in a relieving kiss. neither of you had allowed yourselves to imagine this moment seriously, yet here it was, and you had no idea how you’d lived without it before this.

his lips moved sweetly across yours, nervous but needy. it felt like forever before you pulled away, your body impatiently reminding you of its need to breathe.

both of you blushed, foreheads touching as you relished in the moment.

"i think i'm going to start forgetting my clothes around you more often."

[cauqhtz]

GALLY X READER!TINY

DISCLAIMER: i’ll be substituting "y/n" for "tiny" if that’s something you struggle with digesting? Keep scrolling! I dont need to be harrassed bc of it. Its not that serious. (No its not a oc. It’s literally you with a nickname. Instead of typing all ridiculous (y/n/n) i gave it a different word. Thats it and thats all! Also i’ve seen other writers do this without being harrassed so please just respect me and my choices. DO NOT READ IT IF YOU DO NOT LIKE IT. I removed the option to request anonymously because of this. But my requests are open!

SUMMARY: Thomas and Tiny talk about Gally and rejection.

"What do you see in him?" Thomas askes sitting down beside Tiny, motioning towards Gally.

The only girl in the glade and his best-friend. She’d only joined a couple months before he did and yet for some reason she drooled all over Gally. The builders chief. Going out of her way to please the guy. Though from everything that Thomas has witnessed, he wasnt giving her the time of day. Its pathetic. Though he wasn’t in any position to be judgemental.

"Excuse me?" Tiny hums in acknowledgment her. Her attention unwavering.

"Gally, hey-" Thomas calls turning her head in his direction before continuing. "He treats you like shit and you kiss the ground he walks on. Does it not bother you? Why not move on?"

"Of course it bothers me Tommy. I have feelings just like everyone else but i dont know. I could give you a million and one excuses and it still wouldnt explain how he makes me feel. You know? Yeah rejection hurts like a motherfucker but all it takes is a smile, a kiss to my cheek or forehead, his skin on mine in general and its like the pain was never there." Tiny rambles on grinning, eyes as bright as stars as she shakes his shoulders in excitement.

Thomas nods in understanding. He understood. He didnt know when he’d fallen in love with the girl who was in love with the guy who hated his guts. It was pathetic… but he couldnt find it in him to be mad at it.

"And i mean come on. Moving on? If it were that easy. Heartbreak wouldnt hurt as bad as it does. It doesnt help that he treats me like an absolute princess. He’s such a sweetheart. You know im very peculiar with how i eat my food? It has to be a certain way or i’ll starve. It’s not like we have many options in the glade but i just cannot force myself to swallow the food if it isnt a certain way and i’d die before offending frypan. So i’d end up starving until Gally realized and started to go out of his way to plate my food for me?" Tiny sighs leaning her head against Thomas shoulder, her gaze trailing back to Gally who was rough housing with the guys.

"He built me a shack, so i’d have my privacy and be alone. God his hugs are the best. He’s always so gentle with me. I mean just look at him-"

"Alright! Alright. I get it. You’re in love with him." Thomas huffs playfully shrugging the girl off. Trying to ignore ache in his chest.

"Yup! And he’s in love with me. He just doesnt know it yet!" Tiny grins, pressing a kiss to the boys cheek after having heard Gally call out to her. "Welp my husband calls! Later Tommy!"

Tommy hums, watching Gally hand the girl a plate of assorted food, that doesnt touch with a kiss to her forehead. The two walk from Thomas’s sight.

Thomas understood the girls words. More than he liked.

[llamaqueenprompt]

Love in the Spotlight

Characters: Dylan O'Brien, Reader, Tyler Posey

Not Requested

Word Count: 702

Inspiration: “This sounds a lot like a marriage proposal.” “Maybe it is.”

Since they met five years prior on the set of Teen Wolf, Dylan O’Brien and y/n l/n had been inseparable. They were always together and when they weren’t, they were probably face timing or texting one another non-stop. So when their relationship evolved to a status of way more than friends no one was really shocked.

And this was their first Comic Con as an out in the world couple. 

“Are you nervous?” Dylan asked, his fingers gently running through her hair.

“A little,” she raised from his lap to meet his gaze, “You?”

“No more than my first time” they softly laughed,  taking their last couple of minutes to relax on the couch.

“Everyone get ready you’ll be on stage in 10”

Dylan stood up and extended his hand to y/n, “Ready?” She just grabbed his hand and they got ready to enter.

“An applause for y/n!” The fans clapped and whistled as she walked into the stage with the biggest smile on her face and waving at them. She got to her seat and Dylan pulled out her chair for her before settling into the one beside her. His hand remained on the back of her chair while they clapped for the rest of the cast to enter the stage and make their way to their seats.

“Well, by now most of you know the rules but I will repeat them just in case. Everyone will be able to ask a question, our team will let you know when it’s your turn. Be respectful to the actors and the other fans that are here with you. And most importantly of all, have a good experience,” everyone clapped as the moderator took their seat.

The panel started smoothly, with the cast answering questions about their time on Teen Wolf and sharing funny stories from the set. Dylan and y/n sat side by side, occasionally exchanging loving glances and smiles, making the fans go crazy and already think of the edits they would do later.

“Y/n,” the girl in question took her attention away from Dylan and looked at the fan with a soft smile, “what was the most memorable moment for you during your time on Teen Wolf!”

“Well,” she looked around thinking for her second, “there were so many incredible moments on set, just the opportunity of being on this show with all these amazing people is as memorable as it gets,” everyone chuckled waiting for her to continue, already guessing what she was going to say next, “but if I had to pick one, it would be the day I met Dylan. It was the start of a beautiful journey, not just in our careers but in our lives. That moment was truly special.”

Dylan, with his head leaning on his hand, looked at his girlfriend with heart eyes and reached out to softly kiss her on the temple to which she responded by grabbing his hand and closing her eyes for a moment. The fans in the audience cheered loudly at the sweet moment between the two actors.

As the Q&A session continued, another fan stepped up to the microphone and asked, “Dylan, can you tell us what your future plans are? Both in your career and personal life,”

“Great question first of all, I’ve had some incredibles experiences in my career, and I hope to continue working on projects that excite me and that mean something to me. But when it comes to my personal life,” Dylan paused for a moment, looking at Sophia with a twinkle in his eye, “I do hope to see a big flower arch in my near future.”

The fans started whispering after his response, “Does that mean what I think it means?” Tyler Posey asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes it does.” Dylan said with a goofy smile on his face and eyes glued to y/n’s surprise face totally ignoring the screams from the fans.

“This sounds a lot like a marriage proposal,” Sophia said with a hint of a smile on her face.

“Maybe it is,” Dylan whispered in her ear before kissing her forehead, “you will have to wait and see.”

[voidfxndoms]

Rewatched American Assassin... brb gonna write some smut about Mitch Rapp for your (and my) pleasure.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Dylan O'Brien x Reader (Female) Synopsis: Traveling. Any annoying but necessary part of any actors job for the non-traveling party. But the welcome homes? They are oh so fucking sweet. Tags: it's filth with some cute plot, shower sex, kisses, more banter than is reasonable in polite society Rating: Explicit (obviously) Author’s Note: Y'all listen. I know. Okay. It's been a while, and to be honest? I started this in fucking January, but hey. It's here now, right? We're all chill? No one's upset? Good. LOVE YOU!

He’d been away for days, but it felt like weeks. Your feed has been covered in photos of him. The algorithms have you pretty much figured out. You’d been keeping up with his interviews, watching clips of his adorably awkward award acceptance speech. It wasn’t a surprise award, but it didn’t matter that he was prepared for it. He was incapable of being acknowledged for his achievements without turning into the equivalent of a turtle hiding in its shell. You’d have reached out to hold his hand and ground him if you could, but you’d been here. Alone. Missing him. But all that was soon to change.

He was on his way home. Annoyingly, his flight had been delayed, but as you stared up at the JFK arrivals board and it read: ‘Arrived’, you couldn’t help the bubbling up of excitement and giddy nervousness. It seemed like Tony was picking up on it as well because he stood against your leg, pawing at your thigh until you picked him up. He’d been missing his dad and had taken more comfort in your presence since he’d left. 

Your ears perked when the announcement that the baggage from his flight was about to begin its rounds through the baggage claim area. Your phone vibrated in the thigh pocket of your leggings. You gave Tony a quick squeeze before setting him back on the floor and taking your phone out. You smiled at the preview of the text you’d just received before you swiped to see the rest. 

‘Your fine ass better be waiting for me down there.’ 

You smirked before typing out a teasing reply. 

‘Got stuck in traffic a few times but I’m here. I hate Newark btw.’ 

You watched the dots appear and couldn’t help the audible laugh that escaped when you read his next message. 

‘Newark!?’ 

You interrupted him with a quick ‘I’m joking!!!’ before you could see what he was typing next. Then after a brief pause, the dots reappeared before his reprimand. 

‘You know you’re this close to the find-out stage of fuckin around?’ 

‘Oh? What if that’s exactly what I want?’ 

‘👀’

‘Not that I want to rush through the fuckin around part 😏’  

“I’ll be taking my sweet fucking time…don’t worry.”

You startled at his audible reply and your eyes shot up from your phone and met his as Tony pulled at the leash in your hand to reach him. He looked a bit tired but happy. His smile was wide across his stubbled face, quirking up at the corner when you smiled back. 

“Hey buddy!” he said, handing you his pillow before bending down to scoop Tony up into his arms. “I missed you!” he swooned in the adorable baby voice he reserved for his furry son. “Did you miss me too?” He rubbed Tony’s head and then his tummy. “Such a good boy!” 

You smiled at the two of them, pulling Tony’s leash from your wrist and handing it to Dylan. Tony would be stuck to him like glue now. 

“Hey, baby,” he said softly before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips. One just long enough to make you the tiniest bit dizzy and eager for more. 

You blinked away distracting thoughts. “Do you have much luggage?” 

Dylan shook his head. “Just this,” he said pointing at his backpack, “and one bag on the turnstiles.” 

“Should be over there, they just announced it,” you said, taking a few steps toward the baggage claim area.

“Nice!” he said, hiking Tony up onto his shoulder a bit before he followed after you. 

His bag passed in front of him and he hefted it off the belt and popped out the handle and you took it from him so he could focus on the excited ball of fur in his arms. You set his pillow on it and wheeled it behind you toward the cab that was waiting out front. As much as you hated early morning airport runs, you were glad his 4 AM delayed arrival made the whole airport experience a lot smoother. Fewer people. Less traffic. You’d been able to get in and out without so much as a sideways glance from anyone else. 

“Hey you,” he said as he slumped in the seat next to you, Tony taking up the little bit of space between you. 

“Hey,” you said, smiling back at him. 

It was just after 5 AM and you’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep. Originally, he was supposed to have gotten in at midnight and had been scheduled to arrive at Newark, but his flight had been canceled. When he called you to let you know, you were already getting ready to catch the Uber you’d called to take you to the airport. You had a habit of being too punctual. But that also meant that you had a hard time settling and only managed a short nap before you got up to head to JFK. You were a bit tired, but feeling his warmth next to you for the first time in a while was enough of a comfort to fight off the droop of your sleepy eyes. You wanted to see his smile, the upturned tip of his nose, the lopsided smile he sported as he pet Tony. Sleep could wait. 

The drive back to the loft was rather uneventful. Traffic was light, you weren’t sure you’d ever made it the Carey Tunnel faster than you just had. When you hopped out of the car, Dylan gathered his bags from the back of the car and you headed up to the apartment. Home. It was always a comfortable place, but it was warmer when he was in it.

“Smells nice in here…” he said with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment as his shoulders sagged in relaxation. “I missed it.” 

“And I missed you.” You stepped into his space and wrapped your arms around his waist and he quickly pulled you to his chest, looping his arms over your shoulders and pressing a kiss into your hair. 

“You did, huh?” he chuckled, the heat of his exhaled breath warming your skin. 

“Mhm…” you hummed, laying your cheek against his chest. The loft was dimly lit by a single lamp near the sofa in the living room and the streetlights that filtered in through the large windows. It added to the comfort you felt in his arms. 

“I missed you more,” he whispered.

“Impossible.” 

He sighed out a long breath, holding you tight to his chest before he pulled back, his hands clasped around your waist, eyes locked to yours. The warm, honey-brown hue of them sent a shiver down your spine, of course, it didn’t help that he’d begun to work his hands under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips pressing just a little more firmly into the bare skin covering your ribs when he leaned down to kiss you. 

His lips were insistent, the kiss at the airport clearly not satiating the need that had built during your time apart. It was a comforting reminder that his infatuation with you must be at least somewhat comparable to your own. 

You moaned when his lips wandered along your jaw and latched to your throat just below your ear. Not to be outdone and wanting a little audible thrill of your own, you were satisfied at the deep groan that emanated from the back of his throat when one of your roaming hands slipped down between your bodies to graze across the front of his thigh until it was cupping him through his sweatpants. 

“Definitely missed that,” he breathed out across your collarbone before pushing your hair back and sliding the collar of your shirt aside to access more of your skin. 

You laughed softly before it morphed into a half-whispered moan of his name when his teeth grazed along the sensitive skin above your breast. “Fuck…” you breathed, squeezing your hand around him eliciting an appreciative grumble from him that you felt vibrate the aching bit wet skin he’d been sucking on your chest. 

When you released your grip to slip your hand behind the waistband of his sweats, he grabbed your wrist. “Not yet…” he chuckled when he pulled back to see you scowling at him. “Don’t worry,” he said, smiling at you, brushing an errant hair back from the place where it hung in your eyes, “I’m gonna make you scream…” 

You swallowed thickly. 

“I’d just rather not reek like a man who’s known only seat 23A for 10 hours when I do it.” 

You chuckled softly. “Well…” you smiled back before reaching both hands around behind him, “then you better get this,” you squeezed his ass, “fine thing in the shower then.” You gave him a gentle spank. 

He laughed and pressed a kiss into your hair. “Thirsty little monster,” he said, running his hand down your arm. “Join me?” he said, pleading gaze meeting yours. 

You nodded and he took your hand, lacing your fingers together and leading you through the apartment toward the bathroom. The gentle squeeze of his hand in yours sent a satisfying ripple of warmth through your body. Just as you’d made it through the door to the bathroom, you tugged on his hand and swung his body to pin him against the counter of the vanity. 

He let out a soft huff at the gentle impact and smiled down at you as you grabbed at the hem of his shirt and yanked it roughly up over his body. His bare chest heaved as your eyes roved over him, your hands following your gaze across his pecs, through the soft hair, down his abs, settling on the waistband of his sweats before you began to crouch in front of him as you slid them down his thighs to pool at his feet. 

