#tortured stiles

[christinesficrecs]

Hi!!!! I’m looking for a fic where Stiles and Boyd were both kidnapped by the alpha pack and Erica didn’t survive. It was all about both of them healing from that trauma and I think Stiles was mute for a lot of it and was recovering from his injuries. At some point he’s triggered by the dripping of the faucet and screams for someone to turn it off. Boyd ends up with Lydia I think???

Wish I could remember the name!!! Any help would be appreciated and thank you for your service to the fanfic community ❤️

Hey!! I think this is the right one. ❤️

(they say) this should feel something like fire by pr1nc3ssp34ch (dallisons) | 11.1K | Explicit

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip.

“Turn it off.” The pack looked up, stunned into silence by the first words they’d heard from him in weeks.

Stiles stood, trembling - his knees weak. He tried to run and collapsed, his bad leg failing him once again. Derek caught him. “Turn it off,” he said, his voice unmistakably a growl.

The water continued leaking from the loose faucet, and all Stiles heard was Erica’s blood against the concrete. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip.

[milkcryptid]

messy

[wordsarelife]

—the prophecy

pairing: isaac lahey x fem!stilinski!reader

summary: isaac tries to fight for your life while something he isn’t able to stop sets a terrible prophecy into motion

warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of death, blood, angst

notes: completely made up villain and storyline, reader is a witch

you had laughed at isaac's suggestion at first, sure it was a dumb joke with which he was trying to light the mood. stiles had started laughing with you and it was only then that you realized that isaac hadn't been joking.

"wait, you really mean it, don't you?" you asked, brows furrowed and an irritated look on your face.

"of course i mean it" isaac nodded, looking between you and stiles, who looked less happy and more annoyed now.

"well, you have no power to decide this for us" you crossed your arms, exchanging a look with your brother, who nodded.

"you have been a werewolf for all of five minutes, okay?" stiles muttered "but we, we've been doing this for years. your hear what i'm saying? years, isaac, plural"

"i just want to help"

"just like we do" you said, tone a bit softer than before as you noticed the worry on the blondes face. "we're risking lives if we stay home"

"i know, i just—"

"you heard her" stiles interrupted, before he walked around isaac, opening the front door. "either you come with us or you stay here"

isaac sighed, taking one last look at you, before he walked through the door first.

the mission was unevenful and much different for what you had expected. you didn't need any outstanding powers, just a bit of light magic, resulting in you having more energy than usual when you came back home.

isaac hadn't left yours and stiles' side for the enterity you were there, making sure that both of you were save at all times. you appreciated his protectiveness, but it made you wonder why he was suddenly acting like this. he had never had any distrust in your abilities. not even in stiles, although he was a human and had no powers.

the next day you all sat together at lunch. lydia and stiles were discussing a plothole in the star wars prequels, scott was studying an ancient looking book and isaac was staring at you, while you read your emails.

"is there something i can help you with?" you asked in a low voice to not to disturb your friends conversation.

"no" isaac shook his head and quickly averted his eyes, acting like he hadn't been focused on you for almost an hour.

"here" scott said louder than necessary to catch the attention around him. "it mentions something about a lost relic, derek told me about it before. maybe it's that what he's searching for"

gallaghan had been plaguing the town for the past few months, keeping the pack on edge about where he would show up next. it wasn't unsual for him to cause chaos and destruction wherever he went and until now you hadn't been able to find out what he was after.

"we might put an end to it if we find it first" lydia noted.

stiles nodded, always agreeable with whatever she said. "maybe we can even use it against him"

"where could it be hidden?" you asked, leaning over the table and trying to gather a look at the pages in scott's book.

"i think malia saw it before" scott muttered, unsurely. "she saw where it was hidden"

"great!" stiles stood up, his tray in hand. "let's go!"

before either of you could agree and stand up as well, isaac interjected. "i don't think we all need to go, right?" he asked, voice only above a whisper. "scott and lydia could go alone"

"why us?" lydia asked exchanging a glance with scott.

isaac shrugged.

"i say you go ask malia, while stiles, isaac and i go and get everything we could possibly need to fetch the relic" you suggested to keep the peace.

"sounds good" scott smiled, before he nodded behind him, in the direction of the hallway in which malia was studying in a classroom right now. lydia followed the alpha without another word, but you could see the look of confusion she send you.

"what's going on?" stiles asked isaac, as soon as your friends were out of ear shot.

"nothing" isaac insisted.

"you can tell us" your voice was soft and you laid your hand on top of his, despite stiles narrowing his eyes at your movement. isaac was ready to break, before he remembered what telling you could lead to.

"i swear it's nothing" he said again. "i just want to keep the both of you save"

"really romantic, thank you" stiles pushed a hand against his chest, a sarcastic smile on his face as he fluttered his eyelashes at the blonde boy across from him.

"let's get ready then, huh?" you suggested, squeezing isaac's hand to assure him. "you can stand next to us the entire time if that helps, yeah?"

isaac nodded reluctantely, before he took his own tray and followed you out of the cafeteria and to stiles jeep.

"we have to keep this on the down low" stiles announced to both of you, as he reversed the car and drove off the school parking lot. "dad's gonna kill us if he finds out"

"well, i'm not gonna tell him, you can bet your ass on that" you laughed from next to your brother. "you won't either, right isaac?" you asked jokingly, looking into the mirror.

isaac nodded, of course, but there was a dark thought in his head. a thought that would make both stiles and you extremely angry at him, but would keep you safe.

you prepared the whole afternoon for what you planned to do that evening. scott and lydia called throughout, telling you that malia still knew where the relic was hidden and that all of you would meet at scott's house at midnight.

isaac had gone home after a while, which you found weird, considering he had not let you out of his sight since the beginning of the week.

isaac hadn't been able to stay any longer as the same thought kept on repeating in his head. anytime he looked at you, he felt like a piece of his heart was breaking off.

a terrible headache only added to the pain his body was experiencing. he sat down on the couch in derek's loft, eyes fluttering close, as sleep took over.

in his dream he was back in the cave. the cave below the church, which the pack had discovered a few weeks ago. they had been searching for something isaac was now not even able to remember, but it had been important enough for all of you to come along.

he had walked into the cave on his own, the small space not allowing company, as he searched through a desk that was cramped into the corner.

that's when he found it. the prophecy.

in the time of shadows and light, when the balance teeters on the edge of ruin, the one who stands closest to the alpha—akin to his sister in heart though not in blood—shall meet her final fate. as the heavens weep, and three lightning strikes herald her doom, her end shall not be in vain, for her soul will be the price for another, a life dearer than her own. in the moment of her greatest sacrifice, she will choose love over life, and in doing so, her death shall render her eternal, for her legacy will live long after her mortal body has perished.

isaac woke up startled, the familiar words repeating in his head over and over again. he had known almost immediately that it was you the ancient text was talking about. and it was obvious you would give your life to save stiles.

it had been eating away at him since he had found out. he could not imagine his life without you. even a day without your laughter was too much for him to bare. he had loved you for way too long to never get a chance to tell you.

isaac knew that there was a way to change what was promised, to not make you decide and trade your life to spare stiles'. he just had to make sure both of you were safe.

but how could he do that?

"isaac, what are you doing here?" sheriff stilinski smiled, when officer parrish walked isaac into the formers office.

"good evening, sheriff" isaac greeted. "i think there is something you should know"

stiles and you had been ready for half an hour and were now standing in stiles' room, studying his wall of a million red strings, that almost made your eyes burn.

"that's a lot of red" you noted.

"i know"

"red means unssolved, right?" you stepped forward, moving along one of the strings with your finger. "there's a lot of unsolved things then"

"i'm aware, y/n" stiles slapped your hand away. "you're gonna ruin it"

"gonna ruin what exactly?" you tested "the unanswered questions you know nothing about?"

"haha, very funny" stiles smiled sarcastically. "you have no sense for real detective work"

"calm down, columbo" you rolled your eyes "i think you need to solve a case before you earn the right to call yourself a detective."

"oh sorry, i didn't know i was talking to nancy drew" he crossed his arms. "i'm sure she would appreciate this work of a genius"

you raised an eyebrow. "genius? looks more like a kindergarten art project gone wrong."

stiles scoffed, leaning in. "well, if by 'gone wrong' you mean 'brilliantly unraveling mysteries,' then yeah, sure, kindergarten. but guess what—this 'art project' is probably going to save our butts, again."

you smirked, crossing your arms. "right, because nothing says 'life-saving genius' like a wall of yarn."

"whatever" stiles shrugged, taking a quick look at his phone. "ten minutes until midnight, we better get going"

you nodded, grabbing your bag from his bed, before you both walked out of his room and down the stairs. you took the keys out of the little bowl near the door, just as stiles opened it.

"scott said—whoa, dad!" his voice called out in surprise.

you narrowed your eyes at the figure standing in the door. your father was still wearing his uniform and looked at both of you disapprovingly.

"didn't you have the night shift?" stiles wondered and you wanted to elbow him deep into the ribs, as your father's face darkened even more.

"where do you think you're going?" he asked, stepping into the house and shutting the door behind him. "and you skipped school? again? we talked about this"

"how do you—"

you interrupted stiles. "—it was an emergency"

"didn't sound like that" sheriff stilinski shook his head, disappointment crossing his face, before he sighed. "go to bed, both of you. it's a school night"

"but dad—" stiles and you tried to protest at the same time.

"you heard me"

you walked up the stairs defeated and followed stiles back into his room.

"i bet isaac snitched" stiles accused almost immediately after you had closed the door. "he's been acting strange. stranger than usual"

"i don't think isaac would do that"

stiles crossed his arms and send you a pointed look.

"okay, maybe" you admitted, "it doesn't matter anyway. we have to find a way to get out and meet up with the others"

"we can't leave until he's gone to sleep" stiles sighed. "shit!"

"did you hear anything from stiles and y/n?" lydia asked over at scotts house. the rest of the pack, isaac, malia, derek and scott were sitting around her.

"yeah" scott nodded. "stiles just texted that they won't be able to make it on time, but they'll try to come"

"what do we do?" malia asked, looking between her friends.

"i say we go anyway" isaac muttered. "we can't wait for gallaghan to find the relic first"

"isaac's right" derek said.

"alright" scott nodded. "i tell them to meet us there as soon as they're able to come"

isaac desperately hoped that they would never make it.

due to him not being used to the quiet of the night, it took your dad an unnaturally short time to fall asleep. stiles and you had checked on him at one thirty, being out the house at one fourty.

the drive was shorter than expected. and it seemed that you were arriving just on time, as all hell had broken lose. you understood quickly that you hadn't been the only ones to come and search for the relic.

gallaghan was there too and he had brought company in the form of hunters.

"shit" you muttered to stiles, while both of you tried to make out where you could help best. you decided to split up, you walking right and him left, bat in hand.

isaac was busy fighting against two hunters, who looked anything but friendly. it didn't look good for him if you were honest. you quickly raised your hands, throwing both men back and knocking them out through the action.

isaac turned around in susprise. "y/n!" he breathed, shock evident on his face. "what the hell are you doing here?"

the expression on your face changed, spotting a look of betrayal. "so it was you who talked to dad"

"that's beside the point" isaac shook his head looking between you and the fight a few feet away. "you can't be here!" he gripped your arm.

"the hell i can" you tried to break free from his grip but it was to no use.

"just wait" he pleaded, fiddeling with his phone, before he held it in your direction. "i didn't want to tell you, because i didn't want to scare you"

your eyes flew over the words on the photo. the writing was old, almost ancient and not easy to read, but perfectly clear to understand once you got it. "meet her final fate?" you muttered, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"yes" he paused. "that's why i told your dad, i was sure he wouldn't let you come and i was right. so please, go back home y/n"

"okay" you nodded and isaac sighed.

"but we have to find stiles first" he muttered, as he thought back to the words in the prophecy. "you're going to sacrifice yourself for love and stiles is the most plausible option"

before either of you could say anything else, a flash of lightning momentarily sounded in the air, bathing the sky in a bright light. you both jumped at the same time.

"that was the first" isaac exclaimed with a look of horror.

"the first?" you repeated carefully.

"as the heavens weep, and three lightning strikes herald her doom" he quoted. "three strikes. that was the first. we have to hurry"

"yeah-yeah" you nodded, the fear growing inside you as you realized that whatever isaac had found was actually slowly becoming true.

"it's better you wait here" isaac announced finally. "i'll go and find stiles"

"are you sure?"

"i don’t want you going in there as long as it's dangerous" he pointed at the building behind him. "it's even more dangerous for you if stiles is in there"

"okay" you nodded, tears spilling from your eyes. "please be safe, isaac" you said a he looked at you with pain in his eyes. "and thank you" he nodded, before he turned around and began to run. you pushed your back against the wall, hiding yourself from anyone coming close.

it felt like an eternity to wait for him. you debated if you should follow him to make sure he was safe. you were scared, so deeply scared that him saving your life meant ultimately sacrificing his own in the process.

another lightning broke through the sky and made you unvoluntarily duck, as your heart began to beat faster.

"y/n!" stiles' voice called. the relief that flushed you almost made you stumble to the ground.

"stiles" you breathed, turning the corner and sinking into your brother's arms. "where is isaac?"

stiles turned around as if there was something to find. "he was right behind me, he was—"

you gripped his shoulders, as loud footsteps interrupted his rambling, isaac running out of the building. "go! go!" he screamed loudly. they were following him, three hunters, ready to kill.

you raised your hand, pushing the first back. he flew against the nearest tree, losing his conciousness immediately. the second wasn't as easy. he managed to swerve around your magic a few times, before it eventually gripped him, pulling him back and leaving him laying in the middle of the street.

you pushed stiles behind you as you tried to take on the last of them. isaac was now running directly in your direction, the hunter right behind him, which made it harder for you to hex the right person.

your tries kept relentlessly failing, as you realized too late what kept the man safe. it was something so simple, but you had never encountered it. like vampires could be contained with garlic, or werewolves with wolfsbane, witches could be repelled with ivy and his whole jacket was decorated in the green plant. somehow he had known about you and your powers.

the man threw a rope, catching isaac's foot and quickly snatching him back, making the boy tumble to the ground.

"isaac!" you called loudly, voice in an unsteady rhythm as your tears broke through. you quickly managed to the let the rope vanish.

isaac scrambled to his feet, but the hunter was relentless, closing the distance once more. panic surged through you as you saw the desperation in isaac’s eyes. you couldn’t let him die. not now. not after everything.

"y/n!" stiles shouted, but you barely heard him over the pounding in your ears, over the roaring of your heart.

isaac stumbled, still trying to stand, but the hunter was already upon him, pulling out a silver blade meant to kill.

you closed your eyes, time stopping to flow around you. isaac and the hunter stayed unmoving, you felt stiles' fingers cling to the hem of your shirt. but you couldn't think about that.

the concentration you had to muster felt unbearable. but you could not let him die. you would rather get hurt yourself than watch him get killed.

with a surge of adrenaline, you stepped forward, raising your hands as you prepared to use your magic again. but this time, something felt different. the power inside you was building faster than you’d ever felt before—wild, uncontrollable, a force you could barely contain.

"get away from him!" you screamed, your voice hoarse from the terror that gripped your heart. the hunter raised the blade, preparing to strike down on isaac.

the magic swelled inside you, overwhelming, tearing through your body with searing heat. you had one chance. one spell. but it would cost you everything.

you made the choice.

with a cry of pain, you unleashed the full force of your magic, every ounce of power you had. it erupted from you in a blinding wave of light, surging toward the hunter. but this wasn’t just a simple spell. It was something more, something ancient and powerful—something that demanded a sacrifice.

you could feel the magic ripple through the barrier of the ivy, breaking apart like a twig in it's way.

the hunter sank to the ground, falling down like a sack of potatoes, the dagger clastering to the side.

you didn't have long to be happy about your win. just as your power dried out, you felt a flash of pain errupt inside your chest and then, like it was bound to happen, the third strike of lightning broke through the sky, painting your face in horror as you fell to the ground.

stiles was barely fast enough to catch you, breath hitching as he stared down at you in worry.

you looked past him and into the bright sky, like it was a mirror of your sould that was burning.

"y/n" isaac stumbled onto his feet and sank to the ground next to you. "what did you do?"

"i saved you" you whispered. you could feel your teeth being drenched in liquid. blood, you thought.

"but—" isaac paused, looking up in the sky. "the third" he muttered then.

"what?" stiles asked from behind you. isaac looked at your brother, who was looking so worried and scared. it took him a second to realize what had happened.

"the prophecy wasn't about stiles" he concluded.

you managed to nod your head. you hadn't known immediately, but at the moment that danger threatened to end isaac's life. he had been so sure, so set on it being about stiles that you hadn't questioned his theory.

but everything he had done to prevent your fate, had actually set it in motion.

"prophecy? what prophecy? could someone please talk to me?" stiles pleaded, teary-eyed.

as if they knew that something had happened, the rest of your friends came running.

"we have the relic, gallaghan is—" scott said, before he saw what was going on.

"what prophecy?" stiles tried again.

isaac took out his phone with trembling hands, holding it in your brothers direction.

"in the time of shadows and light, when the balance teeters on the edge of ruin, the one who stands closest to the alpha—akin to his sister in heart though not in blood—" stiles read, voice unsteady, as he pressed his other hand against your body, making sure you were still there. "shall meet her final fate. as the heavens weep, and three lightning strikes herald her doom, her end shall not be in vain, for her soul will be the price for another, a life dearer than her own." he looked between you and isaac.

"it didn't mean platonic love" you concluded, blood seeping from your mouth as you spoke. you could hear a cry come from lydia, as she buried her head in scott's side, who looked down at you in pain.

derek had clasped a hand around isaac's shoulder as if to give his beta strength. even malia, who normally was not fazed by anthing, watched you in horror.

isaac touched your cheek. "i was wrong" he cried. "i was so determined to save you i did not even properly think"

"she doesn't have to die" stiles shook his head. "i mean we can do something, right? we always do something. if she would die you would know, right lydia?" he looked up at the strawberry blonde with pleading eyes and and unfair amount of hope.

lydia shook her head softly and stiles slumped down.