You looked at him from between his thighs and watched as his brown eyes turned near-black, crouching there longer than was necessary to achieve the task, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Fucking tease…” he muttered under his breath before he hauled you up in front of him and stripped your top off, tossing it across the room before he latched onto your throat and bit down. 

While you writhed in his arms, his hands warmed up your back until his fingers worked open the clasp of your bra. He slipped his fingers under the straps and slid them free of your shoulders and let the garment fall to the floor. 

“Mmm…” he mused, looking down at your chest before he leaned forward and captured your lower lip between his teeth and pulled it back slightly before releasing it to kiss down the column of your throat. He cupped you breast and brought his lips to the peak and flattened his tongue in a wide sweep before sealing his lips to suck your nipple until it was taut and pebbled.

“Dylan…” you groaned, your hands tangling into his hair.

He held you against his body and swapped your positions until your lower back was pressed against the vanity. He nipped at your chest before he finally pulled back and lifted you to sit on the counter in front of him. He quickly unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them from you, throwing them into a heap with the rest of your discarded clothing. Then he slotted himself between your thighs. “Shower’s right there…” he titled his head in its direction, “and yet here we are…” he smiled, his fingertips trailing down from your arms, along your ribs and waist until they teased at the elastic of the last piece of clothing you were left wearing.  

“Here we are…” you repeated, looking down your body at his hand as it slipped into your underwear. You fell forward into his chest when you felt his teasing, barely there touch where you were now aching to feel it. Your sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed.

He leaned in and grinned against the skin of your throat before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the tendon running the length of it. “Something wrong?” he teased, still not touching you the way you wished he would. 

“Please…” you whispered. 

The little amused noise he made only frustrated you more, because Instead of giving in to your need, he hooked his fingers around the band of your underwear and stepped back from you to slide them free from your legs. He twirled them around his long index finger before letting them slip out of his hands to the floor. His eyes roamed over you, exposed to him now, perched on the counter. “Fucking perfect…” he breathed, giving his head a slight shake.

You flushed under his attentive gaze, your own eyes catching on the obvious sign of his own interest tenting the front of his boxer briefs. “Talkin’ about yourself?” you finally managed. 

He smiled and shook his head. 

“You should be…” you sighed, “but you could stand to be just a bit more naked…” you pointed to his underwear. 

He laughed. “Fair,” he said before turning around to turn on the shower. He looked back at you, smirking as he hooked his thumbs in the band of his boxers. When he slid them down his thighs the need you felt for him was almost unbearable. He held out a hand to help you down. “Time to get you wet,” he said with a smirk. 

“Too late.” 

His brows shot up his forehead. “Fuck… me…” he muttered

You stepped past him, your hands gliding over his naked torso, and into the shower. “That’s the plan.” 

He followed after and closed the door, the glass quickly began to fog with the steam as you stood under the spray of the faucet. Even though you knew the water was hot, it almost felt cool on your heated skin. Dylan watched you as you ran your hands over your body before he reached out, gripping your hips. He shoved you back against the wall and his lips crashed into yours. 

You reached up clasped around his neck, your hands tangling into the wet strands of his hair, deepening the kiss and tasting the faint hint of mint on his tongue. His teeth grazed over your bottom lip, pulling it taut before he kissed along your jawline. 

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath against your throat.

“Soap’s over there,” you sighed, jutting your chin to the shelf in the corner. 

“Right… showering…” his teasing mouth paused and he pulled back from you. “You’re so fucking distracting…” he groaned, his grip on your hips shifting to your ass before he squeezed it in both of his palms. 

You grinned and wet your lower lip with your tongue. 

“Not helping.”

You laughed before you pushed him away enough to grab the body wash from the shelf and squeeze it onto his loofa. “Lemme help then,” you said, gesturing for him to turn around in front of you, the water now striking him in the chest. 

He didn’t protest, and quickly spun around as you took a small step closer, so your wet body was pressed briefly against him before you began to scrub his shoulders and upper back. 

“Mmm…” he hummed, rolling his neck. 

You tickled him enough to raise his arms so you could wash them both thoroughly. You smiled watching him noticeably relax his shoulders. You washed down his back, sliding the loofa down to the dips in his low back and over his perfect ass. 

“Taking your time back there…” he chuckled. 

“Stop having such a nice ass and maybe I’d make quicker work of it.” 

He shook a bit with a contained laugh. “Noted.” 

You finally relented, taking one last look at his soapy cheeks before you reached around to scrub his chest and stomach, not spending too much time before reaching down and squeezing the loofa at his belly button and letting the soap begin to run down his body. Your free hand followed after it until it was teasing at the coarse hair, brushing just where you knew he was dying for you to touch him. 

“Relentless fucking tease–” 

You cut off his complaint by wrapping your hand around his sudsy length and pumping him just once. “You were saying?” you breathed against his back before you kissed his shoulder blade before you pumped him again. 

He groaned, his head falling forward. “I’ll shut up… just don’t fucking stop.” 

You beamed with pride. It wasn’t like he never begged, but it was far less common than your own pleadings that more frequently bounced off the walls of this room. You rewarded its rarity by picking up the pace with your hand, pinning him against you with the other hand pressing against the front of his thigh, the loofa long forgotten at his feet. 

He stuttered forward, one hand coming up to hold his weight against the tiled wall the other grasping gently at your wrist, not stopping you, but guiding your hand. “Fuck,” he cursed, the last consonant of it coming out shuddered and low.

You were growing more and more impatient with each second. The ache between your thighs was forcing you to squeeze them together for some kind of relief. You moaned in frustration, your pace faltering. 

Dylan squeezed your wrist and stilled your hand. “Someone sounds needy…” he whispered, pulling your hand free of him and swapping your positions. He pressed you back against the wall and grabbed your body wash from the shelf, squeezing some into his palm. 

You watched him warm his hands together, lathering the gel into foamy suds in those gorgeous fucking hands that you knew he was about to touch you with. 

He smirked at the audible sound of you swallowing before he cupped one of your breasts, his other hand snaking around you, his fingers teasing the dimples of your lower back. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his nose nudging your chin up enough for him to run his tongue up the length of your throat before he kissed you. 

Your heart hammered in your chest, your skin pebbled with goosebumps, your body sang under his touch. You’d missed him. God, how you’d missed him. It should be against the Geneva Convention for him to be away from you this long. Torture, pure and simple. But this? This was as close as you could imagine to what it might feel like to be moments from dying of thirst in a vast desert only to stumble into the cool waters of an oasis.

He slid his hand down your body and, without a hint of teasing or pretense, rubbed your clit with the pads of two fingers. 

“Holy. Sh–!” you cussed, only getting half of it out before it devolved into a strangled moan. 

Dylan nudged at your chin as your head lolled in pleasure, his lips skimming across your skin, breathing out praise as he continued to swirl his fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you writhing against him. “Missed the way you sound…” he nipped your neck, “the way you feel…” he groped at your chest again with his free hand, “the way you taste…” he kissed you again, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth. 

His talented fingers had you approaching the edge, that warm feeling building up inside you, that pressure that made you feel like you were electrified. “Dyl… please…” you softly begged when he gave you a moment to finally breathe. 

His lips slipped from yours, your noses touching, both of you panting in the same air. Then you whined when you felt his fingers disappear from you. He stepped back into the stream of water and pulled you with him, kissing you everywhere his lips could reach as the hot spray of the shower rinsed you both clean of suds. 

You looped your arms around his neck and he gripped the backs of your thighs, hauling you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. 

His eyes were wide with the same wonder he somehow still held for you even though he’d had you so many times there was no way to keep count. It made you feel warm and wanted. Desired and beautiful.  

“Could stay in this shower for the rest of my fucking life…” he said as he pinned your back to the wall and bucked up against you, slickening himself in the folds of your body, driving the head of his cock into your already sensitive clit. 

Your eyes rolled back at the contact, your hips rocking forward to meet the roll of his. “We’ll… we’ll get all pruney….” you finally breathed out. 

He laughed against your throat before he kissed, nipped, and sucked what you knew would be an impressive little bruise into your skin. “So be it,” he said, and then he shifted his hips, met your gaze, and slid into you to the hilt. 

The stretch, the fullness, it was almost as shocking now as the first time you’d felt him buried inside you. It was perfection, blissfully indecent perfection. You moaned his name, your fingernails clawing at his shoulders as he began to set a punishing pace, driving up into you hard, rutting his body against yours enough to stimulate you in just the right places, inside and out. 

“Shit!” you swore, letting your head fall back against the tiled wall. 

He fucked into you over and over as you felt yourself edging closer to the brink. You felt your thighs begin to shudder as his pace grew more erratic an unpredictable. 

“So fucking tight…” he groaned before he kissed the valley between your collarbones. 

The strangled need in his voice, the feel of his breath against your skin–all of it coupled with the delicious way the end of his length was pressing into that perfect spot inside you that made you feel like you were losing touch with reality–you were ready. “Fuck, Dyl–” 

He raised one hand to press on your chin enough to force your gaze back to his, the pad of his thumb dragging across your lower lip. 

You moaned and flicked at it with the tip of your tongue. “I’m so close… please!” you begged.

He drove his thumb between your lips and when you sucked it into your mouth, he slipped the hand on your thigh between your legs to rub his finger over your clit just when he drove a final thrust against your g-spot. 

You’d had your fair share of fantastic orgasms at this man’s hands, literally, but this one was up there standing proudly on the podium collecting its medal. It was a rush of pent-up need and desire that washed over you like a crashing tidal wave. Every single cell in your body felt like it was vibrating with pleasure. Your muscles clamped down on him as you felt him join you in his own release. The feel of him spilling into you, the sound of your name falling from his slack lips, making it all so much more intense. It was perfection. Pure and simple. Absolute. Unadulterated. Bliss.

Your chest heaved against his, both of you softly laughing between kisses before you felt him slip free of your body. His hands warmed up your arms before they cupped either side of your neck. 

“I love you so fucking much.” 

You smiled at him, leaning in to run your nose along his throat until your lips were at his ear. “I love you too.” 

He sighed and his lips found yours, but he held back from the kiss long enough to speak. “Hell of a welcome home.” 

[sssilverstoned]

couples quiz ꩜ ln4

type: transcription from a youtube video

The GQ couples quiz goes precisely how you both, and your PR teams, expect it to

lily said: i just love world building (even if im not the best at it) so i can't ever leave a concept or pairing alone, so it goes!

part 1 part 2 part 3 2.5ish interlude

Y/N: Why do I feel like I left the oven on in the kitchen?

Lando: Well, because you did. I turned it off on our way out, don't worry about it.

y/n turns to the camera with a bright smile, and lando smiles at the sight of her own.

Y/N: My hero, everyone!

Y/N: And um, I guess we're getting started now? So hi, I'm Y/N L/N, a model and creative director currently based out of Europe.

Lando: And I'm Lando Norris, a driver for McLaren Racing's Formula 1 Team, and this is the GQ couples quiz. And if I may add, I absolutely think I'm going to win.

Y/N: I'm not even dignifying that with banter.

lando turns to the camera, an eyebrow raised.

Lando: Fun fact: Y/N's quite genuinely the most competitive person I've met in my entire life.

y/n's jaw drops with a scoff.

Y/N: No shot! You race for a living, for crying out loud.

Lando: Trust me, Love, you take the cake.

y/n rolls her eyes with no charge, a smile still on both of their faces and small looks exchanged between the two of them,

Y/N: Alright, you first. What's my favorite color?

Lando: (your favorite color), easy. it's the color of your phone case right now too.

Y/N: Yup. What's my favorite place I've traveled?

Lando: You loved Venice, no?

y/n winces, weighing her hands back and forth.

Y/N: I did, but that's not my favorite. In my whole life, I'd say,

Both: Jamaica!

they laugh at their unison.

Lando: And I knew that, I knew that! Because of your grandparents.

y/n nods fondly, giggling at how lando beats himself up about getting one wrong.

Y/N: Alright, what am I most scared of?

Lando: You're petrified of spiders.

y/n gags, and shudders.

Y/N: Don't even get me started.

lando turns to the camera with a faux look of exhaustion.

Lando: This girl refused to go into our bedroom for 3 hours once when I was out because there was a spider on the vanity.

Y/N: Whatever. Where did I go to school?

Lando: Switzerland and New York, very posh.

Y/N: You're calling me posh?

Lando: Can't the pot and the kettle both be black?

a producer bursts out in laughter in the background, making the couple do the same. there's a fondness in both their eyes as they double over in laughter.

Y/N: Okay, okay, almost done. What food do I love and hate?

Lando: You hate mushrooms, and for some reason, you really don't like salmon. As for what you do like, you get stir-fry and noodles a lot, but only from specific places. And you love tomato soup, that's the number one.

Y/N: Right again, nice baby! You make a good one now, by the way.

he winks at her.

Y/N: Who is my celebrity crush?

lando scoffs.

Lando: Dylan O'Brien.

Y/N: Forever and ever. My birthday?

Lando: March 10th, a spicy pisces, as you say.

Y/N: Hey, Olivia Rodrigo herself called me that.

Lando: And what about Scorpios?

Y/N: Nope, not your turn yet, I've got one last question.

lando takes a dramatic breath.

Lando: Alright, hit me with it.

Y/N: Where did we go on our first date?

a big smile grows on lando's face.

Lando: We went to a music show one of our friends recommended, and we both thought it was awful but didn't say anything because we didn't want to leave and have the date be over, so we listened to the most shit jazz music for an hour and a half just to be around each other.

Y/N: Best result from the worst music I've ever heard.

Lando: Ditto. Now, hand me the cards, yeah? I'm about to stump you so good.

the camera transitions to y/n now in the hotseat answering questions, lando teasingly taking his job very seriously with the question cards.

Lando: Alright. Where am I from?

Y/N: Bristol, thought you said you'd stump me?

Lando: This is literally question 1?

lando turns to the producers.

Lando: You see what I mean? Ferocious.

Lando: Moving on, what is our favorite show to watch together?

Y/N: We're rewatching Prison Break, so I'd say that?

Lando: I'll give you that one. Ugh, what was I wearing when we first met? Fucks sake, can we skip this one?

y/n sputters over him.

Y/N: Absolutely not, we're not skipping over this!

Lando: Oh come on, Love-

Y/N: I swear to you, the very first time I met Lando, he came to my 18th birthday party in a full on basketball kit!

Lando: I was told it was "Space Jam" themed!