"stiles" you muttered. "it has been prophesied"

"i don't care about the stupid prophecy, okay?" he pushed a few tears away from his cheeks. "you won't die tonight. dad's gonna kill me if he finds out"

you smiled at his blind optimism and his disbelief of the situation.

"i'm sorry" isaac cried. "this is all my fault"

"yes it is" stiles pushed a finger into the blondes chest. "you knew about it and you didn't even try to tell us"

"i thought it was safer" isaac tried to defend.

"i'm her brother, i deserved to know" stiles shook his head. "i could've found a way"

"not with all those red strings" you muttered, trying to lighten the mood.

"what about decan?" scott asked. "can't we bring her to him?"

"it's a difference if someone's life is threatened by an outer force like a dagger or poison or by an inner force" derek explained and if you weren't mistaken, he was crying too.

"inner force?" malia repeated.

"her powers are slowly turning against her" he concluded. "they're killing her from the inside. she's bleeding out internally"

"so what?" stiles asked, "we just let her die? we won't even try to do something?"

"we can't do anything, stiles"

stiles turned his head back to look at isaac, deep anger spilling from his features. "she's dying, because of you! because you were so selfish that you didn't want to tell us what you knew!" he spat. "she should've let you die!"

isaac sank down, stiles' words hitting him like a dagger. he knew that he was at fault, that he had not done enough, that he should've acted differently. he shouldn't have been so scared to share his knowledge, not so fast to make assumptions.

"enough!" you called loudly, interrupting your brother's screaming, as you tried your best to sit up against him. "i don't want to go like this. you don't get to make this out to be isaac’s fault, stiles!" you turned back around to the blonde. "and you don't get to think it is, isaac! i make my own decisions and i will not die in vain because of you idiots"

"y/n" isaac muttered.

"no, isaac" you swept the blood from your mouth in a desperate try to free your lungs and breathe in the clean air. you could feel your time run out, it was only the parts of you that weren't human that had given you more time, before your final fate would come. "i chose to save you, because i love you"

"i tried to save you because of the same reason" isaac muttered, voice just above a whisper. "now look where love has gotten us"

a small, sad smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "i don’t feel like i’m at the wrong place," you said softly, shaking your head. "i feel like i was at the right place, at the right time. and i did what i had to do."

"love shouldn't take your life" he disagreed, clearly not accepting of what you had done.

"there's no better thing to die for, isaac" you took his hand in yours. "i just regret that i didn't tell you sooner"

it was just devastating to see the pain on his face and know that you were the reason for it.

stiles, who had been silent, his face streaked with tears, sobbed quietly beside you. his hand rested on your shoulder, his body shaking as the reality of your fading life hit him.

your friends stood nearby, faces pale and stricken with sadness, as if they were watching the world unravel before their eyes. they were crying like the night had stolen the very light from the world, as if everything had been lost.

"i'm sorry" isaac said once again, clinging to your hand like it was a lifeline.

"don't be sorry" you shook your head, a peaceful smile unraveling on your features. "i always thought i would be alone, you know?"

you searched his eyes for some sign of recognition of the conversation you had once had about your final moments. "i remember" he said, his mind wandering back to the night on your roof.

"i'm not alone" you whispered, before you looked at everyone individually, taking them in to remember.

eyes are most beautiful when they’re filled with tears, you thought to yourself. it wasn’t something you had ever said out loud, but it was how you felt now—seeing the raw emotion, the love, the pain all mixed together. It was devastating, but it was real.

you touched isaac's cheeck, catching one of his tears. they fell from his ocean-blue eyes, like the water had risen too high for the shore to contain. "it might sound selfish" you whispered softly, as you watched the tear run down your fingers, "but isn't it somewhat soothing to know, that i was loved to the point of tears?"

isaac smiled at you and you could read the undeniable love from his face. you looked around you once more, into the faces of your friends and brother.

"loved enough to be grieved" you muttered, like a sudden realisation. "not everyone can say that. so… thank you." your breath hitched, as if to finalize your fate.

"y/n?" stiles muttered as he noticed the glossy look in your eyes. almost like you were fading away.

"y/n" isaac repeated when no answer rang out. he shook you softly.

you smiled. "i wish i could've seen the sun" your eyes fell close as death set into your features, but still leaving the smile on your face, like it wanted to grant you with something, a final piece of happiness in a moment of despair.

"no!" stiles voice rung out first. in a desperate attempt to bring you back to life he began to shake you, hoping for some kind of movement. "no!"

"stiles" scott muttered, taking his friend into his arms and letting him sob against his shoulder as they cried simultaneously.

isaac sat across from them, slumped down and heartbroken. derek gripped the shoulder of his beta even harder. lydia sank next to isaac reluctantly, first stretching out her hand slowly, but finally taking him into her arms and letting him sob against her warm embrace.

none of them said anything, but they all stayed where they were, ultimately knowing what to do without speaking about it.

they sat down around you, as if to spend you company.

as the clock struck 5:17 a.m., the first rays of sunlight bathed your still form in a soft, golden light, marking the quiet end of a day and the beginning of a new one without you.

it was almost as if you could feel the warmth of the light on your face. your smile being a constant reminder that you had thought about something good in your final moment, like the first sign of sunrise at the beginning of a day, or the feeling of blowing out candles on your birthday. running through grass barefoot and feeling the earths touch beneath your feet.

smelling snow for the first time at the beginning of december, growing taller than your older brother at the age of seven, falling in love for the first time and getting your heart broken. falling in love again, despite remembering how much it hurt when it ended.

dancing with your friends after a few too many shots, swimming in the lake during the hottest day of summer. rainy days in the library, ice cream in the summer, cookies at the beginning of autumn, peace at the end of your life.

you had missed the sun by a few hours, but had met it in your life more times than anyone could’ve been able to remember.

[thankspete]

Unfair | dob

Word Count: 4.7k Rating: M Summary: "If you cum right now I’ll never forgive you.” | Also on Ao3! Warnings: no discernible plot, just filth; light bondage, voyeurism, almost mutual masturbation, orgasm delay, fingering, begging, praise + dirty talk, oral (M+F receiving), unprotected sex (+creampie), established relationship, d/s dynamic-ish A/N: we’re getting right into it, so no preview above the cut <3 minors dni etc 

“You’re so desperate, aren’t you?” He looks displeased, but there’s a glint of smug arousal in his expression. “Take them off, angel. Le’me see.” His voice is sweet and the words flow from his mouth like honey. Your fingers continue the pace you’ve set, details of your actions concealed by your leggings. You don’t move to remove the article of clothing, but keep rubbing, keep circling your entrance at the thought and sight of him. A soft groan escapes your lips as you press softly into yourself. Dylan’s eyes don’t leave the black fabric around your core, watching it stretch and move with your fingers, pink lips parted but soundless. His hand ghosts over his cock, giving it a gentle squeeze for relief and letting go. Your shoulder presses firmly against the headboard as you feel yourself: so wet, so warm, and so ready for him. When tiny mewls begin to fall from your mouth, Dylan’s eyebrows furrow. “Fucking–take them off.” You know you won’t hear the end of it anyway, given Dylan’s incessant teasing combined with his explicit prohibition of finishing yourself off without his directive. It’s almost like he planned for this to happen. You’re fucked, but following his directions now may be enough to convince him you deserve to cum later. Your hand stalls in your underwear and slides up and out from your waistband. His eyes flick between your cunt, fingers, and face as he impatiently awaits your next move. The expression on his face switches to disbelief, wide eyes and clenched jaw, as you slide your middle finger into your mouth to lick clean. He says your name firmly, then, “I’m not asking you again. Quit fucking around.”

“I’m not… I’m not even touching myself anymore.” You feign ignorance as you slide your leggings and underwear jointly down your thighs. Dylan pulls them off your legs once they reach your knees, grabbing the center in an attempt to efficiently remove both articles at once and inadvertently coating his fingers in the mess you made. He inhales sharply when he realizes, eyes zeroing in on your core as he tosses the clothing on the floor. With big palms on your inner thighs, he spreads you wide open.

“Do it again. Show me.” Your pussy twitches at his words, willing and ready to comply with whatever he wants as long as it gets her filled to the brim. Your hand travels back down, first circling your hole to dampen your fingers. He crouches by the bed and you can feel his breath fanning coolly across your beating warmth. His eyes are steady on your fingers as they lightly brush along the length of your clit, just to the right to hold out and avoid the irresistible sensation of direct contact. You watch him watching you and twitch your hips in his direction. He scoffs at your futile, admittedly half-assed attempt to invite him to join. “I don’t think you deserve my mouth right now, baby.” His hands move from the underside of your thighs to where your femur jointed in your hip socket, veiny fingers holding you down to the bed with a tight grip. His thumbs massage your upper thighs in encouragement. Fine. If he wants a show, you’ll give him one. You switch from using the pad of your finger to the tip, focusing directly on your clit. You’re rougher, faster with your movements, back arching and chopped-up grunts falling from your lips. Dylan stands, hands moving up the curve of your spine as you bring yourself closer to the edge. He pushes your shirt over your breasts, licks his thumb and rolls your nipple with it. Goosebumps ripple across the skin of your stomach and arms. You choke on your breath and his eyes catch yours for a fleeting moment. You hope he can read your expression, begging for a kiss without subjecting yourself to any actual groveling. He does, it seems, and ignores it as he raises his eyebrows and shifts his focus to your pussy again. You need to feel full, but you don’t want to give him everything he wants. No, not when you’re jumping through hoops to get what you want. Instead of sliding your middle and ring fingers into the comfortable confines of your cunt, you press them flat against yourself. You’re glistening; you can hear the wet clickiness of your arousal as you use two fingers to rub hard circles into the entirety of your cunt. He begins to palm himself over his shorts tenuously, seemingly deciding his next steps.