Y/N: As in dress like you're in space, you fool! Not the Michael Jordan and Bugs Bunny movie!

Lando: Needless to say, I was mortified. Seems like she still thought I was cute though, no?

another wink is sent to the camera.

Lando: What's your biggest pet peeve about me?

Y/N: You spoil everything. I can't ever watch a show or a movie without you walking in and going, "Oh, this is the episode before he dies." Like? Who does that?

Lando: Yeah, ah, guilty. Working on it. Eh, not really. What's my nickname for you?

Y/N: Cradle robber.

another producer reacts to this. a sputtering shock of laugh. "you call her WHAT?"

Y/N: We're the same age, mind you.

Lando: Wrong, you've been alive 8 months longer than me on this planet! 3/4 of a year, mind you. But I've got real nicknames for you.

Y/N: Yeah, you do. You call me Love, more than you say my name, so it always feels odd when you do say it.

lando doesn't respond with his voice, but the fond look in his eyes and nod at her answer.

Lando: What irritates me the most?

Y/N: About me? Or, like, in life?

Lando: Life, nothing irritates me about you.

Y/N: Oh, please. But, in life, you're pretty irritable when it comes to selfish people. You've always been like that, though, very compassionate and not a fan of people who aren't.

Lando: Very true, never thought of it like that, I guess. Just don't be an asshole, you know?

Y/N: See? Irritated.

Lando: Anyway. We're on our last question, so I guess you've won because it's not a point question.

Y/N: I won't rub this one in your face, just because you've been a great interviewer.

he gives her a gracious nod, and y/n rolls her eyes.

Lando: You'll never ever know how grateful I am. Final Question, what's something that you weren't expecting about me that you love about me?

Y/N: Oh goodness, are you wanting me to cry? Well, I think something that was initially a hard adjustment was the intensity of your racing schedule, and doing long distance sometimes. We don't really see each other sometimes, but when we do, you always sleep in. And at first it was really annoying to me, because we only have like, 3 days together, wake up! Let's do something! But once you told me that you let yourself sleep in on those days because it's a time to just, be, and we can do it together. So I guess my answer is, I wasn't expecting to love how much you love little moments. You've taught me to be grateful for things we take for granted, and I don't know, I think it's helped me through a lot.

lando stays still for a bit, an adoring look on his face as his eyes swell with what we think were happy tears. we're hoping so, at least.

Lando: I can't wait to marry you one day.

[babyflorencee]

Ignored ignorance

Merry Christmas!!

Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

Stiles' and I had gotten out of an adequately heated argument a couple of hours ago. He was mad at me because he thought that I was flirting with another man when I wasn't. So I've been ignoring him ever since. Now I'm not mad at him because he wrongfully accused of something that I didn't do, and would never do. But, I'm mad because he screamed at me nonstop for an hour before talking it out with me first.

It was currently midnight, and I was in the guest bedroom because I didn't want to be anywhere near him. I was on my phone texting Lydia when I heard a faint knock on the door. Knowing it's Stiles, I put my phone down, pretending like I'm sleeping. "Y/n?" I hear him whisper, trying to quietly open the door but failing miserably.

"Y/n, I know you're awake."

I just ignore him, trying to pretend like he isn't in the room. A couple of minutes go by and I'm just about to drift off to sleep when I feel the bed dip and an arm loosely wrapped around my waist. He put his mouth against my ear and whispers, "I'm so sorry, my love. Please come back to bed." His apology was so quiet I could just barely hear what he said.

I still don't say anything. I always end up caving in but I don't want to this time. He can't yell at me like that and expect me to forgive him so easily. "Y/n, I know you're awake. Baby please, I can't sleep without you beside me." He whines, but I still ignore him.

I feel him tighten his arm against my waist, pulling me into his chest and nuzzling his face into my hair, pressing light kisses all over my head. "I need you." And with just those three words, everything he did was completely forgotten.

[lecsainz]

ׄFORMULA ONE MASTERLIST

( requests are OPEN || back to nav || back to main masterlist )

˒ ⌕ second f1 masterlist

fluff ಇ | smut ✧ | angst ✶ | sad ʚ | sugestive 𑁤

CL 16 ✶ CHARLES LECLERC

˒ ⌕ one shot

runaway bride: you were nervous before your wedding and realized your true feelings for your best friend charles.

love notes: you and charles spend a cozy morning together, enjoying breakfast and a sweet moment at the piano.

winning hearts: charles and you, a new driver on the grid, form a strong bond as you both pursue your dreams in motorsport.

stuck in the elevator: you and charles find yourselves stuck in an elevator.

always be here: after crashing during the quali at the miami grand prix, charles is devastated, but finds peace and comfort in your presence.

remind me: you and charles have been friends since childhood and end up dating when you're older.

big dream: y/n and charles's daughters, rylee and amelie, wish for a baby brother, leading to lighthearted conversations and laughter during a family lunch in monaco.

meeting of families: where charles becomes enchanted upon meeting carla's older sister during a family dinner. → PART TWO

saturday morning: the one where you decide to look for your boyfriend around the apartment after not finding him in bed.

home sweet home: you're charles' girl, and he catches you groovin' solo in the crib you both share.

˒ ⌕ smut

yacht experience: you're on a yacht with other drivers, and charles can't get your body out of his mind from the previous night, leading to him and you having sex in the yacht's cabin.

dress: you and charles are attending a gala event, and he can't hide how much the dress you're wearing drives him crazy. the night ends with the two of you having hot sex in the hotel room.

shower heat: charles and you engage in a shower sex, where he skillfully uses the showerhead to bring you to climax.

lust to love: coming soon!

honeymoon: the one where you and charles have sex for the first time after getting married.

just ride: the one where you decide to surprise and tease charles by riding him on the balcony of your apartment while he's on a call with his engineer.

you're mine: the one where you decide to tease charles and he ends up getting jealous.

sunset: charles being turned on by your sundress.

˒ ⌕ smau

hollywood rumors: the one where you recently broke up with actor dylan o'brien, sparking rumors of a potential new relationship with a formula one driver.

met gala interview: the one where you getting ready for the met gala and preparing for an interview with vogue and you receive questions about your secret boyfriend.

wedding to remember: you and charles, along with your daughters amelie and rylee, get ready to attend a friend's wedding where the twins will be the flower girls.

high infidelity: the one where you're famous and end up raising suspicions of cheating on your boyfriend carlos with charles, his teammate.

main thing: the one where you're an actress and a mom, and rumors about you and charles surface. → PART TWO

been mine: that one where you and charles have been friends since childhood and end up together.

˒ ⌕ fake text

this toxic twisted rush: the one where you get abandoned on your anniversary with charles and end up discovering his true colors.

sleepless: the one where charles can't sleep before a race day and ends up sending messages to his girlfriend.

interview distractions: the one where you're charles' girlfriend and decide to tease him a bit during an interview.

˒ ⌕ headcanons

i really like your curls i like a lot ಇ

˒ ⌕ blurbs

happy birthday love ಇ

perfume ಇ

CS 55 ✶ CARLOS SAINZ

˒ ⌕ one shot

she’s a bad bad girl: that one where the media makes up stuff about your relationship with carlos but he ain't gonna let that shake our relationship.

smooth operator ✧

˒ ⌕ smau

instagram stories: carlos and you had been keeping their three children out of the public eye for a while, but accidentally revealed them in a social media story.

bésame: the one where you are carlos' latina girlfriend and you exchange cute posts on instagram

˒ ⌕ blurbs

good night babe: the one where you are insecure about sleeping at the same bed as your boyfriend, carlos.

amor a la ventana: where you're the next-door neighbor of carlos, and he invites you to dinner.

LH 44 ✶ LEWIS HAMILTON

˒ ⌕ smau

we keep this lowkey: the one where harry styles' younger sister is seen with lewis and everyone starts commenting about a possible romance between them.

˒ ⌕ headcanons

˒ ⌕ blurbs

late night drive: the one where you are lewis, go out for a car ride at night.

KR 07 ✶ KIMI RAIKKONEN

˒ ⌕ blurbs

melting the iceman: the one where you see your husband taking care of your son and feel that you couldn't be happier as you are.

PG 10 ✶ PIERRE GASLY

˒ ⌕ one shot

hotel room: where the hotel mistakenly switches room keys, and pierre ends up in christian horner's niece's room.

bathroom incident: pierre takes his sister to a race, and you get trapped in the paddock bathroom.

LN 04 ✶ LANDO NORRIS

˒ ⌕ one shot

back to december: lando reunites with his ex-girlfriend in the paddock with another driver.

˒ ⌕ fake text

sweatshirts: the one where you steal lando's sweatshirts.

miss you: the one where you're lando's girlfriend and, because you miss him so much, you decide to go see him at a race.

date with my bestie? the one where you're best friends with lando but due to adult life, you end up drifting apart

miss you: the one where you're lando's girlfriend and, because you miss him so much, you decide to go see him at a race.

˒ ⌕ smau

triangle: the one where you're toto wolff's daughter and everyone wants to know who your boyfriend is.

˒ ⌕ headcanons

dating with lando norris

DR 03 ✶ DANIEL RICCIARDO

˒ ⌕ one shot

sister's support: you decide to accompany daniel to a race for the first time and end up being invited on a date.

tattooed: the one where you're a tattoo artist, and Daniel comes to your tattoo studio.

football game: the one where you're the younger sister of the kelces and you go to a travis game and end up meeting daniel ricciardo.

˒ ⌕ smau

mystery affair: the one where you, a famous singer, finds yourself in the midst of rumors when photos of her with lando and pierre surface, and no one expects the true identity of her mysterious man.

falling for you: that one where you're a famous singer, and daniel comes to your show, and you exchange love declarations on social media.

MV 33 ✶ MAX VERSTAPPEN

˒ ⌕ smau

my brother's friend: the one where you're charles' sister and dating one of his friends, max.

˒ ⌕ one shot

foolish: where max has feelings for you but he's with kelly, and when he finally acts on it, it's already too late.

MS 47 ✶ MICK SCHUMACHER

˒ ⌕ smau

they're talk- talk- talking about: the one where you and mick have been dating for a while without the media knowing and you start interacting more on social media

SB 05 ✶ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

˒ ⌕ one shot

winter visit: the one where you go on a super chilly winter holiday date with your boyfriend for a mini getaway to meet his parents.

OP 81 ✶ OSCAR PIASTRI

˒ ⌕ blurbs

ON THE GRID ✶ READER DRIVER

˒ ⌕ one shot

sneezes and strategies: where you have a sneezing attack during a race.

fangirl moment: before a race, you encounter one of your favorite singers in the paddock, who happens to be your fan.

from pit stop to push-up: you go to the gym "of your own free will" with lando.

˒ ⌕ driver!reader x fabio quartararo

secret crush: you receive a message from motogp rider fabio quartararo aand become the subject of jokes about your little mishap from the entire grid.

date night: part two is a secret crush, where you go on a date with fabio.

[freedomfireflies]

The Prism*

Summary: Harry and Dylan don't have a thing in common except for their hatred.

That...and their insatiable thirst for you.

Word Count: 11k (I have no excuse for this, I was in heat)

*This is a Harry Styles and Dylan O'Brien crossover of sorts! I know that's not everybody's thing, so please feel no pressure to read! This part will contain Mature and Explicit content, so please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

The Prism.

Boston's very own sex club. Boston's best underground sex club. 

Secret, but not unknown, The Prism is nothing short of legendary. The parties, the memories, the clients, the exclusivity. All of it making The Prism what it is. 

This is where you find yourself one Friday evening. With your on again, off again boy-toy Harry by your side.

You figure it’s a good way to welcome in the weekend. A quick fuck to reset the stress from the previous week. A habit that’s becoming rather typical for you. Especially with Harry, who offers you nothing more than some good cock.

He might be a pain in your ass, but he certainly does know his way around your body. A talent that’s proven even now as he rests his hand on your thigh while you take a sip of your Sprite.

The touches always start innocently enough. A quick squeeze to your knee beneath the table as you laugh. He’ll make some comment about how perfect your dress is for easy access. How fun it would be to fuck you right there in the booth. How thrilling it would be to make everybody watch.

And everybody would watch. And they wouldn’t care. Because that’s just…what The Prism does. It’s why you’re all here. No judgements, no consequences…just sex.

And right as this thought occurs to you, Harry’s fingers begin their journey up your inner thigh. They always find themselves there eventually, and you aren’t about to argue. Especially with how determined his touch is tonight. 

You’re tempted to wonder why but can’t find the willpower to do so as the soft stroking against your skin crawls higher. 

Out of reflex, your legs begin to squeeze shut around his hand while your fingers grip onto the edge of your seat. 

You turn toward him, face nuzzling into his shoulder as if to hide. Because you’re so smitten by this man and his touch and this feeling he’s giving you.

But when you glance up at him, maybe in an attempt to encourage him to finally touch you…you see that his eyes are not on you.

They’re on something in the distance.

Focused, and cocky, and somewhat angry.

And just as you’re beginning to ask yourself why…you hear footsteps. Growing louder and louder until they stop right behind you.

“Well, well, well.”

The new voice is enough to startle you, but it isn’t enough to deter Harry’s touch. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow. Doesn’t offer you a moment of reprieve. No, he keeps pressing his thumb over the dampening spot of your underwear as you slowly turn to see who’s approached.

And to your surprise, and slight horror…you find Dylan.

Dylan, your friend of nearly eight years, looming above where you sit in the booth. Hands in his pockets, a smirk pulling at his lips, and his shirt unbuttoned about halfway down his chest.

For a moment, he eyes Harry’s wrist as it continues to disappear beneath the hem of your dress. 

And then, he looks up. Finds you. Studies you for a moment as you quickly attempt to push Harry out and play coy.

“Hi,” you breathe, frowning when your attempts at shoving are unsuccessful. Harry won’t let himself be moved away from you, and you want to smack him. 

And now you understand the look on his face. Understand why he kept his focus on the man across the room.

Dylan and Harry can’t fucking stand each other. You’re not sure why, but it’s been like this since the moment you got the outrageously idiotic idea to introduce them.

Dylan thinks you can do better than Harry. 

Which, truthfully…you probably can.

And Harry thinks Dylan needs to mind his own fucking business.

Which, truthfully…he probably does.

But you never found the need to take a side. Because what you do with Harry only matters inside the bedroom.

And your friendship with Dylan matters outside of the bedroom.

There’s no need for the two relationships to ever overlap or interact.

Except for now.

Dylan’s smirk widens at your attempt at a nonchalant greeting, but he knows he’s caught you off guard. “Hi,” he returns.