“Fuck.” You grind into your hand, chasing the sensation of your skin deliciously tugging your clit from side to side. You’re close, whines and cries escaping with each shallow breath you take. “Dylan.”

As if it were on cue, his hand grabs your wrist and pulls it from your core. A gasp escapes your lips at the loss of contact and your tight little hole clenches in anticipation. “Don’t touch.” He drops your arm by your side. “And take that off,” he gestures to your shirt and turns to walk towards the closet. You pull the shirt over your head quickly and drop it on the floor by the bed. A belt buckle clinks while he rummages, sending a jolt up your spine at the thought. You’d been a little bratty, but mostly compliant all day. Certainly hadn’t done enough to deserve being spanked with leather instead of his hand. Dylan emerges from the closet with a thick brown belt, folding it into a set of adjustable handcuffs. Oh. You swallow as he approaches, the same untrustworthy glint in his eye as when he requested you touch yourself for him. “C’mon, angel.” He grabs your left wrist delicately and slides it through. He guides you to lean onto the headboard as he slides the right cuff through a gap in the posts and around your wrist. He pulls to tighten it around your wrists. “How’s that?”

You tug against them and they slip up to your thumb joints. “Tighter.” He reaches around you to adjust the straps, head over your shoulder and bare chest in your face. His erection is pressed into your lower stomach, just out of reach for you to attempt to pull the elastic of his shorts down with your teeth. Instead, you lean forward to lick a stripe on his pec and bite down softly on the skin. He pulls the belt taught in response, to the point your fingers tingle a bit.

“Better,” he says, pulling back and holding your chin firmly, but gently in his grasp. You pull your wrists to test the fit and nod. He finally kisses you, but it’s not under fair conditions. His mouth pulls you further and further from the headboard with each swipe of his tongue, eventually forcing you to break the kiss when your movement is restrained. You huff and he smiles wickedly at your frustration. 

“Need more,” you mumble. He shifts himself off the bed to push his bottoms off and shove them to the ground, dark brown eyes remaining steady on you. Your heart rate picks up as you look at him under heavy eyelids, in all his red-hot and leaky glory. Your mouth goes dry, tongue peeking out in an attempt to rewet your lips. It’s unfair you’re trapped here, hands and mouth kept just far enough from your favorite plaything. You’d do anything to get it. “Just a taste, please.” 

“You’ll get more. I promise.” He lies on his side, supported by his elbow on the far end of your large bed. He’s way out of your reach, too far to make you squirm and beg for him with his fingers, tongue, or anything else.

“Dylan, what are–” your confusion turns to horror as spits into his hand and wraps it tightly around his cock. He starts off slow, just enough speed to hear the soft swipe of his hand moving up and down his dick. Your jaw slacks and eyes go wide as the torturous nature of your punishment hits you. You gulp and you search the room for anything, anything to get you out of this position and throat-deep around him. Of course, there’s nothing useful on your bedside table, nor is anything else within reach. You glance over to the closet door, ajar and leaking a stripe of yellow light onto your bedroom floor. “Dylan,” you whine. The search is in vain, with your eyes finally settling on the only man who can free you, the one putting on this painful show. A thin sheen of sweat coats his torso; the muscles in his stomach flex as strokes himself. Your eyes follow the veins in his arms from his hands up his forearms and biceps, disappearing into his skin at his shoulder. He grips himself tightly, the strain apparent in his hairy forearms. The bubble in your stomach coolly spreads across your lower torso and you’re stuck squeezing your thighs together as you pull against the headboard. Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch him, knowing his thick, fast heartbeat is sending all his blood to his engorged cock. All you want is the feeling of his pulse deep within you; whether he is mercilessly fucking into you or gently tucking himself comfortably in your confines doesn’t matter. The breaths sloppily rush from your lungs as you attempt to stabilize your thoughts, which range from pure hatred to ceaseless depravity. You’re caught staring at the clump of hair on his lower torso, unable to handle both the direct sight and the sound of him fucking into his own fist. He shifts onto his back when he catches your eye, keeping his head turned to watch you watch him. His cheeks are flushed, eyes hooded and breaths deep as he switches techniques and squeezes his head tightly with every flick of his wrist. It’s one you’re familiar with, one you’d used just last week to make him cum in your mouth. “This isn’t fair.” The words rush out with a needy whimper. Your thighs continue to press together as he ignores you, bottom lip between his teeth. Gentle grunts escape his throat with every pump. Your vision blurs with frustrated tears. “Dylan.” 

“Keep saying my name like that and I swear I’ll cum for you right now.” You let out a strangled groan at his words, mind and pussy overloaded by the pumps of your heart and his hand. He’s fucking with you, and it’s working. “You wanted to see? The shit you do to me, fuck.” You chew on the inside of your cheek and tug against your restraints. Your body feels like it’s on fire, burning from your wrists to your cunt.

“Said I wanted to taste, Dylan.” Your voice is airy, breaths cut short and pulse pounding in your ears. 

 “Do you deserve a taste?” Your face twists in desperation. You’re stuck; you can’t gamble your own release by bold-faced lying and asserting your deservedness, but it’s not in your best interest to deny it either. No answer is the right answer and he knows it, eyebrows raised and corners of his lips curled into a flirty smirk. “Look at me,” Dylan grunts from the edge of the bed. He’s no longer paying special attention to his head, but keeping his hand still as he fucks upward into it. “I don’t wanna shut you out, baby. Don’t wanna tie you up and leave you there.” You’re trembling as you watch him, the anticipation of his pending orgasm causing your cortisol levels to spike significantly. “But you need to see what it’s like… for me.” He chokes the final few words out and you can tell he’s nearly over the edge. His left arm is sprawled out, hand finding and clasping to one of your ankles. 

“I’ve learned, I swear to fucking God, please–” You’re almost hysterical, pulling the headboard with you as you struggle. “If you cum right now I’ll never forgive you. Please, just–”

He’s quick in his movements, removing his hand from his cock and positioning himself above you. “Take it, then.” You don’t squander the opportunity, in case Dylan decides you didn’t learn, and take him in his entirety into your mouth. A quiet ‘fuck’ slips through his teeth. His hands cradle your head as you take him, all hollowed cheeks and full throat. He’s not forceful, just guiding you at the pace you set. “Just like that. You’re so pretty like this.” You swirl your tongue around his head, swiping along his slit until he’s choking on his breaths and gripping your hair. “No one else whose cock you beg for, yeah?” In response, you take him fully down your throat, ingesting leftover saliva to allow for the swallowing motion of your pharynx to stimulate him. Dylan whimpers when you pull back so his frenulum lands on your tongue. It’s harder without having access to your hands; you can’t pump and tug on him nearly as hard as you want. Nonetheless, you circle the tip of your tongue on the underside of his head and a series of expletives tumble from his mouth as he twitches into yours. You stick your tongue out, continuing to gently rub his sensitive spot and tilt your face up to look at him. His hazy eyes meet yours and his grip tightens on the side of your neck. “Oh my God… You’re fuckin’–” 

Hot, salty ropes adorn your tongue and the roof of your mouth, with some accidental overflow on your top lip. Dylan’s breathing is heavy and he pumps himself into your throat a couple of times before letting go. You maintain your gaze as you lick your lips clean, unsure how you’re allowed to proceed.

“Holy fuck, I love you.” He gets to your level, mouth on yours and fingers diligently swiping across your heat. You hum into his mouth, finally getting some semblance of what you want. “Lie down,” he says, pulling back for a moment before pressing even harder against your lips. He assists, comfortably readjusting you so your wrists won’t feel strain in this new position. His tongue travels from your mouth down your neck and across your shoulder as he inserts a finger, then two into your core. 

“Ah, Dylan,” you purr. He pumps slowly and carefully, but bites down hard on your breast. Your breath catches and he moves to press his pretty wet tongue against your nipple. 

“Is this what you wanted? Is this what you were thinking about? When you couldn’t help but touch yourself?” His voice is level, words falling from his lips between soft bites on your stomach, hip, and thigh. His fingertips scrape against your g-spot and you clench tightly around him. 

“Something like this,” you sigh.

“What can make it better, angel?” He’s looming over you, looking at you with a tired warmth in his eyes. 

“Your mouth.”

“Could’ve guessed that one,” he chuckles. He’s gentle along the inside of your thigh, just hardly pressing his teeth into the thin skin. “You’ve been kind of a pain today, y’know.”

You look down at him in disbelief. “You started it.” He had moseyed into the kitchen while you arranged a chopped salad for lunch, bored of the Mets highlights video that had autoplayed on the television while he was checking his phone. You were forced to put the chef’s knife down when his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pressing his lips to your ear and making your face hot with a few choice words.