“What, um…what a coincidence,” you say, clearing your throat as you squeeze Harry’s hand between your fingers. 

“Isn’t it?” Dylan muses, nodding once as he looks down at you.

You swallow.

“Funny…this is the last place I imagined seeing you,” he continues, allowing for one glance at the man beside you, his eyebrow cocking up.

You clear your throat once more. “Oh, well, you know. We didn’t have much to do, and I’ve heard the mozzarella sticks are to die for.”

It’s a horrible cover. You know he’s not buying it, and Harry’s snort of amusement certainly doesn’t help your cause.

But Dylan graciously begins to grin, almost as if to appease you. “Is that so?”

You nod. “Yes. Yup. In fact, now that we’ve tried them, we’re probably just…gonna head home.”

“Oh, really? Already?”

“Yeah. Just…have a nice night in. Relax. Maybe watch a movie. Or two. Or three. Movies are fun. Aren’t movies fun?”

You’re rambling. You need to stop. But you don’t know what else to do. Don’t know how to look Dylan in the eye as Harry’s hand continues to tease you underneath your dress.

“Such fun,” Dylan agrees before he runs his tongue over his teeth. “But…I’m afraid I can’t let you leave.”

Now, it’s Harry’s turn to look intrigued. He leans closer, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he regards the confident man on the other side of the table.

“Why, um…why not?” you ask hesitantly, feeling rather caught between these two alpha-males.

There’s a pause as Dylan regards you, his attention falling down to your chest which is heaving beneath the fancy material of your outfit.

It makes him smile.

He leans closer. “Because what kind of friend would I be…if I made you cum around his fingers?”

Your eyes just about pop out of your head as you blink at him, stunned by the implication that he did in fact see what Harry was doing.

“I’d say a pretty fucking shitty one,” Dylan continues, placing his hands on the table as his head dips closer to you. “And am I a shitty friend?”

You don’t know what to do. Have no answer to offer him.

And just when you’re thinking you’d like to walk into the middle of traffic to avoid this interaction altogether…you feel Harry squeeze your thigh.

Either he’s furious with Dylan for showing up and intruding…or he’s reminding you to answer.

Both theories make your stomach flip. 

“No,” you murmur, a bit mesmerized by the curious but lustful look in Dylan’s eye.

“No,” he repeats in agreement, nodding once. “No, I’m not. You know what kind of friend I am?”

Your head shakes.

“I’m the kind of friend…that takes you into that private room…and fucks you the way you deserve,” he whispers, eyeing you closely as he watches the realization settle.

The entire booth goes quiet. Still.

You have no idea where this came from. No idea how many drinks Dylan must have had to inspire him to even suggest such an idea.

And you have no idea why Harry isn’t stopping him. Telling him off. Shutting the idea down.

It’s as if you all understand the same thing. As if you’ve all landed on the same conclusion, the same page. 

You almost feel dizzy from how fast this all happened. How fast Dylan went from being your longtime bestie to the man staring a hole right through you and promising you the kind of orgasm you’ve always deserved.

He leans back and outstretches his hand. “Up,” he commands of you, and you stand so quickly to your feet that you’re convinced it was your cunt making the call instead of your brain.

But it doesn’t matter because you’ve never felt so…sure. So safe. Stuck between these two men that you would happily entrust your pleasure with.

Harry stares at you both from his seat, and you wonder if now is the time for him to object.

But when he simply cocks his head and nods at you to step out of the booth…you feel your eyes grow wide.

You look back at Dylan as you take his hand, fingers slipping around his palm as he leads you out from the corner of the room. “What…what are you doing? What’s going on?”

“I told you,” he says coolly, stealing another glance at the man scooting his way after you. “I’m being a really good fucking friend.”

Your knees feel weak, but you toss him an unamused look. “Dyl…come on. You don’t…you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying—”

“Actually, I haven’t had a drink all night,” he corrects. “I know…exactly what I’m saying. What I’m asking. And so do you. Both…of you.”

You tug on his hand until you’re sure you have his full attention.

Not that you haven’t had it since the moment he saw you walk in.

“Dylan,” you repeat softly. Urgently. “What are you doing?”

He studies you for a moment, almost as if contemplating his answer.

Then, he uses his other hand to brush a fallen hair behind your ear, his finger following the curve of your neck as he smiles.

“I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago,” he tells you, and you can hear the honesty in his voice. “And I guess I’m seeing if you want it, too.”

“You hate him.”

“I tolerate him,” Dylan corrects smugly. “I’ve just…begun to feel a little bad for you. That’s all.”

Your lashes flutter. “Bad?” 

“Yeah.” His grin grows a bit more cocky. “I’m sure he’s perfectly…adequate. When you need him to be. But I think he could be better. I think you deserve…better.”

“And you’re better, huh?”

“I can be. For you.”

“Dylan.”

“Honey.”

You want to frown at the nickname, but the way he says it makes your breath hitch. “Are you sure about this?”

“I am,” he says confidently. “As long as you are.”

And are you? 

You nod, a rush of adrenaline shooting up the back of your spine as he beams at you and begins to lead you toward the hallway at the back of the club.

And Harry is right behind, his watchful gaze never once deviating from Dylan. You’re sure he’s contemplating what Dylan’s true intentions are. Perhaps contemplating if this is even a good idea.

But something about The Prism makes every idea seem like a good idea.

You feel so pitiful with the way you follow after the handsome man in front of you, tripping over your own feet as he leads you all to the collection of doors.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it before. How could you not have? He’s charming, and he’s funny, and he’s been one of your closest friends for years.

And he’s a much more permanent figure in your life than Harry is.

But you feel safe with him. Safe with both of them, no matter how strange this entire arrangement has become.

When you come to a stop, you find that you’re in front of door number five, and just before you can ask what happens next…Dylan slips a gold-plated key from his pocket.

And once you’ve entered the room…everything changes.

You don’t know what to look at first. The large space is stunning, with a king-sized bed front and center. Silk sheets, a velvet couch, a mirror on the ceiling.

Not to mention the array of toys displayed in the corner or the bench with black handcuffs on it. 

You feel like you’ve walked straight into a porno.

And while this is a sure upgrade from your previous visits, you don’t feel…unsettled. Or uneasy, or even unsure.

You feel…confident in your decision. In the idea that you really are doing this…with them.

And when you turn to catch a glimpse of Harry’s face…you find that he’s equally as enthralled by the prospect of tonight. Of the three of you.

This will most likely be a one-time thing, and perhaps this understanding is what’s inspiring you to throw caution to the wind.

After all, pleasure is pleasure.

And shared pleasure…well, that’s just a fucking dream.

Dylan steps aside to allow you both a look around. He seems amused by your awe, and even more amused by the way your fingers have begun to twitch by your side.

He can tell you’re desperate. You’re sure they both can. How could you not be? You have no idea who will hold the power tonight. Or what it would even look like to see them work together.

If that’s even possible.

“Problem?” you hear Dylan call, forcing your attention back until you see the way Harry shrugs.

“Just…wondering what exactly you think is gonna happen tonight,” Harry replies, brow raised as he watches Dylan’s arms cross over his chest. “What your plan is.”

“My plan, huh?” Dylan repeats, smiling softly. “My plan. Well, Harold…my plan is to show you…how to do it right.”

Harry begins to frown as your heart hammers against your chest.

“And my plan…” Dylan continues, taking a step closer, “…is to make you watch.”

Harry’s teeth grit as he regards the arrogant man a few feet away. “Is that fucking right?”

“That’s fucking right.”

Now, Dylan looks to you.

“Sit him down,” he instructs, nodding toward the bench in the corner of the room. 

You and Harry both turn to look as well, and once Harry realizes what the plan is, he scoffs.

“Oh, I don’t fucking think so,” he retorts, straightening up. “No. You’re not fucking my girlfriend right in front of me.”

“She’s not your girlfriend,” Dylan reminds him calmly. “Besides, I don’t think it would hurt you to learn how to actually make her cum.”

“Oh, and you think you know how?” Harry snorts, moving closer as well. “What, all those years of pining for her really did the trick, huh?”

“Wasn’t about pining. I just knew she could do better.”

“Better. And you’d be better?”

“I’d certainly be a start.”

“Funny.”

“Not really. She deserves to know how it feels to have my cum inside of her.”

Your cheeks flush.

“And you expect me to watch?”

“I expect you…to sit the fuck down,” Dylan answers, with a bit more edge than before. “Exactly like I asked.”

But Harry doesn’t move. No, he glares at Dylan as you apprehensively approach from behind, hoping to ease the tension before it can rise any further.

And when Harry continues to remain put, Dylan decides to take matters into his own hands.

He places his palms on Harry’s chest…and shoves. Shoves him back, shoves him hard. Shoves until Harry has no choice but to stumble back.

Harry’s jaw snaps shut. “The hell are you—”

“Sit down,” Dylan repeats, just as sternly as before.

“Fuck you,” Harry seethes, stepping back up to his previous spot as Dylan’s head cocks.

“I’m sure you’d like to. But right now…I asked you to sit down.”

“God, you’re such a fucking—”

But before Harry can finish his spiteful retort, Dylan’s fingers are weaving through the roots of Harry’s curls to force his head back.

The room falls silent, save for the quick breaths you and Harry are both taking.

But Dylan is calm. Far too calm as he leans in and meets Harry’s eye. “Sit…the fuck…down,” he whispers. “And maybe…I’ll be good to you, too.”

For a moment, the two men are at an impasse.

They can’t stand each other and would happily spend all evening arguing and showing off if they had to.  

But they understand that tonight is not about them.

It’s about you.

It always is.

So, Harry swallows his pride and relaxes into Dylan’s hold as a sign of good faith. Allowing the older gentleman to decide what happens next.

But Harry won’t like it…but he’ll at least get to be a part of it.

Dylan turns to you now, smiling his appreciation at your willingness before nodding once.

You take this as your cue to approach, gentle touch slipping around Harry’s hand as you gingerly guide him toward the bench. 

And Harry lets himself be moved, even though you can feel the way his muscles have gone stiff beneath your hold.

Something that certainly isn’t helped by the way Dylan calls, “Attaboy.”

It's condescending, and arrogant, and everything Harry hates. Especially from Dylan. Even still, he remains quiet, instead moving his focus to you. The sweet girl just trying to do as she’s told.

And you still feel rather mesmerized by whatever spell Dylan has you under, following each order like a lost little puppy.

A submissive little pet.

Not that you’re opposed to playing this role. Especially with these two men. And you can tell Harry is rather amused by your eagerness, if not a little annoyed by it.

And you know how hard this must be for him. To give up control. 

To give it to Dylan.

It’ll be out of his hands, quite literally. And Harry adores having power over you. Over everyone.

But tonight…tonight he’s far too taken with Dylan’s premise. And the promise of pleasure between the three of you.

Of the promise…of you.

And perhaps a part of him is hoping that this little experiment between you and your longtime friend will only prove that Harry is the superior choice.

And that thought alone has his cock twitching.

Once he’s sat on the bench, he shoots a peeved look Dylan’s way. Almost as if to reiterate the point that he’s absolutely not enjoying himself.

Even if he sort of is.

Dylan merely smiles, once again nodding his approval as he looks to you. “Hands,” he instructs simply.

He doesn’t need to elaborate any further for you to know what he’d like. So you reach for Harry’s large wrists, and lift them toward the restraints hanging off the back of the seat.

Harry continues to stew from his spot, but he doesn’t stop you. He waits for you to finish, taking note of the way your fingers gently shake with anticipation.

You slip his hand through and tighten the lock into place. Then, you move to the other side, and repeat.

Once you’re finished, he tugs on them, just to test them out, and is rather surprised to find how little room for movement he actually has.

An idea that’s exciting, invigorating, and arousing. But he keeps his expression stoic as he lifts his head and looks over to the man a few feet away.

Dylan is pleased with you, lips rolling into his mouth as he hums his approval. “Good girl,” he calls once you’ve stepped back to join him.

And your face flushes as your thighs begin to squeeze together. They both notice, but don’t comment on it as Dylan begins walking up behind you.

With his long, beautiful fingers, he sweeps your hair off your back and over your shoulder, allowing enough room for him to ghost his lips along your neck. 

Then, he whispers, “Take off your panties.”

Harry leans back against the seat, his legs spreading rather angrily as he watches Dylan toss a smirk toward him.

But you do as you’re asked, slipping your hand beneath the hem of your dress until you can feel your way toward the lace.

And Harry’s eyes grow bigger as he watches you do this right in front of him. He doesn’t miss a thing. Doesn’t miss the way you’re forced to take a deep breath to compose yourself. Doesn’t miss the way you undoubtedly felt yourself dripping. Doesn’t miss the way you accidentally-on-purpose grazed your little clit. 

All three of you know you’ll be unraveling before the evening even has a chance to get started.

Once the underwear is off and in your hands, you turn to Dylan expectantly.

He smiles and glances over your face. “Put them in his mouth.”

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead as Harry rolls his eyes, grunting to himself before looking away.

But Dylan isn’t deterred. “Go on,” he murmurs, nodding his chin toward the perturbed British man on the bench. “Let him taste you. ’Cause this is all he’s gonna fucking get.”

With that, he places his hand on your lower back, and encourages you forward.

There’s a catch in your throat as you step up to Harry, filled with intrigue and promise.

He watches you get closer, going deathly still as you reach out to grab onto the underside of his jaw, and lift his head.

His gaze is venomous as you look him over. Perhaps he’s trying to communicate with you. Or perhaps he’s simply reminding you that he doesn’t enjoy this little show.

Either way, you smile softly to comfort him, thumb stroking over his cheek soothingly. “Come on, Har. Be a good boy and open up.”

He’d probably fight you on this any other day.

But today…he’s too desperate.

His lips slowly pull apart, mouth widening just enough to allow you to slip the soaked fabric inside before his jaw clamps shut.

You watch the way his lashes flutter at the taste of you immersing his tongue. A taste he’s so used to, so familiar with, so enchanted by…that he groans.

However, it comes out as more of an annoyed grunt, but either way, Dylan is pleased as Harry slumps down into his seat.

And once you’ve stepped back, you collide into Dylan’s chest, your heart racing as he snakes one arm around the front of your stomach to keep you stuck to him.

“Think that’ll keep him quiet?” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your ear as you become puddy in his hands.

And you can feel his hard cock pressed against your ass. Can feel the way he grinds against you, the way he breathes you in as if he needs you to survive.

And when you shiver within his hold, he smiles.

“How’s it taste, Harold?” he asks the tense man in the corner.

Harry's only response is a grunt.

“Yeah? That good, huh?” Dylan grins, fingers now traveling down the side of your silhouette as he pulls on the fabric of your dress. The hem lifts higher and higher up your thighs until a cool breeze finds its way beneath, forcing you to lean back into him. “Guess I should have a taste for myself.”

Harry’s focus falls toward your legs, watching with intrigue as the fabric is bunched into Dylan’s fists just above your belly button.

And you’re soaked. You imagine they knew you would be, but once they finally see it for themselves? See the way the light catches the drip down your thighs? See how swollen and needy you’ve become?

Harry makes another animalistic noise deep from the center of his chest, lids growing heavy with lust as your throbbing cunt sits before him. Right in his fucking face.

And Dylan’s only response is smug condescension, glancing down at the masterpiece before him while trailing his fingers toward the apex of your thighs.

And you watch him. Watch every inch of skin pass beneath his hand as he smooths his palm down your stomach. 

Your breaths are quick and desperate, lungs practically aching as he finally reaches his destination.

Without permission, a small whimper rips from between your parted lips as you jerk against his chest. However, his arm keeps you still, keeps you obedient. Forced to feel each dip and pinch his fingers provide.

He slides through slowly, feeling you out, indulging in you. Spreading, and pressing before finally dipping inside.

A loud gasp rings through the room as you squirm a bit harder at the subtle pressure he applies. But before you can truly enjoy it…he pulls out, leaving you to wilt in his embrace.

And you want to be angry, but he never promised you anything more than a taste.

Which is exactly what he takes, fingers moving up to his mouth as he watches Harry from over your shoulder. Just to make sure he has his full attention.

Dylan’s tongue drags along the drops falling down his knuckles before he places those nimble fingers on his tongue.

And hearing him suck the ever-living shit out of them has your eyes squeezing shut. It’s too much—too good. You can hardly fucking stand it, and you clench pitifully around nothing.

And Harry sees this. Sees everything, hears everything. And he fucking loves it. Despite himself, he loves seeing the way your body reacts to something as simple as a sound. The way you fall apart, even by Dylan’s hand. The way you submit.

“You were right,” Dylan hums as his arm drops back down to your body. “She’s fucking delicious.”

Harry exhales heavily through his nose, his mouth watering, teeth clamping down on the panties still soaking his tongue.

You’re almost proud of him for how…complicit he’s being.

How…obedient.

When Dylan releases your dress, you almost want to whine. Tortured by the idea that he’s already through with you. That he’s going to leave you like this.

But you should know better. Should know the look in his eye by now. Should know what it means as he runs a hand through his dark hair and murmurs, “C’mere, baby.”

You turn to fully face him, wonderstruck by his beauty under these lights. In this moment. This one, divine experience you feel lucky enough to have.

He takes hold of your chin, tilting your face up until he can get a good look at you. His thumb brushing down your bottom lip, teasing you with the idea to take it into your mouth.

He dips down, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s going to kiss you. And your heart just about leaps into your throat at the idea of finally getting to taste him this way.

Then…he pulls back.

“Take off your dress,” he instructs softly, head tilting to the left as if going back in to kiss you again.

But he can’t kiss you and give you the room you need to take off your dress, so you pout as you reach back to undo the zipper.

The sparkly fabric moves down your arms before falling to the floor, and you’re quick to step out of it so you can return to him.

But both boys need a moment to admire you. Need a moment to appreciate you as their eyes follow each curve and dip along your squirming frame. Your naked chest, your aching cunt, and the flush in your face.

Once Dylan’s eyes reach yours, he nods. “Now take off my shirt.”

You nearly lunge for the buttons trailing down the second half of his chest, slipping them free quickly before guiding the soft, black material of his shirt off his body.

And now it's your turn to admire him, taking note of his muscles, and tan skin. The few hairs that litter his chest and disappear into his pants.

Without realizing it, you’ve begun to tug on your bottom lip with your teeth, but Dylan realizes. And he swallows a laugh.

“Pants,” he instructs next, stepping out of his shoes as your greedy fingers reach for his zipper.

The feel of his briefs has your heart thumping in your chest, the idea of what lies beneath practically luring you in.

But you haven't been instructed to go there yet, so with a huff, you pull his jeans down to the floor and discard of them.

Your focus moves from his hips to his face, expression practically begging with him to let you remove the last item of clothing. 

And Dylan looks at you like you’re the most adorable thing in the world, although he still refuses to give you permission.

Instead, he looks toward Harry. Still brooding behind you as you glance over as well.

"I want you to take off his pants for me," he tells you, his voice so low, it nearly vibrates throughout your entire body. "Take them off…so you can watch him leak for you."

Harry's chest just about caves in on itself as he shoots an aggravated look Dylan’s way.

But you hardly notice as you return to him, fingers outstretching for his belt to pull it through each loop.

And Harry watches you, looking down as his pulse races at the beautiful sight of you timidly kneeling at his feet.

And you’re watching your hands with your big eyes, cunt still throbbing as you attempt to squeeze your thighs together.

Both of you are dangling on the precipice of sanity as Harry’s nails begin to dig just a bit harder into his palms. A futile attempt at restraining himself from the thought of taking a fistful of your hair.

You’re so close to him. So fucking close to what you both know is his painfully hard and red cock. Proof of what you’re doing to him. What you’re both doing to him.

After a moment or two of struggle, you manage to shimmy his pants down to his ankles before flicking them off and tossing them aside.

His black dress shirt and boxers are all that’s left, and you have to take a moment to admire him, too.

Because just the thought of riding that glorious tiger tattoo on his thigh makes your head spin. The way it would look, glistening in your arousal, dripping down his leg before you’re forced to clean it up.

You let out a strangled breath as Dylan steps closer and clicks his tongue to call your attention back to him.

“Take ’em off,” he repeats, eyeing the only left between you and Harry’s cock.

Harry tenses once more, steeling himself against the bench as you face him. For the first time all night, he's practically pleading with you. Desperate for your touch.

And when you dip your hand inside, you feel exactly how sticky he is. How pathetically aroused.

You both gasp when the contact is made, his lashes once more fluttering quickly as he relaxes into your touch.

And he’d happily stay there in your hand all damn day if it wasn’t for the proud man behind you. Watching with that cocky expression that hasn’t been displaced all night.

You waste no more time, fingers curling around the band of his underwear before you’re pulling them down, revealing what lies beneath to your hungry gaze.

You try not to stare but you can’t exactly help it. It’s right in your face. 

Dylan is a little less subtle. He gives Harry a once-over, feeling rather satisfied with the way his body tells him what Harry can’t. Proving just how much of a needy bitch this man really is.

Poor Harry is fucking humiliated under their stares. Leaning back against the bench as he pulls on the restraints, the veins in his arms straining against his skin.

But deep down…you know he loves it.

"What did I tell you?" Dylan muses, bending down so he’s closer to where you still sit on your knees. "Look at the way he needs you. The way he fucking leaks for you. Pathetic, isn't it?"

You nod mutely, attention still transfixed like a kid in a candy store.

Dylan hums. “Bet you wanna have a taste. Don’t you, honey? Go on then. Fucking taste him.”

You look up, finding Harry’s eyes as you search for his approval.

He offers a gesture that you assume is meant to be his consent before you straighten up and place your hands on his thighs.

Once you’re close enough, you waste no more time, dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock as his head drops back and he groans.

Your nails bury deep within his skin as you situate yourself between his legs. Allowing yourself to get comfortable while you wrap your mouth around his tip. Tongue swirling in percisce patterns as you whimper for added effect.

Harry just about loses it. You can see the way his chest has begun to heave from strained breaths and it sends your ego through the roof.

You love having this type of power over him. Knowing that his pleasure…is yours.

And Dylan allows this to go on for quite some time before he finally decides he’s had enough. You imagine he doesn’t want Harry coming down your throat so soon, and aren’t all that surprised when he reaches down to grab onto you.

His fingers tangle in your roots until you let Harry go before he’s yanking you onto your feet.

You don’t even have time to speak before he’s whirling you around and kissing you.

Instantly, his lips melt into yours, your tongue coated with Harry’s pre-cum, your jaw rigid beneath his palm.

And he takes. Takes everything you have to offer him. No hesitation, no remorse, no consequences.

He takes until you have no choice but to moan with satisfaction at the feel of the man holding onto you so tight. At the pain tingling across your scalp. At the way he grunts into your mouth like he’s never been so turned on.

His other hand finds your throat, pressing just hard enough to squeeze another whimper from you. Your fingers graze down his stomach as you attempt to steady yourself, but your knees feel weak. Your body instantly aroused by something as simple as a kiss.

Then, with the hold on your hair, Dylan slings you toward the bed just behind you like you were nothing but a fucking ragdoll. You crash onto the soft mattress, tits bouncing from the force as you gasp excitedly.

He’s quick to follow, hands and knees leading him closer as he hovers above you, caging you to the silk sheets.

He’s like a wild animal chasing after an innocent baby deer. As if you’re just waiting for him to eat you alive.

Which…you are.

But you’re also impatient, legs already attempting to spread as if to plead with him, needily reaching for his face in a silent request for another kiss.

And you imagine he might have given it to you until a certain darkness passes over his expression and he finds your throat once more.

With a warning squeeze, he murmurs, “No, baby. You do what I say. Understood?”

The rasp in his voice prompts a rather fast response as you nod and whisper, “Yes.”

Truth be told, you’d hoped the catch in your voice would perhaps change his mind but Dylan seems to know the trick.

He tsks again as he studies you. “My greedy little whore. Just aching for anything I’ll give her, hm? No. No, you’re gonna stay right here. Right fucking here until I come back.”

Confused, your eyebrows weave together as he pushes himself upright and steps off the bed.

You push yourself onto your elbows as you watch him walk away from you, expression growing sad the further he gets.

“Where—” you begin only to quickly realize that he’s stopping in front of the selection of toys.

Oh.

He takes his time looking over the display while Harry huffs from his spot. You imagine he’s just as apprehensive of Dylan’s plans as you are, and if he could talk…it probably wouldn’t be very nice.

As the minutes continue to pass, you grow anxious. Impatient. So pitifully desperate that you have to flop back down onto the bed and put your eyes on the mirror above you.

You watch your reflection with a pout, taking note of your breasts as they rise and fall with each breath. The way your hair is spread out across the bed. The way your thighs are squeezing together in an attempt to find some relief.

It would be so easy to just…slip your hand down and find it. Find a fraction of pleasure as you wait for Dylan to quit toying with you.

But before you get the chance to do such a devious thing, you feel a large presence looming to your left, and roll your head over to look.

Dylan has returned, a new object in his hand, and a stern expression on his face. He’s warning you to behave, and you have no choice but to oblige as you glance down.

He weighs the toy he’d retrieved in his hands, making sure to get a good feel as he glances between the two of you. Letting you anticipate him. Anticipate his plans.

And then…he turns it on.

The sound of the vibrations almost make you groan as you squirm a bit harder on the bed. Your longing gaze glued to the wand as you silently command Dylan to hurry up and put it to use already.

But he doesn’t rush to your side the way you had hoped. No, instead…he turns to Harry.

Now even more unsure, Harry attempts to straighten up as he regards the brunette boy walking toward him.

When Dylan crouches down, Harry shoots him a rather outraged look of warning.

He doesn’t want to be played with. He wants to do the playing.

“Something wrong?” Dylan asks quietly, finger hovering over the power button as he gently dances the vibrator closer.

Harry simply exhales another sharp breath through his nose, shooting daggers Dylan's way, to which Dylan merely grins.

Then…the wand is moved toward Harry’s cock, innocently grazing the head as Harry’s own depraved moan slips free.

And it’s angry, and it’s loud, and virile. The whole room can tell just how much he enjoyed the fleeting touch, and without a second hesitation, Dylan does it again.

“Don’t fucking cum,” he warns, eyeing the peeved man before him. “Do you hear me, Harold? Do not cum until I say so.”

Harry tries to scoff, but with the way his dick is twitching, he might not be able to hold off.

Which is exactly what Dylan wants. Wants him to be so close to release, that he'll even beg him for it. Wants to bring him to the edge and leave him there while he fucks you right in front of him. 

You watch from the bed, whining to yourself as your thighs squeeze together, panting lightly. 

And when Harry's eyes meet yours briefly, he has to take another deep breath, commanding himself to stay strong. 

He's close. Too close, but now…Dylan finds it difficult to stop. There's something so…compelling about watching Harry like this. The snarky attitude now nowhere to be found as he becomes puddy in Dylan's large hands.

After all, Dylan did promise to be good to him, too. 

Maybe he lets Harry cum all over his stomach.

And maybe he makes you clean it up.

However, this thought is quickly disregarded as he chooses to stick with his original plan. He pulls the vibrating toy away only moments before Harry can find his release, and the entire room lets out a collective sigh.

Satisfied, Dylan straightens back up, and turns to you.

He finds you still lying on the bed, dripping pathetically onto the sheets below as you look up at him with a whimper.

Your lips roll into your mouth the moment he steps closer, his eyes trailing down to your cunt before he’s returning to his previous position.

And then, he brings the vibrator into play.

"Is this what you want?" he asks, despite the fact that he already knows the answer.

But you nod frantically anyhow, thighs spreading once more to invite him closer. Invite him in, but he isn't fooled.

He takes his time, reaching out to grab onto your ankle and slide you down to him. The toy comes alive in his hand, now a bit more powerful than before, ready for use. And you eye it like it's a cool drink of water on a hot day.

Still, Dylan is patient. Slow. He takes the large head of the toy and brings it up to your sternum, dragging it down your chest slowly as you anxiously look back up at the ceiling.

Your eyes quickly find his body in the reflection above, and you can’t help but watch the way his back muscles move and strain as he continues his sadistic torture. 

Everything about his body is like a work of art. He’s like a drug. Addicting from top to bottom, and you wonder how you’ve never noticed before.

He continues guiding the vibrations along your frame, over your hardened nipple, and down your stomach as you whine again. Unable to resist writhing against the sheets and away from the sweet feeling.

And when you begin to pant his name, you see him smile.

He fucking loves the sound of his name in your mouth. Always has. For eight fucking years. Loves to hear the quiet whisper of your voice as you breathe it out like you’re breathing just for him. 

He can’t help but wonder if you’ve ever been teased like this. Truly appreciated like this. Given the time and space to be worshiped the way he knows you deserve.

And he decides right then and there that he will. From now until the rest of time, he will worship you. Your orgasms will be by his hand, his tongue, his cock. You’ll be ruined for anyone else. He'll fucking see to that.