“Mm, don’t I usually?” He’s smiling up at you, continuing the smooth and gentle pace of his fingers.

“Dylan,” you start, wishing you could comb your fingers through his messy chestnut hair. There’s a playfulness in his eyes that signals you to change your strategy; needy whines would no longer get you what you want. “You haven’t made it easy for me, either.” His fingers press into the spongy tissue of your anterior vaginal wall and you squeeze around him. “You know I’ve been good enough. I’m here, still stuck to the headboard–I ate your cum, babe, please.”

His fingers still and a snort comes from his nose. ���Yeah. Thanks for that, very hot.” He winks at you. “But, uh…” His hands find themselves back on your hip bones. “If we’re doing this transactional thing, which I don’t think is necessary, by the way… I think you have some catching up to do.” He leans over you, tip of his nose brushing against yours. “How many times was it yesterday?” His hands smooth over your sides and up to your shoulders, then down your arms to your restraints. You huff; he’s not going to make this easy. It’s never easy. “C’mon…” He fiddles with the strap, loosening and tightening the belt on your wrists over and over. His eyes bore into yours, steady and almost charcoal colored in the light. “How many times did I make you cum, angel?” You attempt to avert his gaze, but one hand grabs your jaw and holds it still. “It’s just us here, baby, nothin’ to be embarrassed about,” he coos. “You can tell me. I’ll let you touch me if you can tell me. Transactional, yeah? Like you wanted?”

“I don’t want it, Dylan.” Your voice is strained. He doesn’t say anything, still hovering over you, one hand on your face and the other on your wrist. A small smile paints his lips as he rubs small circles into your inner arm. You sigh. “Three.”

He wordlessly leans over you, beginning to undo the loops of the cuffs. His lips are on your ear, just like they were this afternoon. “I think you’re forgetting when we woke up at 5 in the morning.”

You gulp at his words, at the memory of groggy kisses and the quick and desperate scrape of his hips against yours. “Four.” Your voice is faint, just loud enough for him to hear. With a final clink, the belt slides from your arms and you wrap them around Dylan’s neck. The first thing you do with your newfound autonomy is pull his mouth to yours. He’s in charge, he’s always in charge, so you take this brief moment of power to get what you want. Your hands wander from the overgrown hairline on the nape of his neck to his collarbones to his biceps, finally free to feel him at your own accord. He grunts when you dig your nails into his shoulders and pull away, clamping his bottom lip between your teeth as you do. “Go down.” You push him away gently. 

He narrows his eyes at you, then lightly bites your cheek. “Bossy.”

The way he travels down your body is unceremonious, swiftly positioning your leg over his shoulder and pressing his hot, flat tongue directly onto you with no hesitation. You take a sharp breath at his targeted rubs and gentle pokes, so well-practiced in your pleasure that it’s nearly second nature. You tilt your hips down to grind directly on the firm center of his tongue, which pushes against you while your tight hole grasps and clamps around nothing. Now that you have use of your hands, you take advantage of it. Your right hand finds and tangles with the fingers pressing onto your stomach. The other runs through his hair, gripping the mastoid bone behind his ear to hold him hostage between your legs. The tip of his tongue wetly draws shapes onto your clit and if you weren’t so busy monitoring the volume of your squeaks and mewls, you could’ve sworn he was spelling out his name. 

“Good?” The vibration of his voice rattling through your core causes your hips to twitch up into him. “Mmm.” He doesn’t allow you time to respond, continuing to hum into you and clearly entertained by how good it makes you feel. His thumb presses onto your opening while he suckles on you, feeling the way it squeezes with the flicks of his tongue. “Guess I don’t need to ask.”

A groan of protest rumbles from your chest and you grip his hair tightly. “Shut up.” 

“I think you love it.” His middle finger finds a home within you, getting a firsthand account of the fluttering of your walls. You’re sensitive, riled up and ready to take him at whatever pace he wants. His demeanor only gets more confident as he feels how your body responds to him. “Oh, angel…” The condescension drips from his tongue slower than molasses. “I know you love it. I know you.” 

“Then you know what I really want,” you bite.

Dylan’s face and fingers pull back from you entirely, wholly unamused. “Get on your fucking stomach, then.” He spanks the underside of your thigh hard before removing it from his shoulder. You roll over, knees spread and stomach pressed into the mattress for him. His hands hook around your hips, lifting them to reach his, then lightly press into your lower back to regain the sexy curve of your spine. He uses a thumb to press himself against your slit, allowing you to rock against him. He is sufficiently lubricated by you within seconds, but you continue the pace of your hips just to listen to your muffled moans and the sound of your arousal spreading across your folds. “Atta girl.” He takes it upon himself to press in gently as you move against him, tip appearing and disappearing within you with every shift of your hips. He watches the way his bare cock gets coated in your essence, clearish-white and beginning to build up in the crevice between his head and shaft. “That’s good, baby. I know you can be good when you want to.” His spank across your ass is soft this time, unlike the frustrated one from earlier. You hum at the feeling, mumbling his name and taking him deeper and deeper until he decides to regain control.

You’re slow and steady, appreciating the way he stretches and fills you, working your way up to the delicious pressure that builds in your lower torso when he bottoms out. Your cunt uncontrollably grips to him with every pump and choked grunts reverberate from his throat. Dylan begins to lose his patience once he’s fully sheathed inside of you, keeping a strong grip on your ass and beginning to piston at his own, quicker pace. The sound of your skin is accompanied by your muted cries and his labored breathing. With each full insertion, his balls smack up against your clit, offering welcome and consistent external stimulation. Despite his grip on you, the force of each stroke pushes your knees further and further apart, pulling the connection of your bodies closer and closer to the bed. He switches his position when you’re finally parallel to the bed, lying overtop your back and pumping himself between your thighs. It’s not as deep as it was before, but you experience pressure from above and below, now that your pubic mound is pressed flat to the mattress.

“Ngh… fuck.” Dylan is pressing down on the back of your head, further muffling your moans as the ridge on the underside of his cock presses into your g-spot. He thrusts himself fully in you and holds it, feeling the way your pussy trembles and pulls at him. With a sigh he pulls out and releases your head, moving to sit up against the pillows. “Come here.” You straddle his lap while he reaches to grab the belt, carefully sliding down his cock until he’s filling you completely. You can’t help but move against him, circling your hips and distracting him from the belt momentarily. His lips find yours, then he says, “Wasn’t exactly what I was planning.” With the belt in his fist, he wraps both arms around your waist and pumps into you a few times. Your shoulder is in his mouth as you move against him, soft moans falling from your lips with every scrape of his pubic bone against your clit. He eventually forces himself to still his movements inside of you, pulling back to look at your face. His chest rises and falls quickly and you can only imagine the speed of his heart rate. It probably matches yours. Dylan drapes the belt loosely around your neck, putting the end into the buckle, but not tightening it. “How’s that?” He’s holding your face so tenderly, looking so lovingly into your eyes. “That okay?” 

You don’t look away from him, but bring your fingers up to the leather on your neck. “Yeah,” you breathe. Your hands find his on the end of the belt, holding them and guiding him to pull it tight.

Before it’s restricting your breathing, he pulls the long end over your shoulder to hang over your back. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay? Just squeeze my arm, baby, and I’ll get it off.” You nod and attempt to restrain yourself from kissing him. His big hands fiddle with the belt, pushing it up so it can choke you safely and once handled, you feel the cool buckle pressing flat against the nape of your neck. You start slow, rocking against him with no added pressure to your neck. You kiss lazily, just enjoying the feeling before throwing the belt into the mix. After a couple of minutes, he wraps the end of the belt around his fist and allows the weight of his arm to pull it taught. You sigh, enjoying the restriction and the feeling of his teeth on your collarbone. 

“Need you… need you t’cum on me, okay angel?” His free hand is on your ass, pulling you onto his cock rhythmically. “Can you do that for me? Need t’feel you.”

Your eyes are closed in ecstasy as you nod. “Tighter... harder, please,” is all you say.

“Okay, okay…” Dylan whispers. His grip on the belt tightens and he pulls down so your neck is tilted back slightly, exposed to him. Both hands are on your waist, holding you still as he moves his hips into yours at a quicker and quicker pace. His tongue is on your neck, pressed to your jugular while increasing the power of his thrusts. The veins are popping out of his arm and hand as he grips the belt tightly. Your moans are ragged, with limited air entering and escaping your lungs. You roll into his thrusts, beginning to feel the warmth of your impending orgasm spreading throughout your abdomen.

“A little tighter,” you whisper. He yanks lightly, finally cutting off your airways as you grind against him, back arching and breast in his mouth. Your hand rests on his arm, gently drawing shapes into it, but not squeezing. “Fuck, fuck…” you hardly make any noise when you speak. Dizziness builds in your head from the lack of oxygen similarly to the way pressure builds in your cunt. It’s almost unbearable, seems almost impossible. As the wave breaks, you dig your nails into Dylan’s bicep and press your mouth to his. He immediately puts two fingers between your neck and the belt, pulling it completely loose and allowing you to take a deep breath when you pull away from the kiss. It’s almost overwhelming, but you stabilize yourself on his shoulder, allowing him to do the rest. He removes the belt and tosses it on the floor with a clang. 