"Watch," he commands once he reaches your hips, the vibrator now dangerously close to your aching cunt as your eyes move to his. "You fucking watch me make you cum."

You don’t argue. You’ll happily watch him ruin you forever, happily gaze upon his structured face as he pleases you out of your goddamn mind.

And right as you’re deciding that maybe this isn't so bad after all…he presses the vibrations up against your clit, and your nails immediately bury into the sheets as you pull and arch off the bed.

Dylan exhales slowly, his focus trained on the magic in front of him. You’re so fucking wet, absolutely soaking the toy. Soaking the bed beneath you. And it sounds like heaven. Like fucking music the way you say his name and beg for release.

However, he can't help glancing over his shoulder to see how much dear Harold is enjoying the show.

But Harry's got his eyes closed as he steadies his breathing, squirming around the bench as he rests his head against the wall behind him. 

He considers forcing Harry to watch him, too, but he knows he will. Knows he won't be able to resist watching you cum around the toy as you lose your last drop of self-control. 

He'll watch…because he's just as fucking desperate as you are.

So, Dylan returns his attention to you, adding even more pressure as you continue to cry out, writhing around so violently that he’s almost worried you’ll hurt yourself. 

And it’s no surprise you’re close already. But while he'd love to edge you all night long, he knows he can't possibly edge himself any longer. He needs to feel you. Needs to feel you stretching around his cock. Needs to feel the way you soak him, hear his skin against yours, needs to fucking fill you with his cum and leave you swollen. 

So…he will. He'll fucking abuse your tight little hole until it's practically molded to him and his cock. Until everyone (especially Harold) knows who your pleasure really belongs to.

It's an odd concept, truthfully. The idea that you’d want him to claim you the way he is now. Want him to protect you the way he is now.

But tonight…tonight you’re not just you and Dylan. Tonight you’re not just friends.

Tonight…you’re his good fucking girl. 

His good girl who is eagerly waiting to taste him. Who would do anything he fucking asked. You’re a fucking dream for him. But you’re real, and Dylan can’t fucking believe he lived right next door to such a perfect girl all these years.

But now that he knows…he’s never letting you go again.

"C’mon, baby," he mumbles, leaning down to press his lips to your hip bone as you whimper. "I know you can do it. Give it to me, honey. Please. That’s it.”

He's actually begging you to cum and the raspy growl to his voice is what does it.

It hits you like a fucking truck, your head turning to the side as you nearly scream. Toes curling and fingers twisting around the sheets. 

It has to last for at least a full minute, the overwhelming exhaustion that follows leaving you to gasp for air like never before. 

But Dylan isn't allowing you even a moment of rest, instead tossing the vibrator to the side and tugging on your wrist until you’re forced to sit up.

You groan softly in protest at the way you’re not afforded the chance to revel in your orgasms. But before you can get too annoyed, Dylan is moving around to kneel behind you, pressing your back against his chest.

And it happens so suddenly. You hardly have time to understand as his hand reaches around to take hold of your throat and squeeze. The pressure just enough to make you gasp as he then forces your eyes on Harry. 

"Look at him," Dylan whispers to you, almost viciously. "Isn't it so sad? Isn't it so fucking pathetic the way your poor little Harold leaks for you?"

You have to swallow another moan as your focus trails down Harry’s rigid body and toward the angry red tip practically calling out to you.

To both of you.

 It truly is a sight to behold, and Harry grinds his teeth against the panties as you stare at him.

"Can't stand the idea of watching my cock ruin what he thinks is his," Dylan continues to taunt, making sure he has Harry’s full attention. "Can't fucking stand knowing that you cum for me…and me alone."

Your only response is to lean back further into him as if you can't possibly stay upright, and his grip gets tighter. 

"You want that, too, hm?" he hums, letting himself inhale your intoxicating scent. It's a mixture of perfume, and sex, and Harry. He's all over you and it drives Dylan mad in the best and worst way possible.

He brushes his lips along your cheek for just a moment, wanting to give in and kiss you the way he's been thinking about all night…but he resists. 

It's much more fun to leave your begging for more.

However this time, you’re the one to refuse. Refuse to waste another moment missing him. Refuse to go another second without the taste of his lips on yours.

So, you spin around. You spin around, and you move onto your hands and knees, and you force Dylan’s head to spin as he attempts to comprehend the new position.

You take hold of his hips and surge forward, dragging your tongue along his toned stomach, eager to hear the way his breath begins to stagger.

It’s like music, and you do it a time or two more, just to tease him.

You know he’s unsure of your plan, but he makes no move to stop you. After all, he couldn’t possibly fucking dream of stopping you now. Not when this is all he’s ever wanted anyway.

Harry watches with labored breaths, noticing the way Dylan's eyes widen and flutter as you move up his body. It's annoying, and aggravating, and so goddamn hot.

And Dylan could stare at your pretty pink tongue assaulting his skin for the rest of his life if he had the chance. But tonight, that’s not his plan.

You finally reach his neck, moving your sultry kisses to that spot just beneath his ear in hopes that he'll buckle beneath your touch. That he’ll finally give in.

But he sees it coming from a mile away. So, before you have the chance to use that pretty mouth against him, he suddenly grasps onto the back of her neck and tugs your head back, making you gasp. 

Your jaw just about drops as you look up at him, now dripping pathetically down your thighs from the force, and from the way he's glaring at you.

"What did I fucking say?" he hisses, that dominant edge enough to leave you weak. 

However, you can only respond with a shaky breath. And it the anxious noise would almost worry Dylan…if he didn't already what a fucking whore you were.

"Please," you finally find the strength to whisper as Dylan’s head tilts.

"Please…what, hm?" he replies, dipping down to ghost your lips together, exactly the way you wanted. "Does it hurt, baby?"

And even as he says it, you can feel the strange rush between your thighs. The way you feel so empty. The way your body is practically begging Dyaln to fill you. Fill you, fuck you, cum inside of you. Drip down your thighs, your throat, your fucking tits. 

You whimper from the mere thought of it, and the dejected sound makes Dylan’s ego swell. You just need him to touch you. Need it. Your own fingers won’t do. They’re so small. So useless compared to him. Compared to anything he’ll give you. Even a look.

"Hurts," you repeat pathetically. "Please, Dyl."

His eyes dance across your expression as he thinks. "What do you need, lovie? Tell me."

But he already knows what you need. Who you need. But you know he wants to hear you say it. 

And not for his benefit. 

But Harry's.

So, you give him exactly what he’s searching for. "Need your cock, Dylan, please. Need you to ruin me, need it so fucking bad."

"Yeah? What else?" he pushes, nearly groaning. God, he loves hearing you beg. Loves watching the way your eyes go dark with lust. The way that sarcastic attitude of yours vanishes into thin air the moment he touches you. 

"Need to taste you," you just about gasp, the idea alone making you shiver. "Need to feel your hands around my neck. Wanna see you on my skin for weeks."

"Yeah? Why?”

You know why. He knows why. Even Harry knows why, and he's this close to chipping a tooth at Dylan's little performance. 

But you say it anyway.

"Because I'm yours."

There it is. Exactly what Dylan wanted. Your pussy, your mouth, you—all of it is his.

Not Harry's. 

Not Harry's. 

With this thought, he straightens up onto his knees so he can well and truly tower over you before tugging once more on your hair for good measure.

“Show him.”

With that, he lets go so you can comply, and like the good fucking girl you are, your immediately hands fall to his briefs.

Harry's focus follows, already glaring as he watches Dylan smile at you. 

And you’re so fucking excited. Can barely keep your fingers from trembling as you pull the elastic band down his thighs.

He's hard, and red, and ready. He's wanted this since before he saw you tonight in the club. Since he first heard you fuck yourself in the shower just this morning and now, he's gonna give you exactly what you’d been imagining while you did it.

Forcing Harry to watch is just a happy coincidence.

"Turn around," Dylan instructs, nodding his chin toward the other side of the bed.

Your heart races when you realize what he wants, and you can’t help but swallow a small moan as you turn around and steady yourself on your hands and knees.

He quickly grabs onto your hips and gives you exactly half a second to prepare before he’s brushing his tip through your wet folds. 

You reel at the faint contact, already unraveling from such a small touch. 

And truth be told, he’d tease you all goddamn night if he could, but he’s beginning to lose his control. So, he once again reaches forward to grasp a fistful of your hair and yank your head up until you’re facing Harry.

Then, with a growl, he says, "You watch him. You fucking watch him while you clench around my cock. You watch him while I fuck you. Do you understand?"

You try to nod, but his grip is too tight. "Yes," you pant instead, eyes already locking on Harry's. “Yes, I promise.”

Harry lets out a slow breath.

Satisfied, Dylan finally allows himself to give in to everything he's been wanting. With one hand on your head, and the other on your hip, he surges forward, and buries his cock inside your aching cunt. 

And the moment he feels you…everything changes. He likes to think he’d been doing so good, but you’re so fucking…tight. And warm. And wet. And fucking squeezing the shit out of him in a way that makes his head pound.

“Fuck…Dylan,” you whisper, so overcome by the pressure in your stomach that you’re not even aware you said it until he curses.

“M’so fucking good to you,” he breathes, unweaving his fingers from your hair so he can scratch down your spine. “Take such good care of you, don’t I?”

“Yes.” You can’t stand it. Can’t breathe, can’t see straight.

"I let him watch you just the way you like," he continues, and your eyes roll back. "Because you do, don’t you? Like to be watched like the pretty little whore you are. Makes you feel so fucking good, doesn't it?"

“Fuck,” is about all you can muster when he slams his hips into your ass.

"I let him watch," he murmurs, still thrusting into you so hard, and so deep that you’re convinced he might actually ruin you. "I let him watch me use what's mine. Let him watch you soak me. Let him see exactly what it looks like to own you. That's what you want, isn't it, princess?"

Your answer comes in the form of another gut-wrenching moan, the sound echoing through the room right as he grazes her g-spot, sending you down onto your forearms. 

Harry's breathing is getting heavier, the underwear in his mouth now truly soaked from his drool while his cock is still aggressively aggravated beyond belief. It's fucking torture sitting so close yet so far away. Forced to watch you have all the fun.

But there's also something rather…addicting about watching Dylan clench his jaw when he thrusts, or feels you clench, or hears you moan his name. 

And both you and Harry become quite mesmerized by the way Dylan's muscles flex whenever he pulls at your hip or pushes your head down onto the mattress, forcing your cheek taut against the silk. The way his strong thighs hold him up as he thrusts into you. The way beads of sweat are beginning to form around his hairline, forcing locks of messy brown hair to fall across his forehead.

And the noises he's making...low grunts of pleasure followed by rather animalistic moans. 

You decide then that he’s got a great sex voice.

Dylan, however, doesn’t notice any of the staring. Instead, much more concerned with the way he's already so close to filling you up and spilling right out. And even more focused on the way he’s beginning to wish this night would never end.

 If he had it his way, you’d fuck all night. Over and over and over, until you were raw and weepy. Until the tears were staining your cheeks as you scratched patterns down his back. Until Harry, and the whole fucking club knew exactly who your pussy belongs to.

But he fears this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Once you leave this room...the fun comes to an end. He doubts you’ll ever speak of it again, so he figures he needs to make every second count. 

"Look at him," Dylan finally orders, calling your attention back to Harry's face. "Look at the way he wants to taste you on my cock. How he wants anything I'll let him have. But you're mine, aren't you? Fucking tell him. Tell him who you were really made for."

You can’t seem to speak, your tongue going numb as you subconsciously beg him to go harder.

Sensing that you need the encouragement, he leans down once more, brushing your hair off your back before pressing a rather delicate kiss to your shoulder. "Aren't I good to you? Sharing you the way I do? Letting him watch?"

You nod vehemently as you whimper, and he can’t help but smirk as he glances over to the man on the bench, who merely huffs angrily.

Suddenly, Dylan is reaching around to grab onto your jaw for a second time as he forces your head to the side so you can see him. "But this tight little hole? It's fucking mine. Isn't it? Yeah? Say it then. Tell him who you really want."

"You," you breathe instantaneously. And maybe tomorrow morning you’ll feel differently, but right now you really are his and only his. 

"Good girl," he hums, releasing her chin. "But I think Harold's a visual learner. Think you need to fucking show him. Show him that I'm good to you. Show him that he's never gonna be good enough for you."

Without warning, you hear yourself moaning his name, your body stretching out across the mattress so you can take him deeper. It's too fucking good, too much to comprehend, but you do know that you’re close. 

And Dylan knows it, too. And he wishes he could see the look on your face, but the view of your ass is a rather good second option. So, he watches his cock slip in and out out of you. Coated in you as it stretches you from the inside out.

He moves to grope your skin softly as praise before giving it a firm smack, just so he can hear the sound and hear the way you groan with pleasure. 

Even Harry growls to himself as he looks away...although he immediately looks back, refusing to miss a second of it. Much to Dylan's amusement.

"You're close, aren't you?" Dylan taunts, reaching for the vibrator as you nod. "Attagirl, c'mon now."

The vibrator is on your clit within seconds, and even without him having to ask, you grind down against the toy with fervor. Lip between your teeth as you revel in how perfectly he fills you while your cunt is sent into overdrive. It’s so much, so perfect, so overwhelming that you have no other choice but to ball the sheets in your fists to brace yourself.

Your hips move up and down the vibrating object as he pushes you even further into that blissful state. Almost…so close…just a little further…and then you’re fucking gone.

Dylan cna feel you fluttering around his cock, and the second he sees you dripping down your silky skin…he follows.

So many sounds fill the space. His needy groans and your whimpers of pleasure. You can’t help but reach back and tangle your fingers in his damp hair when he brings himself close enough to you. Needing to share this with him every way you know how.

And it’s a beautiful moment for the two of you. Connected completely as he fills you, spills inside of you, drips down your thighs exactly the way he’d wanted to.

And then…there’s Harry.

He’s begun to grow antsy, assuming that now that it’s over…it’s finally his turn.

But the two of you take your time on the bed as you regroup and work to catch your breath. Almost as if you’ve forgotten he’s even still in the room.

But, finally, Dylan’s content gaze trails over and finds him. And in that moment, Harry’s breath catches as he pulls his eyebrows together.

Dylan can’t help but smile as he takes in the writhing man before you. The way Harry’s hands are balled into fists and his black shirt unbuttoned just enough to showcase his sweaty chest and tattoos.

It’s almost…entertaining.

Dylan leans down to press a kiss to your shoulder once more before murmuring, "Stay right here, darling. Don't fucking move."

You nod weakly as you straighten back up onto your hands while Dylan begins to pull out. 