Dylan keeps pumping into you as you cum, feeling your cunt milk him into his second orgasm of the day. “So fuckin’ good for me… Ah–!” He stalls his hips and presses your body down to ensure he’s as deeply in you as possible. You feel him twitch, then attempt to press further into you before a warmth coats your walls. You clamp around him as he moves inside of you to fill you as much he’s able to. Your chests are pressed together, heavily breathing, and minds attempting to come back to Earth. Your open mouth presses to his, licking his teeth and finding his tongue. Despite the sensitivity of your cunt, you continue to ride him at a slow pace, his cum dribbling from your hole, down his cock and puddling at his balls. “Mm, fuck.” He firmly presses himself into you, twitching inside of you. “I wanna, baby, but I don’t think there’s anything left in me,” he mumbles against your lips. 

“Jus’stay.” Your arms wrap around his torso as you slump onto him. Your pussy gives a final good, hard squeeze and he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Alright, angel.”

wow okay. anyone else sweating? thank you for reading! hope u enjoyed, as always feel free to reblog, like, and lmk what you think :D

[chiclete-com-manga]

I think i managed to catch the essence of this scene pretty well tbh

[bisexualisaaclahey]

stiles and isaac are such a fun dynamic because in every other circumstance stiles gets to be the guy going "have we tried murder as a way of solving our problems" but when he's with isaac he has to be the one who's like "no, isaac. no torture. torture is bad"

[aftgficrec]

Literally anything and everything written by bazookajo94 -  they write the funniest and most chaotic aftg fics

As you can see from the long list of their fics that we’ve previously rec’ed, we completely agree with you! - S

previously recommended:

‘stab me yourself u coward’ here

‘survive the night’ here

‘tit for tat’ here

‘definitely something’ here

‘eat the rich’ here

‘prove your love’ here

‘all that i’ve been dreaming of’ here

‘last piece of gold’ here

‘long journey home’ here

‘the prettiest blue’ here

‘dirty little secret’ series here

‘what’s yours is mine’ and ‘Crazy Rich Neil’ here

‘Go Team!’ here

‘we were together’ series here

‘most likely to commit crimes’ here

‘give or take’ here

‘cone sold stober’ here

‘spooky scary’ here

Here’s one that hasn’t appeared on our blog yet:

in another life by bazookajo94 [Rated T, 11506 words, complete, 2022]

Dear Andrew Doe,

I am not picking one of the pen pals that’s in California or whatever. I am going to write a fake name and a fake address and send this letter to a fake person. The teacher won’t let me leave until I send this to someone.

Bye

Alex

*

Neil Josten sent fake letters to Andrew Doe for years, thinking they disappeared into the void.

Andrew Minyard received every single one.

tw: implied/referenced torture

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

hi im looking for a fic where stiles gets kidnapped and tortured by i think gerard? and the word bitch is either cut or branded into stiles chest

Hi anon! @nerdherderette found this one for you.

Promise You'll Look After Him by DiscontentedWinter

(1/1 I 9,901 I Mature I Sterek)

Sheriff Stilinski is used to dealing with victims of violent crime. He knows how to approach kids who've been beaten and sexually assaulted.

Except this time it's his son.

It's Stiles.

[mostlikelyshutup]

jeff davis really said, "oh spencer reid is popular? let me put his exact character in this new tv show im creating about teenage werewolves."

[blue-the-hedgehog]

It’s cousin Miguel’s scene in 1x09 BUT it goes like that instead :

Danny ask who the weird guy behind them is. Stiles tell him that’s it’s his cousin Miguel. Of course Danny would spot the blood on Derek’s shirt so Stiles tell him to change. The first t-shirt that Derek find is clearly too tight he could never get in it. So Stiles tells him to keep looking. He has always worn T-shirt a little loose, some are big enough for Derek to fit in, they would be tight but it will fit enough. He knew that and that’s why he has told him to try on something else. Then he spotted Dan’y reaction, He knew he could used that.So he told Derek to change again.

Having Derek shirtless was good for his plan to get Danny to hack this email address. But he wasn’t expecting that his little game turned on him. Right now he didn’t know if he had to curse or bless his dad to have put in his drawer his clean Lacrosse jersey. The thing was nearly never clean and even less tidied up correctly. It was like Karma was getting back at him.

Because when they looked again they faced Derek Hale in this Jersey way to loose for Stiles without protections on, but looking way too good on the werewolf. It was a little loose, it was hot. Derek fucking Hale was wearing Stiles’ jersey, with his name on it. And that how Stiles knew he was screwed, he clearly had a thing for the werewolf and it’s seems that he have a strange kink about jersey. Obviously the vision may feed Stiles wet dreams for the rest of his life. Derek smirked, he knew now how to mess with Stiles.

[hotgirlstiles]

i think it would absolutely destroy derek when stiles starts sucking and gobbling this up

[stfukie]

“they shake their heads saying, "God, help her" when i tell 'em he's my man, but your good lord doesn't need to lift a finger, i can fix him, no, really, i can, and only i can” she was talking about ME @ my questionable taste in fictional men

[carebooks]

makes me kind of sad that no one’s made a proper multifemale edit of taylor’s who’s afraid of little old me? bc, okay look, the song is filled with so much female rage that when i see people using it for edits for male characters, and it’s male characters that i like or love don’t get me wrong, it’s like they’re not getting what the song is about. it feels weird seeing it paired to anything other than women and what we’ve struggled with.

[mischiiefs]

@mellodiies perish <3

[blossoms-and-possums]

teen wolf au where everything is the same except stiles is the only character who says fuck

[sapphireginger]

Title: This is What You Deserve

Pairing: Stosy [Stiles Stilinski + Persephone]

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,821

Warnings:

Murder Blood Torture Dark Character Cutting Character Death Implied/Reference Terrorism

Summary:

He decided to take a hot shower and once he was inside, he sighed. His shoulders felt as though they bore the weight of the world on them. He pressed the palms of his hands against the tiles, resting his head against the wall and letting the scalding water remove the tension from his body. His mind was at war with his heart when it came to the woman in his bed. He couldn't bear a repeat of Sasha, but should he tell Posy now or wait and—

The bathroom door opened, footsteps echoing as they came closer and then stopped just outside the shower. He glanced towards the glass to see Persephone watching him with an expression of concern. Her eyes were dark, and she looked even more like something other than she had earlier in the evening.

Created For: @anyfandomaubingo​ / Square Filled: 1940s AU

New York City, New York - 1947

Senator Stiles Stilinski, known to the darker side as Mieczyslaw Genim Gajos, stepped into the prestigious bar known as Hades Inferno. It was founded by a man named Hayes. It was an establishment only available to a select clientele. You had to be someone, and you had to know someone to get an in. Well, Stiles, Mieszko, was definitely someone and he knew someone. So, he had gotten an in ages ago from the owner himself. The owner was an older man whose looks were not to be trusted. He may have looked older, but he was the strongest man that Mieszko had ever met. His name was Zeno. He was an interesting, but private man.

Mieszko had often gotten a private look at the man's collection of books. He had spent hours reading mythology and lore books when he wasn't running his organization. The bar was a safe haven for the crime boss and that was where he found himself tonight.

✦•🥃•✦

Mieszko needed a drink. Yep. He needed to get sloshed and that was what he was doing. Not even an hour ago he caught his fiancé in bed, with one of his men—his now ex-fiancé’s bodyguard—named Jayme. He wanted to make them pay as soon as he saw them together, but he resisted—barely—and merely ordered them to leave. So, really, he didn’t physically do anything except kick them out. Well, he didn’t do anything physically to his ex-fiancé but to Jayme? Well, he was swimming with the fishes as they say. Mieszko smirked at that memory.

He stayed to make sure they both really did leave his home. He may or may not have also broken his ex's finger to get his ring back. Not that he needed to do such a thing but well it was only a finger. He could’ve broken her leg. It wasn't exactly surprising that she was cheating on him. They hadn't had sex in about as long as he found out they’ve been together. He couldn't help the fact that he worked a lot and therefore he didn’t always feel up to it. If she was in need of it, he didn't know as she never asked. He had all these plans and was going to share them with her after they got married. He was going to fucking bring her in on everything. 

Normally, Mieszko would be out on the floor dancing with a pretty girl or entertaining himself with a lovely young thing sitting on his lap, but tonight he just sipped his whiskey, in silence. His hand idly played with a lighter in his pocket as he sat in the shadows. The weight of his gun in his side holster and the knife on his belt grounded him. They reminded him of who and what he was. 

✦•🥃•✦

It was around midnight that a hand gently brushed against his upper arm to get his attention. A young lady with long raven curls and bright green eyes smiled at him. Her clothes weren't as fancy as the girls he had found alluring in the past, but it didn't matter to him. She was gorgeous, her clothes aside.

They got to talking and Mieszko was both surprised and not that they seemed to instantly click. It was more surprising to him that she wasn't shy. He was pleased that she hadn't shown any hesitance or fear in approaching him either. He knew the kind of aura he gave off and it pleased him to no end that she wasn’t deterred by it.

While they were not stumbling drunk, they were pretty buzzed. He left with her house phone number, although he considered asking for more. There was something about her that had him wanting to take her home and ravish her until all she remembers was his name. However, they just met, and he could be a patient man. Sometimes. Yes, he could be patient, especially when it was something he wanted, and he wanted her. He was sure he would hear from her soon.