He's still at least halfway hard, which isn't very surprising, and he's sure with a little time, he'll be ready to ruin you again.

He stands from the bed, lazily pushing his hair back as moves toward Harry, who watches with weary eyes. 

"Don't worry," Dylan hums with a smug smile, but Harry's expression merely darkens. 

Undeterred, Dylan’s hand comes to rest on the back of the bench near Harry's shoulder as he leans down, bringing their faces much closer than ever before.

In return, Harry’s head tilts up as if defying Dylan's very presence, and Dylan has to chuckle.

"I'm gonna let you go," he tells him. "And you know what you're gonna do?"

Harry answers by huffing out a strained breath.

Dylan smiles. "You're gonna fuck your fist while we watch."

Their eyes lock together for at least a minute if not more as Harry attempts to decipher Dylan’s true intentions.

But his intentions are honest, and he quickly moves for the restraints on Harry’s wrist so he can click them up, and set him free.

Harry’s wrist drops to his side, lashes flutter with sweet relief as Dylan moves to the other hand to repeat the process.

And once both Harry’s hands are free, he lifts his fingers to his mouth, takes the panties out, and throws them onto the floor.

"Fuck you," is the first thing he decides to say and Dylan snorts.

"I think you mean, thank you," he corrects as he straightens up. "You wanna cum, right? Then go ahead. Cum all over your pretty hand."

With that, Dylan turns around and heads back to the bed where you await, your expression curious as you watch the exchange.

In all honesty, you had expected any interaction between the two of them to be much more hostile, but you’re pleasantly surprised by the way they seem to be getting along. 

Especially because they're two of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen and watching them fight for control has to be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Dylan is back at your side within seconds as you roll over onto your back to look up at him. 

He places his hand near her head, hovering above you once more as he whispers, "How do you feel, honey?"

"Good," you answer honestly, reaching up to run your fingers down his cheek. "You're so good to me."

"I know," he retorts with a teasing smirk, before dipping down to graze his lips over your bottom one. "Can't fucking stand not feeling you around me. Let me?"

At first, you’re confused by the request until you recognize the hopeful look on his face, and put the pieces together.

You nod and part your legs once again to allow him in, and he’s much gentler this time around. Guiding himself inside, easing in with great care before pulling your hips taut to his.

And you’re so fucking warm. Exactly the way he wanted. And it feels so…complete.

Not to mention, there’s something rather…enticing about knowing Harry’s still only a few feet away. Fisting his cock as he watches Dylan keep his cock warm inside you.

But you hardly notice Harry right now, much too distracted by the way Dylan is finally leaning down to kiss you the way he hadn’t been.

When your lips meet, it’s soft, and tender, and sweet. Even when he nips at the pink flesh so you’ll let him in, his tongue dancing with yours as he deepens the kiss in the same way he’s deep inside you.

And Harry watches. Watches as Dylan plays with your tit in his large hand, his fingers rolling your nipple around the pads of his thumb. Watches as you sigh and wrap you legs around his waist to pull him in even further. Watches Dylan look up at him as you kiss down his neck. 

The smug son of a bitch knows exactly what he's doing and much to Harry's chagrin...it's working.

After spitting in his hand, Harry runs his palm up and down his hard cock, squeezing the tip as his head falls back into the wall from the building pleasure. 

And in this moment, you all…exist. So much sex and understanding and…peace. 

You devote your final moments to making Dylan feel good, running your hands and lips along his body as he smiles down at you.

Dylan keeps his eyes on the movement as he does so, sensing that eye contact is one of Harry's turn-ons. And who is Dylan to deny such a pleasure?

Once in a while, you’ll roll your head back to get a glance at Harry. And you’re so happy he kept that satin shirt of his on because the way his sleeves are rolled up to showcase the veins in his arms is sinful. Almost as sinful as the way his chest heaves with anticipation or the way his cock looks in front of it.

He’s so close to ruining the nice outfit with the way his movements are becoming faster and more sporadic. He’s trying to hold off, loving the way he’s being watched by you. But it’s been far too fucking long, and his body can’t take it any longer.

Dylan groans as you lick a stripe along his jaw, his own lashes fluttering as he buries his lip into your neck. 

His hands smooth up your stomach and chest before they find their place back on your throat for a final time. He kisses you hard and deep as you whimper against his mouth, pulling him in by your legs once more.

"So good," Dylan whispers, although he's not sure who he's talking to. "So fucking good for me."

But both you and Harry bask in his praise, with you gazing up at him as you run her fingers through his hair while Harry sucks in a breathless whine, dick twitching in his hand. 

When he finally cums, the three of you begin to relax. To make peace with the strange occurance of the evening. 

To make peace with the understanding that it won’t happen again.

Or…maybe it will.

After all…

What are sex clubs for?

Thought I'd give this story a little x Reader makeover! In case it wasn't already blatantly obvious, I am in love with both of these men 😭

Dedicated to @straightontilmornin for being nice enough to want this with me 😭

~ Other Harry and Dylan Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[sourwulf]

i beg of you to do a plus size reader (who's got a lot of shame around her body and stuff) fic with stiles where he takes her virginity after they start dating but he's not super experienced, but it's still really good for her

༄  word count  —  3.6k

፨  characters  —  stiles stilinski

☓  tw  —  none

⊹  cw  —  smut & oral, losing of virginity, mentions of body insecurity

☼  a/n — i'm plus size and the first person i ever dated wasn't so i love this idea. also this is a bit longer than most of my other stories, so enjoy :)

✎  masterlist

─

if you could've seen the way stiles looked at you when you had your back turned, you would melt. such adoration, such attraction, it was hard to find. at least, for you it was.

you'd always been bigger, since the second you were born. you were a chunky baby, and despite hoping it was just baby fat you'd grow out of, it stayed. you spent your entire life doing your darndest to hide it, wearing baggy clothes and adjusting them every chance you got.

so when stiles, a lanky skinny guy on the lacrosse team, asked you out, all you could think of was the weight difference.

but stiles didn't really notice. in fact, the only thing he saw when he looked at you was beauty. he thought you had a body that would've been immortalized in a statue back in ancient greece, give or take a few pounds.

you didn't see it but the first time he laid eyes on you, he couldn't take them off for a good thirty seconds. just watching you at lunch, wondering what you were looking at on your phone that made you smile.

there was one day you were at your locker, absentmindedly messing with your books and binders. you weren't far from where stiles was standing with his friend scott, who was also getting what he needed out of his locker.

the immersion was only broken when scott pulled his attention away.

"dude, if you think she's pretty go ask her out," scott insisted, finding you in his eyesight after a few seconds. "you've been pining over her for weeks."

stiles shook his head. "no, man, she's out of my league."

"yeah, so is every girl here." stiles rolled his eyes at the quip. "just go talk to her. she seems nice."

it was just then that you closed your locker and walked toward them, and stiles turned away from you and tried to act casual, like he wasn't just staring intensely at you. you passed them, not even noticing that they were there. once you were out of earshot, stiles leaned against the lockers.

"she's gone now, so..."

scott sighed. "if you wanna date you're gonna have to get over your fear of talking to girls."

"i'm not afraid of talking to girls. i'm awkward. you and i both know that."

"some girls like that."

"what if she doesn't?"

"you'll never know if you don't try."

the bell rang, and stiles stepped away from the lockers. "i'll see you at practice?"

"yep, see you then."

a couple of hours went by before your study hall period. you were in the library, skimming the books in the social studies section, attempting to find one about women's fashion in the 1700s for a book report.

as soon as you pulled a book off the shelf, just like a scene out of a movie, you revealed stiles' face on the other side. he came into the library because he'd seen you enter a few moments before. he didn't know you were right there only feet away from him, but the movement made him look up from the book in his hands. his eyes went wide at your lack of noticing him, reading the description of the book instead.

he studied your face, this being the closest he'd been to you thus far. he noticed the streaks of unnatural colors in your hair, the slight smile on your lips as you realized this was exactly the book you needed. you didn't look back up, instead walking away to check out the book.

he could see you at the register from where he was standing, and when you felt eyes on you, you looked over. his lips were slightly parted, his posture slumped a bit. he had kind eyes, which locked onto you for a moment.

you gave him a small wave, which he didn't return out of panicked awkwardness. when he realized how creepy it might look for him to be staring intently at you, he instead looked away and walked to the end of the aisle, hiding himself from your vision.

you were slightly confused, wondering what that was about.

after about fifteen minutes and you sitting down at a table tucked away in a corner away from other people, the same boy caught your attention. he was looking around to find somewhere to also sit, every other table full of people.

but when he found your table, he stopped in front of it. he didn't speak for a second, just looking at you.

"can i help you?" you asked, not really knowing what else to say.

"oh, uh... sorry. i didn't mean to stare. i didn't mean to stare earlier, either, i just saw you checking out books and didn't realize i was staring until you waved." he realized he was rambling. "do you mind if i sit here?" he motioned toward the chair across from you.

"sure."

once he was seated, his backpack in the chair next to him, he looked at you again.

"stiles." he held his hand out to shake. you took it and shook a couple of times.

"y/n."

"nice to meet you." you gave a small, awkward but friendly smile. "whatcha reading?"

you hesitated, not used to engaging in conversation with strangers. "i'm doing a book report on fashion evolution in the last few centuries. this one is specifically about women's fashion."

"oh, cool."

you looked down at the books he'd laid down in front of him, noticing that they were all different subjects.

"what about you? very different topics there."

"uh..." he thought for a moment. "can i be honest?" you raised your eyebrows in a 'go ahead' manner. "i kind of came in here as an excuse to talk to you."

now your eyebrows dipped down in confusion.

"what?"

"i... i noticed you a little while back. in the cafeteria. i was too chicken to say anything then, but i've been looking for an opportunity to say hi."

"oh."

he nodded. "i hope that's not too weird. i just... thought you were pretty."

you almost chuckled. "pretty?"

"yeah."

"you think i'm pretty?"

he was the one confused now.

"yeah...? why? what's wrong?"

"nothing's wrong, i just... i've never had anyone tell me that before."

"seriously?" you nodded. "you really caught my eye the first time i saw you."

"what exactly was it about me that caught your eye?"

"you were smiling at something on your phone, a text or something. you just had a really warm smile. you looked really pretty."

you could feel butterflies flapping quickly in your stomach, not used to this.

the two of you talked for what felt like hours. you learned that he was on the lacrosse team, and he geeked out talking about his jeep. it was easy to connect with him, conversation coming naturally to you, as if you'd known each other for your whole lives.

eventually, he asked you out on a date, to which you agreed. one date turned into two, then three, then six. movies, dinner, stargazing, double dates. on the sixth date, he invited you over to his house for the first time.

his car was the only one parked in the driveway, his dad at work that night. it was a nice house, nicer than you expected them to be able to afford.

he cooked for you, a simple plate of spaghetti being infinitely better than the food you'd gone out to eat with him. you sat side by side at the round dining room table, the lack of space between you two palpable.

"you're a really good cook, stiles."

with a mouthful of noodles he said, "thank you."

"i don't cook a lot, i need to learn how to. i really like baking, though."

"oh yeah, i remember you talking about that. next time it's your turn to supply the food, then."

you chuckled. "will do."

he watched you eat, distracted from his own food. there was something almost seductive about the way you ate pasta, intentional or not. the way you slurped the noodles past your lips, the sauce that stained them, he wasn't sure. it was like he was watching you in slow motion, like some cheesy eighties movie that zoomed in on your lips.

something came over him. he waited until you swallowed that bite, and he gently grabbed your face and pulled you in for a kiss. it was so gentle it was like he was afraid to do it. it caught you off guard but you melted into his lips, your entire body tensing up.

when he pulled away, you looked at each other, your eyes wide.

"oh," you whispered, not knowing what else to say.

"i-i'm sorry. i shouldn't have-"

"it's okay. that was... that was good."

"yeah?"

"yeah."

"probably not the best kiss you've ever had."

"stiles, that was the only kiss i've ever had."

you'd already told him your lack of past relationships, and he couldn't help but think how blessed he was that he got to be your first experience dating. he was truly lucky.

"oh, right."

"i don't really have anything to compare it to, but it was good."

"yeah?"

"mhm. just... next time don't be so afraid to kiss me."

as if that was his cue, he immediately pulled you back in for another one. you dropped your fork and gripped the edge of the table, kissing him back as if you knew how.

the next thing you knew, you were standing at the side of his bed, his hands gripping your ribs and him continuing to kiss you. with his lips still against yours, he unzipped your jacket and gently pushed it off your shoulders. it dropped to the floor around your feet, and he broke the kiss to look down at your body.

you had on a simple knit sweater, one that was a bit more fitted than most of your clothes.

as his hands slowly slipped under the material, you stopped them.

"what's wrong?" he whispered.

"uh... it's just... i don't want you to be disappointed by what you see."

"what do you mean?"

"i mean... i don't look like the other girls at school."

"in what way?"

you furrowed your brows. "c'mon, stiles, i know you know what i'm talking about."

"elaborate."

"i'm not... thin. i don't have that great of a body."

"seriously? that's what you think?"

"well, yeah. i have a mirror, stiles. i know what i look like."

"not from my perspective."

"i mean, i guess so. but you have to admit, i'm different from them." as you spoke, he unbuttoned your jeans while maintaining eye contact. "i'm serious."

"i know. i get that you feel that way but i don't think that when i look at you."

"what do you think?"

"i think you're out of my league." this made you chuckle. "i'm serious. i told scott the exact same thing the day we met."

"did you now?"

"you can ask him yourself." your pants were now undone, but he stopped before he went any further. "let me show you how beautiful i think you are."

"mm, how are you gonna do that exactly?"

"i may have to just make you wait and see."

you thought for a second before reaching down and pulling your sweater over your head. you felt like your heart was going to pound out of your chest, or stop entirely. you'd never taken your shirt off in front of a boy before, and you were a bit scared about what his reaction would be.

but the look in his eyes as he looked at you made you feel like the prettiest girl in the entire world. your anxiety melted away when you saw the look in his eyes. it was a look of true love, one no one had ever given you.

"wow," he whispered, studying your body.

"okay?"

instead of answering, he planted another kiss on your lips. he wrapped one arm around your back to pull you against him, his other hand cupping your face to hold you close.

he reached around you and gripped the hooks of your bra.