✦•🥃•✦

He was right. They called each other quite a lot, though he couldn't always answer when she phoned him. He did try to pick up every time if he could. He wasn't ready for her to know everything just yet and couldn't risk answering during a meeting or when he was around his frenemies.

His quick answering of the phone and the almost smile on his face when he did, caused murmurs to go through his organization, spreading like wildfire. He didn't care as long as they minded their own business. They all knew what happened to Jayme. So, they kept their mouths shut. 

Mostly they were thrilled that he had his eye on someone again. Mieszko did indeed have his eye on someone. Her name was Persephone, and she made him feel much younger than his thirty years. For their first serious date they headed to a restaurant that Mieszko had a share of under his name. Not that she was aware of that of course.

Mieszko was a politician, a senator to be precise, and had to work all day to make sure everything was taken care of. That way he wouldn’t have to worry about it and could just enjoy their evening together. When he told her he would be working a little later than he planned, she suggested meeting him there. He agreed. 

✦•🥃•✦

When they arrived, she took his arm, curling her hand over his bicep that he may or may not have flexed to show off. As expected, the line was long, but he was Mr. Gajos. So, he was immediately taken to a table once the manager saw him. Dinner was wonderful and Mieszko was captivated by this young woman.

She was extremely smart, observant and drop dead gorgeous. She was very promising as a significant other. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She was wearing a short lavender dress and black Mary Janes with her hair in a twisted shoulder braid. 

He himself was outfitted in a long sleeved, lavender button up with a black vest over it and a suit jacket over top of that. The suit jacket was now hanging on the back of his chair having found a home there halfway through their meal. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing toned forearms sporting a light dusting of dark hair. He had on black slacks that paired well with his shoes and tie. As they eat, he noticed her gaze raking over him over and over again. A primal part of him preened at the approval he saw in her eyes.

✦•🥃•✦

It had been a long time since he had been out with a pretty young thing. With his ex he was monogamous—or so he thought—for about a year at least. His ex was very demanding about where they went, what they wore, who saw them, how much they spent and—Speak of the she-devil and she shall appear. 

Sasha walked into the building and sashayed over to their table, apparently trying to hide the splint around her finger. She was wearing a blood red dress that gave Mieszko ideas that were not of a sexual nature. Mieszko had to take a drink to keep his smile from showing. 

As she approached their table, he wondered if she was going to ask about Jayme. He kind of hoped she did. He would take great pleasure in telling her exactly what happened to him if she asked.

The look Sasha gave Persephone had him feeling protective and made his hackles rise. He was not expecting her to flirt but he also wouldn’t be shocked if she did. They’d had a conversation about their inclinations when it came to sex, when they got together.

Mieszko knew that Sasha being attracted to both men and women didn't necessarily mean that she would get flirty with his date. He had known for a while that she was into both men and women. He promised not to say anything to anyone, but he was tempted to out her right now. If he did, she would be shunned. The idea was very appealing to him and would serve her right.

However, the words she proceeded to seductively impart into Persephone’s ear were obscene. Mieszko hated how uncomfortable Persephone looked, though he also noticed a fire sparking in her eyes. He could feel the tension building and shivered at the want rising inside him. There was something about Persephone, something other and he couldn't wait to find out what it was, assuming she didn't decide they were better off as strangers.

✦•🥃•✦

It was time to intervene and Mieszko spoke quickly, interrupting his floozy of an ex. He kept a detached calm demeanor while doing so. “Sash? Don’t.” 

She simply turned to look at him with a quirked brow and smirked. This side of her was what had originally drawn him in. It was different when it was being directed at him and when he knew what she was really like. “You never would stop calling me that.”

“It’s a nickname that—”

“That you gave me,” she sneered. “You couldn’t use just my name like everyone else. You just had to stick out like an eyesore.” She rolled her eyes and flips her hair over her shoulder, popping her hip to the side, her arms crossed over her chest. That was another thing she did to gain attention. Her chest was average in size, and she loved pushing them up and out when crossing her arms. He internally rolled his eyes at her shallowness. Of course, he wasn't super deep either, but he had more to him than she did that was for sure. 

Mieszko was really tempted to point his gun between her eyes. The cold metal always felt good in his hand and his mind would be silent, his thoughts focused on his target and his target alone. When he held his gun, he was in control, cool, calm and collected. He was Mieczyslaw Gajos, and he was deadly.

Persephone glared at Sasha and quirked a brow at Mieszko as if to inquire why he was putting up with this. He shook his head. “Don’t, Posy. It’s okay.” 

He froze, cold fury sweeping through him, as Sasha laughed cruelly. “Awwww. Looks like someone found a pretty little dolled up floozy to pay attention to them huh? How sweet!” she mocked him with a wink. Her eyes flicked to his date. “Well? You hate it, I’m sure. So, tell him. Tell him you hate it.”

Mieszko swallowed thickly, hating how he let her get away with this. He wasn't planning to waste any more time on her, but he would deal with her if he needed to. In fact, perhaps he would have her tongue. Here he was just trying to have a nice dinner with this young woman who was pretty much his ideal partner in every way and Sasha was sabotaging it. He should’ve gone with his first instinct when he found her with one of his men. If he had, Sasha would be dead, and he'd have Persephone home in his bed.

“Actually, it’s adorable,” Posy said, taking his hand under the table and giving it a squeeze. “Persephone is a family name passed down from generation to generation to the women deserving of it. My brother and my father used to call me Posy when I was growing up. When Mieszko started using it, I felt like the puzzle piece I had been missing fit perfectly. It clicked like he and I clicked,” Persephone said with a soft smile as she met his heated gaze with heat in her own eyes. 

Sasha rolled her eyes and then got an evil glint in her eye. “Well, what about his puzzle piece?” she purred. “Is it satisfactory?”

Mieszko blushed crimson, humiliation churning in his gut. He was the one who instilled fear in the hearts of men and women alike. He didn't care what they thought so long as they didn't get in his way, but for Sasha to throw around such blatant lies and slander, her intention of course to defame him, was where he drew a line. How was she getting to him? He was the Mieczyslaw Gajos, and she was just a little gold digging whore. The way she talked about his cock was ridiculous. He was definitely above average by quite a lot. 

Plenty of men and women had been unable to walk the next morning because of how good he fucked them. It was interesting that she used to crave being stuffed full by his cock only to decide that little Jayme—who was at least three inches shorter—could serve her better.

Nothing was ever good enough for Sasha. She always wanted more. 

Mieszko pretended to pay attention to her endless yammering, even as he subtly made eye contact with the manager who nodded his understanding. “Stop,” he said, voice low but firm. Really, it was a warning. She was lucky he hadn't done more than warn her, that she was even getting a warning, but it was a warning she of course refused heed. Either she didn't hear the warning disguised in his tone or she didn't care.

Her comments got even more cruel, cutting, biting and downright degrading. Everything he did or said while they were together and some things he didn’t were being laid out for Persephone and the rest of the establishment to hear. 

✦•🥃•✦

The other patrons had various expressions in their faces, ranging from annoyance, disgust, disapproval, and anger. Others exhibited an air of sympathy toward him and Posy. He even saw a few people who were looking at Sasha as if she was insane. Of course, the ones bearing an expression questioning her sanity were his men. They knew who and what he was. Sasha didn't have any idea and it was going to cost her, most likely she'd pay with her life. She would have found out who he was and what he did if they had gotten married, but Mieszko was really fucking glad they didn’t. 

He felt the desire to maim someone growing ever enticing. Persephone doesn’t deserve to be treated in such a way and that was the nail in Sasha's coffin. People just continued to stare at them. It made him furious, and his hand twitched as if to grab his gun or perhaps his knife. He did think her crimson dress would look even better bloody. 

As he went to stand to put an end to her tirade, he noticed Persephone making a fist, her knuckles white as snow from how hard she was clenching them. She was shaking and she looked pissed. Mieszko didn't want her getting even more upset. It was taking everything in him not to land a killing blow as it was.

It had been an amazing date before his ex had made an appearance. Posy made him feel like it was safe to love again. He had never loved Sasha. The last person he remembered loving was his mother and she had died not more than a decade ago. His mother would have loved Persephone, of that, he was sure. He was sad that he wouldn't be getting another date with her. Then again, he too would probably turn and run away from this if he were her or not, considering who he was and what he did.

He told his ex to back off and she towered over him easily since he remained seated. She wasn't as intimidating as she thought she was, but he did really wish he was standing. Instead of doing so however, he simply took another bite of his dinner. The meal was excellent, and he really needed to come again soon.

It was so tempting to lash out, but his mother raised him better than that. 

Apparently, Sasha didn't appreciate his lack of response and asked him if he wasn't saying anything because he was afraid of little ol’ her. 

She tried goading him and then Persephone has had enough. She shoved her chair back, standing from her seat. Mieszko noticed that Sasha flinched at Posy's actions. The room felt darker suddenly and the chill he felt resonated deep within him setting fire to his core. He had to subtly adjust himself and had eyes only for Posy as she said, “Hey! Listen up you evil manipulative disgusting bitch!” 

Sasha looked furious and turned towards Posy, trying to regain the ground she lost when she flinched. 

Said woman smirked. “You better watch it! This man is a-fucking-mazing. He is everything that I have ever wanted. Just because you’re regretting something or missing daddy’s money doesn’t mean you get to waltz in here, act like a whiny bitchy whore and expect us to just sit here and take it.”

“Why you little—” Sasha started but cut off with an indignant squawk when her arms were seized. 

Two men came forward with a pair of handcuffs, their badges gleaming in the light. Mieszko smirked at them, throwing them a wink and a nod as they dragged Sasha out into the night. 

When he and Posy left, they nodded at the sheriff who nodded back. Mieszko and the man had an understanding. Both Mieszko and Persephone ignored the cries and anger of his ex as she was taken away. 

They went home together, his place, and ended up in his bedroom, bare beneath the sheets. It was just as phenomenal as he had imagined it would be. She was stunning and he was going to find a way to make her his.

✦•🥃•✦

It was just after one in the morning when Mieszko tore himself away from watching the gorgeous woman as she slept. He slipped silently out of bed and changed back into his date outfit. Before leaving the room, he kissed her forehead, whispering a promise to come back to her.

"Tha epistrépso sýntoma, agápi mou," he whispered, his lips brushing against her temple.

✦•🥃•✦

An hour later, his driver pulled up to what looked like a sweet innocent little home in the country, at least from the outside. He smirked evilly at such a naive thought. This home was the antithesis of innocent. It was perfect for what he had planned though. 

Downstairs, tied up with mascara stained cheeks was pretty little Sasha. Her eyes widened when she saw him and he couldn't help the scoff, hiding his amusement. The look she gave him was ridiculous and sad. She looked at him as though he would save her from what was to come. Of course, he would be doing no such thing. He rolled up his sleeves and cracked his neck as he rolled his shoulders. 

Amber eyes darkened as he stepped up to the table. “You know even though I have all the makings of the perfect surgeon, I prefer to use my anatomy knowledge for more personal projects.” His lips curled into a vicious smile, no sign of anything other than the darkness of his soul.

She flinched back from him as he approached her with a sharp scalpel in his hand. He traced the blade down her cheek and then down her throat. “You’ve been such a naughty girl, sweetheart. I’m so disappointed.”

She looks like she’s trying to speak and Mieszko softens his eyes only slightly to encourage her. 

At that she finally managed to speak. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. Please I—”

“Sorry for what? Hm?” he hummed, the blade resting at the column of her throat. He could practically see the skin bathed in crimson, but he had always been a patient man when it counted. It would pair beautifully with her dress when he did finally spill it. Perhaps if she had worn any other color, he wouldn't have been picturing this for hours.

“B-Betraying you by sleeping with Jayme,” she panted out, hyperaware of the blade but her eyes never left his face. 

He nodded and just when she looked relieved, he nicked her cheek. She gasped in surprise, choking on a sharp inhale. The pain took a moment to comprehend.

She looked at him as though he had betrayed her. Fuck that. “Let's discuss strike one. You earned your first strike when you stole my money. If you wanted or needed my money, all you had to do was come to me and ask for it.”

He nicked her other cheek near her jawline. “Then of course we have strike two. You earned your second strike when you slept with one of my men. If you were unsatisfied, you should have come to me. We both know how much you craved my cock and yet you went to him.”

The scalpel pressed against her jugular, and he loved the way she trembles with terror. Her throat bobbed as she tried to swallow without pressing further against the blade. “Last, we have strike three. You earned your third strike when you went after my girl. You’re the one who betrayed me. You spread your legs for him like a hussy and did so more than once, yet you the audacity to show up and cause a scene. I was surprised that Posy snapped back at you, but I was also thrilled.” He sent her a cruel grin., his smile all teeth and very much the predator he had always been. “She has more of a backbone than you’ve ever had.”

There was no time for her to beg as he cut her throat. 

As she slowly bled, the crimson river beautifully pairing with her dress, he repeated his displeasure and disappointment. 

✦•🥃•✦

As her eyes grew hazy, he recounted her transgressions: the money she stole, the number of times she had sex with Jayme and then started needling at her confidence. He smirked as he told her what everyone must have thought of her tonight. He called her names and then humiliated her like she tried to humiliate him. He unlike her, knew exactly where to hit to break her.

When he was finished with his verbal assault, she was a mess of blood, sweat and tears. She was limp now and barely breathing. 

“You would have had everything. I would have given you everything. You would have had me and now…” He trailed off, clicking his tongue and tsking at her. His lips were pulled into a pout. He knew how it made his mouth look even more tempting. He was amused how despite being close to death, she managed to lick her lips at the sight. “Now everything is what you lost, and now you have nothing. You are nothing.”

When his hand stroked her hair in a gesture of empty comfort, she pushed into the contact with a whimper. Then and only then, did he finally smile at her. She tried to smile back but couldn't and her face was almost ghostly white now. 

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart,” he said. 

“Kill me, baby? Please!” she begged as best she could. 

“Shh,” he cooed at her. “I will. I promise. Tell me why, sweet thing. Why do you need to die?”

With a cough that was more of an exhale, she met his gaze. “It’s what I deserve. Please, baby? Please?”

Mieszko smiled at her. It was not a nice smile. The look she gave him in response though was one of the utmost pure unadulterated devotion and adoration as if she was staring at her salvation. 

It was too bad she didn’t show such adoration and devotion before. He would have given her anything she asked for. He would have given her everything. 

✦•🥃•✦

Long fingers without a speck of blood on them—despite blood being everywhere else—wrapped around her throat. His hand squeezed the pale column harder and tighter, most likely and hopefully leaving bruises behind. 

She didn't struggle, couldn't as she believed this was what she deserved. She smiled as the light was snuffed out of her eyes and the last of her tears slipped down her cheeks. Her expression was serene and peaceful. Mieszko did so love bringing people to this place of mind break. Between the body and the mind, he preferred to break the mind. It didn't take much to make them think what he wanted was what they wanted. It was an art that he had perfected as he easily rose to power. 

“Clean it up!” he barked at the man in the shadows, a man who had been watching the entire scene with fear coursing through him. 

With a gulp as he fought to swallow the bile rising in his throat, the man stepped forward and was shoved to his knees. 

Mieszko watched the man cleaning and smiled cruelly. “Good boy, Jayme.”

Jayme and Sasha’s bodies vanished but no one gave a damn. Not that anyone knew about either. It was known they were sleeping together and Mieszko would of course be proven innocent. Obviously. 

He had to adjust himself as he watched the cement pour, and the blood drain. He shivered as the water flooded the building and groaned at the fire that lit up his car windows when his driver drove away. The explosion nearly had him cumming then and there. He had sent a tip in to his contact in the government about a terrorist attack. After all, the scene would exhibit the signature of a well known terrorist group. Not that anyone needed to know that the terrorist group didn’t actually exist.

✦•🥃•✦

When he arrived back at his house, there was a light on. He stilled in the entryway, concerned that Persephone was awake and had and noticed his absence. So, he stilled, his ears alert for anything out of the ordinary. However, upon ascending the stairs, he found Posy still sound asleep though now she was lying on her back, the sheets leaving very little to the imagination. His eyes flicked to the side, and he sighed in relief. It was just the bathroom light illuminating the darkness of second floor.

He decided to take a hot shower and once he was inside, he sighed. His shoulders felt as though they bore the weight of the world on them. He pressed the palms of his hands against the tiles, resting his head against the wall and letting the scalding water remove the tension from his body. His mind was at war with his heart when it came to the woman in his bed. He couldn't bear a repeat of Sasha, but should he tell Posy now or wait and—

The bathroom door opened, footsteps echoing as they came closer and then stopped just outside the shower. He glanced towards the glass to see Persephone watching him with an expression of concern. Her eyes were dark, and she looked even more like something other than she had earlier in the evening.

When he didn't say anything, she joined him and when he didn’t object, she washed his body with his favorite soap. Not that she knew it was his favorite. 

Mieszko knew she couldn't see or smell the blood on his hands and therefore, she couldn't possibly know what he had done but the soap suds trailing down his body gave him a sense of purification. The soap was washing the torture away, taking some of the stain on his soul away with it as it swirled down the drain.

Persephone didn't speak, and it was as if she knew what he had done, what he did and what he will do again. 

She always knew when not to push him. She was incredibly smart, observant and calculating. Mieszko was sure that if he didn't tell her, she would figure it out on her own. It was another reason he was torn. He wanted to see her the moment understanding hit her, the moment the realization dawned on her face. He wanted to see her eyes alight with unconditional acceptance of who he was and what he did. Telling her now though, would enable him to gauge her emotions about things and deal with it if need be.

As his eyes slipped shut, relishing the feeling of her fingers in his hair, he refused to tell her. Something told him it was completely unnecessary. 

For now, he wouldn't make a decision about anything important in regard to this gorgeous woman. For now, he would give her all of himself—all of himself that he could give—and hoped that when she finally glimpsed the evil darkness of the devil under his mask, that she would embrace it, embrace him. He hoped that she would embrace all of it instead of fearing it and fearing him. By Zeus, he would be hers and all she had to do was be his.