"can i take this off?" he asked into your mouth, to which he received a nod.

this level of vulnerability and openness wasn't something you were used to giving. not one soul had seen your boobs since you went shopping for training bras with your mom and she had to teach you how to use them. that was around the time you'd become truly aware of your weight and body, and decided that you weren't going to show it to anyone for a long, long time.

he continued kissing you as he struggled to unhook it, eventually getting it. to be fair, it was a bit of a difficult one to unhook.

he didn't look down at first, wanting to continue kissing you. his palm laid flat against your back where your bra band previously was, and you let the straps fall off your shoulders and it fell to the floor.

when he did finally take the opportunity to look at your bare chest, he took in a deep breath.

"wow," he said for a second time.

the urge to cover yourself was overwhelming, almost burning. so when your arms gave in and wrapped around your stomach, he pulled them away.

"why're you doin' that?" he whispered.

"just... not used to anyone seeing me."

"well, get used to it. you're so beautiful."

"you really think so?"

"i don't see how you don't."

"you know, just constant years of bullying." you were slightly joking but also not, that being the main reason for your insecurity. a slightly sad expression formed on his face. you looked down and shook your head. "sorry, i didn't mean to kill the mood."

he hooked his finger under your chin and made you look back up at him.

"don't apologize. it's okay." you nodded. "but i promise i'm gonna make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. because you are."

you smiled and kissed him, pulling his hand up to cup your breast. he took in a sharp breath at this, his thumb gliding over your nipple.

"your turn to take something off."

he obeyed, pulling his shirt up and over his head. he had a patch of chest hair and a couple of moles here and there, but you noticed the scars on his stomach and ribs too. you ran your thumb over one of them and he looked down at it.

"what are these from?"

he sighed. "long stories. they're old, though."

you decided not to pry, realizing he didn't want to talk about old injuries before having sex with you for the first time.

a moment later, you were on your back in his bed, your head on his pillow. he slowly pulled your already undone pants down your legs and kissed the skin as they came off. he decided to go ahead and strip himself of his, leaving both of you in only your underwear. there were only two layers of thin clothing separating you, and as he leaned back down to kiss you, you could feel the tent in his pants growing.

he pressed a kiss to your neck, then your collarbone, then your chest, before engulfing your right nipple in his mouth. he circled it with his tongue for a moment before continuing down your body, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your stomach.

to have someone love your body instead of shame it made you tremble, not used to the pure affection bursting from his body, leaking from his pores.

he hooked his fingers under your panties, looking at you for permission, which you granted with a hesitant nod. you kept your thighs together for a moment before he kissed your knees, resting his chin on them after a few seconds.

"you don't have to hide anything from me, y/n." he ran his hands up and down your outer thighs and gave a soft smile. "you look so beautiful right now."

this boy was love drunk, his eyes soft and watery. you didn't think it was possible so see an expression so full of love, so desperate to show amore.

you spread your legs, bracing yourself to show all of you to him, to expose your most private areas. but he looked at you like he was an addict, like he needed you just to function.

he'd fallen for you fast, and he'd fallen hard.

after a few seconds he was on his belly, licking and lapping at you like you were a pot of honey. you couldn't hold back the sounds that escaped your throat, unable to describe how good he was making you feel.

you'd masturbated plenty, unsure when it would be someone else pleasuring you. all you'd had was your hand and fingers, and this was way different. it was much warmer, much wetter.

his much stronger than expected hands holding you exactly where he needed you meant all you could do was arch your back. him forcing your hips to still almost made it better, more intense.

because this was the first time you'd been eaten out, you felt your orgasm coming quickly, and when you finally reached your climax, the only sound that came out was a loud and long gasp. you couldn't keep your hips from leaving the mattress as much as he tried to control your movements.

he'd told you before that he wasn't super experienced, only having had sex with one person before you. but you couldn't help but wonder how many times he did this in the past to get him this good at it.

once he was back at your lips to kiss you, he was rock hard, and him grinding against you gave you an idea of what you were in store for.

once his underwear were off and he was sliding a condom on, you got a good look. he was bigger than you expected him to be, but it looked like something you could handle. he was thick too, and you knew you'd be getting stretched out.

"are you still okay with this?" he whispered, kissing your jaw.

"yes, stiles. please." you didn't know why you were begging, it's not like he wasn't going to fuck you if you didn't. but you were antsy, desperate, horny.

he looked into your eyes. "i... shit, i might not last long. it's been a minute."

"that's okay."

"i still want it to be good for you."

"i know it will be. it's okay if you don't. it's my first time, i don't want it to be a marathon."

he nodded. "okay. ready?"

"so ready."

he kissed you as he slid into you, the feeling different than you expected. better than you expected.

once he was fully seated in you, you both let out a soft moan.

"okay?" he asked.

"mhm. i just need to get used to it."

he was gentle, tender with you. he was going slowly as to not hurt you, but it was too slow. you needed more motion and he picked up on that.

"stiles, please, go faster."

he adjusted his position, bending his knees a bit more and pushing your thighs closer to your stomach. he picked up his speed and your moans were already becoming more desperate, more whiny.

"shit, you feel so good," he grunted, trying not to go too fast.

"you do too."

his lips latched onto your neck and his hands balled the sheets under you. the sounds of your wanton moans bounced off the walls and were like music to his ears. he was starting to have to control himself, making sure not to cum too early.

but you could tell he was getting there closer than he expected to. his grunts were becoming more frantic, chasing his orgasm.

after a couple of minutes, it was becoming more and more difficult to hold it off.

"stiles, stop holding back." your commands were gentle and sweet, you wanted him to feel as good as possible too. "i know you're close."

"it hasn't been that long."

"it's okay." that last one was cut off by an uncontrollable moan. "cum for me, stiles." you weren't used to using language like this, so you couldn't help but cringe internally, but those words drove him over the edge. he was thrusting much rougher than he meant to, holding back his orgasm making it even more intense for him.

he busted into the condom, filling it quickly. he slowed his movements, stopping a few thrusts later. he gently kissed you, your hands landing on his ribcage.

it took a few minutes for either of you to catch your breath, and he pulled out of you, tossing the condom in his trash can, and laying beside you. he covered both of you with his comforter, noticing how cold it was in his room.

neither of you spoke for a moment before he reached down and pulled your hand to his lips, kissing the back of your palm.

you laughed silently, looking over at him.

"was that okay? for your first time?"

you nodded. "it was."

"good. i promise next time it'll be better."

"i'm gonna hold you to that, stilinski."

"challenge accepted."

it wasn't long before you drifted to sleep, stiles watching you snore softly with nothing but love in his heart.

[dylobilysmomg]

Drive-In Shenanigans

𝗙𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺: 𝗧𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗪𝗼𝗹𝗳

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗸𝗶 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀: 𝟭.𝟲𝗸+

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗪! 𝗦𝗲𝗺𝗶-𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗰 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝘂𝗻𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝘅 (𝗪𝗿𝗮𝗽 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗮𝗽 𝗶𝘁 𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘!) 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗽𝗻𝘃

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗜’𝗺 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝗹! 𝗜’𝘃𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝟯 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝗶𝗰𝘆 𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗻! 𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀, 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴! 𝗖𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 (𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗵 𝘁𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀!) 𝗠𝘆 𝗟𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗧𝗿𝗲𝗲. 𝗡𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻. 𝗟𝘂𝘃 𝘆𝗮!!

𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙜𝙞𝙛!

It’s a warm August Friday. School has started but we’re still trying to hold onto the summer. It’s shorts and t-shirt weather, my favorite kind of weather. So Stiles and I make our way to the one place you’d always find us during those summer months. The drive-in theater.

“What’re you looking for?” Stiles asks me, watching as I dig through my bag. “I thought I brought my chapstick.” I say, still searching. I pay no attention to Stiles who’s reaching into his pocket and hands me his.

“Ugh, cherry.” I look at him disapprovingly. “Hey, you wanted chapstick, I gave you chapstick.” He chuckles, and I sigh, removing the cap.

“You’ll be fine, plus you’ll forget about it once the movie starts.” Stiles says as we pull up the the drive-in theater. We drive up and pay at the window and Stiles finds a good spot to park. Once he’s found an open spot he likes, he backs into it. Turning his body, his right arm stretched out to my seat, looking through the back windshield. 𝙂𝙤𝙙…

“Okay, let’s do this.” Stiles says excitedly, parking the jeep and getting out. I hop out too and walk around the jeep to the trunk. Stiles is opening up the hatch and there it is. Probably the equally most fun and disgusting place in his jeep, depending on who you ask. We’ve got plenty of blankets laying in the back to cushion us while we watch the movie.

Stiles is practically shaking from excitement, we’ve planned this drive-in date a month ahead. I mean, Stiles and I come to the drive-in A LOT. However, tonight is different because, of course, they’re playing Star Wars.

I hop up into the back of the jeep along with Stiles, sitting on his right. We get comfy and sit against the back seat. There’s no one parked in front of us, thank God, and there’s not really anyone at the drive-in at all this time around.

“It’s pretty deserted tonight.” I turn my head to him, admiring his face as the light from the screen shines on him. “Yeah, what’s up with that? Where’s all the Star Wars fans at, huh?” He complains, almost baffled that he may be the only die-hard Star Wars fan in Beacon Hills.

“I don’t know, maybe they’d just rather watch the movies at home.” I reply, giggling; already knowing what he’s going to say. “That’s outrageous. This is so much better than sitting on the couch. This is where the fun is.” Stiles exasperates, flailing his arms at the screen.

I just giggle, admiring him. “I mean, this is more fun that watching it at my house, right?” He asks, turning his head to me. I don’t answer at first, instead leaning in to give him a kiss; which he accepts almost instantaneously.

“Yes, Stiles, this is more fun. Plus, you know how much I love the drive-in.” I tell him, leaning my head on his right shoulder as the commercials end and the beginning of the movie starts. Stiles brings his arm around my back, which urges me closer. In all honesty, I’ve been dying to be with Stiles; just the two of us. Since school has started, we haven’t had a single moment for ourselves. Starting of school work, and of course along with whatever Scott gets us into, we get really busy really fast. And I’m itching for Stiles’ touch.

As the movie plays, Stiles’ full attention is towards the screen. He absentmindedly makes circles with his thumb as his hand resides on my waist. My left arm is around behind his back, my other in my lap. My legs are curled up now, I rest them on his thigh. My head still rests in that sweet spot between his shoulder and his arm that was made just for me. I can’t stop thinking about his arm around me. My mind running wild.

It’s about a fourth of the way trough the movie that I can’t take it anymore. I trail the hand I have behind his back lower, deciding to slip it under and up his shirt. My hands must be cold, because he gets a little chill as I do so. Even then, I trail my hand over his bare skin, which is now at my disposal. I draw designs softly with my nails, scratching his back lightly.

Stiles hums, finally acknowledging me. “Mm, that feels good.” He mumbles, but eyes not leaving the screen. I crane my neck up slightly, my face now mere millimeters away from his exposed neck. “Does it?” I whisper, leaning up to kiss his neck. One kiss. Two, three. My hand in my lap slides to his.

“Babe, we’re watching a movie.” He warns me, now fully aware of my intentions. I slide my hand up to his chest. “What’s that gotta do with anything?” I counter, giving his neck a few more kisses. He sighs, I know I’m getting to him.

“You know this happens every time we have a movie night, right? Is there something you wanna tell me, Y/N? Does fine cinematography turn you on?” Stiles tries to play with me, ease his own temptations. But I’ve already got him where I want him.

“No, you do though.” I reply, sliding my hand from his chest down to the waist band of his jeans. He lets in a sharp breath as I dip my fingers into his pants to grip his belt buckle. “We’re in public.” He warns again, but I don’t listen.

“That’s what makes it so fun.” I reply, slowly undoing his belt, and he lets me. I get his belt loose and unbutton his jeans, unzipping them agonizingly slow. Stiles has by now given up on trying to act cool, and is now practically itching to be touched. There’s already a tent in his boxers as I pull his jeans down just a bit.

Stiles uses his right arm that’s still around me to urge me into his lap, and I oblige. I straddle him, both my hands now on his chest, and he pulls me into a kiss. I grind onto him as his arms slink to my waist, going to unbutton my shorts as if second nature.

He unzips my shorts, revealing just enough to see the the little bow at the top of my panties. “Awe, fuck.” He lets out, before dipping a hand down my panties to where he knows I want him. I moan as he teases my entrance, and his mouth envelopes mine in another kiss. I bring a hand down to grope him through his boxers.

I throw my head back as Stiles finally slips a finger inside me, then two. I try to be quiet, but as he rocks his fingers back and forth, trying to be quiet is near impossible. I then drop my head to the crook of his neck, my hot breath hitting him.

“Stiles, need you so bad.” I say, now plunging my hand into his boxers to grab him, and he hisses. I use my thumb to play with his tip, spreading the pre cum. Then, without warning, Stiles pulls his fingers from my shorts. I whine as he grabs one of the many blankets in the trunk to cover our waists.

It’s then that his hands urge my shorts down and off my legs, and I pull his boxers down just enough to free him. “Can you be quiet?” Stiles looks at me, I can tell that being in public turns him on, he just won’t admit it. He likes the thought of being caught almost as much as I do.

“Yes.” Is all I reply with before he’s lining himself up with me before putting his hands on my hips to urge me down. I try not to let out a moan as I slowly sink down, Stiles stretching me fully. Once I’ve taken all of him, I place my hands on either of his shoulders. I slowly start to bounce on his cock, Stiles watching with his mouth hanging open in awe. It’s at this point that I now know for a fact that he likes it when I ride him the most.

I rock my hips against his, the movie now completely forgotten. I’m so focused on Stiles that I barely notice his hand going down to my little bundle of nerves. When I feel him starting to rub circles, I start to lose my momentum. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He taunts me.

“Yeah,” I say breathlessly, “Y’so good, Sti.” I begin to babble, something that Stiles frequently takes advantage of.

“Yeah, ya like when I take care of you, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Like when I give you what you want?”

“Oh, yes.”

Stiles starts to buck his hips, thrusting up into me, and I can barely take it. I can tell he’s chasing his high the by way way he hisses and by the sweat that begins to form on his hairline. He’s still assaulting my clit when I speak up.

“Stiles, I’m gonna cum.” I warn him, and he pulls his other hand from my hip to cover my mouth as I do. And suddenly I can no longer bounce on him, all I can do is ride out what he’s giving to me.

Stiles still covers my mouth and begins to thrust up hard and fast, and I can barely take any more. But not before he pulls out and strings of white are splayed over my thigh. He throws his head back against the back seat, mouth hanging agape.

I scoop up his ropes with a finger, but wait for him to lift his head up to look at me before I bring my finger to my lips. I lick it clean, and Stiles could quite possibly be the hungriest man I’ve ever seen.

“We seriously can’t even make it one movie without fucking. I owe Scott 5 bucks.”

𝟏/𝟏𝟗/𝟐����